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    “Why are you still in your suit?”

    Tim pried one weary eyelid open to stare at Kon looming over him. His curls were damp. A playtendo console Bart had gotten bored of was clutched in one hand. He wore flannel pajama pants and a sweatshirt that had belonged to Wally once before being lent to Dick then stolen by Tim then reappropriated by Kon.

    A ragged sigh rushed out of Tim and even that hurt. Breathing hurt. Blinking hurt. “I can’t get it off,” he admitted, defeated.

    Language:
    English
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    07 Feb 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Fun little timkon fic