![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
if we keep score
tim drake/kon-el // ~3.5k
> Kon was pretty sure he wasn't homophobic, but he also couldn't think of any other explanation as to why his reaction to Tim coming out was to blow a hole through the roof.
Cassie took her job as leader pretty seriously. Kon thought it was hot when they were dating and even after they called it quits, but now it was mostly scary, and just a little bit aggravating.
“We seriously need to talk,” Cassie began, which Kon already figured, because it wasn’t like she dragged him aside to a room for themselves to make out anymore. “Kon, what the hell was that? How could you!”
“It’s not like I meant it. My TTK just—” Kon gestured vaguely. “—happened. And I said it was my bad, didn’t I? I apologized!”
“To the roof, doofus, not to Tim. He’s our friend! Look, I know you two fight a lot, but I still expected more from you.”
Kon crossed his arms. “What does Tim have to do with anything?”
“Ugh, boys.” Cassie groaned. She marched past him to the drawer and pulled it open to reveal a bunch of papers, creased and colored in different ways. Ever since Cissie quit, Greta followed, and Anita half-retired, Cassie had taken up the hobby of collecting pamphlets about random things that she deemed important. As leader, she decided they all needed a bit of normalcy in their lives, even though Kon thought normalcy was synonymous to boring. Educational TV shows were more appealing.
He watched Cassie rummage through the papers and finally retrieve one. When she handed it to him, Kon looked at the bolded title and frowned. Why It’s Not Cool To Be Homophobic.
“I don’t hate gay people, Cassie. That’s dumb.”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “Homophobia isn’t just about hate,” she said, smoothening the paper like there was something he still wasn’t seeing. “But sometimes, when the person who comes out is someone we care deeply about, we tend to act weird about it—in a way that can be seen as disapproval or disgust.”
That was when Kon noticed the little subtitle printed at the bottom of the bold, enlarged header of the black and white brochure, eyes hooked on the— “‘Especially loved ones’?” Kon read aloud. He clutched the paper, confused. Was Cassie telling Kon that Tim counted as one of those “loved ones”?
For some reason, the thought freaked Kon out. It wasn’t in a homophobic way, he was at least sure of that, but then something about him might have thought otherwise, because the three nearby chairs in the room and the deck of cards laid haphazardly on the floor from their half-finished game from the night before abruptly exploded into pieces.
Cassie jumped. “Jesus, Kon.”
“It’s not what you think!” Kon exclaimed, but instead of explaining himself, he dropped the pamphlet and burst through the window to fly away, TTK shaking off the shards and leaving Cassie to deal with the mess that his powers abruptly caused. It seemed like the smartest decision at the time, even if he knew Cassie would grill him unforgivingly for it later.
“I hate you,” Cassie told him flatly, sighing as she picked up the brochure Kon left behind. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just Kon being… Kon.” Tim didn’t even look sympathetic, which meant he either knew what she meant or didn’t. “Tim, are you sure you like boys? Like, are you sure you don’t want to take that statement back? Because lately I’ve been thinking they really aren’t worth the trouble.”
“I’m aware,” Tim said dryly. He had somehow brandished a broom to sweep the floor and clean up Kon’s mess. He wasn’t the leader anymore, but he was still just as responsible. Cassie was grateful for that, especially now, because besides cleaning, someone had to help Snapper account for the additional repair costs they had to make given Kon’s second outburst. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out the appeal myself.”
Kon used to think the most annoying pamphlets he’d ever seen were the ones about college, but they had nothing on pamphlets about superhero-ing and superpowers. Kon didn’t even know people were allowed to make informative documents on the abilities their local superheroes had. What if a villain got their hands on it and used it for nefarious purposes?
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cassie scoffed. “It’s not like that. It wasn’t made by a Kryptonian expert or anything.”
“So that means this was made by some nobody,” Kon groused. “What makes you think this could help me? I don’t need to learn about things I already know.”
But he grew quiet when he actually began to read what was on the new pamphlet Cassie had shoved into his hands. From a first glance, it was unassuming, but the charts and figures were understandable, detailing statistics of his TTK and commentary on the powers he had as a result of it that mimicked a real Kryptonian. It was as if they were written by someone who watched him carefully in action. There was a hypothesis about his potential to develop more abilities, though nothing about why he needed to consider these variables and why his powers became unpredictable to begin with. Kon found it strangely nice to read anyway. It was like reading a comic book despite the lack of pictures, as if the person who made it understood what it was like to be a busy teenager that maybe wanted to learn but needed a time-saving, entertaining method to do it.
It was cool, and also a little freaky, because it felt too much like it was catered to Kon. From experience, that never boded well. He wondered if this was some kind of magical scheme that tricksters like Klarion were conjuring up. His powers were already unstable as they were; he didn’t need to outright lose them all over again a second time.
He flipped through the sections and the various texts. “Who made this?”
Cassie shrugged. “No clue,” she said. “It was Tim who gave it to me.”
Kon finally caught it at the lower right corner of the pamphlet—a faint signature and a printed name right under it, so small that Kon was only able to read it because he was a metahuman. Alvin Draper, the name indicated. Kon could make out the loopy handwriting that was supposed to be the signature saying, eat my shorts. It was like an inside joke.
(Three months ago, Bart had dragged them all to Anita’s place so they could half help babysit her parents and half have a movie night. Cissie and Greta had taken a unique interest in coming-of-age and romantic movies and rented a lot of popular ones from the store. Kon was surprised by how much he liked it, though he’d never admit it when he complained to the girls that it sounded absolutely lame.
Tim must’ve thought the same, because a week after they saw the emotional scene at The Breakfast Club where everyone was opening up, Tim had gathered everyone on Young Justice to the breakroom and confessed that he liked girls and boys.)
Suddenly, Kon’s vision turned red. He knew about symbolisms, using colors to describe certain sensations and feelings, and he thought that this was symbolic of some violent emotion rising within him. Except when he blinked, there was a big hole on the pamphlet, the room now smelled of smoke, and he apparently used heat vision on the paper—heat vision he wasn’t supposed to have.
“Oh-kay,” Cassie said slowly, after a considerable period of awkward silence. The pamphlet that had combust into flames. “I think we need to call the big leagues for this.”
“Kon is sixteen,” Nightwing pointed out thoughtfully. He didn’t sound particularly worried. “It could be puberty. It’s normal for teens to suddenly have problems with their powers at this age.”
“But he’s been sixteen since he first woke up, and he’s going to be for the rest of his life,” Tim protested. “He should be immune to all that.”
“He clearly isn’t.”
Bart looked at Kon. “Chronologically, I’m older than you, right? You’re not even ten.”
“Bart,” Kon started solemnly. “I could be a day old and still plummet you to the ground.”
“Shut up, guys,” Cassie said absentmindedly. “Does that mean he’s going to be like this for the rest of his life then?”
“Not necessarily,” Nightwing answered, which was only half-comforting to Kon. He wanted to get ahold of his powers as soon as he could; the way things were right now weren’t necessarily bad—he currently had full range to them besides the heat vision, which luckily hadn’t activated since the incident with Cassie. But until they managed to get a better grasp of his situation and come up with a solution, he’d been placed in the back burner for upcoming missions, given strict instructions to only play a supporting role if he didn’t want Cassie lodging Kryptonite up his ass that Tim apparently owned.
He didn’t know whether to be more offended at the fact that Cassie threatened to do something that violent to him, or with the fact that Tim had a stash of Kryptonite. The most screwed up thing about this situation was that both thoughts didn’t actually ruffle him. At least Tim had the decency to tell him about it, apropos of nothing.
“Metahumans experience biological development differently from ordinary people,” Nightwing was saying. “Take the Flash, for example. He’s a fully grown adult, and his voice still cracks sometimes.”
Kon still didn’t find Nightwing’s words very reassuring. He couldn’t imagine being unable to control his newfound heat vision in a future relationship and he was about to take off his clothes.
“So all this was completely random and there’s nothing we can do?” Tim asked. “Is Kon just going to pull himself together as randomly as he lost his marbles?”
“Hey!”
“No, there had to be a trigger,” Snapper argued. “Sure, puberty works differently for metahumans, but I’d be hard-pressed to believe that it just happened. Something must’ve set Kon and his biology off.”
“Well,” Bart began. “It did start when he accidentally blew a hole through the roof after Tim came out. He said he didn’t mean it. His TTK just went wild.”
Nightwing raised an eyebrow and turned to Kon. His expression was unreadable with the mask on. Fearing for his life, because Nightwing was no Batman, but he was pretty damn close, Kon blurted out. “It’s not ‘cause I’m against Tim being gay, I swear! Whatever the reason is, it’s not that. I’m totally cool with Tim liking boys. I mean, every straight guy checks out other guys. Like, Cassie’s heartbeat speeds up whenever she watches Tim do bench presses, and I get it. We’re hot. It’s the husky voice and wicked biceps and awesome smell that gets people going, you know?”
Now everyone was staring at Kon, though Cassie was blushing as she glared at him, like she was trying to develop heat vision. Kon thought he’d given a relatively solid defense for himself because it was true, at least, as far as he was concerned, and anything he might need to say otherwise to stay innocent might not be as genuine, and two Bats in the room meant double the lie detector.
Except the reason they were looking at him like that had nothing to do with doubt, because Snapper said cautiously, as if approaching a cornered animal, “Checking guys out isn’t… actually a normal thing straight guys do, Kon.”
“...Oh,” Kon said, because he wasn’t an idiot. When he retraced his steps and recalled exactly what he said, he realized he basically insinuated he found Tim doing bench presses hot, and so was his voice and biceps and scent. But did he mean it? Did that make him kinda gay like Tim?
He didn’t know if he wanted to voice his question out, not when everyone was looking at him like they were just as surprised as he was, but he didn’t have to, because when he flinched at his own thoughts, his TTK lashed out and smashed into the computer screen. Bart and Cassie, who stood closest to it, managed to get away before they were hit, but the commotion drew everyone’s attention away from him for a split second. That sudden lapse in his control was enough to make him yelp, “Gonna bounce, don’t follow me!” before he dashed away from the crime scene and into the nearest room, successfully escaping the rest of the conversation for the second time.
Bart would have caught up to him, but he only looked to Cassie for directions. Cassie was still furious at Kon for outing her like that. Snapper had retreated from the entire scene because he couldn’t offer expertise or experience. Nightwing only looked at each of them, then to the direction where Kon took off.
“Well,” Nightwing glanced at the smashed computer with pursed lips. “Good luck trying to manage Kon’s powers, team,” he said, because he knew what it was like to be a leader and stay on track no matter how out of hand things got. Then, because he also knew what it was like to be an older brother and hadn’t forgotten that responsibility either, he turned to Tim, who perfected Batman’s stoicism but not his ability to look ignorantly innocent, and told him, “You and I need to have a talk.”
Kon had to get his powers in control, but the only solution he had to that was by calming himself down, so it was good that he was alone. He counted until twenty and took deep breaths because Cissie had a bunch of self-help books she jokingly wanted to give to her mom and Kon got bored enough to read it, and repeated the process three more times for good measure. Then he tried to return the furniture to their original positions, using his TTK to test that he still had it in him despite the numerous accidents.
He’d been at work for half an hour when two things occurred: someone was knocking on the door, and Kon finally recognized that the room he was hiding in was Tim’s. There was a single poster on the wall, and it was The Breakfast Club. Kon had one in his room for Dirty Dancing because he thought Jennifer Grey was hot, but Patrick Swayze was pretty okay too, now that he thought about it.
In hindsight, it was ridiculous that he didn’t realize any of this sooner.
The person who knocked on the door didn’t wait for Kon’s response, which made sense, because it was Tim who stepped inside and saw Kon lying down on his bed with his face buried in his hands. “Is being gay a genetic thing,” he asked listlessly. “Or does it happen because of proximity or something.”
“If you’re asking me if being gay is contagious if not something coded in our DNA, then my answer is that it doesn’t work like that,” Tim said.
“Great.” Kon was still covering his face. He wasn’t keen on seeing whatever look Tim was making, probably something smug and unsympathetic because Tim tended to underestimate how smart Kon was just because he wasn’t raised by the World’s Greatest Detective. Tim was annoying like that, but apparently that didn’t stop Kon from thinking he was attractive too. Kon groaned. “Are you here to call me an idiot for not realizing it sooner?”
“No.” Tim sounded like he meant it, so Kon lowered his arms and got up. Though Tim stood in front of him, Kon could almost reach his height from where he sat. It was novel, because growing wasn’t ever a possibility he considered until now. Tim’s expression was almost sheepish, much to Kon’s surprise, as he held up a paper. It was obnoxiously colorful and had a large-sized text. “I’m here to subject you to the same awkward support Cassie gave me with a pamphlet on—’how to support your friend who just told you he was gay’.”
“Just shoot me,” Kon grimaced. Tim cracked a smile. The sight of the pamphlet reminded Kon of something, and the light mood dissipated. “Dude, what were you on when you made that pamphlet about controlling my powers and gave it to Cassie? You knew what was going on with me from the start and your move was to not say anything? That was not cool, man.”
“Well, Cassie’s LGBT ally pamphlet states that you shouldn’t force people to confront their own identity. It’s something they should talk about in their own time,” Tim commented, but Kon only glared at him. Tim sighed. “You give me too much credit. I only had theories, not evidence.”
“Because that makes me feel so much better.”
Tim continued, unperturbed. “But we’re friends, more than anything, and despite how much Cassie complains we argue, I’d never actually do anything to jeopardize our friendship. I may not say it, but it means a lot to me. You know that, right?”
Kon didn’t respond. He looked up at the ceiling, partially because he was paranoid about accidentally activating his heat vision and mostly because he wasn’t very good at being sappy, especially when it came to Tim. Then he glanced at the movie poster when he felt the bed dip, Tim sitting beside him.
“Is this the part where I tell you you’re not a bad friend?” he asked. “Because I think you are. You make me want to be a bad friend too.”
Man, did Kon suck at this. For a few seconds, Tim said nothing. “You want… to jeopardize our friendship.”
“...You are kinda pretty,” Kon told him. “Different from how Cassie is. In a gay way, I think, which is weird, but I don’t think it’s bad or anything, because I kinda wanna do something about it. That can’t be bad, can it? I mean, I clearly have more hero DNA than I realized, so shouldn’t I have some super-sense for these things?”
“That’s not how it works, Kon,” Tim said again, sounding amused and slightly—breathless. Kon didn’t know what was up with that, but it sounded kinda hot. “But being a bad friend is different from being a bad… boyfriend, if I’m reading you right.”
That was new. Kon had never been that hard to read, and Tim was the smart one in their team for a reason. But maybe this was some kind of game that Kon had yet to figure out, a push-and-pull he was new to because everything about this was technically new. “What, don’t the pamphlets have any answers to that?”
“I can make one,” Tim said, shifting closer to him. He grabbed Kon’s jacket and tugged him closer, and Kon didn’t have the energy to use his TTK to stop him. “Kon, look at me.”
Tim was demanding as hell. But Kon reluctantly turned towards Tim, and he could feel Tim’s breath tickle his face. When Tim gave him a chaste kiss, the smell of mint nearly overwhelmed Kon. It made him wonder if Tim brushed his teeth before coming here. He liked to be prepared that way. “Why are your eyes closed?”
“Heat vision,” Kon reminded Tim.
“Do you plan on opening them anytime soon?” Tim sounded amused.
“Maybe after another kiss,” Kon considered. It felt different, and it was weird, but still not in a bad way. “I know my eyes are hella sexy to look at, but I think I like you more when you’re in one piece.”
“Hm. I should tell Cassie she’s onto something,” Tim mused, but Kon didn’t ask what he meant, and instead let his TTK pull their mouths back together.
> Kon was pretty sure he wasn't homophobic, but he also couldn't think of any other explanation as to why his reaction to Tim coming out was to blow a hole through the roof.
Cassie took her job as leader pretty seriously. Kon thought it was hot when they were dating and even after they called it quits, but now it was mostly scary, and just a little bit aggravating.
“We seriously need to talk,” Cassie began, which Kon already figured, because it wasn’t like she dragged him aside to a room for themselves to make out anymore. “Kon, what the hell was that? How could you!”
“It’s not like I meant it. My TTK just—” Kon gestured vaguely. “—happened. And I said it was my bad, didn’t I? I apologized!”
“To the roof, doofus, not to Tim. He’s our friend! Look, I know you two fight a lot, but I still expected more from you.”
Kon crossed his arms. “What does Tim have to do with anything?”
“Ugh, boys.” Cassie groaned. She marched past him to the drawer and pulled it open to reveal a bunch of papers, creased and colored in different ways. Ever since Cissie quit, Greta followed, and Anita half-retired, Cassie had taken up the hobby of collecting pamphlets about random things that she deemed important. As leader, she decided they all needed a bit of normalcy in their lives, even though Kon thought normalcy was synonymous to boring. Educational TV shows were more appealing.
He watched Cassie rummage through the papers and finally retrieve one. When she handed it to him, Kon looked at the bolded title and frowned. Why It’s Not Cool To Be Homophobic.
“I don’t hate gay people, Cassie. That’s dumb.”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “Homophobia isn’t just about hate,” she said, smoothening the paper like there was something he still wasn’t seeing. “But sometimes, when the person who comes out is someone we care deeply about, we tend to act weird about it—in a way that can be seen as disapproval or disgust.”
That was when Kon noticed the little subtitle printed at the bottom of the bold, enlarged header of the black and white brochure, eyes hooked on the— “‘Especially loved ones’?” Kon read aloud. He clutched the paper, confused. Was Cassie telling Kon that Tim counted as one of those “loved ones”?
For some reason, the thought freaked Kon out. It wasn’t in a homophobic way, he was at least sure of that, but then something about him might have thought otherwise, because the three nearby chairs in the room and the deck of cards laid haphazardly on the floor from their half-finished game from the night before abruptly exploded into pieces.
Cassie jumped. “Jesus, Kon.”
“It’s not what you think!” Kon exclaimed, but instead of explaining himself, he dropped the pamphlet and burst through the window to fly away, TTK shaking off the shards and leaving Cassie to deal with the mess that his powers abruptly caused. It seemed like the smartest decision at the time, even if he knew Cassie would grill him unforgivingly for it later.
==
“Is something—oh,” Tim said, walking in the room five seconds after Kon’s freak out. “I thought you and Kon broke up two months ago.”“I hate you,” Cassie told him flatly, sighing as she picked up the brochure Kon left behind. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just Kon being… Kon.” Tim didn’t even look sympathetic, which meant he either knew what she meant or didn’t. “Tim, are you sure you like boys? Like, are you sure you don’t want to take that statement back? Because lately I’ve been thinking they really aren’t worth the trouble.”
“I’m aware,” Tim said dryly. He had somehow brandished a broom to sweep the floor and clean up Kon’s mess. He wasn’t the leader anymore, but he was still just as responsible. Cassie was grateful for that, especially now, because besides cleaning, someone had to help Snapper account for the additional repair costs they had to make given Kon’s second outburst. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out the appeal myself.”
==
After a mission where Kon suddenly lost his flight halfway and had to run to the fight—it returned by the time the bad guy was defeated, but that wasn’t the point—Cassie changed tactics. She was no detective like TIm, but she didn’t have to be to figure out the real problem. Kon was thankful for the fact that she finally believed him when he said he wasn’t acting this way, but he wasn't so keen on how she had now latched onto the idea that it was because he’d somehow lost control of his powers.Kon used to think the most annoying pamphlets he’d ever seen were the ones about college, but they had nothing on pamphlets about superhero-ing and superpowers. Kon didn’t even know people were allowed to make informative documents on the abilities their local superheroes had. What if a villain got their hands on it and used it for nefarious purposes?
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cassie scoffed. “It’s not like that. It wasn’t made by a Kryptonian expert or anything.”
“So that means this was made by some nobody,” Kon groused. “What makes you think this could help me? I don’t need to learn about things I already know.”
But he grew quiet when he actually began to read what was on the new pamphlet Cassie had shoved into his hands. From a first glance, it was unassuming, but the charts and figures were understandable, detailing statistics of his TTK and commentary on the powers he had as a result of it that mimicked a real Kryptonian. It was as if they were written by someone who watched him carefully in action. There was a hypothesis about his potential to develop more abilities, though nothing about why he needed to consider these variables and why his powers became unpredictable to begin with. Kon found it strangely nice to read anyway. It was like reading a comic book despite the lack of pictures, as if the person who made it understood what it was like to be a busy teenager that maybe wanted to learn but needed a time-saving, entertaining method to do it.
It was cool, and also a little freaky, because it felt too much like it was catered to Kon. From experience, that never boded well. He wondered if this was some kind of magical scheme that tricksters like Klarion were conjuring up. His powers were already unstable as they were; he didn’t need to outright lose them all over again a second time.
He flipped through the sections and the various texts. “Who made this?”
Cassie shrugged. “No clue,” she said. “It was Tim who gave it to me.”
Kon finally caught it at the lower right corner of the pamphlet—a faint signature and a printed name right under it, so small that Kon was only able to read it because he was a metahuman. Alvin Draper, the name indicated. Kon could make out the loopy handwriting that was supposed to be the signature saying, eat my shorts. It was like an inside joke.
(Three months ago, Bart had dragged them all to Anita’s place so they could half help babysit her parents and half have a movie night. Cissie and Greta had taken a unique interest in coming-of-age and romantic movies and rented a lot of popular ones from the store. Kon was surprised by how much he liked it, though he’d never admit it when he complained to the girls that it sounded absolutely lame.
Tim must’ve thought the same, because a week after they saw the emotional scene at The Breakfast Club where everyone was opening up, Tim had gathered everyone on Young Justice to the breakroom and confessed that he liked girls and boys.)
Suddenly, Kon’s vision turned red. He knew about symbolisms, using colors to describe certain sensations and feelings, and he thought that this was symbolic of some violent emotion rising within him. Except when he blinked, there was a big hole on the pamphlet, the room now smelled of smoke, and he apparently used heat vision on the paper—heat vision he wasn’t supposed to have.
“Oh-kay,” Cassie said slowly, after a considerable period of awkward silence. The pamphlet that had combust into flames. “I think we need to call the big leagues for this.”
==
It was a small relief on Kon’s part that by big league, Cassie didn’t mean the Justice League.“Kon is sixteen,” Nightwing pointed out thoughtfully. He didn’t sound particularly worried. “It could be puberty. It’s normal for teens to suddenly have problems with their powers at this age.”
“But he’s been sixteen since he first woke up, and he’s going to be for the rest of his life,” Tim protested. “He should be immune to all that.”
“He clearly isn’t.”
Bart looked at Kon. “Chronologically, I’m older than you, right? You’re not even ten.”
“Bart,” Kon started solemnly. “I could be a day old and still plummet you to the ground.”
“Shut up, guys,” Cassie said absentmindedly. “Does that mean he’s going to be like this for the rest of his life then?”
“Not necessarily,” Nightwing answered, which was only half-comforting to Kon. He wanted to get ahold of his powers as soon as he could; the way things were right now weren’t necessarily bad—he currently had full range to them besides the heat vision, which luckily hadn’t activated since the incident with Cassie. But until they managed to get a better grasp of his situation and come up with a solution, he’d been placed in the back burner for upcoming missions, given strict instructions to only play a supporting role if he didn’t want Cassie lodging Kryptonite up his ass that Tim apparently owned.
He didn’t know whether to be more offended at the fact that Cassie threatened to do something that violent to him, or with the fact that Tim had a stash of Kryptonite. The most screwed up thing about this situation was that both thoughts didn’t actually ruffle him. At least Tim had the decency to tell him about it, apropos of nothing.
“Metahumans experience biological development differently from ordinary people,” Nightwing was saying. “Take the Flash, for example. He’s a fully grown adult, and his voice still cracks sometimes.”
Kon still didn’t find Nightwing’s words very reassuring. He couldn’t imagine being unable to control his newfound heat vision in a future relationship and he was about to take off his clothes.
“So all this was completely random and there’s nothing we can do?” Tim asked. “Is Kon just going to pull himself together as randomly as he lost his marbles?”
“Hey!”
“No, there had to be a trigger,” Snapper argued. “Sure, puberty works differently for metahumans, but I’d be hard-pressed to believe that it just happened. Something must’ve set Kon and his biology off.”
“Well,” Bart began. “It did start when he accidentally blew a hole through the roof after Tim came out. He said he didn’t mean it. His TTK just went wild.”
Nightwing raised an eyebrow and turned to Kon. His expression was unreadable with the mask on. Fearing for his life, because Nightwing was no Batman, but he was pretty damn close, Kon blurted out. “It’s not ‘cause I’m against Tim being gay, I swear! Whatever the reason is, it’s not that. I’m totally cool with Tim liking boys. I mean, every straight guy checks out other guys. Like, Cassie’s heartbeat speeds up whenever she watches Tim do bench presses, and I get it. We’re hot. It’s the husky voice and wicked biceps and awesome smell that gets people going, you know?”
Now everyone was staring at Kon, though Cassie was blushing as she glared at him, like she was trying to develop heat vision. Kon thought he’d given a relatively solid defense for himself because it was true, at least, as far as he was concerned, and anything he might need to say otherwise to stay innocent might not be as genuine, and two Bats in the room meant double the lie detector.
Except the reason they were looking at him like that had nothing to do with doubt, because Snapper said cautiously, as if approaching a cornered animal, “Checking guys out isn’t… actually a normal thing straight guys do, Kon.”
“...Oh,” Kon said, because he wasn’t an idiot. When he retraced his steps and recalled exactly what he said, he realized he basically insinuated he found Tim doing bench presses hot, and so was his voice and biceps and scent. But did he mean it? Did that make him kinda gay like Tim?
He didn’t know if he wanted to voice his question out, not when everyone was looking at him like they were just as surprised as he was, but he didn’t have to, because when he flinched at his own thoughts, his TTK lashed out and smashed into the computer screen. Bart and Cassie, who stood closest to it, managed to get away before they were hit, but the commotion drew everyone’s attention away from him for a split second. That sudden lapse in his control was enough to make him yelp, “Gonna bounce, don’t follow me!” before he dashed away from the crime scene and into the nearest room, successfully escaping the rest of the conversation for the second time.
Bart would have caught up to him, but he only looked to Cassie for directions. Cassie was still furious at Kon for outing her like that. Snapper had retreated from the entire scene because he couldn’t offer expertise or experience. Nightwing only looked at each of them, then to the direction where Kon took off.
“Well,” Nightwing glanced at the smashed computer with pursed lips. “Good luck trying to manage Kon’s powers, team,” he said, because he knew what it was like to be a leader and stay on track no matter how out of hand things got. Then, because he also knew what it was like to be an older brother and hadn’t forgotten that responsibility either, he turned to Tim, who perfected Batman’s stoicism but not his ability to look ignorantly innocent, and told him, “You and I need to have a talk.”
==
Thankfully, everyone gave Kon space, because nobody went knocking. He had yet to figure out if the distance was out of respect because they were good friends, or because his TTK had unintentionally expanded and kept everyone from getting close to him. All the furniture had been pushed to the side in his haste, and he barely managed to reign it in to fit through the door, so there were noticeable cracks etched by the sliver of space that the door left behind.Kon had to get his powers in control, but the only solution he had to that was by calming himself down, so it was good that he was alone. He counted until twenty and took deep breaths because Cissie had a bunch of self-help books she jokingly wanted to give to her mom and Kon got bored enough to read it, and repeated the process three more times for good measure. Then he tried to return the furniture to their original positions, using his TTK to test that he still had it in him despite the numerous accidents.
He’d been at work for half an hour when two things occurred: someone was knocking on the door, and Kon finally recognized that the room he was hiding in was Tim’s. There was a single poster on the wall, and it was The Breakfast Club. Kon had one in his room for Dirty Dancing because he thought Jennifer Grey was hot, but Patrick Swayze was pretty okay too, now that he thought about it.
In hindsight, it was ridiculous that he didn’t realize any of this sooner.
The person who knocked on the door didn’t wait for Kon’s response, which made sense, because it was Tim who stepped inside and saw Kon lying down on his bed with his face buried in his hands. “Is being gay a genetic thing,” he asked listlessly. “Or does it happen because of proximity or something.”
“If you’re asking me if being gay is contagious if not something coded in our DNA, then my answer is that it doesn’t work like that,” Tim said.
“Great.” Kon was still covering his face. He wasn’t keen on seeing whatever look Tim was making, probably something smug and unsympathetic because Tim tended to underestimate how smart Kon was just because he wasn’t raised by the World’s Greatest Detective. Tim was annoying like that, but apparently that didn’t stop Kon from thinking he was attractive too. Kon groaned. “Are you here to call me an idiot for not realizing it sooner?”
“No.” Tim sounded like he meant it, so Kon lowered his arms and got up. Though Tim stood in front of him, Kon could almost reach his height from where he sat. It was novel, because growing wasn’t ever a possibility he considered until now. Tim’s expression was almost sheepish, much to Kon’s surprise, as he held up a paper. It was obnoxiously colorful and had a large-sized text. “I’m here to subject you to the same awkward support Cassie gave me with a pamphlet on—’how to support your friend who just told you he was gay’.”
“Just shoot me,” Kon grimaced. Tim cracked a smile. The sight of the pamphlet reminded Kon of something, and the light mood dissipated. “Dude, what were you on when you made that pamphlet about controlling my powers and gave it to Cassie? You knew what was going on with me from the start and your move was to not say anything? That was not cool, man.”
“Well, Cassie’s LGBT ally pamphlet states that you shouldn’t force people to confront their own identity. It’s something they should talk about in their own time,” Tim commented, but Kon only glared at him. Tim sighed. “You give me too much credit. I only had theories, not evidence.”
“Because that makes me feel so much better.”
Tim continued, unperturbed. “But we’re friends, more than anything, and despite how much Cassie complains we argue, I’d never actually do anything to jeopardize our friendship. I may not say it, but it means a lot to me. You know that, right?”
Kon didn’t respond. He looked up at the ceiling, partially because he was paranoid about accidentally activating his heat vision and mostly because he wasn’t very good at being sappy, especially when it came to Tim. Then he glanced at the movie poster when he felt the bed dip, Tim sitting beside him.
“Is this the part where I tell you you’re not a bad friend?” he asked. “Because I think you are. You make me want to be a bad friend too.”
Man, did Kon suck at this. For a few seconds, Tim said nothing. “You want… to jeopardize our friendship.”
“...You are kinda pretty,” Kon told him. “Different from how Cassie is. In a gay way, I think, which is weird, but I don’t think it’s bad or anything, because I kinda wanna do something about it. That can’t be bad, can it? I mean, I clearly have more hero DNA than I realized, so shouldn’t I have some super-sense for these things?”
“That’s not how it works, Kon,” Tim said again, sounding amused and slightly—breathless. Kon didn’t know what was up with that, but it sounded kinda hot. “But being a bad friend is different from being a bad… boyfriend, if I’m reading you right.”
That was new. Kon had never been that hard to read, and Tim was the smart one in their team for a reason. But maybe this was some kind of game that Kon had yet to figure out, a push-and-pull he was new to because everything about this was technically new. “What, don’t the pamphlets have any answers to that?”
“I can make one,” Tim said, shifting closer to him. He grabbed Kon’s jacket and tugged him closer, and Kon didn’t have the energy to use his TTK to stop him. “Kon, look at me.”
Tim was demanding as hell. But Kon reluctantly turned towards Tim, and he could feel Tim’s breath tickle his face. When Tim gave him a chaste kiss, the smell of mint nearly overwhelmed Kon. It made him wonder if Tim brushed his teeth before coming here. He liked to be prepared that way. “Why are your eyes closed?”
“Heat vision,” Kon reminded Tim.
“Do you plan on opening them anytime soon?” Tim sounded amused.
“Maybe after another kiss,” Kon considered. It felt different, and it was weird, but still not in a bad way. “I know my eyes are hella sexy to look at, but I think I like you more when you’re in one piece.”
“Hm. I should tell Cassie she’s onto something,” Tim mused, but Kon didn’t ask what he meant, and instead let his TTK pull their mouths back together.