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Kon was twenty when he realized he was in love with Tim Drake.
Not a startling revelation, to be sure; he’d felt it coming on for a long time. What was a shock to his system was being too late to actually do a damn thing about it by the time his brain had caught the memo.
They all had been in various states of exhaustion and disarray, fresh in the afterglow of a victory won with a peculiar little motley crew, and Tim had simply swept Bart up in a rush of adrenaline and kissed him, right in front of everybody.
There were a few shocked gasps to drown out the loud shattering sound coming from the direction of Kon’s heart, but there was one suspiciously blank expression, staring at the two from across the way.
Jason Todd was sitting, half a cigarette burning between his fingers, cracked domino leaving one bright green eye visible, that caught Kon’s as he diverted his attention to Todd instead of his two best friends.
Kon was sure he wasn’t hiding the expression on his face, heart on his fucking sleeve for Todd to read. The interesting thing was, Todd was the complete opposite; the kind of vacant someone only ever was on purpose, when they had something to hide. And that’s...huh.
Kon was twenty when he realized Jason Todd was also in love with Tim Drake.
Kon can’t get him out of his head, after that. It’s weird, because he’s never really given him a second thought before. He knows the basic history of the black sheep of the bat family, through Tim and by reputation, but…now he’s curious as hell.
It’s not actually all that hard to follow the guy, surprisingly enough. He doesn’t think it through completely, always prone to impulsivity. It turns out even with his tentative truce with the rest of the bats, the big B is still territorial as hell, and Red Hood spends as much time outside of Gotham as in it, for the sanity of everyone. Outside of Gotham, Kon doesn’t have to be half as occupied with not triggering proximity alarms and can actually focus on being a proper tail.
Or so he’d thought. He gets a few blocks around the city border, hopping from rooftop to rooftop as Todd zips by on his bike, when he has to stop in the middle of a hover and dash behind a billboard, because the roaring engine stills to silence as Jason pops the kickstand down, right in front of...nothing.
“Kid, I fucking know you’re there. What the hell do you want?”
Kon cringes and peers around the edge of the sign.
“Bored?” He offers, warily. “I mean, I was bored, and I saw you and had nothing better to do…”
“Bullshit.” Todd barks. “You were waiting for me right outside the city. You want something, so just spill it. Unless someone sent you.” He punctuates this option with the raise of his eyebrow, like he’s daring him to have tried it.
Kon bites his lip and descends, feet meeting the ground about a yard away from the man.
“You were - are - in love with Tim.”
Todd’s head whips wildly at that accusation, eyes narrowing and looking at every nearby ledge and dark corner as if he’s checking for anyone who might have overheard.
“We aren’t in Gotham anymore.” Kon observes, because really?
“Close enough,” Todd rebuts, way too serious for such a ridiculous statement, and grabs Kon by the sleeve of his jacket, tugging harshly. “Come on.”
Kon lets himself get dragged, because, well - he’d come all this way to see Todd, and this is already more interaction than he’d expected, so why the hell not?
He pulls them into the nearby ruins of a warehouse, half a roof gone from apparent smoke damage and the rest decrepit from exposure to the elements; but apparently it’s comforting enough cover, because the panicked look has calmed down in Todd’s eyes.
“Look, you can’t just go around saying stuff like that. The bats have ears everywhere, and if Bruce ever found out he’d break his own goddamn rule to come after me with a shotgun.”
It’s Kon’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “He hates metas, but I doubt he’d come after me if he found out.”
Todd’s face twists a little funnily at the open admission of someone else being in love with Tim, but he bypasses it. “It’s not the same. We have a - a history. I’ve...tried to do things to him before. Bruce already hates when I’m around him now in a chummy capacity. Thinks I’m going to ruin him or some bullshit.”
Kon snickers. “He doesn’t know Tim for shit, then. He’d probably turn you around first.”
Kon watches as Todd pats himself for a pack of smokes in the midst of this statement, and his eyes follow the path of the cigarette to up his mouth, oddly entranced as he cups his hand around the end to light up.
Todd takes a deep puff, and exhales a little too in the direction of Kon’s face. “You don’t know me enough to be able say that.” Todd says. “Besides, doesn’t matter now.”
Kon frowns harshly at the unwelcome reminder, and Todd reaches over to clap a hand on his shoulder, fingers smelling like nicotine. “You and me both.”
“I could,” Kon blurts out, leaving Todd to look confused.
“I could know you well enough to say that.” He elaborates.
Todd throws his head back in a laugh, an edge of disbelief to it. “Refocusing your attentions on the next best Robin now?”
Kon juts his jaw forward. “Tim always talked about you as the ‘cool one.’ It’s all I’ve known how to see you as. Besides, it’s nice to know someone else...understands.”
Todd is studying him like he’s said something unexpected, but Kon still isn’t thinking he’s actually going to take him up on it.
“Alright, fuck it.”
Todd grabs the nape of his jacket, and a little off balance in surprise, Kon lets it happen again. He steers them back in the direction of his bike.
“Hop on.”
“I can fly.” Kon points out, but he leverages himself towards the back end of the seat anyway. Todd settles in right in front of him, kicking up the stop.
“Not like this you can’t.” He sounds supremely proud of his bike, like driving it could possibly be more enticing than literally soaring through the air.
Kon shakes his head. “You’re a little strange, Todd.”
"Fuck yeah, I am." Todd throws a grin over his shoulder, sharp and delighted. “And it’s Jason, not Todd. ”
Kon smiles back, slowly. “Jason.”
It hangs between them a moment.
“Jason.” Kon says again, “Are we going to sit here all day like morons or were you taking us somewhere?”
Jason chuckles again, revving the engine and taking off almost before Kon can secure his grip.
It turns out Jason might have been maybe just a little bit right, because riding on his bike is amazing. His face is pressed up against his back, breathing in the heavy scent of leather he loves so much, and he doesn’t have to focus at all on navigation and can just enjoy the view and the feel of the rest of the world spinning on by. There’s also something alluring about the rumbling power that sits beneath his thighs.
The trip is too short and Kon almost wants to feel disappointed, except they’ve stopped outside a bar, and that seems promising.
Then Kon remembers.
“Shit.” he hisses. “My ID won’t list me as twenty one for another six months.”
Jason eyes him over. “Couldn’t you have just gotten one that said you were older like, ages ago? It’s not as if the numbers are real.”
Kon tries not to pout. “I had to go to school.”
“Hey, that’s fair. School’s important.” Jason placates, a touch of wistfulness in his tone.
“I had most of the information implanted in my brain, most of it was redundant.”
“Whatever.” Jason shrugs. “Anyway, I know the guys here, so they probably won’t ask for ID if you’re with me.”
“Fuck, dude, does this mean Superman can get wasted like the rest of us?”
“Don’t think so,” Kon mildly slurs. “He’s….all super. I’m only half.”
Jason stares on in wonderment as the Superbrat throws back his next shot, making his total over double what Jason could reasonably put down without blacking the fuck out, and that’s saying something for him.
“You might wanna slow down there, kid.” He’s reasonably drunk himself, but he feels a nagging sense of responsibility.
“Not a kid. And I don’t wanna stop, I wanna forget.”
Jason can’t help but resonate with that, his initial inclination being to do the same. But…
“There’s this shitty ass thing called a ‘hangover,’ and trust me that feeling shitty about...all that, on top of feeling shitty because you drank too much, is not going to help anything.”
Kon levers a dirty glance at him, but shoves his glass a measure back in a show of compliance.
“Fine. Then you have to put up with me bitching.”
Jason snorts. “I’m not someone you can bitch at, you’re no worse off than me.”
Kon scowls. “Wanna bet? Tim and Bart are my only real close friends since Cassie and I split, and I don’t even know if I can be around them.”
“Ha! I can one up you: I have no friends.”
Kon’s eyes narrow. “I don’t have any family to go to either. Superman wants jack all to do with me, and my other parent is a giant megalomaniac who stockpiles my biggest weakness and synthesizes weapons out of it for a hobby .”
Jason inches in closer, a little up in Kon’s space. “You’ve met my family, right? I mean, I’d rather have Lex Luthor if he’d leave me alone to do my work instead of dropping in to be condescending over my methods every other weekend. And god, I bet him and Bruce are at the same level on the emotional maturity scale.
“Fuck, and that’s only if you count them as ‘family,’ because most of them hate my guts and I’m technically an orphan who’s been disowned by the only people who ever took me in.”
He finishes his rant with a little wobble on his bar stool, because he’s gradually been leaning in closer towards Kon to the point he’s more out of his seat than in it. Damn. He thinks, He has a nice fucking face. That jawline is all Supes.
“I grew up as a test tube baby. Not even, because I wasn’t human; I was a science experiment, along with my dozens of brothers who I watched get killed in front of me.”
Jason mocks a pout. “Aw, is that all? Is that the worst you got?”
“No.” Kon sulks as he slumps over the counter. “My best friend who I’ve been into for-fucking-ever just kissed my other best friend. That’s the worst fucking thing that ever happened to me.”
"Me too." Jason says as he gives in to his lean and falls against Kon. “Let’s call it a truce.”
Kon groans, shifting slightly, leaving Jason to appreciate the shape of him where’s he’s all pressed up against his side.
“You know, drinking isn't the only way people try to bury their sorrows.”
Kon’s back hits the wall hard, and Jason shoves him just a little harder, panting into his mouth, knee nudging upwards to stop just short of where it’ll drive Kon insane.
He backs up to breathe a little, but quickly finds his mouth honing in on that jawline - that perfect jawline - mouthing up towards his ear.
“Your fucking hair,” he whispers, “Makes me wanna….”
Kon doesn’t whimper, but it’s an adjacent sound that dries up Jason’s mouth, so he follows through on that impulse and threads his fingers through the curly, black crop, fisting at the base so he can tug.
Kon hisses and his hips jerk forward, making contact with Jason’s leather-clad thigh.
“Yeah, baby, fuck.” Jason croons as Kon presses himself against him again, little sounds escaping every time he pulls at Kon’s hair.
“Your mouth…” Kon asks, lips falling open in an invitation too tempting for Jason to resist. When they meet again, he can feel Kon murmuring against him, “So fucking good.”
He drives his tongue right in, tasting the tang of whiskey and sweet undertone of honey. The taste is so very Kon - kissing him is toe-curlinginly delicious, but he doesn’t hold himself back from a bit of roughness.
As if to drive the point home, Kon’s hand grabs at Jason’s jacket and all but rips it off, pulling back from him with an audible smacking sound.
Jason hasn’t realized how his eyes must have blown wide until Kon remarks, “Your eyes are so fucking green.”
Retrospectively, it’ll probably sound kind of stupid, but Jason burns with how much it feels like a compliment now, a note of reverent awe in Kon’s tone.
“No more than yours are blue, pretty boy.”
Kon growls at that, fisting in Jason’s white tee to pull him close, nose to nose, holding his stare before he spins them around and braces himself against Jason’s frame, entirely in reverse of only a moment ago.
“You’re one to talk.”
Jason smirks and raises his hands to cop a feel on Kon, grabbing a good handful of his ass in both palms. “I don’t have this, though. Goddamn.”
Kon swallows a small yelp. “You have your thighs. So many people would do anything for your thighs.” He recovers, breathing heavier.
Jason smirks. “That so?” He brings a foot up to sweep at Kon’s legs, effectively knocking them over so he lands on his knees, on top of him.
“Does that include you? Would you do anything? ” He asks, low and deep, tongue darting out to trace its way around the shell of Kon’s ear.
“F-find out, why don’t you?” Kon stutters, wriggling beneath him.
Jason huffs a small laugh and decides to do just that. He shoves his thigh right back between Kon’s legs, pressure unrelenting, and he waits to see what he’ll do.
Kon shifts around a little, trying to get Jason to move, before he catches the challenging expression on Jason’s face; he meets it with his own and starts grinding.
Damn, but his hips are utterly sinful. Tim’s a fucking idiot, Jason thinks absentmindedly. He can understand why he would want nothing to do with a mess like him, but Kon is...Kon is gorgeous, no fucking getting around it.
He’s the spitting image of Superman himself as much as he isn’t, much lither form all but dancing against his leg, rubbing up and down to gain some friction, a slow tease that shifts the pressure.
His mouth is falling open, tongue pink and wetting his lips, eyes gone from their crystal blue to almost black, drifting more towards closed as his breathing gets heavier, his long hair splayed out behind him.
“Fuck, baby boy,” Jason purrs, slowing him down, “Not before you get out of your pants, yeah?”
Jason leans back to similarly divest himself of said clothing, but something stops him from moving.
Kon grins and hooks his right leg around Jason’s, not letting him budge. He sheds his jacket in a speedy blur of arms, and his shirt is soon to follow; then his boots, all without untangling himself.
When he reaches for his pants, he takes his time; trailing his hands over his own torso, thumbs edging underneath the fabric. He lets himself float a little off the ground so he can slip them over his ass, leaving them to fall the rest of the way down to his ankles.
Jason’s throat clenches and fuck, it’s really been too long.
Kon, bare and beautiful, presses right up against him, both hands finding his hair. He nips at his lips, a feisty challenge - which Jason meets with a growl and the clamping of his teeth on his throat, right at the base of his jaw.
Kon gasps, hips jutting forward in an involuntary thrust.
His hands travel south from Jason’s head, feeling out the curve of his neck and then splaying out over his shoulders. When they reach the hem of his shirt, he takes a moment to separate himself from Jason’s mouth and he whips it off his torso in a powerful jerk.
Jason doesn’t have a moment to spare a thought for the fate of his shirt, too occupied over the rush of blood Kon’s display of strength sends coursing through him.
Kon’s hands dip past his waistband, broad and only a tiny bit rough, stopping part way down to squeeze. “My turn,” He teases.
“Ah,” Jason responds, eloquently. He always did like his ass getting felt up a little too much.
“So,” Kon asks, withdrawing from Jason’s pants to trail a finger around to the front, lingering over the button. “Where are we taking this? Cause,” He leans in, arching just enough that Jason can see the rise of his ass over his shoulder, “I am very much in a mindset to get fucked.”
That knocks all the breath out of Jason in one go, and he suddenly can’t spare time for Kon’s little game. He tears away from him, all but throwing his pants off, even though he can hear muffled laughter coming from the man in front of him.
“I've got stuff in the other-” There’s a blur of motion before Jason can finish speaking, and Kon appears back right where he stood, bottle in hand and pleased smile in place.
“-room.” He finishes, unnecessarily.
They stand there a moment, heat tempered just enough that Jason suddenly remembers they’re both two virtual strangers standing entirely naked in the living room of one of his hideouts.
Kon doesn’t let it last long though, because he tosses himself onto the couch, adding a touch of arousal to the art of the graceful sprawl. He throws the bottle at Jason, who leans out reflexively to catch it.
Kon beckons him with the tilt of his head, and Jason doesn’t hesitate. He pounces on top of him, landing with his knees once again on either side of his hips, leaving his cock to jut out over his well-formed abs. God, what he’d give to take a picture right now.
Kon’s mouth visibly waters at the sight, and Jason momentarily entertains the idea of actually asking; then he shakes his head and flips the cap on the bottle.
“Do you wanna turn over? It’ll be easier if you haven’t...in a while.”
Kon leans back, arms behind his head. “Nah, and you probably won’t have to do too much prep, either. Enough to make it comfortable for yourself, I guess; you can’t hurt me.”
Jason blinks a moment, processing. Then his mouth slides into a slow grin, eyes glinting. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”
Kon matches his expression, sliding his legs out from between Jason's before throwing them over his hips. “What I am is getting impatient.” .
Jason doesn’t have to be told twice. He pours the lube out onto his fingertips, rubbing it a little to warm it up, and doesn’t take long to get to work.
He does as Kon instructs, and stops before he normally would for anyone else, edge of anticipation getting to him as well.
When he withdraws his hand, Kon splays his legs wide, a soft sigh leaving his lips. Jason’s tongue darts out as he steadies himself, lining up with his dick in his lubed grip, and then -
Fuck, it’s tight, more than he’s used to, but it’s good. Kon groans, long and drawn out, and Jason wants to imitate him but he feels thoroughly winded.
Kon doesn’t give him the moment he needs, though. He moves his hips himself, arching his lower back, and pulls Jason in with his legs around his waist.
That tears the moan out of Jason, deep and guttural. His body kicks into gear and he all but slams forward, for once without having to be concerned with how his partner is going to take it.
Kon takes it with another cry and the toss of his head, hands reaching desperately to grasp at something, finding Jason’s shoulders.
Jason strikes up an easy rhythm after that, Kon’s body working together with him to set the pace.
It’s sweaty, it’s hot, it’s - fucking beautiful, is what it is. Jason drinks in every glimpse he gets of Kon through his fluttering lashes, of his shivering thighs to his flushed cheeks.
Jason changes up his angle, one hand braced on the jut of Kon’s hip, and Kon spasms, body stiffening and then collapsing to writhe in Jason’s grip.
Jason’s mouth curves up and he does it again, Kon’s body turning frantic, hand bruising where it’s tightened against his shoulder.
He leans in close to his collar bone and laps up the sweat that’s pooled there, morphing into an open mouthed kiss as Kon’s voice pitches a note higher, and suddenly he becomes a vice, wet heat spurting between their stomachs. The hold is so strong and intense that Jason doesn’t last another fifteen seconds himself, spilling inside Kon with a grunt.
He loses his balance after that, energy seeping from his bones. Kon bears his weight easily, and he’s so spent it actually takes him a moment to notice Kon’s floating a few inches above the couch.
“Was I that good?” Jason asks, only just breathless, amusement written on his face.
“Meh. Can’t complain.” Kon teases.
It falls pleasantly silent after that, and Jason enjoys the slightly weightless feeling of being held by a hovering Superboy.
Then Kon breaks it with, “Were you thinking of Tim?” and Jason has to resist a full body flinch.
He doesn’t answer right away because, honestly, he had just gotten Tim out of his head, so thanks - but also he realizes that the answer is actually no, and what if that’s not what Kon wants to hear?
He must deliberate too long, because Kon follows himself up with “Because I was.”
“Oh.” Jason says. “Yeah, me too.” He lies.
“I was also thinking that if he knew you could fuck like that, he probably would be here right now instead of me.”
Jason takes one look at the messy, alluring boy beneath him and says, without thinking and bit too much feeling, “Fuck Tim.”
Kon’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but his mouth curves up on one side, so it must not have been the wrong thing to say.
“Yeah, well, wanting to do that is what got us here in the first place.”
Jason scoffs and shoves at Kon’s face, which has broken out into laughter.
“Maybe I should thank him, then.”
“For providing you with some choice rebound ass via sheer association, due to his indirect rejection he never even knew he gave? Yeah, tell me how that goes.”
Jason sticks his tongue out. “Fuck you.”
“Been there, done that, maybe we should switch it up next time?” Kon rebuts, playfully.
Jason stretches himself as he lands his feet on the ground. “I need a fucking smoke first, babe.” He swivels his head around, trying to figure out where the hell his jacket had gone.
“Those things will kill you, you know.”
“Been there, done that.” Jason mimics.
“Oh shit, did I totally just get a zombie fuck?”
“Hell yeah,” Jason agrees, tapping the Y shaped scar on his chest. “Join the necrophiliacs united; they meet every Tuesday to cry about how amazing my thighs are, you’ll fit right in.”
Kon rolls over, burying laughter into his arm. Kon takes another glance over his ass as he swipes up his pants, appreciative. Kon’s face emerges a few seconds later, eyes mirthfully wet and a dimpled smile spread wide, and Jason feels a funny little twist in the region of his stomach.
It feels a little bit like attraction and a little bit like the recognition of potential; like hope, and one of those is something brand-fucking-new.
This is gonna be interesting. Jason thinks to himself.