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Blind Date

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Sometimes Kon doesn't know which is worse -- the prospect of spending his perma-adolescence in a yawn-worthy cow town like Smallville, the fact that he shares fifty percent of his chromosomes with a bald megalomaniac, or the part where his powers keep going nutbar in front of people he's trying to impress. If he's honest with himself, Kon has to admit that he doesn't mind living with the Kents. Smallville's lame, but living with Ma and Pa makes him feel real. Almost like he has a place somewhere that he can think of as home, even if he'll never have baby pictures, outgrown clothes in boxes at the bottom of the closet, or goofy Christmas ornaments he made in elementary school. And Kon knows from experience that it sucks trying to be a sixteen-year-old superhero living on his own with no I.D., no birth certificate, no Social Security number, no freaking income, and no legal guardian.

He's lucky that he didn't end up living in a refrigerator box in the Suicide Slum when Cadmus Labs did its disappearing act, although he probably could've wrestled a wino for the park bench, provided that the dude's breath didn't make Kon toss his cookies first.

Kon can't do anything about his genetics right now. He doesn't even want to think about it, so hey, lucky for him that his powers are scaring the crap out of him right this very fucking moment. It's like that time when his tactile telekinesis freaked out and disassembled every gun in the greater Los Angeles area, except for the part where it's totally not, because even then his TTK just made him go boom, and he can't even remember the last time he lost control over it.

He can't see.

He can't see because if he opens his eyes, he'll burn down Ma and Pa's house. And god, he has no idea how to get this under control. For a brief moment, he almost wishes he was still living at Cadmus Labs, because at least there would be somebody around who would be getting paid to figure out what the hell's wrong with him. Kon just -- he can't hurt the Kents. He couldn't look Clark in the face ever again if he did, and without Clark...

Fuck, he can't look anyone in the face right now, because his eyes are still hot and the inside of his eyelids are glowing red like he's staring straight at the sun.

Just... Kon needs help. Somewhere safe. And can't think straight because he's kind of panicking, but he knows he can't stay where he is. The fire in his eyes burns a little hotter, and Kon just bolts. Flies blind. Hits things, feels wind and wet and grit on his skin. Doesn't know where he's going, doesn't care, just that he has to get away. He flies and flies. Loses time, loses himself. There's nothing but roaring dark and the hot prickle of his eyes.

Kon comes back to himself with hands digging into his shoulders and a low voice speaking quietly into his ear, repeating, "It's okay. I've got you. It's okay."

"Tim?" Kon says tentatively, his eyes still firmly closed.

The hands tighten on his shoulders for a second. "Yeah?"

"Uh," Kon says, terrified and relieved and terrified some more. "Where are we?"

There's a mattress under his butt and warm skin under his hands, and he realizes that he's clutching someone like a teddy bear. Not just someone -- he's clutching Tim. His face is buried in the hollow of Tim's neck, and Tim is 1) not wearing very much, and 2) smelling really good, and Kon suspects this is all going to be highly embarrassing in another minute or two. It still isn't enough of an incentive to let go. Especially when Kon remembers that he went to bed tonight only wearing his Pokémon boxer shorts.

Tim just better not mock his Pikachu, or there will be hell to pay.

"You don't know where you are," Tim says. His voice vibrates against Kon's cheek.

"Yeah, not really."


Kon laughs a little hysterically and he feels his eyelashes moving against Tim's throat. "Can you do the mad scientist thing later? Like when I'm not having a major life crisis?"

"Crisis?" Tim says, and then tilts his head. Kon can feel Tim's chin brushing over his hair.

"Wait, am I in your bed?" Kon demands. This is just beyond weird, and not because Tim sleeps in an honest-to-god bed rather than upside-down and hanging from the rafters. Tim actually sleeps in pajamas -- the bottom half, anyway. He can feel sheets under his legs and Tim's thighs tangled with his own, and the steady beat of Tim's heart.

"Yes," Tim says, and then, "Tell me."

And that's when Kon realizes why he somehow managed to fly halfway across the continental United States with his eyes closed and end up here. Whenever something went crazy with his powers, his instincts always seemed to lead him to Gotham and Robin, where he'd pester the living hell out of Tim until Tim stopped threatening to kill him and started asking what was wrong.

Tim doesn't know everything, but he knows a hell of a lot more than Kon does. He's smart and he fixes things, and that really doesn't explain why Kon is holding onto him like a security blanket.

Whatever. He can only cope with one freak-out at a time, here.

"Heat vision," Kon tells him. "I can't open my eyes, I --"

"Kon," Tim says, his name like a calming shush. Tim moves his hand to Kon's back. His palm feels hot and intimate, and Kon shivers a little.

"I woke up," Kon says, going to the beginning like he knows Tim wants. "I don't know -- I woke up and my eyes were shooting laser beams. I -- dude, I think I burnt a giant hole in my algebra book."

"Were you angry with your algebra book?" Tim asks with a smile in his voice.

"No, I --" Kon stutters to a stop, and a blush goes nuclear on his face. "I was dreaming."

"What kind of dream?" Tim says.

"Um," Kon says. He shifts uncomfortably, but that only makes him brush against Tim, and that doesn't help matters any. "Okay, um. Mock me for this at your own peril."

"Okay," Tim says, and Kon doesn't care that he makes no guarantees.

"Sex. There were these, yeah -- with string bikinis and chocolate body paint, and it was mucho sexy, and don't you even think about laughing at me, batboy!"

"I'm not laughing," Tim says, and he isn't, but he might as well be from the sound of his voice.

Kon sighs against Tim's throat. "I woke up. I couldn't turn off the laser beams. I freaked out. I just... didn't want to hurt anybody."

"And you came here," Tim says.

"And I came here. To you. Just don't ask me how."

"Can you open your eyes now?"

"I..." Kon really doesn't want to try it. "No?"

Tim makes a humming noise. "Do you trust me?"

"Um, hello?" Kon says, squeezing Tim a little harder and bouncing them on the mattress. Tim's small, but solid. Solid in a lot of ways, and Kon likes that.

"Right," Tim says. He puts his hands on Kon's face and tugs until he moves Kon's head where he wants it. "Open your eyes."

"Are you nuts?!" Kon exclaims.

"You're looking at the floor. You'll be able to close your eyes before you do any damage. You might singe the carpet, but that's cool. I don't like it, anyway."

"I hate you for being rational right now," Kon says, psyching himself up to open his eyes and totally not letting go of Tim because he's feeling an eensy bit needy at the moment.

"Noted," Tim says.

Kon snorts and lightly cuffs the back of Tim's head, and then he opens his eyes. Nothing explodes or goes up in flame, which is a pretty good start. The room is dark. Books piled on the floor. Xbox. Tennis shoes. Sweet computer. And Tim.

Tim, without a mask or a suit, and his dark hair rumpled from sleep. He looks like just another boy like this. A kinda short, really ripped boy with serious and extremely blue eyes, and wearing a pair of plaid sleep pants.

Tim is a real person, and Kon is touching him. This is currently blowing his mind.

"Hi," Kon says stupidly. "You. Wow."

"Anger and sexual arousal are Superman's heat vision triggers," Tim says, and he totally doesn't need the costume to morph into Robin.

"Okay, TMI," Kon says, his brain suddenly spinning with all the times he's seen Superman use his lasery eyes to fight evil. He'll never be able to see it again without wondering if Superman's thinking something smutty about Lois.

Actually, no -- Lois is pretty hot, so Kon can handle that, but it's the rest of Superman's potential fantasy life that gives Kon the heebie-jeebies.

Tim raises his eyebrow a fraction, and it occurs to Kon that he basically has Tim sitting in his lap, and isn't that nice? He stares at Tim, and Tim stares back curiously. His nipples are the same color as his lips, which isn't something that Kon probably should be noticing, except that he is noticing, and this isn't some wacky superpower that can be turned off. Not unless Tim is emitting a porno ray, which he probably could build, but wouldn't, because that would be unethical in the bad way.

So Kon stops thinking about it and kisses Tim.

Tim's lips are warm and he tastes faintly of toothpaste. He gasps, and Kon happily takes advantage by pushing his tongue into Tim's mouth. He licks and sucks, and Tim makes a noise in his throat that almost sounds like pain before he starts kissing back. Kon likes kissing. It's one of his favorite things to do, along with having sex, kicking super villain butt, and playing Megamaster Death Rage XVII.

Kon eases back for a breather and licks his lips, and thinks that he's been wanting to do this for a really long time, but in his defense, he isn't the detective in this relationship. He slides his hands down Tim's arms. Tim shivers, and the way they're sitting, it's like an instant lap-dance. Score.

Tim's mouth is pink and his pupils are open wide. He could've had Kon's balls squashed in a C-clamp by now if he didn't like what was happening, but Kon tests the waters anyway. After all, the last time he kissed somebody, it got him super-tossed off the Titan's Tower, and he has the feeling Batman won't be as nice about things as Wonder Woman.

He has totally risked certain death for far stupider things than hot sex with his best friend.

"So if I suddenly develop a crazy new superpower every night and need your help, how much would you mind, do you think?"

Tim blinks at him. Then he smirks, and Kon pops a tent in his boxer shorts. "I'm not a fair-weather friend, Kon."

"Uh," Kon says, and palms Tim's ass.

Tim rocks against his hands. "Your powers are changing over time, and it's a tactical advantage to know your limits."

"Limits," Kon echoes mindlessly, and then says, "Limits! Um, will somebody try to kill me for being here?"

Tim leans in a little, his hands on Kon's shoulders, and gives more of an answer than usual, "My parents aren't home."

Kon blinks hard. "You... have parents."

Tim nods. "Yeah."

"Weird," Kon says, shaking his head.

"Pot, kettle," Tim tells him.

"Hey, I didn't ask for my eyes to suddenly start shooting beams of--" Kon starts to protest, but then Tim kisses him, and he forgets what he was doing. It's warm and wet and easy, his tongue rubbing against Tim's and a tingle running up his spine. Tim's breath is humid and his skin is soft, and Kon seriously could make out with him all day, because somebody taught the guy how to kiss, and Kon is writing thank you letters to them in the part of his brain not currently occupied with that really good thing Tim's doing with his tongue.

As a consequence, right now the thank-you letter pretty much just reads, "Yay!"

Tim bites at his lips, and then bites a string of messy kisses down Kon's neck, and then Kon finally remembers to ask, "What if my death-ray vision comes back?"

"I trust you," Tim says.

And Kon just has to tackle him to the bed for that, pressing between Tim's legs and kissing him silly. His fingers skate over Tim's abs, and it isn't just the Robin suit with the six-pack. Tim's cock is hard and pressing into Kon's belly, and he thinks that's possibly the best thing ever. Kon strokes him through the soft, fuzzy material of his pajama pants, and Tim groans, digging his heels into the mattress and arching his back.

Kon already wanted to touch him everywhere, but now it's just ridiculous how much he needs to. He pushes his hand past the elastic waist of Tim's pants, and squeezes his cock. Tim's mouth is open, his eyes are closed, and his skin is flushing unevenly, which makes the dark freckles scattered here and there stand out even more. Kon jerks Tim off hard and fast, because he wants to come so bad he can taste it.

"Why haven't we been doing this?" Kon says, watching Tim curl his hips into the motion of Kon's hand, sweat making the hair at his temples go damp.

"You talk about girls, Kon. All the time," Tim says, his voice weirdly breathy.

"I like girls," Kon says, ducking down to suck on Tim's neck. Salt tingles on his tongue. "I like boys. I like you."

"I --" Tim says. His fingernails dig into Kon's back.

"Fuck, you're hot," Kon says. Tim presses his teeth into his lower lip and comes. He sprawls back onto his bed, sweaty and loose-limbed in a way Kon has never, ever seen before. Tim drags Kon's hand out of his pants and up to his mouth, and licks it clean with the tongue he was saying hello to earlier.

It makes fireworks go off behind his eyes.

He squeezes them shut and says, "Oh, shit." He rolls onto his back and thinks about crying, and presses the heels of his palms against his eyelids.

"I'm fine," Tim says.

Kon makes a noise that isn't a sob, damn it, and then makes it again when Tim drags Kon's stupid Pikachu boxers down his legs and puts his hot tongue on Kon's dick. He reaches out blindly and tangles his fingers in Tim's hair. "Don't --"

"Shut up," Tim says, and sucks the head of Kon's cock into his mouth.

"Nrrgh," Kon says instead of 'stop'. Tim blows him like some kind of super-tasty lollipop, and Kon just wishes he could watch his cock going in and out of Tim's mouth. Tim squeezes his balls and rubs a wet thumb over Kon's asshole, and Kon has just enough time to think that he could totally go for Tim's cock up his ass before he moans loudly enough to wake the dead, and comes like crazy.

Tim is a real person, and he swallows. This is the updated version of what's currently blowing Kon's mind.

"I... so... huh," Kon says, finally.

Beside him, Tim snorts.

"Kinda hating you again," Kon tells him.

Tim snorts again. "Let me know how that works for you."

Kon cautiously opens his eyes and doesn't set the ceiling on fire. He turns his head on the pillow he landed on, and sees Tim laying beside him, blinking sleepily and his hair wild from Kon's fingers.

It kinda makes his heart trip and fall on its face.

"Hi," Kon says, and rubs the back of his hand along Tim's cheek.

Tim leans into his hand a little. "Hi."

"Come here often?" he can't resist saying, and grins when Tim biffs him with the pillow.