Conner and Tim have been dating for awhile now. Conner’s almost ecstatically happy - Tim is awesome (‘course, Tim has always been awesome), the sex is fantastic (Tim is a perfectionist in all things), and there’s nothing he likes better than waking up with a warm body curled against his side and his nose buried in Tim’s hair.
It’s hard to get Tim to stay in bed and cuddle for any length of time, but luckily Conner’s usually awake well before him, so it all works out.
The only thing driving him crazy is how often their dates get interrupted or otherwise ruined. It seems like there’s always something going wrong.
He has plans, though, and he’s absolutely bound and determined that they are going to have a nice, quiet date without reporters, supervillains, alien invasions, Bart-related crises, Hurricane Damian, or any other interruption. Even if he has to break both of their cell phones and communicators to do it.
He’s gotten so tired of reporters that he’s taken to glaring at Clark by sheer association whenever he sees him. He’d tried it with Lois but she just glared back and Lois kind of scares him.
This is all easier said than done, though.
After some discussion, they’d decided that in public, Tim Wayne was going to be dating Superboy; with Tim’s connection to Batman, Inc. it ended up being easier to explain than why Tim was dating a Kansas farmboy. Plus, dating Tim in costume was just awkward, and this way Tim didn’t have to feel solely responsible for the Stalkerazzi.
They’ve both gotten better at dodging photographers, although it helps that Tim’s family taught him to drive a motorcycle like a bat out of hell. Conner clings to Tim and is really, really glad he’s invulnerable because he’s sure they’re going to crash at any moment.
Tim pulls up to the restaurant; it’s a little hole in the wall place because it’s Gotham and the people are notoriously anti-social, especially in the local eating holes. It also helps that it’s kind of dark inside. Which isn’t to say it’s not some pretty delicious pizza and pasta, because Conner scoped it out and it is.
Conner leads Tim inside and asks for a corner booth; they’re tucked in the back corner and partly hidden by the shape of the booth and the walls between, and it’s about perfect. They order a pizza and breadsticks and Conner stretches his arm across the back of the booth, and Tim smiles a little Tim-smile and slides over to nestle against him. Conner wraps his arm around Tim’s shoulder and squeezes gently, and turns his head to kiss Tim’s temple. Tim smiles a little wider and turns to kiss him properly, and Conner stops paying any kind of attention to anything other than Tim.
At least until Tim pulls away rather abruptly, his expression going blank. “What-“ Conner starts to say, and then Lex fucking Luthor slides into the booth across from them.
Conner is horrified, and sometimes, he really hates his life. “What the fuck!” he says. It seems like the only appropriate response.
“I heard this little...thing...with the Wayne boy was starting to appear serious,” Lex says, “And I thought I’d better come meet him.”
Conner can tell Tim’s pissed, even though the expression on his face is more confused. Actually, it’s probably a good thing that Tim doesn’t have pyrokinetic-related powers because he’s pretty sure Lex’s suit would be on fire by now, Tim’s so tense against his side. Conner’s pretty pissed himself, because Lex only pretends to be a father when “his” boy is about do something that would make him a little less Lex’s. Not that he is, but dating Tim obviously means he’s Tim’s most of all.
“It’s none of your business,” he snarls, and speaking of lighting things on fire, he has to blink rapidly and take several deep breaths to avoid setting the tablecloth alight. “And you stay away from Tim.”
Lex clucks his tongue. “Really, I’d hoped for grandkids someday. I can’t say I approve of this.”
“You do realize I can’t have kids, right? I’m a hybrid! Even I know that.” He doesn’t even address the fact that no kids of his would be going near Lex Luthor. Or his no doubt fairly impressive stash of Kryptonite. He texts Clark under the table, “Help, Luthor crashing my date.” Only probably with more typos since he’s not looking.
Lex waves him off. “Oh, we did some chromosomal tweaking. I’m actually pretty sure you can.”
Conner’s floored for a moment, though even before he’d realized he probably couldn’t he hadn’t really been planning on having kids. Having even a vague possibility reopened to him gives him pause for a moment, though, before he recovers and remembers that Lex Luthor gives him the fucking heebies. “Chromosomal tweaking? Do you even hear how creepy you sound?”
“I suppose it’s not all bad,” Luthor continues, ignoring Conner like the egocentric megalomaniac that he is. “A merger of our two companies would be a fantastic business opportunity.”
Considering Tim spends a significant amount of work time fending off hostile takeovers by Lex, the “hell no” is pretty well implied at this point.
Superman stalks into the room right about then, looking pissed as hell. Conner has never been so glad to see him. He doesn’t even say anything, just grabs Luthor by the collar and hauls him bodily out to who-knows-where.
Even in Gotham, that’s got half the restaurant’s attention, and everyone’s staring in their direction now. Conner sighs and asks for the pizza to go. The evening is plenty ruined now anyway.
“I’m surprised he didn’t have a piece of Kryptonite with him to bust out,” Conner confesses as they leave.
“Oh, he did,” Tim says, and holds up a little lead box, giving it a shake so it rattles. “Pick pocketing is just one of my many skills.”
Conner kind of loves Tim.
Conner’s still determined that they’re going to have their perfect date. This time he decides to go for an entirely private location, and makes sure that Luthor is off on some international jetsetting trip. Then he grovels a little until he convinces Bruce (who is a scary, scary father figure, just for the record) to let him have the use of the roof of Wayne Tower. With a little help from Alfred, who is much less scary, he has a picnic set up. And because he’s a smart thinker, he’s even set up a canopy, in case the fickle Gotham weather decides to produce rain.
It seems perfect at first. They make it through dinner under a starry sky before clouds start moving in. Conner has dessert set aside for later; right now he has plans involving Tim flat on his back on the blanket. A cool breeze has kicked up, so he’s got another blanket draped over both of them and he’s kissing Tim slow and hot, one hand sneaking up his shirt.
And it’s so good. Perfect. Exactly what he’d had in mind and Conner moans, kissing along Tim’s jaw and down his neck. The rain starts to come down, but they’re fine where they are in their little nest.
And then the wind starts to blow.
Conner swears and tucks the blankets around them tightly, then wraps Tim up in his TTK. Unfortunately, the moment they start kissing again, Conner loses all concentration and they both get hit with a spray of cold water.
“I think I just swallowed a fish,” Tim says, and Conner groans in disappointment.
“I got it. Let me take you home.”
And yeah, Tim drags him into the bathroom for some pretty hot shower sex, but their date was still ruined, dammit.
So there’s this little chocolate shop Bart told him about in Juneau, Alaska. Kind of touristy, but also delicious and it’s really quiet, and there’s even this local B&B with natural hot springs they can go to afterwards.
Unfortunately, it turns out that Tim is deathly allergic to peanut butter and can’t even touch it without swelling up like a balloon. Luckily, he carries an epi pen with him at pretty much all times, but he still has to go to the hospital afterwards for steroids.
“Sorry,” Conner apologizes for at least the fifth time after they’re shown to a room and are waiting for a nurse. Tim keeps reassuring him that it’s okay, but Conner feels really awful about it. “I should have...I didn’t know you were allergic to peanuts.”
“Well, I don’t go advertising it. And I should have realized they served peanut products there. That’s my responsibility, not yours.”
“I’m not sure what’s more embarrassing - my weakness or yours.”
“Definitely yours,” Tim says.
Conner continues to feel terrible, though, especially because when the nurse comes in and Tim refuses to look at what she’s doing he’s reminded that Tim really hates needles. “Sorry,” he apologizes again and squeezes Tim’s hand.
They do make it to the B&B, but Tim still looks kind of puffy and Conner’s a little scared if he touches him, Tim’s going to pop, and the whole thing has really killed the mood. Conner’s starting to think this particular date is extra super-duty jinxed.
A killer robot attack interrupts their Sunday morning lie-in at Tim’s and Conner flies them both to Central City at top speed to help out the rest of the Titans and the Justice League in taking out the robots as quickly as possible before their rampage destroys any more of the city.
He and Tim are on today, in near-perfect sync. Tim gets a good leap off a wall, flying towards him, and their hands catch; Conner gives a full turn with him like it’s the hammer throw and Tim goes somersaulting through the air. He vaults off a robot’s head with a touch leaving an explosive in his wake, and Conner’s there to catch him and break his fall. They grin at each other, Tim yells for another move from their playbook, and they’re off again.
Tim signals that he needs a breather and they find a place down a small alley. Tim collapses on the ground behind a dumpster, breathing hard, and Conner floats down to settle next to him. Even he’s starting to feel tired and even just a moment’s break feels good. Tim’s pulled off his gauntlets, wiping his sweaty hands on his tights. He's produced a water bottle some somewhere and gulps down half of it, then dumps the rest over his sweaty face, turning streaks of dust into mud.
He looks fucking amazing.
Conner grins at him and drags him onto his lap for a kiss, heart giving a little flip in his chest at the feel of Tim in his arms, how much he loves working together, how gorgeous Tim looks when he’s been fighting, a little messy and torn up but still going and so very Tim. He splays his hand across Tim’s back and kisses him again and then growls against his mouth. “Marry me.”
And Tim is surprised, actually surprised for once in his life. “What?” he says, expression stupefied.
Conner fumbles in his pocket and pulls out the ring he’s been carrying around for weeks, that he’s never had a chance to give to Tim because of rain and wind and Lex Luthor and fucking everything. “Marry me,” he repeats.
Tim’s not slow and his brain kicks in and then he grins fiercely at Conner. “Yes. God yes.” He wraps his arms around Conner’s waist and kisses him, and at some point Conner must put the ring on Tim’s finger because then Tim’s cupping his face and there’s a cool strip of metal resting against his cheek. Conner laughs in sheer joy and Tim’s kissing him some more before he finally pulls back. “Evil robots,” he reminds Conner, and Conner half-groans but releases Tim so they can rejoin the fray.
The last of the robots finally goes down. Conner lost track of Tim at some point, but he floats up above the mess and spots Tim on a nearby rooftop, leaning against a wall like he couldn’t stay upright if not for the help. It was a long fight, so Conner doesn’t blame him.
Conner settles down next to him and draws Tim against his side. He’s pretty tired himself, and is considering the relative merits of finding the nearest hotel room so he can clean robot grease off himself and take a nap before he has to fly Tim back to Gotham. But unlike Tim, he’s at least fully upright, so the least he can do is hold his boyfriend up.
Conner grins, remembering, and finds Tim’s hand. He's got the gauntlets off again, and Conner draws it up to kiss just below the ring. It’s a simple design, a gold band with their symbols etched on the inside.
“That wasn’t what was supposed to happen, was it?” Tim’s grinning tiredly where he’s leaning against Conner’s side.
“Hell no. I was going to take you on a perfect date and I was going to wait until we were all alone and get down on my knee, properly. I even had a little speech written up about how great you are. We just kept getting interrupted.” He brushes his lips over Tim’s cheek and then makes a face when his mouth comes away gritty. “You need a shower.”
Tim laughs. “Yeah, that fits the mood.” He finds Conner’s hand and squeezes. “Not that it wouldn’t have been nice, but...I kind of liked this. It was...us.”
Conner smiles and kisses Tim’s hair. “Yeah. Us.”