Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tim:

Tim was fairly certain he would never live this down. He sighed, dismissing the twenty-two notifications from Jason Todd, of all people, because of course his kinda-brother would come back from bum-fuck nowhere after vanishing for three weeks only to make fun of him.

And despite Bruce advising him repeatedly to be patient with Jason, Tim was dangerously close to revealing the whole resurrection thing to the world, only to piss him off.

In his defense, he was overwhelmed by the amount of work pushed onto him, so naturally, doing PR was his break between being a CEO and being Red Robin. That’s probably why he’d let his guard down.

“Mr. Drake, we were all tremendously concerned for your well-being following your recent abduction. What a joy it must have been to have Superboy save you! He has recently addressed the unfortunate event in an interview with the Daily Planet, stating that you two had bonded over the affair.” The interviewer had spoken, and Tim tried very hard not to cringe at the reminder that Kon had even come near his civilian identity.

“Rumors have spread, Mr. Drake, of a potential romance?” The interviewer had looked hopeful, probably looking for a big story, but the question startled Tim so badly he had to laugh, and in his haste to steer the subject away from a certain kryptonian, he shot back,

“Please, if there were any romances brewing, it would not be with Superboy. Red Robin is way better looking anyway.”

It had taken approximately fifteen minutes after the clip of the interview had been posted for his psychopathic family to flood his phone. Dick, Steph, and Duke all laughed at him, and even Jason had joined them. That had been expected. The text from Damian telling him to grow a brain had been too.

He didn’t pay them much mind, though; he knew he had more important things to deal with. He looked himself over one last time, making sure the domino mask was well-glued to his face. Exiting the zeta tube, he made his way to one of the common areas in the watchtower.

Bart zapped to him, “Rob! We totally missed you while you were on Bat business. Where did he send you this time anyway?”

He wasn’t ‘sent’ anywhere per se, unless you counted his civilian persona being kidnapped and held for ransom as an overpriced boarding school.

“That’s classified,” He spoke curtly.

Bart smiled. “So, are you ready for movie night?”

They chatted as they moved to the kitchen, sticking a bag of popcorn in the microwave. Bart had always been the kind of friend that Tim could talk to. It didn’t matter that he was the only one who hadn’t revealed his identity on the team; it didn’t matter that he was perpetually stressed and prone to snapping at his friends, and it didn’t matter that he sometimes disappeared for days on end without an explanation. He could always go to Bart, and he knew that the conversations he’d have with him would be less than intellectual, but he also knew that Bart wouldn’t reproach him for anything, sliding back into the easy companionship he seemed to have with everyone. That was just the kind of person Bart was.

Cassie snuck up on Tim while he made the snack tray, jumping him from behind, squeezing him tighter than she probably should. “A text would be nice next time you vanish, dipshit.” He hummed and turned to the fridge to grab a Redbull.

Cassie had always been the type of friend Tim could rely on. The type that would quietly show her care and stand by his side, no matter what. Frankly, Tim was surprised she tolerated the lot of them most days, but then again, sometimes she would do things even Bart wouldn’t, like the time she had eaten a pickle dipped in mayonnaise because Kon had dared her to.

Kon had laughed so hard, so brilliantly. It wasn’t the quiet laugh that showed off his dimples and the barest hint of teeth, it wasn’t the laugh that made his eyes sparkle with mirth and his face glow, it was the strangled wheeze when dolphin-like sounds escaped him, when he clutched his stomach (even though he couldn’t feel the same pain that humans felt after laughing too long), when Tim had to laugh as well, if only to be allowed into the radiance his friend created.

He shook himself free of the thought.

As he shut the fridge door and turned back around, he was met with his best friend’s smile. Kon was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, wearing a Superman (of course) t-shirt and sweatpants. The attire, coupled with the sparkling half-smile he was sporting, made Tim want to bash his head against the wall.

Cassie finally let go of Tim, clapping her hands excitedly. “We start with the Conjuring!”

Bart groaned; he hated horror movies. Tim groaned too, because he hated that Bart hated horror movies. The speedster always got jittery because of the suspense, and Tim’s focus always ended up away from the movie and on physically stopping himself from reaching over and strapping Bart to the couch so he would just stop moving.

Maybe his therapist was right; he really needed to stop wanting to control everything.

By the end of the movie, Cassie was asleep on the couch, Bart was covering his eyes and full-body shaking with energy, and Kon was glued to his phone. Tim frowned. Kon was the type to get ridiculously invested in movies and always praise every single one, no matter how bad the rest of the world thought it was. His disinterest perplexed Tim.

He nudged the older boy’s side with his elbow.
“What are you doing?” He asked

“Hm?” Kon looked up, then offered a smile, “Just texting Clark. He heard I have this thing for this kind of celebrity, and now all he does is send me videos of him. I think Big Blue is still trying to find a way to make up for his behavior when he first found out I existed, but you know what? I’ll indulge him.”

Tim’s heart somehow sank to the bottom of his stomach and rose to his throat to make him feel sick at the same time.

“There’s a guy, huh?” He tried teasing, because that’s what a regular-totally-not-in-love-with-you friend would do.

Kon fucking blushed. “Yeah- he’s so great, Rob, I could tell you all about him if you want-”

Tim stood up, interrupting, “Sorry! Bathroom! Be right back!” And he fled, like a coward. Jason would laugh when he told him, at least. He just needed a moment to compose himself, then he would waltz back in and listen to his crush of three years talk about the guy he liked. Tim just needed a minute.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Kon:

Conner quickly forgot about Robin’s escape. It wasn’t out of character; the guy always acted a little weird. It was part of his charm. In fact, Conner was more than happy to go back to gushing about Tim Drake to Clark.

He sighed dreamily just thinking about him. He had done a quick job of finding him after his abduction. Apparently, the kid was important enough that Batman had personally asked Superman to handle it, but since Supes was off-world, the responsibility fell to Superboy. A dash of superhearing and he was flying to a warehouse in Blüdhaven, carrying an irritated young CEO back to Wayne Manor.

Except the CEO wasn’t old, wrinkly, and narcissistic. He was hot. And surprisingly snarky, if his digs toward his own kidnappers told Kon anything. There was just something about him that intoxicated him, making him feel giddy in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt. Ma and Pa had taught him to eat the rich, and Kon definitely intended to.

He opened the new video that Clark had sent him. In it, Tim was facing the camera, mid-interview. He looked majestic with his rich-people black turtleneck and his hair that was just a bit too long.

“Mr. Drake, we were all tremendously concerned for your well-being following your recent abduction. What a joy it must have been to have Superboy save you! He has recently addressed the event in an interview with the Daily Planet, stating you two had bonded over the affair.” Kon heard the interviewer say, and he smiled.

Clark’s plan with the interview had been to give Kon an in, an excuse to see Tim again, maybe apologize for the comment he had made in the article without his consent. Tim would then tell him it was fine, that he also thought they had bonded over it. Kon would then very smoothly suggest they hang out, and then they would go back to Tim’s big penthouse and he would get to take his custom-made suit jacket off and-

Tim’s laugh interrupted his thoughts.

“Please, if there were any romances brewing, it would not be with Superboy. Red Robin is way better looking anyway.”

The clip ended. Conner stared at his phone. Red Robin came back from the bathroom, and Kon was aware that he must be staring at him like he had three heads. And really, it made sense that Tim liked Robin, because Robin was so great.

The thought struck Conner that he had just been about to tell Robin that he had a big fat crush on the bat’s maybe boyfriend.

Red opened his mouth to speak, but Kon just stood up, froze for a second, then flew out to the nearest Zeta tube.

Chapter Text

Kon:

“He doesn’t find me good-looking!” Conner wailed, swooning to fall on the couch next to his father, using his TTK to float the laptop and LuthorCorp documents away.

“Conner, for the love of everything good, I am trying to work,” Lex sighed, for the sixth time, extending a hand towards his things, frozen mid-air. Conner made sure he couldn’t reach them, then, like the good son he was, laid his head on his Dad’s shoulder with a little bit of Kryptonian strength so he was effectively glued to the couch.

“I think it’s your side of the family tree he doesn’t like. Everyone likes Superman. At least I’m not ginger? Oh, sweet Lord, am I going to go bald? Did you program that into me?” He cried out, eyes wide. Lex pinched the bridge of his nose.

“For the last time, I did not program you, Conner, and let it be known that it is your father’s fault I have no more hair.”

Kon groaned. “Please let me stay home tonight. It’s bad enough he doesn’t like Superboy, the literal superhero; he definitely won’t like Conner Luthor!”

Lex, the little bitch, patted Conner on the head like he was an unruly dog and smiled. “The world needs to see my son. You are my heir, Conner. People should know you.”

“Okay,” Kon whispered, defeated. His father knew how to play him. Kon’s running theory is that he’d programmed a desperate need to belong to something into his brain before he was born. He refused to believe that THE Lex Luthor hadn’t made his son exactly what he wanted him to be, despite the older man's protests.

“Good boy. Now let me work and go get ready. Maggie is waiting for you. Remember, Gucci wants you to do interviews. Flaunt the suit, play the part, act eloquent. I'll see you at five, the limousine will come and get you.” Lex waved him off, already turning back to his work.

Conner begrudgingly stood up and made his way out of his father’s office. Maggie, the new stylist, was indeed waiting for him.

Now, usually, Kon enjoyed dressing up. Leather jackets, rhinestones, piercings, the works. He liked looking good, and he liked knowing he looked good. Though Lois adamantly denied it, Kon knew he was definitely Punk Rock, it’s what made him cool!

But seriously, rich people had a jagged definition of cool. He looked himself over in the mirror one last time. At least the wine-red suit made his ass look good. His father had allowed him to keep his earring in. Kon knew he would never comment about it; he still felt too guilty about the whole Project #13 shebang.

His thoughts wandered back to Tim as he got into the car. It was all too easy to tune out his father’s briefing about his ‘expected behavior’ and focus on something much more interesting.

So, Tim had a thing for Red Robin. Honestly, who didn’t, at least a little bit? It was probably just Gothamite loyalty. Yeah! That was it! Everyone in Gotham hated Metropolis a bit too much to be reasonable. Naturally, Tim would’ve picked a Gotham-based superhero to admire. It was just a joke. The two probably hadn’t even met!

“Red Robin is way better looking anyway.”

The statement still echoed in his mind. But he probably hadn’t meant it! It was a joke! A joke! And Kon could still swoop in and convince Tim that he was an okay guy, and then everything would be fine, and he would be allowed to shoot his shot.

Red hadn’t mentioned anything about a secret lover anyway. No way they were involved. No way. But then again, Red was very private about his life and- Nope, no way.

“Ready?” He heard his father say. That was his only warning before the door to the limousine opened, and he stepped out of the car first, immediately assaulted by the brightness of paparazzi cameras.

He plastered on his best million-gigawatt Kent smile. Kon’s strategy for these types of events had always been to flirt with everyone age-appropriate and make everyone else think he was funny. He sent a wink to a reporter on his way down the red carpet, acutely aware that his father was turning on the charms as well. How disgusting. No one wanted to see a bald man doing all that.

He stepped into the art gallery, because apparently a charity gala needed to be held somewhere with ‘entertainment’ (It was Oliver Queen’s gala, he wasn’t surprised).
He was equally unsurprised to see Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson there. But if they were there, that meant that he was here too. And really, Kon wasn’t ready to face Tim.

Ultimately, he decided to kill three birds with one stone. He would do an interview, which would both please his father and keep him away from Tim for at least a little longer (so he could mentally prepare). The third bird he would be killing was himself, because he hated interviews with a burning passion. Usually, he would take any opportunity given to talk about how awesome he was, but with interviewers, he was always getting backed into a corner and interrogated like a criminal.

Before he could go find a reporter, though, his father took him by the arm and dragged him to a group of old men, bright smiles on all their faces.

“Gentlemen, allow me to introduce my son, Conner.”

He was greeted with strong handshakes and pleasantries. One man, dressed in a dark green and black suit, began speaking. “I’ve seen your work on your father’s campaign, son; it was truly spectacular.”

Conner smiled brightly. “Thanks! I myself like to refer to it as I-Kon…er….ic,” he cringed at the joke. In his defense, it would’ve landed much better if he were Superboy.

(“I-kon-ic!” “Oh, Superboy, you’re so funny, your wit knows no bounds.” The voice in his head sounded suspiciously like Red Robin’s.)

Apparently, his wit knew bounds.

“Conner, I think I see Ms. Lane over there. I know she was dying to get you alone for an interview. Won’t you go humor her?”

Of course, his father had quickly salvaged the situation, gently guiding Kon away from the group, giving him an out. Kon tried not to let the obvious disappointment sting. He smiled, and even he could tell it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Of course.”

As Lex turned back to his ‘friends’, Kon tried looking for Lois, but she was mid-interview. He figured he should go find someone else. He did so grumbling because, of course, the universe hated him and his Dad’s wife (who he really likes, by the way!) couldn’t even make the interview process a little more tolerable.

Catching sight of a woman frantically waving to get his attention, he made his way over to her corner of the room, shaking her hand politely. Her nametag read “Vicki Vale.” He offered her a small smile.

“Mr. Luthor, my name is Vicki Vale, with the Gotham Gazette. Would you mind answering a few of my questions?”

“Naturally. Pleasure to meet you, Vicki.”

She smiled, then cleared her throat, preparing her microphone.
“Mr. Luthor, with your father’s reelection campaign in full swing, we’ve seen you contribute to much of his effort in gaining support. Mainly, you’ve been involved with the fundraisers and charities intended to fund hospitals and research,” Vicki Vale began, and Kon smiled proudly.

“Yes, and I am extremely grateful to be able to impact so many lives and do so much good.”

“But, Mr. Luthor, our team at the Gotham Gazette has recently found in an investigation that the only organizations being helped are the ones supporting your father’s campaign. Is this a glimpse of what a second Luthor presidency would look like?”

Conner froze. He wasn’t trained enough for this; it was only his third ever public outing as a Luthor for fuck’s sake. He fumbled trying to form a response over the too-loud ba-dump ba-dump of his heart. “Of course not-”

“Mr. Luthor, how would you respond to the allegation that when your father is in power, anyone showing even remote signs of opposing him somehow always suffers in some way, whether it be an attack on funding or reputation, like with Senator Wright earlier this year?”

Ba-Dump Ba-Dump Ba-Dump

“I-”

“This pattern begs the question, Mr. Luthor: do you only serve people who serve you?”

BA-DUMP BA-DUMP BA-DUMP BA-DUMP BA-DUMP BA-DUMP

“Ms. Vale, how lovely to see you,” a new voice interrupted the interview that was probably turning into an assault on Kon’s sanity. Except it only added to his nervousness, because it was him.

He was sure that if he were human, his heart would’ve given out at the sight of Tim Drake coming to his rescue, with the widest smile Kon had ever seen on the boy’s face.

“We meet again! What was it, last time? Prodding about a teenager’s abduction because your theory was that it was a… PR stunt? Honestly, Vick, I don’t blame you for accusing me of lying. It’s water under the bridge! I know prodding helps you cope with the frankly depressing fact that your entire existence is centered around other people’s lives, and that you somehow manage to make all of them hate you!” He laughed, the rich person too-polite-to-be-real laugh. “Mr. Luthor here has spent countless hours in children’s hospitals and has donated a small fortune to research against cancer, and what have you done? Somehow…made it seem evil? Are you fighting against cancer research, Vicki?”

The reporter was too stunned to speak. That only encouraged Tim’s smile, twisting it into something cocky.

“What’s wrong? Do you only interview people who serve you?”

There was silence for a second, then the room exploded with the sound of other reporters trying to get in on the action.

And suddenly, Conner was being dragged away by the arm, though this time it wasn’t his father doing it. They kept walking until fresh air refreshed his numb senses, and he could finally breathe again.

“Are you alright?” Tim asked, looking up at him.

Holy shit. He was perfect. He was here. He was real.

“That was awesome!” He practically squeaked.

Tim raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in a way that made Kon’s stomach flutter.
Because Tim Drake was a really attractive man. He was currently wearing a probably too-expensive navy suit with a white shirt under his jacket that was just a little too tight for him, but that gave Conner the greatest view of his life. His stupidly swoopy curtain bangs fell over his forehead, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and-

“Conner, right? Sorry about all that. Vicki tends to be a bit too intense. I’m Tim!”

And then Conner was shaking his hand!

“That’s alright. You were…uhm, you helped.” Great job, Kon. Very eloquent. The peak of intellectualism.

Tim just laughed, bright and warm and real. And just like that, he wasn’t this mystical being anymore; he was just a guy. A very hot guy, granted, but Conner could already feel himself relaxing at the realization that this was a regular teenager (bar the billionaire aspect).

“First gala?” Tim spoke again.

“Third, actually.”

“Slow learner?”

“Ouch, are you always so mean to strangers?”

“Only when I’m about to convince them to run away with me.”

Conner beamed, and it felt like the first real smile of the evening. “Is that what’s happening? Where would we go?”

Tim shrugged, kind of sheepish. “Batburger? I can get my driver to take us.”

And Conner really should say no, because Lex would kill him if he ditched an event after making a fool of himself. He had to do damage control, rally people back to his side, yada yada.

“Yeah, sure.”

That’s how he found himself sitting on the rooftop of an old apartment building in Gotham, holding a greasy ‘two-face sandwich’, and laughing about how ridiculous some of Gotham’s rogues were.

“Poison Ivy wouldn't be caught dead making a fool of herself. Penguin, on the other hand…” Tim spoke in between bites of his burger.

“Dude, wasn’t there a clip of him falling down the stairs or something that went viral? My brother showed me it and we laughed for a solid five minutes!” He replied enthusiastically.

“I wasn’t aware Lex Luthor had a second son.” Tim frowned.

Conner cringed full-bodily. No one was supposed to know that he and Jon were related. In the eyes of the world, Conner was Luthor’s son with some lady who chose to remain anonymous, and he had never met a Kent in his life.

“Uh- he doesn’t. It’s complicated.”

Tim softened. “Hey, I get it. My family is too.”

They stayed on that rooftop long after their meal was done. Tim took him through the entire family tree, which was way too big for no reason. He had so many pseudo-parent figures (including some of the very rogues they were just making fun of?), and somehow even more siblings. And that wasn’t including the brother that apparently fucking died and came back to life???
(Conner had sworn not to tell anyone about that. Apparently, Jason Todd wanted to announce his resurrection on his own terms.)

“Why did Bruce ever take you in anyway?” Conner found himself asking.

“It’s a long story.” Tim’s smile dropped, and he shifted uncomfortably, and Conner sensed he’d made a mistake. Desperate to take away the sad expression that had overtaken his friend’s face, he spoke quickly,“At least you were wanted. I feel like I’ve spent my entire life trying to get my parents to like the person I am.”

And that… was certainly not something he thought he’d find himself saying to someone he had met (as Conner Luthor, because saving Tim from an abduction didn’t count as meeting) a few hours ago.

Tim didn’t seem weirded out, though. He just watched him with a kind look in his eye. It wasn’t pity, Kon realized, it was familiarity. Tim was familiar with the feeling. And that made Conner want to open his big mouth again.

“I mean, sometimes I feel like my entire life isn’t even mine. It’s like I was made with the sole purpose of making my Dad happy, and I can’t even do that, so basically, I’m purposeless and worthless.”
He blinked. That was definitely oversharing. He could feel himself reddening, his collar suddenly too tight.

“it’s your life, Conner. You need to stop dedicating it to others and you need to start making it into something you love. No one else is going to do it for you.”

Kon let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. Surrounded by the darkness of the night sky, with the lights of the city at their feet, he could almost accept the words.

A long moment of silence passed before Tim stood, stretching, arms above his head.

“Well, this has been lovely and everything, but I really should get home before Bruce has an aneurysm.”

Conner rushed to his feet too, offering a small smile and running a hand through his dark curls. “It was great to meet you. Um… thanks for the save, the company, and the food.”

Tim seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if considering something, then pulled out his phone and extended it to Conner.

“Put in your number. So we can do this again!”

And really, who was he to say no to that? “Us heirs to family fortunes have to stick together.” Kon agreed, nodding in mock-seriousness and accepting the device.

“Cool.” Tim’s eyes crinkled with delight. “I’ll text you. Do you have a ride home, or back to the art gallery?”

“I’ll just call my Dad, it’s fine- shit, my Dad!” Conner seemed to suddenly remember that he had snuck away from a gala, and he knew there would be hell to pay.
The sound of Tim’s laughter as Kon fumbled to answer Lex’s angry texts stayed lodged in his heart the whole ride home.

Chapter Text

*note: This chapter, and the rest of the story, will contain text conversations (bolded titles are groupchat titles, indicating a text conversation is about to start)*

Tim's POV:

Dumbatsses:

Dick (derogatory): Timmy dont come home Bruce is mad at you

Timbitch: too late for that, I’m in the cave

Timbitch: what the hell did I do?

Tater Todd: Something about fraternizing with the enemy.

Timbitch: Hello?????

Tim quickly locked his phone when he heard Bruce clear his throat. He shot up from his chair, back a little too straight, and turned to look at his guardian.

He was still in the Batsuit, probably to intimidate Tim. It was working.

“Report.” He huffed out.

“I solved the case with the killings. Turns out there was a pattern for the victims, and they all fit the answer to one specific riddle the Riddler sent a few years back, the year being 2013, for the 13 victims. So, I found the perpetrator and brought him to justice. He’s back in Arkham. I wrote a report. Did you not get to it yet?”

Bruce hummed. It was a gruff sound. “Report. Last night.”

Shit.

“I interrupted an intrusive interview, then made sure the victim was alright.” If he made it sound like an actual crime, he knew Bruce would be more amenable to hearing his side.

“The victim is the son of a man Bruce Wayne openly stands against politically.”

“Conner Luthor should not serve the sentence for his father’s crimes and has never done anything warranting us standing against him,” Tim shot back.

“We do not defend Luthor publicly-”

“I wasn’t defending him! I was helping Conner! He didn’t do anything wrong!” Tim’s voice rose, and Bruce’s followed.

“His father is actively running for president, and we both know he would be terrible for this country if he got another four years.”

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong! I was helping Conner!” He was screaming now.

“Do not let your emotions blind you, Tim! You’re supposed to be the smart one!” Bruce’s voice was shaking with fury.

Tim froze in his place, panting. After the volume of the altercation, the deafening quiet of the cave suffocated him. Bruce never yelled, much less at him. He could feel tears starting to form in the corner of his eyes and quickly blinked them away.

Bruce sighed, the tension in his shoulders draining.

“I know Kon isn’t a bad person. But Luthor is. And until this whole election debacle is done, please just stay away. We can’t risk helping Lex in any way.”

Tim nodded, unable to do anything else. Bruce hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder, patted once, then let go and spoke.

“You have the interview with ‘WIRED’ tomorrow. Alfred will take you to Metropolis for it. Remember what we talked about, dating Red Robin is a perfect way for Tim Drake to stay just a regular civilian. You may decide when to tell Oracle to release the video, preferably a few days after this interview.”

And then the cave was empty. And Tim was alone.

The next day, a few minutes before his stupid interview started, Tim realized that he had never texted Conner. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He blamed Bruce for putting him in a bad mood and making him forget.

It had been two entire days since they’d met. Would it be weird for Tim to reach out now? It would totally be weird. And now Kon probably thought he hated him. Perfect. Just great.

“We’re ready when you are, Mr. Drake.” The nice lady behind the camera spoke.

He nodded, putting on his most radiant smile, then started speaking as he was given a thumbs up.

“Hi, my name is Tim Drake, and this is my WIRED autocomplete interview!”

The nice lady handed him a cardboard with his questions on it, and he ripped the first piece of paper off the board, revealing his first question.

“Is Tim Drake… okay?” He laughed, covering his eyes shamefully. “I promise I am very okay, thanks for asking.”

He moved on to the next piece of paper.

“Why is Tim Drake… rich?” He hummed, as if thinking about it, “Nepotism, next!”

He ripped the third off slowly.

“Does Tim Drake… have a crush on Red Robin?” Tim considered the question for a moment. Ever since the catastrophic interview when he called himself attractive, there had been a plan brewing in the back of his mind, which Bruce approved of.

The best way to hide his identity was to be seen with his other self, right?

“It’s not really a crush if I’m dating him, is it?” Tim smirked, knowing the internet would go crazy over the revelation.

Then again, he was setting up the stage perfectly for Jason to be able to swoop in, reveal his existence (surprise, he’s alive!), and not get devoured by the media. Tim would stage his super intense, dramatic, tear-filled breakup around that time to make it easier on Jason. If anyone called him a bad brother again, he was going to run away and take over as head of the League of Assassins.

The rest of the interview was a breeze, once Tim mastered the art of ignoring the people behind the cameras, itching to ask him questions about Red Robin, and he got up before anyone could ask him to do a segment elaborating on his revelation.

“Thanks, everyone, always a joy, but I’m afraid I’ve got an early flight home!” Tim practically ripped his microphone off and, within minutes, was standing in the cool evening air of Metropolis.

It was always nice being here, Tim thought to himself as he began walking down the street, because Metropolis was like a playground compared to Gotham. It was one of the only places he could just take a break from being a superhero and breathe easy. Because even though Superman and his crew were gone on League business in Paris, the city itself hardly needed protecting. Tim could just be Tim for a few hours, which made him tolerate trips to Metropolis, even though everyone acted like pod people all the time. Nothing ever happened here.

Of course, because Tim was cursed by the universe, something had to happen. Shame on him, honestly, for putting his guard down.

He was roughly dragged by the shoulders and pushed onto the ground, hands held above his head, and he was about to retaliate when he felt cold metal being pressed against his throat, and a calloused hand covering his eyes. Okay. He had fought blindfolded before. He had fought on the ground before. He had fought with a knife against his neck before. He was fine.

“Where’s your wallet?” a man’s voice barked.

“I would give it to you if I could use my hands, asshole.” Tim croaked out, “It’s in my back pocket.”

The man took just enough weight off of him to allow Tim to lift his hips, though he still held his feet to the ground very firmly. Damn, there went that idea. The first man reaching out to grab his wallet gave him enough time to assess the situation.

One man near his head, holding his arms still. One man over him, covering his eyes and immobilizing his hips. One man near his legs, holding them down.

Okay, maybe this would be harder than he thought. What kind of criminals brought three people to handle one teenage boy?!

A plan began forming in his mind. He felt around the ground with his hands, resisting the urge to smile when one singular hand left his arms to press his palm, face up, to the ground, probably thinking he was looking for a way out.

But Tim was looking for a way in.

“You don’t carry cash?” the same, ugly voice yelled.

“Sorry, I’m rich?” Tim scowled.

The hand against his palm pressed harder. Go-time. Tim wrapped his hand around the closest finger he could reach (the index, he guessed) and promptly dislocated it. And suddenly, as the assailant yelped in pain, his hands were free. He wasted no time reaching up to scratch the next guy’s face, getting rid of the oppressive weight off his chest by yanking the man away by the hair, and regaining most of his mobility. He blinked as quickly as he could to get his eyes adjusted to the light.

He was about to deal with the third guy, who was now yelling, when a flash of color startled him. And then he was breathing easy, and three masked men were tied to each other with thick rope. And Superboy was there, looking down at him with big, concerned, blue eyes.

“Are you alright?” He spoke gently, and Tim hated how different his voice sounded.

Normally, he only got the teasing, dry quips, teasing him with how un-bat-like it was to be caught off guard by three regular guys. But Tim quickly realized he was getting the victim treatment, rightfully so, because right now he was Tim Drake, not Red Robin. Then he realized that he was going to have to lie to his best friend’s face and pretend to be shaken up.

Swallowing down the guilt, he ran a shaky hand through his messy hair.

“Uhm, I think? That was scary.” He smiled briefly, like someone trying to hide their feelings would.

Conne- Superboy , Tim’s mind corrected, reached out, offering Tim his hand. He took it, letting the familiarity of TTK wash over him as he was helped up from the ground.

As soon as Tim let go, the support taking at least half his weight vanished. So did the concern and warmth in Superboy’s eyes.
“Will you need an escort home or to a safe place?” Kon spoke coldly, looking away from him.

Tim frowned. “No?”

“Great. Have someone come pick you up and go back to Gotham, Mr. Drake.”

Now, Tim was really weirded out. Kon had never acted like this. Usually, he was so kind and gentle with everybody. Now, he was not only being an asshole but also breaking procedure by revealing he knew of one of the people he’d saved. “You know who I am?”

“Everybody knows who you are, Mr. Drake.” Which, true enough, but he was still not following procedure.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Paris?” Tim frowned.

“Are you always this chatty?” Kon clicked his tongue in a way that was so Lex-like it made Tim shiver. Frankly, Tim was a little offended. He thought he’d made a pretty good impression on Conner.

“Are you always this inconsiderate?” Tim shot back, defensive.

“I just saved your life,” Kon scoffed.

“You’ve shown no regard for my feelings whatsoever. You’re obviously not a fan of me, but still, you’re a superhero. Your job is to make people feel safe. I just got violently assaulted. I could be going into shock.”

“Are you?”

“That’s beside the point.”

Kon huffed out a laugh, crossing his arms. “Still saved your life. That’s not inconsiderate.”

“I had it handled. My father made me take self-defense.” Tim matched his haughty tone.

“I have trouble believing Bruce Wayne would do that. No offense.” If only he knew.

“Bruce isn’t- I meant my real father.” Tim shifted uncomfortably, losing the boldness that made him want to bother Kon out of his icy demeanor.

It worked, but not in the way he intended. Instead of teasing chatter, he was now getting pity. The super’s eyes softened, and he spoke more gently.

“I’m sorry. For assuming.”

Tim shrugged, running a hand through his hair. And it was his turn to look away from the other boy.

“And you’re right. I am being mean. I don’t dislike you, Mr. Drake. I promise.” He was being too nice now. Sometimes Tim just wanted to tell his best friend everything, if only to avoid awkward encounters like this.

“You didn’t answer my question, Superboy.”

Kon hummed, tilting his head in a way that made his sunglasses slip down his nose just a few inches. Tim had to physically remind himself that the other boy was waiting for an answer.

“You’re not in Paris.” He said simply. If he sounded a little breathless, it was because he had just been attacked, even though that felt like fifteen years ago right now.

Kon laughed, his whole being lighting up.

“I don’t think that’s a problem for you to worry about, Mr. Drake. How about a lift home?”

Tim nodded after a moment of deliberation.

“Tim, please. Mr. Drake was my father.”

Kon’s smile only widened. “Bridal carry acceptable for you?”

Tim had no time to answer before he found himself held by two superhumanly strong arms, before he was looking up into the uncanny blue of Kon’s eyes. His arms snaked around the hero’s neck (for support, of course), and any witty remarks left his brain at the sound of his voice, “Ready, Tim?” he nodded dumbly, because Superboy had just said his name

In moments like these, Tim couldn’t believe Conner was half human. He was too perfect, too above-it-all to be anything remotely close to anyone else on earth. He didn’t even notice they were in the air until Kon looked back down at him and frowned.

“You okay there? Should I go slower?” Tim was sure he had never been this red in his life.

“I’m okay. Sorry, just- a little scared.” he wasn’t lying, technically, he’d never said he was afraid of the heights they were soaring at, metropolis disappearing below them. He was, however, terrified of his heart beating so fast that Conner caught on to the fact that he was more than a little horny right now.

Tim suddenly felt a layer of TTK wrap around him like a blanket.

“Better?” Kon whispered, tightening his hold on Tim, who was very aware of the huge hands on the back of his knees and his back.

“Mhm!” Tim said, too high to be the truth. Kon’s frown deepened. “Distract me,” Tim said, if only to give him something to do, so he’d stop worrying.

Superboy immediately started talking. “You were right. I am supposed to be in Paris. Everyone is, except Superboy the younger, and I. Supes thought we were too young to be there, which is bullshit if you ask me.”

Tim smiled. “Should you really be telling me this?”

Kon hummed. “It got you to smile, didn’t it?”

Fuck. Tim was so fucked.

“Anyways, I yelled at the old man for a solid hour. I really wanted to go. I’ve never been to Paris.”

“No? Why not?”

Kon seemed to really consider the question, probably wondering how much he could tell a regular civilian.

“I haven’t been alive long. I’m not really Superman’s son, like everyone thinks. I’m actually his clone.”

“Oh!” Tim tried his best to act surprised.

“Three years out of the tube, baby!” That genuinely made Tim laugh. “Yeah, so I haven’t done many things a regular kid would do. It sounds stupid, but Disney Land has always been on my bucket list.”

And wasn’t that the saddest thing anyone had ever heard?

“Take us there right now?” Tim proposed, smiling up at Kon mischievously.

Kon froze mid-air. “No, I really shouldn’t. I have a duty.”

“You said the other Superboy is here, too. Let him handle the city for a few hours. Just keep an ear out in case he needs help.”

The superhero still hesitated. “I should get you home.”

“You will. Eventually. I think I deserve compensation after the ordeal I went through with those vicious muggers.”

That made him crack a smile. “You’re possibly the least phased person I’ve ever saved.”

“Maybe I’m just good at hiding.” Tim shot back.

Kon hummed, and about five seconds later, they were touching down in the middle of the amusement park, faced with the giant castle. Tim was gently lowered down onto his feet, and he tried to ignore the fact that he was already missing his best friend’s warmth. Oh, and the weird looks they were getting.

It’s fine, Tim would call later and pay for whatever they did. Disney would forgive a billionaire.

“What should we do first?” Tim asked, smiling playfully.

Kon pulled up a map on his phone and proceeded to point to the biggest fucking rollercoaster there was.

They rode 4 rides (and trauma-bonded after Kon had the bright idea to do ‘It’s a Small World’) before it really started getting dark, and they headed back to the castle to watch the fireworks. They’d bought Kon a Mickey Mouse sweater in a futile attempt to hide that he was a superhero, but people were still sneakily trying to take pictures of him.

The first firework exploded, and Tim looked over at his friend. Even with the sunglasses, he could feel the childish joy on Kon’s face, the pure amazement in his expression. Tim’s phone rang in his pocket. He cursed the interruption. This was a rare opportunity to ogle Kon without him noticing.

He reluctantly pulled his phone out and frowned when he saw Barbara’s contact. “Tim, you’re missing it!” Kon practically whined.

“One sec!” he laughed, then answered the call. “Kinda busy here, Babs.”

“Do I even want to know?” The girl laughed. “I just wanted to call to tell you I’m thinking of dropping the video a day after your interview drops. Need your approval, though.”

“You got it! Bye now!” He sputtered.

“Timmmmm,” Kon whined from beside him, trying to get his attention. Tim commended him for not listening to his private conversation.

“IS THAT SUPERBOY?” Babs practically yelled into his ear, and Tim winced because there was no way Kon hadn’t heard that.

“I’ll see you Sunday, bye!” he promptly hung up after that, turning back to the superhero watching him amusedly.

“Past curfew?” he asked.

“Something like that.” He turned his gaze to the fireworks, “So? Was it everything you wanted?”

“And more, man! I know we didn’t get to do that much cause we got here so late, but that was one of the best days of my life.”

Later, when Kon lowered Tim onto the balcony connected to his room in Wayne Manor, he shifted uncomfortably, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders.

“You okay there, SB?” Tim asked, amused.

He felt a little bad for teasing when Kon looked down, clearly bothered by something. “Is anything wrong? I could go make tea if you want-” Tim offered, already turning back to enter his room.

He froze when he felt a hand on his forearm, gently pulling him back around. His gaze was so focused on the hand circling his wrist that when Kon breathed his name, barely louder than a whisper, it startled him. He looked up at the other boy to find him studying his expression intently. Tim hoped he was finding what he was looking for. Kon drew in a breath

“I wanted to thank you for today. For convincing me to go. I don’t think I would have allowed myself to do it if it weren’t for you. So, I- well, while you were in the bathroom, I kind of got you something.”

Tim blinked. Shit, was he supposed to answer? “Oh?” That was the best he could do. He tried not to take the amused little smirk on the other boy’s face personally. At least now, he looked more at ease than before.

Superboy reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a necklace. A necklace. For him, Tim’s mind supplied. Holy shit, he was going to have an aneurysm.

“You don’t have to wear it or anything! You’re like a gazillionaire, and this isn’t really- this is just a way of saying-” Kon was babbling, Tim realized. He was babbling because he was too stupefied to show any kind of emotion on his face.
Idiot, idiot, idiot. DO SOMETHING.

“I love it. It’s perfect. You didn’t have to.” Good, that was good. Tim patted himself on the back for that response.

He reached out to touch the pendant hanging off the chain Kon was holding up. It was a simple necklace. Just a plain old silver chain with a tiny silver moon hanging off it. He didn’t know Disney made jewelry. He wasn’t going to question it.

“Can you...?” he trailed off, looking back up at Kon, who nodded quickly and took a step forward to help him get the necklace on.

That left a total of maybe twenty centimeters between them. Tim’s breathing hitched when he felt the ghost of a touch around his neck, and the cold press of the metal settling around his throat.

“There” Kon cleared his throat and stepped back. “All done. It suits you.”

Tim could do nothing but stare. Finally, when he drew in a breath and was about to speak, he heard the door to his room open. He spun around to see none other than Jason fucking Todd, arms crossed and expression indignant.

“By the time you’re done getting ready for patrol I’ll have died a second time. MOVE.”

Tim turned back around to where Kon had been, but there was nothing but air. Right.

“I’ll be right there, bitch.”