Close to Home - chapter 17
Kon lay on his back in bed, staring up at the scorch-marks on the ceiling over his bed from before he'd gotten his heat vision under control. He could hear everyone moving around downstairs. Clark was out in the barn, doing chores that Kon thankfully wouldn't have to this morning, and Martha was at the stove, doing something that smelled delicious. Tim and Lois were sitting at the kitchen table, silent except for the click of fingers on keyboards. Every now and then, one of them would take a sip of coffee or comment on something. Tim had made Lois laugh twice since Kon had woken up. It figured they would get along.
Kon had not gotten enough sleep to deal with the teasing he was sure to get if he went downstairs. He'd spent half the night holding Tim's hand in the Smallville Emergency Medical Center while Tim was prodded and x-rayed and examined. Tim - Tim Wayne - hadn't let Kon get more than a few feet away from him until Martha had finally talked Dr. Gomer into letting them go, and nevermind that Tim was demanding a MRI, CAT, PET, and every other medical acronym he could apparently think of.
By the time they got home, Lois had already sent off an article about the night's events - which meant that Kon was too late to stop her, even if she didn't still terrify him a little when she was mad. Martha had given up on him and Tim and finally dragged the whole story out of Clark - and promptly insisted that Tim would be sleeping on the couch, thank you very much, even when Tim had suggested he really ought to be observed overnight. As Martha had reminded him, there were two people in the house with super-senses.
Kon hadn't known what to tell her, when she'd cornered him afterward to ask what had happened between him and Tim. He couldn't lie to Ma - he'd never been able to - which meant he couldn't assure her that there was nothing going on. He'd tried - even opened his mouth to protest his innocence - but he'd flashed on the sense memory of Tim's slim, hard thigh sliding between his own, of Tim's tongue tracing the curve of his ear, and he hadn't been able to say a word.
Kon couldn't tell her, because he didn't know. Tim was a hell of an actor - he really got into his undercover roles - but knowing that hadn't prepared Kon for what it would feel like to have that focus turned on him. Tim had done a damned good impression of someone who wanted into Kon's pants - good enough to fool even Kon, momentarily.
That had been an act. Kon had no doubt about it, now, in the light of day. It was his own reaction that Kon was so unsure of.
Tim and Lois were arguing about something now, so Kon tuned them out and listened to Clark stomp the mud off of his boots - unlike Kon, he never used his powers for something as trivial as avoiding chicken muck - and come inside.
"Clark, honey," he heard Martha say. "Go see if Conner's up, will you?"
Which probably meant they all knew he was awake. Kon sighed and rolled over to grab his pants. He levitated up enough to yank them up over his boxers, and then sat up on the edge of the bed and scrubbed his hands through his hair.
Clark knocked on the doorframe as he pushed open the door, which would have bugged Kon if the knock weren't a total joke, since they could see each other through the wood, anyway. "Hey," he said, poking his head in. "Coming down for breakfast?"
For a moment, Kon debated just telling him no. He could hide up here all day, or maybe fly out the window and escape. Maybe they needed a superhero in Abu Dhabi, or something.
Clark slipped in and shut the door behind himself. "Or...we could talk?"
Breakfast suddenly sounded like a great idea. It was too late, though - Clark was already crossing the room to sit down beside Kon on the edge of the bed. Kon used his telekinesis to smooth the covers out and kicked a pair of underwear under the bed as surreptitiously as he could.
"Um," Clark said, staring at the wall. "I don't want you to think I was hiding anything from you, because I wasn't. It's just that...some things are in the past, and they don't get spoken of very often. There was never any reason to bring it up."
"Right," Kon agreed, hoping to get this over with quickly.
"And...I didn't mean to insult you. Or Tim. When I said..." Clark swallowed. "When I told you I thought it was his idea for you to infiltrate the club, it was a comment on Bruce's methods and training as much as anything else, and Tim's own skill as an undercover operative. It wasn't a value judgment. I was..." he sighed. "I've always admired your honesty," he said quickly. "Your openness, your candor, your comfort with who you are."
Kon looked up at him in surprise. "Really?"
Clark finally met his eyes. "Yes, Conner. I suppose...well, I've always felt alien, no matter what planet I was on. On Earth, I'm out of place because of my powers. On New Krypton, I was out of place because of my upbringing." Clark shrugged. "It's easier with people who know me as Clark and as Superman - the family, of course, and that includes you. Tim's family, too. Especially Tim's family, because...well, Ma knows me pretty well. But she's never going to know what it feels like to hold people's lives in her hands."
Not since Clark had gotten too big to carry, anyway, Kon thought.
"You've been so honest, from the day I met you," Clark went on. "You never saw any reason to hide until I forced you kicking and screaming into a civilian identity. You were just yourself - and you're the most yourself when you're out there, doing what you do best. When you're with your friends. Frankly, I'm jealous. When I was a teenager, I was alone, Kon. I had to lie to everyone. I didn't even tell Ma and Pa everything that was happening to me, because I was afraid one day they'd just decide it was all too much, and they would be better off without me."
Kon pulled his legs up and turned to face Clark on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. "They loved you. Love you. You're their son. Always. No matter what."
Clark smiled, but his eyes were sad. "It's easy to miss that kind of thing, when you're a teenager. Easy to think family is something conditional."
Kon looked down at his hands.
"If I was angry..." Clark sighed again. Kon got the impression it might have been a stalling tactic, while he fished for words. "I don't think it's a coincidence that the first time in your life you really lied to people who care about you, you did it with Tim at your back. No," he said, when Kon balled his hands into fists, "let me finish this time, please. We've had enough misunderstandings, I think. I'm not judging Tim as a person. I know things work differently in Gotham. Bruce and Tim, even Dick, they need lies just to function, to be able to do what they do. People have to believe that they're something other than they are, all day, all night, all the time, or they would almost certainly be killed. I've known Bruce for a long time, Kon, and I know how exhausting that is, but for them it's second nature. They can't look through a wall or listen from the stratosphere and then take down a gang in one fell swoop - they have to infiltrate, place listening devices, spend months tracking trade manifests and crime patterns, and then they act. And...they hardly ever ask for help."
"Tim asks me for help," Kon protested. After a moment of considering the vastly uneven ratio of favors between them, though, he amended the statement. "Sometimes."
"As often as you'd be willing to help him?"
"Well," Kon said, looking over at the wall. "No. But only because I'd always help, if he asked me. That's...we're friends. That's what you do." When Kon glanced back over at Clark, he was smiling. "What?"
"Nothing," Clark said, his tone light. "Just having a moment, I think. You've really grown up all right."
Kon quickly looked away again. "Not so fast," he said. "Superboy, remember? Don't got expecting me to be all mature, and stuff."
"Oh," Clark said, "I'll try not to build any unreasonable expectations." He chuckled. "I wouldn't want to imply you were responsible or anything."
"Oh God, no," Kon said, grinning. "And please, please don't say that in front of Ma, or she'll make me do extra chores or something."
Clark laughed, the sound somehow too big for the tiny little bedroom under the eaves - the one he'd slept in before Kon had even been a thought in a mad scientist's head. "Like what? You already keep the whole farm running. That's a full time job on top of school and being Superboy, and you seem to manage all right."
"Because I cheat," Kon admitted. He put his hand to the blanket and it shook itself out into neat rows, like the corn outside his window.
"You say that like Pa actually hooked the plow up to the tractor at some point since I turned fifteen."
Kon smiled and rested his head against the headboard. This wasn't so bad. Usually, when he tried to talk to Clark, Kon would either get tongue-tied or angry. So far, he'd managed to mostly avoid both.
"What I wanted to say, though," Clark said, "about Tim. It isn't that I don't trust him, or don't like him, or anything like that. I've just...been where you are, in a way. Bruce hates asking for anything even more than Tim does, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have his ways of getting all of us to do what he wants. He can be a sneaky, manipulative bastard, sometimes. He's my best friend, aside from Lois, but sometimes he really makes me crazy."
"Tim's not..." Kon started, and then trailed off. He wouldn't have called him a bastard, anyway. Unless, of course, he was fresh from one Tim's particularly sneaky and manipulative tricks. Hmm. "Batman's like that, too?"
"Oh, yes," Clark agreed, with an eye-roll of epic proportions. "He'll do things like convince his publicist to talk Perry into sending me to cover an event he's attending."
Kon frowned. "If he thinks he might need backup?"
"Sometimes." Clark shrugged. "Mostly so he'll have someone to talk to. Because God forbid he pick up the phone and call me. Or just call me." He cocked his head and looked intently at Kon. "Anyway, all this is my way of trying to tell you - If you think Tim might have had an ulterior motive for his stunt last night, it probably means he does."
Oh. Oh. Kon felt his face heat, and he looked away. Oh. Clark thought... Clark thought...
What if he was right?
"I'll let you get dressed," Clark said. He stood and headed for the door, but stopped halfway through it. "Conner. Kon. You know you can always talk to me? I mean, I haven't always been the best..." he trailed off.
"Yeah," Kon said, hoarse. "Yeah, I know."
As soon as Clark shut the door, Kon flopped over and pressed his face into his pillow. Oh God. Was Clark right? What if he was? What would that mean? There was no way he could face Tim now!
*
Once he'd had a shower and brushed his teeth - and spent kind of an embarrassing amount of time on his hair, considering he was just going down for breakfast - Kon pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and the blue pullover Martha said made his eyes look nice and headed down the stairs.
"Well, hello, sleepyhead," Martha greeted him as he entered the kitchen. "I thought you were going to laze the day away, up there."
"Hm," Tim said without looking up from his laptop. His eye looked even worse this morning. "I could've just dragged him to San Francisco while he was still unconscious." Tim took a sip of his coffee. "Changed his clothes in his sleep."
Martha chuckled, but Clark looked between Kon and Tim with an uncertain expression and Lois was smirking a little. On any other morning of their lives, Kon would have gone for a snappy comeback, but there was something about the way Tim wasn't looking at him that made Kon sit down without comment.
Tim was sitting at the head of the little rectangular table, as far from Clark and Lois as he could get. That made Kon slide his own chair a little closer and deliberately bump Tim's foot with his own, even though he had to shoo Krypto out of the way to do it. "Hey," he said, uncertainly.
Tim shut his laptop. "I was hoping to head to the Tower after breakfast."
"Okay," Kon said, because maybe that wasn't what he'd wanted to talk about, but he really didn't want to have the conversation they apparently needed in front of his family, anyway.
Martha set a plate and a mug in front of Kon and went back to fix her own breakfast. Kon grabbed the coffee and clutched it like a warm, fragrant lifeline. When he looked down at his plate, it was piled with blueberry pancakes. He shot a glance at Tim, whose own plate was missing a portion of food probably mathematically determined to be the minimum he could eat without causing offence. The adoring looks Krypto kept giving Tim suddenly made a lot more sense.
Tim set down his coffee. "Lois managed to get some interesting information out of a sheriff's deputy while we were making the emergency staff uncomfortable," he said with a nod in her direction.
"Mm," Lois swallowed her mouthful of pancake. "They got a full confession," she said, cheerfully. "Your wingnut admitted to all three crimes you pinned him for, and a bunch more."
Kon dropped his fork to his plate with a clatter. "More?"
"Several deaths previously believed to be accidents," Tim explained, "and the unsolved murder of a vagrant, last year."
Kon planted his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands.
"Elbows," Martha scolded without looking up from her own plate.
Kon dropped his hands to his lap. "So...he's going away, at least? I guess to Iron Heights? Bart can keep an eye on him."
"If the confessions are admissible," Tim said, "then maybe."
"Maybe?"
"There's a good chance he'll be ruled incompetent."
Kon swore.
"Conner Kent!" Martha said. She and Clark looked equally scandalized. "Cussing at the breakfast table!"
"I think it's a fair comment," Lois said dryly. She took a sip of coffee. "It'll be a while before they finish the testing and the hearings, but for now he's in up in Keystone, in holding."
"He'll be locked up, either way," Clark assured him. "Away from anyone else he could hurt. And maybe he'll get the help he needs. He's still young."
Tim snorted. "Even assuming that your local high security treatment facility for the criminally insane is somehow better than Arkham..." he shook his head, "in my experience, it's very difficult to cure religion."
Martha looked disapproving, but it was Clark who spoke. "That's awfully cynical, Tim. Even for you."
"Hm," Tim said, frowning. "Did you ever meet Valley?"
"Who?" Kon asked.
Tim turned his eyes heavenward before shooting Kon an amused look. "I'll tell you later. The point is, we get our fair share of religious nut-jobs in Gotham - probably more than, actually. It never goes well." He paused and smirked. "Having never been the focus of a cult, myself..."
Martha cleared her throat before Clark or Kon could take the obvious bait. "I think that's enough murder and religion at the table for one morning. Next thing, you'll be wanting to argue politics."
"Hm," Tim said, his eyes sparkling. "Lois - about that exposé you wrote on Senator Kasey's unauthorized use of campaign funds..."
"Do you mean the one about the yacht or the one about the underage prostitutes?"
Kon's foot connected with Tim's ankle just as Clark did something made Lois jump. Martha just sighed at the ceiling.
Kon heard a familiar rumble from up the road, and it made him sit up with a jolt.
"What?" Tim asked, suddenly alert.
Clark cocked his head. "Ma," he said, "are you expecting anyone?"
"Oh," she said, casually. "Didn't I say? Jake called. Said he'd be swinging by." She shot a look at Kon that made him fumble with his silverware. "He was so concerned. I told him he ought to come see you himself."
"Oh, how nice," Tim said, flatly. He stood. "I'll go change."
"What?" Kon said, getting to his feet as well. "Why? You look-" like Tim, he realized, taking in his t-shirt and slightly baggy jeans.
"Well, darling," Tim said in a voice that made Martha's eyes narrow, "I just can't be seen at less than my best." Lois laughed as he swanned out of the room, but Martha's expression remained dour.
Kon grabbed his and Tim's plates and headed for the sink. Krypto followed with his best begging face on, so Kon scrapped the rest of Tim's breakfast into the dog bowl before setting the plates in the sink and running some dishwater. He washed and dried his hands, and then went to get the door when he heard Jake's engine cut off.
Jake was getting out of the truck when Kon stepped out onto the porch. He reached across the seat and grabbed a flat white box, and then mounted the steps at a jog, coming to a stop in front of Kon with the box held out like an offering.
"How's, uh. How's Tim?" he asked, sounding nervous.
"Oh," Kon said. "He's fine. I mean - well, he made a big deal out of it, but Doc Gomer says he's fine. What's, ah..."
"Pie," Jake said quickly. He thrust the box forward a little more, and Kon took it. "It's um, cherry. Nell made it. It's really good."
Kon looked down at the box in his hands. "Thanks."
Jake shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. "Anyway," he said, "I just wanted to, ah. To make sure you were all right. Both of you, I mean. Tim too."
"He's got a hell of a black eye," Kon said with a chuckle, "but he heals pretty fast."
"Oh," Jake said, sounding like Kon had said something surprising and important. He narrowed his eyes a little bit, but Kon wasn't sure what the look meant. After a few seconds, he shook his head and looked back down at his feet. "I, uh...got the impression he didn't like me very much," he said, quietly. "You didn't tell him...um..."
Kon coughed. "We don't-" he stopped and changed his statement after a moment's thought. "I don't keep a lot of secrets from Tim. It would be kind of pointless, anyway. He always finds everything out eventually." He shrugged. "He's too smart for me."
"Don't say that," Jake said, looking back up at Kon with sudden ferocity. "Does he say that?"
"What?" Kon asked, taken aback. "No! I don't - Jake, I'm not being self-deprecating, and I don't think I'm an idiot. Tim's just really smart."
Jake made a noncommittal noise. He frowned and looked down at his feet again. He scuffed his toe on the edge of the step, knocking a clod of dried mud to the ground. "I've got to admit," he said, quietly, "he...isn't exactly what I'd expected."
To be fair, he hadn't been quite what Kon had expected, either, but he couldn't tell Jake that. Urgh, he'd been right. All his friends were going to be wondering what the hell he was doing with a jerk like Tim Wayne, or else they'd all go Chase's route and assume he was dating him for money, or something. "You have to get to know him," Kon said. "He's kind of...prickly, I guess, at first. He used to drive me crazy. We fought, like, all the time. But once he trusts you...once he opens up, he's really a completely different guy. A really good guy."
Jake looked uncertain, but he nodded. "Do you think he was serious? About me coming to Gotham?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Tim said from the doorway, making Kon and Jake both jump and turn, guiltily. He'd changed into something stylish and probably expensive and done his hair and...was the bruise darker? "Conner, invite your friend inside." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Honestly, were you raised in a barn?" He held up his hand. "Don't answer that."
Kon glared at him.
"Unless," Tim added, archly, "you two wanted to be alone together."
Kon shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding the pie. "Come on in," he said to Jake. Tim held the door for them, and Kon motioned for Jake to go through first, so that he could kick Tim in the shin without arousing suspicion.
Tim, of course, dodged.
They all headed into the kitchen, where Jake stopped dead still at the sight of Clark and Lois finishing their pancakes. "Oh," he said quietly. "Good morning."
"Jacob!" Martha said, happily. "Come have some breakfast."
"Oh I - I couldn't, really," Jake said awkwardly. "I just..." his eyes lit up. "Are those blueberry?"
Martha grinned and pulled another plate out of the cabinet.
"Jake brought a pie," Kon said as he set it on the counter and opened the box to peek inside. It did look good - dark like real cherries, and not the artificial red of canned filling. It smelled good, too. Kon scooped up a drip of filling with one finger and sucked it clean, only to look up and notice everyone watching him. "Oh," he said, "Clark, Lois, this is Jake. He's a friend from school."
Clark grinned broadly. "You're Carl Jenkins's boy, aren't you?" He got up and held out a hand. "I thought you looked familiar, last night."
Jake just sort of...let his hand be grabbed and shaken, busily looking everywhere but at Clark. "Yes, Mr. Kent," he mumbled, his ears turning red. Kon looked back and forth between them and felt his eyes widen.
Clark laughed. "'Clark', please. You'll make me feel old. As if you didn't already. Goodness, I haven't seen you since you were," he let go of Jake's hand to gesture at the level of his thigh, "what, that high?"
"Shot up a bit, hasn't he?" Martha said, affectionately. She patted Jake's shoulder and handed him a plate piled high with pancakes. "Eat up, now."
"Thank you, Mrs. Kent."
Martha waved a hand. "Oh, child, call me Martha. Ma, if you like. Everyone does." She glanced at Tim. "Mostly."
"Yes, ma'am," Jake mumbled, smiling. He pulled out a chair and sat down. Krypto sat down on his feet to beg, and got a pat on the head for his trouble.
"To answer your question," Tim said, "I was perfectly serious when I invited you to visit. You're Conner's friend, which means we ought to get to know each other, and I really do think Giles would be thrilled to meet you." He flicked back a strand of hair. "The party's only semi-formal, so you won't need a tuxedo. Feel free to bring a date, but it's hardly required," he glanced at Kon and broke off. "Oh, come here," he said, sounding exasperated.
"What?" Kon said, guiltily, shutting the lid of the pie box behind his back.
Tim just beckoned him forward, so Kon took a few steps toward him, until Tim lunged forward and grabbed his chin. He fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and licked it before scrubbing the corner of Kon's mouth, making him wince.
Lois did a very poor job of hiding her snicker in her coffee mug.
"Shall I hire a car?" Tim asked, stepping back and folding the - monogrammed, Kon realized - handkerchief into a neat square before pocketing it. "I hate to think of you leaving your poor aunt without transportation all evening. I'd come get you myself, but I won't be back from Berlin until noon. There should be plenty of time for the jet to refuel and meet you both in Wellington."
Kon blinked ans swallowed. "Both?" he said. Somehow it hadn't sunk in that he'd be going, too. And if he and Jake were both going...
Oh God. Kon suddenly realized what that meant. More Tim Wayne. More Conner Kent, Tim Wayne's boyfriend. The act wasn't over. Kon wasn't even sure how he felt about that, beyond a pronounced uneasiness in his stomach. He couldn't refuse, either, with Jake sitting right there, or even try to talk it out, - to figure out what Tim was thinking, what he wanted...
"Er," he said, hoping Jake was too focused on his pancakes to notice Kon's sudden discomfort. "Ah. What time, Thursday?"
Across the room, Clark sighed and whispered too softly for human ears, "I really hate to say I told you so."
THE END
Index | Epilogue