Close to Home - chapter 16

[iesika]

Close to Home

16


Kon swallowed and turned his face away, looking around for the refreshments. He made a beeline for the punchbowl when he found it, and downed two of the small plastic cups full before he could even taste it. After he filled his cup for the third time, someone took the ladle out of his hand. Big hands. He looked up.

"Are you okay?" Clark asked.

Kon closed his eyes. If his face hadn't been red before, it certainly was now. "I'm fine."

"Conner-"

"It's all for show," Kon whispered, too quiet for anyone who wasn't Clark to hear. "We're drawing attention away from the other kids. To keep them safe."

Clark didn't answer, so Kon took a sip of his punch and then just stared at it, watching the bubbles cling to the sides and slowly rise to burst against the surface. It tasted like pineapple and maybe ginger-ale and he didn't know what else. All that mattered was that it was cold and wet. He tossed back what was left and squeezed the clear plastic cup until it cracked and collapsed in his palm.

"Conner," Clark said again, this time with a hand on Kon's shoulder, warm as sunshine even through his jacket.

For just a moment, Kon leaned into the touch, and then he pulled away. He didn't know what exactly Clark wanted to talk about, but he was pretty sure he'd rather avoid the conversation if he could. Talking about anything with Clark always left him feeling awkward and strange, and he didn't think he needed any help with that, right now.

"I just want to warn you to be careful. You know I like Tim..."

Kon made a small dismissive noise. "I'm not actually dating him." he whispered back. "It's just an act."

"Conner, please, listen to me," Clark said as he caught his arm, his voice quiet but serious. With the face he was making, anyone watching would probably think he was being scolded about the PDA, so Kon felt free to scowl and look away. "You know I've known Bruce for a long time."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Kon hissed. "You're not fucking him, too, are you?"

Something in Clark's eyes flickered, and he flinched back, but didn't let go of Kon's arm. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Nightwing. Jesus."

"Tim told you that," Clark said, and it wasn't a question but there was something wondering about his voice. He swallowed. "It was a long time ago. He wasn't Nightwing then. Yet."

Kon felt his own eyes go wide and he stumbled back a step, as far as he could go without fighting Clark too much. "Jesus," he repeated. "Jesus fucking Christ, you - he was Robin? You were-" his head swam. He was supposed to be done with this, the second guessing, comparing himself to Clark all the time, but God, if Superman and - and Robin...

"No. I - it was in between," Clark explained, looking flustered. "Before Lois."

In between? What did that even mean? Between Robin and Nightwing? Had Dick retired for a while or something? "Does she know? That you like dudes?"

Clark breathed out through his nose. "Yes."

"And you couldn't have said something to me? Maybe when you were lecturing me about getting involved in a gay rights group?"

"I wasn't- You really thought I was upset because of that?" Clark sighed. "Conner, I thought you were pretending. I knew you meant well, but... I apologize. I misunderstood what you were doing, and it was the deception I thought I saw that I was unhappy about."

"My God," Kon said with a huff. "You great big hypocrite." He reached out and snatched Clark's glasses. Clark's hand shot up and they fought over them for a few seconds, Clark's hands fumbling against Kon's aura until Kon gave in and let him have them back, feeling his point had been made. Clark ducked his head and slid the glasses back on, then looked around in concern, like someone would have glanced over in that brief time and suddenly made the connection. "You lie as much as I ever have. More, probably."

"It isn't the same, and you know it. I'm not actually pretending to be much of anything, other than harmless. That's rather different than impersonating a member of a minority group-"

"I can't believe you'd even think I'd do that," Kon hissed. "You really believe I don't have any integrity, don't you?"

"It isn't that!" Clark insisted. "I know you mean well. I've never doubted that."

"Then what?"

Clark glanced across the room, to where Tim was talking to Jake and Russell, not far from the side door. "I thought Tim put you up to it," he admitted, looking suddenly sheepish.

"You-" Kon started, and then realized he needed to lower his voice. "You thought - what, I mean well, but I'm dumb enough..." He growled and yanked his arm out of Clark's hold. "Obviously if I'm being an asshole it's Tim's bad influence? You really think that little of him? Of me, that you think I'd just do whatever he told me, and fuck my own moral compass?"

"No," Clark whispered back, his eyes wide and earnest. "Conner, I was just trying to-"

"You know what?" Kon said over him, raising his voice to normal volume again as he splashed some punch into a fresh cup. "I'm going to go bring my date some punch."

"Conner-"

"You can fuck off," he said, conversationally, and walked away. Thankfully Clark didn't try to stop him, or follow for that matter. Kon would have hated to waste the punch by throwing it in his stupid fucking face. Where did he get off? Coming here, insulting Kon, insulting his best friend, and then acting like he didn't expect Kon to call him on it. Like he expected Kon to just stand there and take it, because he was fucking Superman.

Kon fumed to himself as he crossed the floor, looking around for his friends. Gina and Lisa were getting ogled, but they didn't seem to mind. Chase had his hand on Hamilton's ass, and Hamilton wasn't protesting. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Other than the hassle at the door, there hadn't been any trouble so far. Kon hoped their luck held.

Pete Miller was dancing with one of Caroline's cheerleader friends, glaring over her shoulder at Delilah and Carson where they stood against the wall, laughing with Clarence and drinking punch. As Kon passed him, unnoticed, he stretched out his aura along the floor and tugged at his feet, sending him stumbling against his partner in a clumsy lurch. Miller landed face first in his partner's cleavage, earning himself a shove and a slap. That improved Kon's mood a little. He straightened his shoulders and pasted on a smile, and then went to rescue Jake.

Tim had cornered him, apparently, and it looked like Russell had finally escaped to go fetch some punch, so Jake was just standing near the wall looking a little shocky as Tim crowded into his personal space, making elaborate hand gestures as he talked. The music was loud enough to keep him from hearing much until he got a little closer. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd been expecting to hear, but it definitely wasn't what he found.

"-but if you'd like, I could talk to Giles about it. He's always looking for new talent - there's a lot of cache that comes with being the one to discover a new artist, you know."

"Um," Jake said, backing up half a step as Tim shifted his weight forward, keeping him off balance.

"Or I could just introduce you. Bruce is having a party next week - some kind of charity thing, I don't even know what - and Giles never turns down an invitation. I'm sure he'll be there. You might as well come along; I'll be sending the jet for Conner, anyway."

"You'll be what?" Kon asked as he stepped up behind Tim. There was no way he'd actually snuck up on him, but Tim spun and clutched at his throat like a melodramatic Victorian heroine.

"Conner!" he said, sounding thoroughly startled, "speak of the devil." He immediately went to Kon's side, catching his wrist and turning so that Kon's arm was wrapped around his waist. "Jake was just telling me he painted everything in that diner himself! Did you know that?"

Kon caught Jake's eyes and then looked up at the ceiling. "Yes, Tim."

"And we got to talking, and, oh, I've just got to introduce him around, so I invited him to Bruce's little thing-"

"What little thing?"

Tim's scowl looked nothing like the one he showed the bad guys. There was usually a lot less pouting involved. "You haven't forgotten?"

"Uh." Kon glanced at Jake for help, but no clues were forthcoming. "Refresh my memory?"

"It's - oh, hell, I've got no idea what it's for. Thursday. Some charity thing. You remember?" Tim laid his head back against Kon's shoulder. "Orphans, wounded kittens, save the baby seals, something like that."

"Sorry," Kon said with a grimace, "must have slipped my mind."

Tim waved a hand in his face, dismissively. "Oh, it doesn't matter. But I was just saying Jake here ought to come, because Bruce is just dearest friends with this fellow - Giles Coltsworth, have you met him?"

God, his friends were all going to think he was the kind of person who could date a person like Tim Wayne without going crazy. Jake was already giving him the eye. "No," Kon said.

"Probably for the best. You're just his type, might ask you to model for him...but anyway he runs just the top gallery in the city. All the young up-and-comings get their start there. I'd just love to introduce them, help Jake here get a foot in the door. He seems like such an-" he looked Jake over briefly, "-earnest young man."

Kon blinked. He hadn't even thought about it, but Tim probably could really help Jake out. There had to be all kinds of people in Gotham who'd love to do a Wayne a favor, and hadn't Tim told him something once about Bruce handing out scholarships all over the place? He'd said it fondly but at a remove, like a mother talking about her son's habit of bringing frogs home in his pockets. "That's a great idea!"

"Oh," Jake said, "I couldn't - I mean, I'm not - I haven't even been to school-"

"School," Tim scoffed. "I've got a trade meeting on Monday with the German Vice-Chancellor, and I never actually graduated high-school."

"You-" Kon trailed off. He knew Tim had gotten a GED instead of going back to school after he'd gone back to Gotham. Tim had to be making the rest up for their audience, though. "What?"

"Well, we've got a significant interest in the region. Bruce has bought out half a dozen tech and optics firms over the last ten years or so, but Guido's so anti-union, and that's something Bruce feels pretty strongly about, but he's got just the most awful cold. Alfred's hardly letting him out of bed, and Dick's just terrible at negotiations." Tim sighed heavily. "I hate German food. I really do." He made a face. "Sausage and cabbage."

"You like sausage," Kon reminded him.

Tim hummed in amusement and turned his face against Kon's jaw. The vibration of his laugh and the tickle of his breath made Kon shiver. "Mmm," he said. "I do." He pressed his lips just under Kon's jaw, over his pulse, and dragged his mouth up along the line of his jaw to his ear. "Let's go for a walk," he breathed, his lips catching on the shell of Kon's ear.

"But-" Kon protested. He was surprised at how rough his voice sounded.

"Before I get us thrown out," Tim insisted, and oh, that was is tongue. His. Kon shut his eyes tight and squirmed in his shoes. Teeth. God. Okay, if Tim was so insistent on leaving, maybe he had something he needed to say in private, about the case or...or something. Kon bit back a whimper and let himself be led. He looked back at Jake, apologetically, as Tim pulled him out the side door into the night.

There were people standing around outside the doors, so they kept walking down the sidewalk outside, past canoodling couples and sheltered smokers. The cool, quiet evening air was a relief after the heat and noise inside. Kon kept expecting Tim to explain where they were going, why they were leaving the crowd inside, but he didn't say a word. Kon didn't realize they were still holding hands until Tim tugged him off the path and around the corner, into the narrow alley between the building and a high wooden fence. It was a distinctly unromantic location, the wall studded with pipes and utility hookups, the grass thin and spotty, and so it was blessedly free of couples hiding from the chaperones.

It was as good a place as any. Tim had probably been in full detective mode, inside, watching the crowd for suspicious behavior. He might even have a suspect for them to go harass. Kon kicked a plastic cup under the fence and turned to look at him. "So what did you want to tell me?" he asked.

Tim stepped forward into his space and raised both hands to rest them against Kon's chest. Kon looked down in confusion, and then suddenly found himself stumbling backward under a firm shove until his shoulders hit brick.

"What-" Kon started, but the rest was lost under Tim's mouth. Kon made a noise of surprise and grabbed Tim's shoulders, but he couldn't actually bring himself to exert the force that would have been necessary to free himself. Tim's lips caught and dragged against Kon's, capturing his bottom lip and tugging, gently. Kon relaxed into it without thinking, his mouth parting at the first probing quest of Tim's tongue. The kiss wasn't anything like the one on the dancefloor, and yet the tight, quavering feeling in Kon's chest was the same.

Tim moaned deep in his chest and pressed forward, until their bodies fit together. He deepened the kiss and slid his palms down to Kon's stomach, and then up again to Kon's chest, rucking his shirt up and pulling it half out of his waistband.

Kon gasped into the kiss and caught his hands. "What are you doing?" he panted.

"Don't you know?" Tim murmured. He leaned up for another kiss, but Kon turned his head. Apparently undeterred, he licked a line up from Kon's collar to his ear and sucked the lobe into his mouth, between his teeth.

"Tim," Kon panted. Tim's knee insinuated itself between Kon's thighs, and Kon groaned, his voice startlingly loud in the evening quiet.

"Conner," Tim murmured, and ran his tongue up the back of Kon's ear.

"God," Kon gasped. What was even going on? Was Tim - was Tim doing this for real? He couldn't be. It was part of the act, or maybe he was teasing Kon because he'd felt his erection, earlier. Tim couldn't possibly - there was no way Tim could -

"You make me so crazy," Tim panted into his ear, his breath hot and damp. "God, Conner, you don't even know..." he dragged his mouth across Kon's cheek to capture his lips again. "So, so..." he murmured into Kon's mouth, and trailed off.

"But-" Kon couldn't get anything else out. Tim's tongue stroked against his own, and Kon kissed back, helpless to resist. Oh, God, he tasted good. Kon hadn't thought about kissing Tim in a long time, since before they were even really friends. He thought he'd grown out of his stupid hormonal phase and grown up enough to appreciate their friendship, instead of just trying to provoke Tim all the time.

Tim had been the most important person in his life for a long time, the person he could go to with his problems, the person he could count on to back him up, no matter what. But this - Kon didn't know what to do. He clutched at Tim's back, fingers digging into dense muscle, felt the vibration of Tim's moan around his tongue. When Tim pulled back again to bite his chin, sharp and vicious, Kon gasped and threw his head back. "Stop," he panted, because if this wasn't real, he thought he might die. "Tim, no. Stop."

"Why?" Tim asked. He pressed his teeth to Kon's throat, licked with the flat of his tongue, broad and wet. "You want it." He dragged his leg up until his thigh was tight against Kon's groin, pressing up against his balls with just the right amount of tension.

Kon's gasp sounded more like a sob to his own ears. "Tim..."

Tim's leg hitched up minutely, and he reached between them to yank Kon's shirt out of his pants. "I want it."

"Fuck."

"I want you. I've always-" he pressed his mouth to Kon's ear again, and his voice went suddenly flat and serious as he breathed against it. "Go down."

"Wh-" Kon panted, but with a sickening crack and a rush of movement, Tim was gone, flung aside like a ragdoll. He bounced off the wall and hit the ground, and then he was still.

Baumhauer stood in front of Kon, his pimply face twisted into an ugly snarl. Baumhauer, the scrawny little asshole from Kon's biology class. He grabbed for Kon's throat, and Kon's hands came up automatically to catch his wrist, but he remembered what Tim had said and didn't rip the guy's arm off. If Tim had some kind of plan... But Tim's plans usually involved him being conscious.

"You stupid fucking faggot," Baumhauer hissed. "Unnatural, Godless filth." There was a vein or muscle twitching in his cheek, and his eyes carried a demented light. Kon could see white all around the pale grey irises, and his pupils were contracted to tight little pinpoints, despite the darkness.

"You," Kon said, feeling like an idiot. God, it seemed so obvious now. He hadn't targeted Dalton because of the club... "You sick fuck."

Baumhauer tightened his grip on Kon's collar, yanking him forward a few inches. "You call me sick. You." He laughed.

Kon turned his head and looked down at Tim, who lay crumpled a few feet away, face to the dirt. His heart was beating, but he wasn't moving. "If you hurt him-"

"You'll what?" Baumhauer sneered. "You can't touch me. I am God's sword."

"You're nuts," Kon corrected. He was shaken for his trouble, lifted almost off his toes, until he was looking down at Baumhauer's, slightly greasy hair.

"How dare you," he hissed. "You, recruiting for your homosexual agenda, seducing good, churchgoing people to your wicked ways. Do you know how long I've been waiting to find you alone? Your poor aunt is a good, God-fearing woman. I couldn't eliminate you in her home. But now - well," he chuckled and stretched out his leg and nudged Tim's foot with his toe. "Two for one."

Where the fuck was Clark? Had he left, after Kon cursed him out? Was he that mad? He could throw this psycho creep off easily, but that would raise questions. Tim had wanted him to take it, for whatever reason - but that only made sense if Clark was going to show. "You're sick in the head," Kon said, and then wracked his brain for Baumhauer's first name. "Thomas," he added, hoping he'd remembered it right. "You need help."

"I need nothing from the likes of you, or your fancy faggot boyfriend. God gave me the strength to rid the world of people like you!"

Should he shout for help? Would anyone hear him? There was no way anyone inside could hear, and it was probably loud enough near the open doors to cover the sound. That would bring help for Tim, but also more people who could get hurt in a fight, and more people that might be witnesses if Kon were forced to use his strength. Better to goad the fucker. "I'm flattered you'd put me in the same category as Dalton. He's a great man."

"He was an agent of the Deceiver!" Baumhauer snarled. "Like you, and the others. Stirring up trouble, tempting people off the straight and narrow path-"

"I'm tempting, now?"

Baumhauer slammed him backward with enough force that if Kon had been normal, he'd probably have been knocked out. "Aren't you the least bit ashamed of your sins?"

"Yeah, sure," Kon said. "When I've done something wrong. Like hurting someone." Baumhauer knocked him against the wall again, but Kon kept talking. "I'm pretty sure the bible has some strong stuff to say about killing people. Are you ashamed?"

"I do God's will," Baumhauer hissed. "I smite the wicked in His name. But you should know that He loves all His children. Even now, you are precious to Him, if you recant your sins and go to His side. Repent," he said, drawing back his fist, "for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!" He drove his fist forward toward Kon's face, the muscles in his shoulder bunching as he threw his weight behind the blow. Kon let it connect, felt and heard the shattering of bone as Baumhauer's fist hit something harder than steel. Baumhauer let go of him and stumbled back, bent double at the waist and clutching his broken hand, half turning, closing his eyes against the pain with a wail.

Kon seized the moment and stepped forward to deliver a punch that sent Baumhauer flying, blasting through the wooden fence like it was so many toothpicks. He never hit the ground, though, because Superman caught him by his shirt and held him there, limp and unconscious, blood dripping from his nose and mouth.

Kon dove to his knees. "Tim," he said, gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. He was afraid to move him. You weren't suppose to move people if you didn't know where they were hurt, right? "Tim, man, come on..."

Tim turned his head and opened his eyes. His lip was split and his cheek was red with the beginning of a bruise that starting to form an impressive black eye. "You were supposed to go down," he said in a voice just a little too rough and weak for Kon to be mad at him. "There's a reason I invited Superman."

"Where the fuck have you been, anyway?" Kon demanded. "Tim could have been really hurt."

Clark landed lightly beside them. "I was trying to give the two of you a bit of privacy," he said, a light blush staining his cheeks. "After the first bit I overheard, I didn't think you'd want me listening in, so I made an effort to turn my focus elsewhere. I heard him -" he shook Baumhauer's limp form, lightly "-cry out, so..." He stepped back, abruptly. "If you're alright, I believe I'll deliver this young man to the appropriate authorities?"

"Are you all right?" Kon demanded. He helped Tim sit up. He seemed to be having a little trouble keeping himself steady. "Shit, that noise, when he hit you. You're really okay? I should take you to a doctor-"

"You just want me to get my head examined," Tim said with a light smirk. "We should call an ambulance, but I'm fine. Perfect, actually. Just battered enough."

Kon blinked. "Enough? Enough for what?"

Tim caught Kon's tie, which Baumhauer had pulled half-loose. "To press charges," he murmured. "Come here, will you?"

"You-" Kon started, but then he was being pulled down into a kiss. He returned it eagerly, his hands coming up to cup Tim's face. Tim was okay. He was okay, and his stupid plan had worked, even if Kon had improvised. They'd caught the bad guy, and the day was saved with nothing worse than a black eye to show for it. Kon tasted just a hint of blood in Tim's mouth, where his lip had struck his teeth, but somehow that made it better - rich with the knowledge that Tim was alive and okay.

There was a flash of light, and Kon pulled back, blinking. "What-" he said, looking around. Lois was standing at the corner of the building, camera in hand. "Hey!"

"That's twice now someone's snuck up on you while you were kissing me," Tim pointed out, unhelpfully. "You should probably work on that." He turned to Lois. "Have you called the police?"

"Not until you promise me an exclusive," Lois said, pocketing her camera. "Nice shiner, by the way. Very photogenic."

"Wait," Kon said, "exclusive? As in interview?" He looked to Tim, expecting him to refuse outright. This was the guy who had created a whole new identity when Young Justice was going to be on TV, after all.

"Darling," Tim Wayne said, holding out a hand for Kon to help him to his feet. "I am counting on you to get me on the front page."

Index | 17