[fic] Turning Circles 2/? (formerly titled biscuits)
Title: Turning Circles 2/? (was renamed from biscuits, probably suggested by someinstant's lovely "cross, cast, half figure of eight.")
Previous chapter: here.
Notes: Much thanks to jamjar for acting as beta, and quiva for advice on colloquialisms, etc. I really appreciate your help with this!
Summary: They're realising that there might be more to this than they thought.
The co-ordinates Robin sent them ended up being a fast food place in the middle of Bludhaven. Kon leaned back in their booth, trying to make himself as comfortable as he could. This wasn’t easy.
“Do you think these seats are designed to be uncomfortable? Or no one ever thought to comfort-test them first?”
“Nothing is this uncomfortable without work,” Bart said seriously. “Notice how the material is just slippery enough that you can’t lean back without slipping? That takes thought.”
“You think it’s part of an evil scheme? Conquer the world by disrupting people’s dining experiences?”
“Obviously. Cause, you know, if people aren’t satisfied with their local burger joint, they’ll probably be at home cooking nutritious meals and stuff and then anyone could just waltz into town and take over.”
That was one of the advantages of Bart. You could have conversations like this without people looking at you as if they thought you were a weirdo, if they were a civilian, or like you were far too immature to ever be allowed to save the world, if they were a costume.
“So who d’you think is behind it? That Poison Ivy chick’s pretty big on nature, and you know how much damage places like this do to the environment --”
“You wish! You just want to stare at her rack again.” Bart tapped his fingers against the table as he cast another look around the restaurant. He could be looking for Robin, or scanning the menu again, although knowing Bart, Kon guessed he knew what he wanted to order 0.003 seconds after they arrived.
“Well then who do you think it is?”
“Could be the Joker. I mean, we’re talking about someone with absolutely no mercy here, to whom nothing is sacred, to -- Tim!”
Even without the mask, there was still something about Tim. No matter what superpowers a guy had, they were all useless against someone who could appear out of nowhere like that just to completely freak you out. Kon wasn’t sure if the no-powers thing made it better or worse. And Tim was their friend . . .
“The Ultra Humanite. Think about it. He’ll just keep upping the stakes, making the portions smaller, the food worse, the music more intolerable until we have no choice but to eat at fancy gourmet places.”
Then again, there were reasons why Tim was a friend.
“I dunno. The Ultra Humanite? I mean look at the decor -- even I think this is tacky.” Bart shrugged. “Hey, Tim, you wanna burger or a drink?”
“Something this bad has to be a work of art,” Tim replied just as seriously. “Just a plain burger, fries, no drink. Kon?”
“Two cheeseburgers, I guess. Do they have rootbeer?”
Bart was gone.
“So,” said Kon.
“So.”
“Do you think he heard? I mean, I’m getting sick of coke all the time --”
“If he didn’t we can send him back. Kon --”
How stupid was it that the moment he had Tim here to talk about it, he didn’t want to talk? “So, what’s with this place? I mean, it’s not exactly your style is it? And it’s kind of noisy for a serious talk, and well, relationship stuff and that --”
“Which is kind of the point.” Tim was smiling now. It wasn’t what you’d call natural. Kon wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Tim had studied himself in a mirror, practicing the sharp half-smile for occasions such as this, but it was still -- oddly personal. And good. “This is . . . bait.”
“Bait?”
“Bart’s not going to sit down for a long discussion without something to occupy him. Food usually works.”
“You ever worry you spend far too much time thinking about stuff like that? The way you go on, you’re going to wind up a psychiatrist or something --”
Tim just looked at him.
“That line took forever.” Bart dropped two loaded trays onto the table, flopping onto the vinyl sofa. “There should be a law against people who change their minds mid-order.”
“Bart -- woah!” Kon was surprised and even Tim raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve got enough food there for 6 people. The Garrick’s raised your allowance or something?”
“The Garricks don’t give me an allowance,” Bart said, unwrapping his first burger. “Kon, I couldn’t remember if you wanted fries or not, so I got some anyway. If you don’t want them, I’ll eat them.”
“Nah, it’s good,” Kon said, helping himself to his cheeseburger. “So, what do we owe you?”
“My treat.” Bart’s burger was already gone, and he’d started on his second.
“Your treat? But if you don’t get an allowance how . . . ?”
“Promise you won’t laugh?” Bart swallowed, weighing Kon and Tim thoughtfully. Kon just waited, knowing that Bart was never that patient. “Newspaper route.”
Kon snorted. “You got a paper route? That’s --”
“Actually pretty smart.” When Tim said stuff like that, people listened. Kon shut his mouth. Bart glowed.
“You think?”
“You’re discreet of course?”
“Yeah. Actually, I take Dox with me and do one of them at normal speed --”
“One of them?”
“I have a few. Different cities. I’m discreet --”
Tim made a non-commital noise. “So why the part-time job all of a sudden?”
Kon was still trying to picture Bart being discreet. And failing.
“I -- well,” Bart hunched his shoulders up, poking at a french fry. “The Garricks -- they’ve got a lot to worry about what with the hospital bills, and they do so much for me already -- I don’t want to ask them for more.”
“Woah,” said Kon. “Hold up. Since when do you think about stuff like that?”
Bart slurped the last of his drink noisily. “I think about a lot of things.”
“The human brain works in mysterious ways,” Tim said. “Yours more than most.”
“Everyone at my school has one,” Bart shrugged. “And what am I going to do, ask Wally for money? He’d probably -- hey! What was that about my brain?”
That was a relief. For a moment there, Kon thought Bart had matured. “So, Tim, hope we didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Yeah,” Bart agreed. “You said you’d be busy. Why’d you change your mind?”
Tim shrugged. “Quiet night. That, and I thought we could all do with a talk.” He put his burger down, folding his hands in front of him in a way that meant business. “Kon mentioned you have a girlfriend?”
Bart grinned. “Carol.”
“She’s a girl who is a friend?”
“Well, yeah. And my girlfriend,” Bart was frowning, having realised something was wrong. “But what’s the big deal? We don’t tell each other everything about our secret identities.”
“Bart,” Tim said softly. “This is something that’s a little more complicated than a secret identity.” His expression was carefully blank. Bart just looked more confused.
“Most people don’t have two boyfriends and a girlfriend,” Kon pointed out. “It just doesn’t work that way.”
“Most people don’t have superpowers either,” Bart said, making another burger disappear. “You guys want dessert?”
Tim reached over the table to put his hand on Bart’s arm. “Dessert can wait,” he said, and Bart blinked. “This is important.”
“Important?” Bart looked from Tim to Kon and his eyes got a little wider. “Oh. This is one of those moments, isn’t it?”
“Moments?”
“Before the commercial break. You know, the lead in to the really bad news that you have to wait until after the breathmint ad to hear.”
“Bart,” Kon said. “This isn’t some family sitcom --”
“It’s not a terminal illness is it? Because that would totally suck. And neither of you look pregnant --” Bart gasped, covering his mouth. “Ohmigod!”
“Now you get it?”
Bart spluttered in response until Tim whacked him on the back a few times. “Kon!” Bart said as soon as he could breathe. “You’re cheating on us!”
“I -- what the hell?”
“How could you? I thought we meant more to each other than that!” Bart glared at him, putting his arms around Tim in a comforting way. “Look how much you’ve upset Tim!”
Which led into the most surreal moment of the entire evening; Tim was hunched in on himself, hands clapped over his mouth, shoulders shaking as he fought to hold himself together. Kon narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“He’s laughing.”
“Bart,” Tim managed to gasp. “Water --”
With another unconvinced glare in Kon’s direction, Bart flitted off. Kon leaned on his elbows and listened to Tim try to catch his breath. “Man, could you stop that? Totally freaks me out.”
“Sorry.” Tim lent back against the seat, and wiped his eyes. “I think I’m done,” he said, sliding down the vinyl seatback and accepting the glass of water pushed into his hand. “Thanks Bart.”
“Are you okay?” Bart said, sliding back into his seat and watching Tim with wide, worried eyes. “That was scary.”
“I’m fine,” Tim said, pulling himself upright again. “Look, would you two stop staring at me like I grew another head or something? I am human, you know.”
Bart and Kon looked at him. They knew better.
“Okay,” said Tim, once he’d finished the glass of water and was breathing normally again. “Let’s take this from the top. Bart, what gave you the idea that Kon is --”
“Why else would you guys be acting so anxious?” Bart said. “And I mean, it is kind of obvious. Kon’s always hitting on girls. I thought it was just insecurity, a way of boosting his ego -- it’s not Cassie, is it? Because that would be really gross and you do spend an awful lot of time looking at her --”
“What? I so do not!” It was Kon’s turn to splutter. “Tim, tell Bart that’s not true.”
Tim paused. “Actually --”
“I don’t believe this! Okay, so maybe, occasionally, I look at girls --”
“-- for hours and hours --”
“-- but that doesn’t mean anything! I mean, there’s no law against a guy enjoying the view, right? And let’s not forget that the only one of us with a girlfriend is Bart.”
“What does Carol have to do with -- hey! That’s like completely different!”
“How?” Kon demanded, crossing his arms.
“Well, for a start -- you guys don’t need me the same way. I’m not saying Carol has to be protected, but its kind of --” Bart looked steadily at his now empty tray. “I can surprise her, you know? And she figured out I was Impulse from the way my hair gets blown back when I use superspeed. And she doesn’t think I’m stupid and I can make her smile, even when Jeff’s being a real moron and everything,” he said, suspiciously pink. “Also, she’s a girl.”
“A ... girl.” Tim said. Kon had the distinct impression that Tim was trying not to crack a smile.
“I think we figured that out, Bart! Geez!” Kon thumped the table with one fist, sending all their drinks toppling over. “So, what -- it’s okay to have sex with her just because she’s a girl?”
Bart gave him a look like that was the weirdest thing he’d heard since Tim had tried to explain the Riddler to him, and then blurred out of sight. When he returned, a split second later, the drinks had been wiped up, and there was a pile of soggy napkins in the middle of the table. “Hell no. Sex with Carol? That’s just wrong.”
“But -- you said --” Kon had the feeling that this was a losing battle. “I thought --”
Tim quietly but firmly put his hand over Kon’s mouth. “That’s enough discussion for one night,” he said. “Bart, dessert? This time its my treat.”
Bart brightened. “Cool. I want the triple fudge sundae and a milkshake.”
“I think I’ll have the regular berry sundae. Kon?”
Kon let his shoulders sag in defeat and resisted the urge to beat his head against the table. “Triple fudge sounds good to me.”
Previous chapter: here.
Notes: Much thanks to jamjar for acting as beta, and quiva for advice on colloquialisms, etc. I really appreciate your help with this!
Summary: They're realising that there might be more to this than they thought.
The co-ordinates Robin sent them ended up being a fast food place in the middle of Bludhaven. Kon leaned back in their booth, trying to make himself as comfortable as he could. This wasn’t easy.
“Do you think these seats are designed to be uncomfortable? Or no one ever thought to comfort-test them first?”
“Nothing is this uncomfortable without work,” Bart said seriously. “Notice how the material is just slippery enough that you can’t lean back without slipping? That takes thought.”
“You think it’s part of an evil scheme? Conquer the world by disrupting people’s dining experiences?”
“Obviously. Cause, you know, if people aren’t satisfied with their local burger joint, they’ll probably be at home cooking nutritious meals and stuff and then anyone could just waltz into town and take over.”
That was one of the advantages of Bart. You could have conversations like this without people looking at you as if they thought you were a weirdo, if they were a civilian, or like you were far too immature to ever be allowed to save the world, if they were a costume.
“So who d’you think is behind it? That Poison Ivy chick’s pretty big on nature, and you know how much damage places like this do to the environment --”
“You wish! You just want to stare at her rack again.” Bart tapped his fingers against the table as he cast another look around the restaurant. He could be looking for Robin, or scanning the menu again, although knowing Bart, Kon guessed he knew what he wanted to order 0.003 seconds after they arrived.
“Well then who do you think it is?”
“Could be the Joker. I mean, we’re talking about someone with absolutely no mercy here, to whom nothing is sacred, to -- Tim!”
Even without the mask, there was still something about Tim. No matter what superpowers a guy had, they were all useless against someone who could appear out of nowhere like that just to completely freak you out. Kon wasn’t sure if the no-powers thing made it better or worse. And Tim was their friend . . .
“The Ultra Humanite. Think about it. He’ll just keep upping the stakes, making the portions smaller, the food worse, the music more intolerable until we have no choice but to eat at fancy gourmet places.”
Then again, there were reasons why Tim was a friend.
“I dunno. The Ultra Humanite? I mean look at the decor -- even I think this is tacky.” Bart shrugged. “Hey, Tim, you wanna burger or a drink?”
“Something this bad has to be a work of art,” Tim replied just as seriously. “Just a plain burger, fries, no drink. Kon?”
“Two cheeseburgers, I guess. Do they have rootbeer?”
Bart was gone.
“So,” said Kon.
“So.”
“Do you think he heard? I mean, I’m getting sick of coke all the time --”
“If he didn’t we can send him back. Kon --”
How stupid was it that the moment he had Tim here to talk about it, he didn’t want to talk? “So, what’s with this place? I mean, it’s not exactly your style is it? And it’s kind of noisy for a serious talk, and well, relationship stuff and that --”
“Which is kind of the point.” Tim was smiling now. It wasn’t what you’d call natural. Kon wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Tim had studied himself in a mirror, practicing the sharp half-smile for occasions such as this, but it was still -- oddly personal. And good. “This is . . . bait.”
“Bait?”
“Bart’s not going to sit down for a long discussion without something to occupy him. Food usually works.”
“You ever worry you spend far too much time thinking about stuff like that? The way you go on, you’re going to wind up a psychiatrist or something --”
Tim just looked at him.
“That line took forever.” Bart dropped two loaded trays onto the table, flopping onto the vinyl sofa. “There should be a law against people who change their minds mid-order.”
“Bart -- woah!” Kon was surprised and even Tim raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve got enough food there for 6 people. The Garrick’s raised your allowance or something?”
“The Garricks don’t give me an allowance,” Bart said, unwrapping his first burger. “Kon, I couldn’t remember if you wanted fries or not, so I got some anyway. If you don’t want them, I’ll eat them.”
“Nah, it’s good,” Kon said, helping himself to his cheeseburger. “So, what do we owe you?”
“My treat.” Bart’s burger was already gone, and he’d started on his second.
“Your treat? But if you don’t get an allowance how . . . ?”
“Promise you won’t laugh?” Bart swallowed, weighing Kon and Tim thoughtfully. Kon just waited, knowing that Bart was never that patient. “Newspaper route.”
Kon snorted. “You got a paper route? That’s --”
“Actually pretty smart.” When Tim said stuff like that, people listened. Kon shut his mouth. Bart glowed.
“You think?”
“You’re discreet of course?”
“Yeah. Actually, I take Dox with me and do one of them at normal speed --”
“One of them?”
“I have a few. Different cities. I’m discreet --”
Tim made a non-commital noise. “So why the part-time job all of a sudden?”
Kon was still trying to picture Bart being discreet. And failing.
“I -- well,” Bart hunched his shoulders up, poking at a french fry. “The Garricks -- they’ve got a lot to worry about what with the hospital bills, and they do so much for me already -- I don’t want to ask them for more.”
“Woah,” said Kon. “Hold up. Since when do you think about stuff like that?”
Bart slurped the last of his drink noisily. “I think about a lot of things.”
“The human brain works in mysterious ways,” Tim said. “Yours more than most.”
“Everyone at my school has one,” Bart shrugged. “And what am I going to do, ask Wally for money? He’d probably -- hey! What was that about my brain?”
That was a relief. For a moment there, Kon thought Bart had matured. “So, Tim, hope we didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Yeah,” Bart agreed. “You said you’d be busy. Why’d you change your mind?”
Tim shrugged. “Quiet night. That, and I thought we could all do with a talk.” He put his burger down, folding his hands in front of him in a way that meant business. “Kon mentioned you have a girlfriend?”
Bart grinned. “Carol.”
“She’s a girl who is a friend?”
“Well, yeah. And my girlfriend,” Bart was frowning, having realised something was wrong. “But what’s the big deal? We don’t tell each other everything about our secret identities.”
“Bart,” Tim said softly. “This is something that’s a little more complicated than a secret identity.” His expression was carefully blank. Bart just looked more confused.
“Most people don’t have two boyfriends and a girlfriend,” Kon pointed out. “It just doesn’t work that way.”
“Most people don’t have superpowers either,” Bart said, making another burger disappear. “You guys want dessert?”
Tim reached over the table to put his hand on Bart’s arm. “Dessert can wait,” he said, and Bart blinked. “This is important.”
“Important?” Bart looked from Tim to Kon and his eyes got a little wider. “Oh. This is one of those moments, isn’t it?”
“Moments?”
“Before the commercial break. You know, the lead in to the really bad news that you have to wait until after the breathmint ad to hear.”
“Bart,” Kon said. “This isn’t some family sitcom --”
“It’s not a terminal illness is it? Because that would totally suck. And neither of you look pregnant --” Bart gasped, covering his mouth. “Ohmigod!”
“Now you get it?”
Bart spluttered in response until Tim whacked him on the back a few times. “Kon!” Bart said as soon as he could breathe. “You’re cheating on us!”
“I -- what the hell?”
“How could you? I thought we meant more to each other than that!” Bart glared at him, putting his arms around Tim in a comforting way. “Look how much you’ve upset Tim!”
Which led into the most surreal moment of the entire evening; Tim was hunched in on himself, hands clapped over his mouth, shoulders shaking as he fought to hold himself together. Kon narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“He’s laughing.”
“Bart,” Tim managed to gasp. “Water --”
With another unconvinced glare in Kon’s direction, Bart flitted off. Kon leaned on his elbows and listened to Tim try to catch his breath. “Man, could you stop that? Totally freaks me out.”
“Sorry.” Tim lent back against the seat, and wiped his eyes. “I think I’m done,” he said, sliding down the vinyl seatback and accepting the glass of water pushed into his hand. “Thanks Bart.”
“Are you okay?” Bart said, sliding back into his seat and watching Tim with wide, worried eyes. “That was scary.”
“I’m fine,” Tim said, pulling himself upright again. “Look, would you two stop staring at me like I grew another head or something? I am human, you know.”
Bart and Kon looked at him. They knew better.
“Okay,” said Tim, once he’d finished the glass of water and was breathing normally again. “Let’s take this from the top. Bart, what gave you the idea that Kon is --”
“Why else would you guys be acting so anxious?” Bart said. “And I mean, it is kind of obvious. Kon’s always hitting on girls. I thought it was just insecurity, a way of boosting his ego -- it’s not Cassie, is it? Because that would be really gross and you do spend an awful lot of time looking at her --”
“What? I so do not!” It was Kon’s turn to splutter. “Tim, tell Bart that’s not true.”
Tim paused. “Actually --”
“I don’t believe this! Okay, so maybe, occasionally, I look at girls --”
“-- for hours and hours --”
“-- but that doesn’t mean anything! I mean, there’s no law against a guy enjoying the view, right? And let’s not forget that the only one of us with a girlfriend is Bart.”
“What does Carol have to do with -- hey! That’s like completely different!”
“How?” Kon demanded, crossing his arms.
“Well, for a start -- you guys don’t need me the same way. I’m not saying Carol has to be protected, but its kind of --” Bart looked steadily at his now empty tray. “I can surprise her, you know? And she figured out I was Impulse from the way my hair gets blown back when I use superspeed. And she doesn’t think I’m stupid and I can make her smile, even when Jeff’s being a real moron and everything,” he said, suspiciously pink. “Also, she’s a girl.”
“A ... girl.” Tim said. Kon had the distinct impression that Tim was trying not to crack a smile.
“I think we figured that out, Bart! Geez!” Kon thumped the table with one fist, sending all their drinks toppling over. “So, what -- it’s okay to have sex with her just because she’s a girl?”
Bart gave him a look like that was the weirdest thing he’d heard since Tim had tried to explain the Riddler to him, and then blurred out of sight. When he returned, a split second later, the drinks had been wiped up, and there was a pile of soggy napkins in the middle of the table. “Hell no. Sex with Carol? That’s just wrong.”
“But -- you said --” Kon had the feeling that this was a losing battle. “I thought --”
Tim quietly but firmly put his hand over Kon’s mouth. “That’s enough discussion for one night,” he said. “Bart, dessert? This time its my treat.”
Bart brightened. “Cool. I want the triple fudge sundae and a milkshake.”
“I think I’ll have the regular berry sundae. Kon?”
Kon let his shoulders sag in defeat and resisted the urge to beat his head against the table. “Triple fudge sounds good to me.”