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“Your brother is an asshole.”
Tim adjusts the towel around his waist, grateful that he didn’t walk out of the bathroom completely naked, because he finds Kon unexpectedly sitting on the bed in the tiny little apartment he’s been staying at. Sitting in the dark, and Tim would’ve tripped right over him if he hadn’t spoken. “Uh, hi?”
“Oh god,” Kon says, covering his eyes with one hand. “I’m sorry, man. I should’ve called or knocked, or something. Er…”
Tim feels his mouth twitch into a smile. He drops the towel and pulls on a pair of boxers and the cotton sleep pants he had laid out before his shower. It’s not that he’s cares if Kon sees him naked or not, it’s just that it’s never a good feeling to be startled and naked at the same time. “It’s cool. What’s wrong with you? Is everything okay?”
“Like I said, your brother is an asshole,” Kon says again. Tim turns the light on and Kon blinks up at him, wiping at his eyes. They’re watering, Tim notices as he gets closer, tears streaming down his face. Tim just raises an eyebrow, because yes, that’s true. It’s just that it’s true at least two times over these days. Three, on the occasion that Dick forgets that he’s still trying to make the last six months up to him.
“The one with the knives,” Kon clarifies. “I mean, you weren’t in any of your normal hideouts so I just thought I’d ask, and he said I was an idiot and I could find you if I wanted to, and I tried to say, you know, that’s an invasion of privacy and stuff, but…”
God, he’d asked Jason about him? Obviously that went about as well as one would expect. “Next time just go ahead and find me,” Tim says, pushing Kon’s head back so he can get a good look at his eyes. “Think of it as an open invitation, okay?”
“Okay,” Kon agrees. His eyes are red, angrily working to try and flush some sort of foreign object out.
“Now tell me what happened.”
“He threw this stuff in my face. I don’t know what the hell it was but it burned like crazy, and then he said I needed to find you fast if I wanted it counteracted.”
Kon’s eyes are wide and fever-bright, his pupils blown so large that his irises are only a thin ring of blue. There’s something on his skin, some sort of glittery, almost iridescent orange dust that Tim recognizes immediately as one of Ivy’s extra special kinds of pollen. Shit. How the hell Jason even had a sample of it is an excellent question, but it’s going to have to wait.
“I feel really weird,” Kon says. His voice is starting to slur.
Tim reacts before he can even fully think about moving, heading for the bathroom where he left his belt hanging up. Fifteen minutes earlier and he would’ve still been wearing it, would’ve been able to reach into the pocket where he keeps the inhaler full of antitoxin and shove it right in Kon’s face.
He makes it back to the bed without incident, but he’s half expecting to be slammed up against a wall at any moment.
It’s what happens. He’s had contact with this before, and he can remember exactly how it felt. The confusion that gives way to an uncontrollable desire, as if your blood has been replaced with something burning. Alive.
Thankfully he had been tied up at the time, and Batman had managed to find him and knock him out before anything truly awful had happened. It’s a memory that has always stayed with him. A precautionary tale of what your body can be manipulated into without your mind’s consent.
He’s back at the bed, the inhaler in his hand, and Kon is still just sitting there, looking at him like he’s absolutely crazy. Tim lifts his hand up, preparing to spray Kon in the face, when he feels Kon’s telekinetic field wrap around his arm, holding it still.
“What’s that?”
“It’s medicine,” Tim answers cautiously. He starts to reach for it with his other hand but it gets snatched up too.
“I’m not sick.” Kon’s words are careful and slow, as if he’s having trouble finding the right ones. His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded, and Tim thinks that the pollen usually affects people much faster than this. He remembers it being almost instant, and there must be something about Kon’s half-alien physiology that is slowing the process down. It might give Tim the time he needs.
“It will make you feel better,” he tries.
Kon looks at the inhaler curiously, like it’s something bizarre and unreal. The telekinetic field around Tim’s hand moves, slowly prying Tim’s fingers off of the device until Kon can use the same force to pull it out of his hand. It hovers in the air for a moment before it crumples, collapsing in on itself with a sad little hiss of air.
“I feel fine,” Kon says, breathing deeply. He leans towards Tim and takes an even deeper, longer breath. “I feel really, really good, actually. And you smell—you smell really good.”
Tim swallows. Feels it stick in his throat. “Kon. This isn’t what—“
“I want you,” Kon says like it’s nothing. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world to say to your best friend. Tim can feel the ttk moving again, pushing and pulling at him, moving him forward until he’s straddling Kon’s lap, his hands still held firmly at his side.
“You don’t want to do this,” Tim says quickly, trying to keep himself calm. There’s no way out of the invisible grip, not unless Kon gets knocked out or lets go, and Tim is not used to being in a situation where he can’t get himself free.
“I really do.” Kon leans in close, until his lips are only a few millimeters from Tim’s own, breath on his skin and Tim can smell the pollen. It smells sweet, intense and cloying. He closes his eyes and waits for the kiss.
He knows it won’t be anything like he’s imagined it would be, because he knows that’s not how the world works. That doesn’t stop him from remembering, in that moment, every single fantasy he’s ever had about this, playing them over in his head as his heart rate picks up. The kiss never comes, however, and instead Tim can feel Kon pulling away.
“Don’t I?” Kon asks, and when Tim opens his eyes he sees that he looks confused.
Tim has to shake himself mentally. He feels a little foolish, but this might be his only opportunity to persuade Kon that he needs medical attention. “Do you really want to do this without me wanting it just as much as you do?” Tim asks.
“I don’t—you don’t want me?”
There’s something lost and bewildered in Kon’s voice, and it makes Tim bite his lip. There are all sorts of answers he could give that question, up to and including the truth, but he aims for somewhere in between. “I don’t want you like this, when it’s not of your own free will.”
Kon stares at him, silent for a moment, and his eyes seems to clear somewhat, become just a shade more focused.
“I’ve got knockout gas in my belt that should probably take you out with no problem. If you’ll just let me go so I can get it…”
“Okay, yeah.” Kon swallows hard, muscles working in his throat. Tim feels the ttk relax its hold on him. “Just go. Fast.”
Tim is up and moving, racing for the bathroom as soon as he’s free. If he’d just brought the damn belt with him, but there’s no time to think about that. No time to do anything but move and—
Get turned and slammed up against the wall next to the bathroom door.
The kiss is hard and swift, knocking Tim’s head back with a thud. There’s no way he can fight it so he just relaxes, lets Kon push his tongue into his mouth and take the kiss he so obviously wants. Needs.
His body’s reaction is immediate, heat curling low in his gut and twisting, tempting, through his body. Tim hates himself for reacting because he should be better than this, he should have more control, but he can’t help it. He moans into Kon’s mouth, a shaky exhalation that he can’t hold in, and kisses back.
Kon moans and presses Tim to the wall with his body, eagerly exploring Tim’s mouth and tongue. Tim thinks he can taste the remnants of the pollen in his mouth, and wishes that it was more, that it was enough to pull him under too.
Kon pulls away after a moment, moving to kiss his way across Tim’s jaw and down to his neck, biting down on that one perfect spot that makes Tim’s bare toes curl into the carpet. It feels almost blindingly hot, a white knife of sensation that is quickly turning his brain to mush. Tim doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to think. He’s having a hard time remembering how to think, and he feels guilty for wanting this, for taking it when there is surely something else he can do.
“I want you,” Kon says again, lips against Tim’s throat. His hands are like bands of steel around Tim’s upper arms, holding him pinned to the wall. He gasps as Kon drags his mouth up to his own, pausing a breath away to whisper, lucid for another moment, “I can’t stop, Tim. God, I can’t.”
It’s anguished, like Kon is holding on to the last bits of his control as tightly as he can, and it makes Tim ache. Makes him need to find some way to fix it. “It’s okay,” he says, instinctual words that are meant to comfort. Which one of them he’s trying to comfort, he’s not sure. “It’s okay.”
There’s nothing he can do, he can’t get away without Kon hurting him, and soon Kon’s going to be so lost to it that he won’t even care. Tim’s not afraid of getting hurt, but he’s afraid of what that would mean to Kon, how much it would hurt him. So he does the only thing he can think to do, and licks the side of Kon’s face. The pollen there gathers thickly on his tongue, heavy and sweet, and once he swallows he begins to feel dizzy with it almost instantly. Has only the time to wonder how Kon ever managed to last as long as he did before succumbing, and then it’s pulling him under.
“There,” he says, his own voice low and throaty. “Now you can’t do anything that I don’t want.”
Kon groans, saying something that might be his name, Tim isn’t sure. All he knows is that there are lips on his own and hands on his body, moving down his sides and sliding up his back, fingertips points of pressure and heat. It’s been a long time since anyone has touched his skin with anything but the most clinical hands, to patch him up or check for injuries, and he’d completely forgotten what a rush it is to be touched with intent. With desire.
One of Kon’s hands drops down, sliding under the waistband of Tim’s sweatpants, curving around his ass. Tim shudders and it feels so good, electricity coursing through his body with every touch, lighting up his nerves and making him moan around Kon’s tongue.
Now that his arms are free, Tim fists his hands in Kon’s shirt and tugs him in, and Kon reacts by shoving a thigh between Tim’s own, pulling him closer with the hand on his ass. Pulling him up on his toes. Tim groans and the kiss becomes a wet, messy thing, almost an afterthought to the way their bodies are moving together. Tim pulls at Kon’s t shirt, tugging it up and under his armpits so he can get to more skin. As soon as Tim brushes his thumbs over Kon’s nipples the grip on his ass tightens, and before Tim knows what’s happening his pants are just gone. He’s naked, and there’s a small voice in the back of his head telling him he should be embarrassed about that but he can’t make himself care.
He just needs to get Kon naked too.
With fumbling hands he pulls at Kon’s jeans, getting the button open and tugging at the fly. They never stop kissing, not for one moment, and Kon’s mouth falls open against his when Tim finally pulls his clothes down and wraps his hand around Kon’s dick.
It feels good, feels so hot in his hand, slick at the head and smooth and perfect. Tim can’t stop touching, even as he tries to find friction by grinding himself against whatever part of Kon he can reach. It feels so good, so right to be touching him like this, and he couldn’t possible let go, not with Kon thrusting into his hand and moaning into his mouth.
“God, it’s too—it’s too much,” Kon gasps. Tim feels his hands being jerked away, pinned to the wall on either side of his head with an invisible force. Kon’s hands are on his ass, holding him up and holding him still as he thrusts against him, and every push and pull of their bodies and drag of skin against skin drives him higher and higher, until it overwhelms him.
When he finally comes it’s like lightning, shocking through his nervous system in a hedonistic rush. Tim throws his head back and shakes with it, muscles jerking uncontrollably, and a few moments later he feels an answering rush of wetness on his stomach as Kon comes, cursing.
They don’t stop moving, and the discomfort Tim’s expecting never actually comes. He just stays hard, and it feels so good, better than anything he’s ever felt before. Kon recovers first, pulling him backwards, tumbling them both down to the bed, pushing Tim onto his back and covering him. He marks his way down Tim’s chest with lips and tongue and careful teeth, and Tim lets his eyes roll back in his head. When Kon’s mouth closes around him he shouts, thrusting up, and stops thinking about anything else at all.
Tim wakes up the next morning feeling like he’s been run over by a truck. Late morning light is filtering through the curtains, catching the white of the walls and bedclothes in bright highlights. His mouth is dry, his throat is sore, and his eyes feel sticky and achy. When he sits up his head pounds, and it takes him one long, confused moment to figure out why.
“Oh,” he says aloud, to an empty room.
Kon is gone, and Tim can’t really blame him. He knows if he had woken up first that he would’ve probably tried to sneak away too.
Still, he’s a little annoyed.
“Stupid, stupid,” he mutters, because there was no point in hoping for anything good to come from it. No point in wishing that he’d woken up next to Kon, to think that they could have something more.
Kon has Cassie, after all, and she’s—
She’s probably going to kill him when she finds out. God, he didn’t even think about that. Hadn’t, actually, thought about her at all.
He runs a hand through his hair, staring blankly down at the disheveled sheets. His skin feels clammy, dirty and smudged, and he’s going to need a shower before he can do anything, before he can—
He doesn’t really know what to do. He looks around, blankly taking in the anonymous little apartment.
There’s a pile of books on the kitchen counter that he doesn’t remember bringing here, and his favorite pair of sneakers kicked off by the front door. He needs to move on, start to figure out what he’s doing with his life because he’s starting to make this sad little one-room apartment his home. He grimaces and picks up his cell phone from the bedside table, hitting the speed dial he wants without looking at the keypad.
“Hey.” He twists the sheets in his free hand. “No, everything’s okay I—I just need to talk to you. Yeah. No, I’m not, I’m at R-7. The coffee shop? Yeah, I know it. Okay, I’ll meet you there.”
The coffee shop is small, tucked into a corner of an old building about a block away from the R-7 hideout. Dick is already waiting for him when he gets there, sitting outside with dark sunglasses on and a coffee in his hands. There’s another one sitting across from him on the table, steaming in the cool spring air.
He’s slouched down in his seat, dark hair tousled carelessly, and when he sees Tim he grins and pushes out the other chair with his foot.
Things aren’t quite the way they used to be, but they’re definitely better. Getting better by the day now that Bruce is back. Now that Dick is starting to feel comfortable in his own skin again.
“What’s up, little bro?”
Tim takes a long, blissed-out sip of his coffee. It feels like heaven going down his throat, soothing and warm, and when he looks up Dick is grinning at him.
He gives him a small smile in return. “First off,” he says, cradling the warm cup between his hands, “did you know that Jason is carrying around Ivy’s pollen to use on people that annoy him?”
Dick’s eyebrows fly up. “What? No, you have to be kidding. Oh god, did he get you with it?”
“No, not me.” He takes another sip of his coffee and then begins telling Dick the whole story, leaving out some of the specifics. When he stops Dick is staring at him, mouth slightly open. After a moment he laughs.
“So wait. You two had sex?”
And of course that’s what Dick would focus on.
“Yes,” Tim snaps back. Dick just grins. “Look, it seemed like the only available option at the time.”
“Heh, I'm sure it did, but you could’ve probably figured out another way to stop him, some way to knock him out,” Dick points out, leaning back in his chair until it’s just balanced on two legs.
“Probably, but.” Tim stops, takes another sip of his coffee so he can think over what he’s trying to say. “What if I couldn’t? There’s nothing I would’ve been able to do once he figured out I was trying to stop him, and I don’t think he’d ever be able to forgive himself for that. Certainly it would’ve ruined our friendship.”
“And you don’t think this will?”
Dick sounds far too incredulous. “I think that this is recoverable. I think that allowing him to believe he had done something to me that I didn’t want—“
“So you do want it?”
“That’s not the point,” Tim argues, feeling heat suffuse his face.
“Oh that’s so the point, little brother. That’s so the point.” Dick drops his chair back to the ground and leans in, elbows on the table. “Look, you wanted my advice, right?”
Tim nods.
“Good. That’s great,” he says, smiling bright and happy. And that’s part of why he called Dick, because he knew it would please him, but really if anyone’s going to have useful advice for this sort of situation, it’s going to be Dick. The founding member of the Teen Titans has plenty of experience in awkward situations with friends and in dealing with the fallout of strange, mind altering attacks.
“Well, I say let it be for now,” Dick says. “He’ll come to you when he’s ready to talk about it, and you can deal with it then.” He reaches up and taps Tim on the forehead, twice. “And be honest, okay? Things are already weird; if you lie you’re just going to make it worse.”
Tim nods and Dick leans back slowly, satisfied. Crosses his arms over his chest and stares at Tim with a different kind of consideration.
“Are you going to come home soon?”
“Dick.”
He holds his arms up in surrender. “I had to ask, okay. He worries about you.”
Tim smiles. “Tell Alfred I’m fine, just trying to figure some things out.”
“And Bruce?”
He sees Bruce all the time, and he doesn’t know why Dick would ask. “Bruce knows I’m fine. He’s not worried.”
“Okay, okay, maybe I’m just a little worried about you, then.”
“Dick, I’m fine—“
“Do you want to go out to lunch?” he asks, ignoring Tim completely. “I’m starving, and you can tell me some of the details you very cruelly left out of your story.”
Tim really has a million things he needs to do, but Dick just looks so hopeful, and he really can’t say no. “Okay,” he says, “but I get to pick this time.”
A week passes and Tim’s starting to wonder if he should just go and find Kon himself, take one of the jets out to Smallville and ambush him there, when he notices he’s being followed while he’s out on patrol one night. Kon is really about as subtle as a thunderclap.
They aren’t too far away from the Robin’s nest that Tim’s been trying desperately not to live in, so he signals Kon to follow him and heads there on his bike.
Kon is waiting for him when he gets there, sitting on his bed in the dark again. Tim turns the light on and he flinches.
“I’m sorry about the other night,” Kon says, staring at the floor.
Tim sighs, unhooking his cape. There’s no way he’s going back out on patrol, and the thing is heavy. “It’s not your fault.”
Kon’s face twists up, sour and unhappy. “I know that, but it doesn’t make it okay. What I did to you—“
“Was completely with my consent, Kon.” Tim pulls the cape off, holding it in front of himself like a shield. “If anyone should apologize it should be me. I took the easy way out, after all.”
“I broke up with Cassie,” Kon blurts out, still looking anywhere but at Tim.
Tim feels the cape slide out of his hands. It hits the floor with an obvious thud. “What?”
“Before. That’s why I was trying to find you.” He scrubs a hand through his hair, sending it sticking up in every direction. “Well, she broke up with me, if you want the truth. Said that we were too different now, that we shouldn’t try to force things to be like they used to be.”
Tim goes and sits next to him on the bed. “I’m sorry."
“Yeah. Thanks.”
They both fall quiet, staring at the floor in front of them. Tim doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to make this any better.
Be honest, Dick had said. Honest, like he knew it would be harder for Tim than lying.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Tim admits, blushing furiously.
“What?” Kon asks, finally turning his head to look at him.
“I can’t stop thinking about what happened, and I know you and Cassie just broke up, but—mmph!”
Kon kisses the rest of the words right out of his mouth, pushing him back and pushing him down, and Tim didn’t even see him move. It’s like being tackled by an over-eager puppy, wet and enthusiastic.
Tim pushes him back with a hand to the center of his chest and Kon pulls back, reluctance written all over his face. “Whoa… shouldn’t. Shouldn’t we talk about this first?”
Kon grins down at him, and it’s almost like he’s radiating happiness. “Man, you are such a girl.”
Tim feels himself scowling, immediately defensive. “Well, forgive me if I’m feeling like I’m a few steps behind. Besides, you’re the one who wanted to talk about your breakup first.”
“Yeah, but that’s before I knew. I was worried that you were going to be pissed at me, but now…”
Tim raises an eyebrow.
“God that’s hot. I really shouldn’t find that so hot.” He shakes his head, smile going a little soft. “Look, what do you want me to say? I’ve wanted you forever, okay?” Tim can feel his ttk folding like fingers under his belt. “But you keep yourself locked up tighter than a chastity belt, dude. I never thought I had a chance.”
Tim swallows, honesty, honesty, honesty repeating like a mantra in his head. “You always had a chance,” he admits, and the words are barely out of his mouth before he’s being kissed again, softer this time. He pushes his hands into Kon’s hair and holds on, and decides right then and there to send Jason a present.
The box is brown, plain packing paper tied up with a string. There’s a piece of paper stuck under the twine, and it doesn’t look like it came from a postman or any sort of official courier.
Jason kicks at it a little with his boot, and then picks it up and shakes it. Satisfied that it’s not going to explode, he pulls the note out and reads it.
Dear Jason,
I wanted to express my thanks to you for dosing Superboy with Ivy’s pollen. It worked out really, really well for me. As a token of my appreciation I have enclosed a replacement for the kris dagger you broke stabbing that rapist in the throat. Please try not to kill anyone with them.
With Deep Gratitude,
Yours. TJDW.
He laughs, loudly echoing in the empty warehouse he’s been calling home. He opens the box and pulls out three shuriken, beautifully made. He turns them and watches them shine in the dim light. They’re so nice that he might not give the kid any trouble for a while. Not too long, of course, that would just make him lazy. He smiles, teeth reflecting white on the wickedly sharp blades.