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Three Little Words

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Tim knew he loved Kon, in a way, he just didn't know it was that kind of love. Sure, they're dating and he likes Kon, but he didn't realize he was so far gone. Living together and having joint bank accounts just made things easier. And it's not that big a deal that they got arranged their wills to match, right?

The more Tim starts to think about it, the more he realizes everything about their relationship is there except for those three little words. Even without saying them, they've been embedded in every little action, kiss, and tumble they've shared.

The weight of this realization presses down on Tim over breakfast, while Kon reads over Clark's latest article in the morning paper. (He has his glasses on even though he doesn't need them; "Conner Kent" needs to be at work within the hour. His sleeves are rolled up and there's a small coffee stain on the button-up, which Kon hides with his tie. And there's no good reason for his cover to have arms like that, Tim thinks, as Kon takes a sip of coffee.) Tim watches Kon carefully for a moment, eyes wide, when he abruptly announces, "I love you."

Kon nearly chokes on his coffee (from laughing, Tim notices, settling down the worry from that reaction) and Kon smirks behind his mug. He's looking at Tim over the rim of his glasses, and though Tim can't see Kon's smile with the mug in the way, he remembers this moment as one of the brightest Kon has ever smiled (next to their wedding day and the moment Kon first held their child in his hands). "I love you, too," Kon says, not bothering to add the, 'what took you so long?'

(Kon's only mildly jealous Tim has professed his love for Kon's cock before Kon, but he'll live.)


"I'm so sorry I didn't say it earlier," Tim tries to say one time, but Kon hushes him with a kiss and a smile before he can finish.  

"It's okay." 'Stop worrying.' But how can Tim not worry about hurting his beautiful boyfriend, when he's smiling like Tim is precious and hasn't been actively hurting him for the past twelve years of their life?  

"Wasn't there ever a time you wondered? When I- When I didn't-"

Kon kisses him again, leans his forehead against Tim's, and breathes. 

He can't tell Tim about those nights he laid wide awake with Tim in his arms and a knot in his throat. He can't tell Tim how his heart broke the first time he told Tim "I love you" and was met with silence. (Saying that it broke his heart would be a lie, anyway. Tim had smiled so beautifully that his eyes crinkled and Kon knew Tim loved him back, even if he didn't say it.)

For all of the doubt of not being good enough, not being what Tim needed, Kon has never wondered if Tim didn't love him. Kon has always known Tim's loved him. It's in the little things, from the way Tim arranges space in the fridge for Ma's apple pie (plus the way a new pie seems to materialize after Kon's eaten the last slice and how Ma talks so fondly about her and Tim's weekly chats), to the way Tim makes a point of checking him over first after battles, knowing fully well that Kon should be the last one he should be concerned about after a fight. 

Hell, Tim has fought Bruce and not even Kon is crazy enough to do that. Three years into their relationship, Tim went head-to-head with Batman for the right to make his relationship with Kon public. While they were in costume.

So no, Kon has never wondered if Tim didn't love him just as much. 

"Nope," Kon says, popping the 'p' with his wet lips. "You gave me the lock code to your cell phone. I know you love me."

Tim smiles with a slant in his eye that Know knows to mean Tim's encrypted whatever sensitive info he doesn't want Kon snooping around under at least ten different levels of security, but Kon knows just how big a thing it is for Tim to trust him with his tech. Tim smiles at him intensely like that a moment before letting his head drop to Kon's shoulder and exhaling. Kon feels Tim's smile more than he sees it. 

"I really do love you," Tim says, more to himself than Kon, as if he's realizing it just now. 

Kon never had any doubt Tim loved him, but it still feels good to hear it.


"Oh... oh god. Right there, Kon. Righ-- yes."

"You're so, hnn, good. I'm so lucky. Tim. Come on, come for-"

"Kon. Kon, I- AH."


"...oh my god."


"That was...perfect."

"Yeah," Kon agrees, grinning impishly.

Tim stares directly at him, eyes intense though his body remains pliant and loose. (If you ask Kon, he'd say Tim was glowing.) "I love-"

Kon's heart skips a beat. His cheeks instantly flush and he feels his heart seize up in anticipation, much like his body felt moments ago. 

"-your cock."

Kon's cheeks still burn, though his chest feels hallow and icy as his heart feels like it's dropping into his stomach. 

His expression must cue Tim in, because his eyebrows furrow and he holds Kon so gently, like he might break if Tim lets go of him. 

"I mean it," Tim says in the same way a prayer might be said. "I have not felt that good ever."

Kon releases the breath he didn't know he was holding and laughs. He snuggles next to Tim, throwing an arm over Tim's waist and wedging his knee between Tim's legs. "I love you," he says a bit breathlessly. "And your cock's not bad either."

Tim laughs and snuggles back. It might not have been the words Kon expected, but he can't complain when Tim fits his head into place beneath Kon's chin, like he was made to do that.


On days where Kon wonders why Tim never says it back, Kon becomes obnoxiously clingy. It both charms and annoys Tim, who has to deal with the fact work becomes impossible when Kon's like this. As for Kon, he doesn't even realize. 

Right now Kon's whining, "Tiiiiim... Do you love me?" 

Tim's forehead pounds from a headache. It's nearly seven in the evening and he has nothing to show for the work he's finished today thanks to a certain half-Kryptonian. All day it's been 'watch this episode of Wendy the Werewolf Stalker with me!' and 'how much do you love me, Tim? Come on, give me a number!'

Whatever it is that Kon's trying to get from Tim (and he really has no idea what it could be because he's even sucked Kon off three times since this morning), he must be getting desperate.  Kon only uses that tone when he's trying to be flirty and cute and get Tim to do something for him.

Tim shrugs Kon off his shoulder, sighing. "Knock it off, Kon. I'm trying to work."

Kon leans over Tim's shoulder, making a kissy face. "Just a quick kiss, man!" 

Tim continues typing, as if Kon weren't there. "If I kiss you, will you let me work for an hour?"

"Maybe ten minutes," Kon teases cheekily. 

Tim sighs, dragging his hands from the keyboard. "Fine," he concedes, as Kon floats up and kisses Tim from above, recreating the Spider-man kiss. Tim laughs through it. 

"Mm," Kon hums as he steals an extra kiss. 

"That's twenty minutes now," Tim says triumphantly. 

Kon waggles his eyebrows. "Sure you don't want to make it thirty?" 

At this rate, Tim has the distinct feeling he'll pile on hours. He pushes Kon away by the face, but he's smiling. "See you in twenty, clone boy."


"We should adopt," Tim announces suddenly. 

So suddenly, apparently, that Kon drops his spoon into his tomato soup. (It's Tim's turn to cook, so two cans of heated soup and four (burnt) grilled cheese sandwiches are tonight's dinner.) Kon swallows the remaining soup, wipes his mouth with his forearm, and asks in a tiny voice, "you mean it?"

Tim nods, face serious. "We've been dating for almost nine years now and we've been together longer than that. It's time."

Kon's face scrunches up in the way Tim knows to mean Kon doesn't agree. He doesn't always outright tell Tim that, but Tim's seen the expression so often he knows it by heart. "We're not even married yet."

"Can you put that aside for two seconds? I'm trying to talk to you about our family," Tim sighs, frustrated. He figured Kon would bring it up, but it's really not the point. Clearing his throat, Tim adds, "It could be years before we clear all the paperwork." There's only a hint of bitterness in his tone, the price for having to play the masquerade of Timothy Drake-Wayne. Adopting a child with Kon wasn't going to be a discreet or quiet affair, which would reflect on their ability to parent. "I'm turning 26. By the time we finish the pre-adoption classes and clear our home study, I could be in my late 20s, maybe even my 30s. I don't want to worry about being a teen grandparent when I'm 40, Kon. We should look into it now."

"Our baby isn't going to be a teen parent!" Kon gasps, scandalized.

"There's nothing wrong with being a teen parent. Things happen and- You're lucky Steph's not around right now, you know that? You're a teen parent, if you want to get technical." Kon raises a single eyebrow and Tim resists the urge to fidget as he continues. "Look, that's beside the point. We're in a good place right now. Steady income, not too busy with work, Dick even offered to babysit every now and then."

"Kara," Kon cuts in. It catches Tim off guard and Kon smiles sheepishly, explaining. "Kara's been saying she'll babysit for us for years. Clark, too. We- I mean, he was saying how nice it'd be for the girls to have cousins." 

"Right... Kara." Tim's eyes narrow. He's already thinking of how they can schedule to accommodate both their families. And he certainly did not miss how Kon said cousins. As far as Tim knew, none of the Supers save Kon were planning a family. Interesting. He files that information away for later. "Anyway, that's what I'm saying. If there's a time to raise a kid in our lives, it's now."

"And...?" Kon asks, the question heavy between them. 

This time Tim's face scrunches up. It all makes perfect sense. They'll be responsible, loving parents and young enough to be there for their children. (Great, now he's doing the plural thing. He told Kon absolutely no more than five, damn it. ("That's how many Robins there are, Kon. No more than that." "Minivans can fit eight, Tim!")) Tim has already picked out three possible flats zoned for better schools and narrowed down a list to five breeds of dogs - with some reluctant but supportive help from Damian, of all people - so the kids can grow up with a companion. Tim has even pitched a plan to Bruce about moving various Wayne assets and his responsibilities around so he can be free during the day to be with his family. In short, Tim has it all figured out. Kon's unease is peculiar, to say the least. "'ll be a great dad? I don't know what you're getting at, Kon. You've been wanting to start a family since we got together, and now we can. I know you want a family."

"Do you?" Kon's face softens, but there's still a pitying look in his eye. And then he adds, after a second's pause, "With me?"

"Yes," Tim answers immediately. They've been over this. Why is Kon being so weird?

Kon's unnerving look lasts for three more seconds before his face splits into the dopiest grin. "Oh my god, Tim! We're gonna be dads."

Tim's heart skips a beat when the word leaves Kon's mouth. Dads. He and Kon are going to be dads. 

"Yeah, we're gonna be dads," Tim repeats, breathless. When he says it out loud, it finally feels real.

Kon's already jumped from his place at the table to scoop tim up in a piercing hug. Tim releases a quick "oof" as Kon squeezes him and kisses Tim's face. 

"I love you. I love you so much, Tim. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Thank you."

Tim places his hands on either side of Kon's face, steadying him to kiss Kon on the mouth. He doesn't realize he didn't say it back. 


Kon doesn't mind that Tim had never said it back. Really. Sure, he wonders about it sometimes, whether Tim is too shy or whether Tim thinks it sounds too personal or whatever reason Tim may have. But it's not like Kon worries about it. Much.  

Today is one of those days, one of the ones where he worries. He and Tim have been together longer than any couple they know who isn't married already. (Okay, six years isn't saying a lot, but that's like 42 years for dogs and masked vigilantes.) Kon wouldn't mind except sometimes it feels like he's just existing with Tim, like there's nothing more to their future. Kon knows the material part of a relationship doesn't matter, but, well, he just wants to feel like there's something to show for their relationship. Something that proves they've had the "Let's live in Smallville"-"No, we need to stay in Gotham" fights and promises that they'll have the white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and a dog some day. Something that proves they're together and going to stay together. That they won't always be stuck in an (admittedly spacious) apartment (by Gotham standards, anyway).  

Kon is sitting in his rocker across from Tim as a nature documentary about Hawaiian volcanoes plays on TV. (If that doesn't say compromise, Kon doesn't know what does.) Tim's sitting on the couch with his laptop balanced on his lap. Piles of paperwork are spilling off of the coffee table and Tim is biting a pencil in his mouth as he marks various notes with a red pen. 

Kon fidgets in place, opening and closing his mouth several times. He grips the rocker's arm rests so hard the leather squeaks.  

"What is it?" Tim asks, not looking up from the laptop. 

"Let's get married."

That gives Tim pause. His lips tighten and thin out as he closes his laptop and sets it aside. Tim's body is tight and tense, the way he holds himself whenever he and Kon are about to start a fight. His posture says fight but his eyes are sympathetic, almost sad. "Kon..."

"Let's get married," Kon repeats, stronger this time. He leans over the rocker, his elbows glued to his knees and his hands clasped together so he doesn't fidget with them. "We could do it in Spain. We can be there in less than an hour if I fly."

Tim sighs and then runs a hand through his bangs. "I don't want to get married in Spain, Kon."

"Then Canada. Or Brazil. I don't care if it's in New Zealand, Tim. I just want to marry you." 

"This isn't about Spain!" Tim snaps. "Or Canada or Brazil or- New Zealand! You know that!"

"I know," Kon forces out, like it's hard to say. His jaw tightens. "But let's face it, Gotham isn't going to change. Not for years, anyway. By the time they'll let us marry, we'll be old men."

"Then we'll be old men when we marry," Tim says petulantly. His shoulders are squared. "Besides, it's not like you've proposed or anything."

Kon inhales. Tim exhales. They breathe for some seconds, staring each other in the eye. 

Kon's the first to move. He lifts out of his chair and walks the three steps until he's in front of Tim. 

"Kon, what are you-?" Tim starts while Kon drops to one knee. 

"Tim," Kon breathes as he pulls a velvet box from his back pocket. "Will you marry me?"

Kon opens the tiny box with more grace than he thought his clumsy fingers capable. Inside is a band made of white gold. It's sleek, discreet, and Kon engraved "I love you" in Kryptonian on the inside of the ring with his heat vision (and a little help from Clark). Kon presents it to Tim, his arms shaking only a little bit. 

"I-" Tim says. It's the first time Kon has seen Tim at such a loss for words and unable to respond. 

"Marry me," Kon insists, eyes pleading. "Please."

"I..." Tim's eyes dart from the ring to Kon's face and Kon recognizes the moment the both of them know this was a mistake. 

He snaps the box shut. 

"Forget it," he says, standing up. 

Tim stands up and follows as Kon makes his way to their bedroom. "Wait, Kon-" 

"Don't." Kon opens their shared sock drawer and stuff the box into his pair of dress socks. (How did I miss that, Tim wonders. Oldest trick in the book.) Kon slams the drawer shut, the wooden armoire groaning loudly beneath his strength. "I shouldn't have asked."

Tim stands helpless in front of Kon, now fully held to his complete height and size. Kon looks like he might crumble if he doesn't hold himself up, and his chin drops to his chest. "Sorry about the drawers. I'll fix it tomorrow."

"Fuck the drawers," Tim says, grabbing Kon by the shirt and pulling him into a hug. Tim presses his cheek into Kon's chest and Kon feels a wetness gather there. "I really wanted to say yes, you know that?"

"I know," Kon admits, sounding smaller than ever. He squeezes Tim. 

"One day." Tim swallows the knot in his throat and balls the back of kon's shirt in his fists. "One day I'll say yes. So please ask me again. When..."

"Okay," Kon breathes. He kisses the top of Tim's head. Tim shudders. Kon's hands run up the side of Tim's body and he tips Tim's chin up with his TTK. Tim's eyes are red and his cheeks are shiny with tears. Kon leans down to kiss them away, one by one. "I love you... I love you..."


"I should get going," Kon whispers. Tim barely hears it, but the rumble of Kon's chest wakes Tim from his dozing.

"How late it is?" Tim swallows, trying to shake the raspiness from his voice. His eyelids feel heavy and he's relaxed for once. He'd really like Kon not leave unless he absolutely has to. 

But Kon will have to leave, eventually. Bruce, probably because he is Bruce, found out early on that he and Kon were dating and instituted the no sleepovers rule. Bruce held him to the rule, even now that Tim moved out and had his own apartment.

"Nn," Kon grunts as he leans over Tim to grab his phone from Tim's nightstand. The puff he exhales tells Tim it's later than he'd like it to be. "Shit. Nearly five."

Tim's eyelids snap open, his body suddenly completely alert. He can see the curve of Kon's frown in the darkness and the shape of his lips move as he grumbles about Ma worrying. "That's...early."

"You think?" Kon asks sleepily, a hint of of playfulness in his tone. "What do you think, is Batman's still on patrol? Do you think he'll let me keep my balls if he catches me leaving now?"

"Wait." Tim holds Kon by the shirt as Kon tries to slide out of the bed. 

"He's going to kill me if he finds me sneaking out," Kon sighs, sounding as disappointed as Tim. "And I really, really like my balls."

"So don't," Tim says simply. When Kon doesn't answer, Tim says it again. "Don't leave. He can't catch you if you don't leave."

"Tim." Tim has never heard Kon sound more scared in his life.

"I have to get up in an hour anyway.'re going to see me later today. So it doesn't make sense to go back to Smallville now. You'd be there for an hour before coming back to me." Because Kon never comes to Gotham. He comes to Tim and Tim just happens to be in Gotham.

"I have to grab clothes." For once Kon is the voice of reason. "And Ma's probably worried sick."

"You have a drawer here," Tim points out. Kon's had one for a month, officially, but he's been leaving his dirty socks and ripped shield shirts in Tim's drawers since they started dating. "And you can call her later. She'll understand."

Kon's quiet for a full minute before he groans and slumps back into place. "You're crazy, you know that? You want to break one of Batman's rules."

A part of Tim knows he'll regret this later, but he has at least four hours before Batman finds out Kon stayed overnight and Kon is so warm, Tim thinks he might fall asleep in the next three seconds. He hoists a leg over Kon's hip and kisses his cheek goodnight. 

It's still sinking into Kon that Tim is breaking a rule for him. When the realization settles in, he whispers, "I wouldn't risk my balls for just anybody. I love you."

Kon waits for a response, but he's met with only Tim's steady heartbeat and his gentle snoring.

"I love you," Kon whispers again, kissing Tim's forehead before joining Tim in sleep.


Three months later, Tim wakes up to the sight of Kon squirming in bed. Tim knows by now that Kon generally sleeps like a log, but he has a bad habit of spreading out like a starfish. Kon has an arm clamped around Tim's waist like a vice while his other hangs off the side of the bed. His legs are a combination of contortion and tangling with Tim's. Tim runs his cold feet up Kon's calves, but Kon doesn't so much as stir. If anything, the dopey, dreaming line of his lips curve into a smile.

Kon's mouth is open and he's drooling on the pillow. The steady puffs of mouth breathing is almost as distracting as his snoring. Kon's hair is sticking up in bizarre patches that Tim has never seen, even when Kon's been flying around for the better part of the day. Altogether, this is probably Kon's most unattractive moment.

And yet Tim can't stop his heart from clenching when he looks at Kon and thinks, 'I love this idiot.'

Tim jolts internally, staring at Kon with his eyes peeled open. He loves Kon?

...Well, sure. They're dating. He wouldn't date somebody he didn't love. But. He loves Kon?

Tim settles more solidly against Kon, watching him with a new sense of awe and wonder. He keeps his secret to himself.


It's sometime between kiss number eleven and twenty when Tim breathes into Kon's mouth and his eyes flutter shut as they prepare for kiss number twelve or twenty-one. The kiss is just as good as the first ten (or twenty), but there's absolutely nothing noteworthy about this kiss. Nothing save for the fact that when Kon goes up for air, he whispers, "I love you," to Tim.

Tim has never smiled harder in his life.


The doorbell has been ringing for two minutes straight, Tim is running late, and he's so stressed that he can't work his tie this morning. He's already had to retie it two times and missed a button when he was buttoning up his shirt.

"Will you please get that?" he shouts exasperatedly from the bathroom, which is still steaming from the hot shower Kon finished not a minute ago.

"On it!" Kon shouts from the bedroom. As he passes by the bathroom, he pops in to give Tim a kiss and help Tim with his tie. "Relax. Today is a big day."

"I know that," Tim insists harshly, but he deflates beneath Kon's touch. The doorbell continues to scream. 

"I love you," Kon says, pecking Tim on the mouth again. "Remember to eat breakfast. Made coffee and a scramble for you. It's on the table already. Go eat."

Tim groans in a way that sounds erotic and his eyes roll in a way that Kon recognizes as pure bliss. Tim only pulls that expression after he comes or after Kon tells him, 'I made you coffee.' "Kon."

Kon leaves after patting the threshold twice and Tim sets off for his cramped dining room (that looks more like an office, by the way he leaves all his papers and computers on every visible surface).

"Jeez," Kon huffs as he runs up to the door. Trying to make this morning as easy as he can for Tim hasn't been easy, and it doesn't help that Tim is running on two-and-a-half hours of sleep. If Nightwing hadn't needed back up last night, maybe Tim could pretend to have that air of confidence typical of Timothy Drake-Wayne. 

Before he reaches the door, he hears two voices. One is telling the other to stop ringing the doorbell - it's annoying - and the other is laughing, insisting this is the only alarm clock Tim has. He'd have focused on the voices more if he wasn't so worried and careful about listening to Tim.

No sooner than opening the door does Kon feel the blood drain out of his face and into his toes. He's pretty sure the blood would be leaking out of his toenails if it was really draining from his body.

Dick Grayson is standing in front of Kon with a cup of coffee in his hand, which he promptly drops. Rob- Damian is standing next to Dick, already pointing passionately at Kon. "Grayson! I told you Drake was letting the alien clone stay overnight to fornicate with him!" 

"Damian." Dick looks at Damian for just a second, a smile taking over as he turns his attention to Kon. "Look, I just came to apologize to Tim for last night. I know today is a big day and-"

"Yeah," Kon croaks. "I'll get him."

"I'll give you until the count of three to vacate these premises, you-" Kon slams the door shut, running to the kitchen before he can hear the rest of Damian's threat. He does hear Dick trying to reason with him. 

"Who was it?" Tim asks when Kon enters. Kon notes that the coffee pot is already half empty and the scramble untouched. Kon grabs a container, shoveling three scoops of scramble into it and shoving it at Tim. The worry line on Tim's forehead is showing. "You okay?"

"It's bad, Tim. I'm leaving out of the bedroom window. If I don't make it out alive, please tell Ma I love her."

Tim blinks up at Kon in confusion. "I don't-?"

"Love you, Tim! Good luck at work today!" Kon shouts at he dashes for the bedroom. The last sound Kon recalls is the front door lock being picked and swinging open.


"So," Dick asks later, after Tim's finished his presentation to promote a new charity branch that will help with recent public relations mishaps. "Any chance we could have family dinners with Superman?"

"Well if isn't Timbers!"

Tim doesn't groan, but Kon notices how he slumps in his seat, making himself seem smaller. "Do you mind, Jason?"

Jason ignores Tim completely. Knowing it's a provocation, he drapes himself over the back of one of the chairs at the table. "Aww, look at these lovebirds! You two on a date or something?" 

Tim's about to snap, so Kon reaches across the table and grabs Tim's hand. "Friday is date night."

"Date night," Jason repeats, dryly. He looks from Kon to Tim and back to Kon. Kon knows he sees the way Tim squeezes Kon's hand next to Kon's soda. Jason whistles. 

Tim pushes his seat away from the table. "Kon, let's go-"

"It's fine, Tim."

"Yeah, it's fine, Tim," Jason says, mocking Kon's tone. He pulls out the chair he was leaning on and takes a seat. He leans with his elbows on the table. Tim seems to relax only a tick, scooting back into place and reaching out for Kon's hand again. Jason grabs a napkin and starts folding it and ripping it here and there. "Never pegged you as the type who would settle for beer and pizza, Timbo. Shouldn't you two be having dinner at - oh, I don't know? - some fancy five-star restaurant?"

"That's rich coming from you. What are you even doing here? If you're here to ruin our date, then congratulations. You've done it."

"I'm-" Kon cuts in. Both Jason and Tim snap their attention to him. He spoke before thinking this through, he realizes. Kon forces a smile and tilts his chin toward the bar. "-gonna get a drink."

Neither Jason nor Tim so much as blink. Awkwardly, Kon stands up and looks at Jason. "You want a drink?" Tim reflexively raises a single eyebrow and Kon internally smacks his forehead. Of course Tim wouldn't want Jason sticking around any longer. Before Jason can respond, Kon says to himself, "Right. Well, I'm gonna...go now. Try to talk this out?"

Kon stops to lean down and kiss Tim before making his way to the bar. "I love you," Kon says, squeezing Tim's shoulder. Tim grunts back.

Tim and Jason both watch Kon leave. Jason pulls out a small device from his jacket and throws it on the table. Tim recognizes it; it's a wavelength scrambler that blocks Kon from hearing anything within its radius. Tim owns several.

"So. You two have been together, what? Since the dawn of time?"

Tim watches Jason carefully. "Officially? A year since last week. What's it to you?"

"That's a long time for people like us." He stops staring at Tim to stare at Kon at the bar. 

"Please tell me you didn't crash my date to ask me how long I've been dating Kon."

"Well since you asked nicely and said 'please,'" Jason taunts, "no, I didn't pull you away from Superfuckboy just to ask about your relationship."

Reddening at the nickname, Tim expects Jason to elaborate, but he doesn't. He glances over to where Jason is staring. Kon's still at the bar, sipping a pint. He ordered a dirty martini for Tim and Tim's pleased to see extra olives in it. He doesn't doubt that Kon ordered it "extra dirty" to make up for Jason's appearance. 

"He knows your drink." There's a hint of approval in Jason's voice.

Going in circles like this is starting to wear Tim out. He sighs. Loudly. "What are you going on about now?"

"A little birdie told me you were opening up a line of credit in both of your names."

Great, another abrupt subject change. Tim scrubs a hand down his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, so? Kon stays over a lot now-" 

"You mean, 'Superdouche moved in with me,'" Jason corrects.

"-and it would be nice for him to be able to buy me coffee without somebody accusing him of stealing my credit card."


Kon glances their way every now and then, obviously worried. Tim's had enough of Jason and ready to kick him out when the window to the pizza place calls out, "Extra large meat lovers with extra meat and pineapple and ham to go!"

"Well, that's my cue. Pizza's on me, babybird. Extra meat. Try not to choke on it." Tim groans loudly as Jason snatches up his device and throws down the napkin he was fiddling with. Tim unfolds it while Jason delivers the pizza to Kon and walks out with that pineapple atrocity. 

"Babe, I love you but your family is crazy," Kon says when he returns to the table. Anybody else might not notice, but Tim can see how Kon's balancing the drinks with his TTK on top of the pizza. He sets everything down, seemingly pleased at the extra meat.

"Did he say anything to you?" Tim asks, concerned. Kon's face flushes and he shrugs. Tim will have to ask Jason about it later, but whatever it is, Kon doesn't share. Probably another death threat, Tim thinks. He was sure the threats would stop once Damian stopped threatening to castrate Kon, but Jason apparently didn't get the memo.

"What did he want?" Kon asks, snapping Tim out of his thoughts.

"Nothing," Tim says quickly. He doesn't feel relieved that he's not lying about that either.

"That's cute," Kon says and points to the napkin cut into the shape of a snowflake. "Did you make it?"

"All snowflakes are different at a molecular level, but they start out in the same shape of frozen water crystals in a hexagon plate. It's not until they interact with the atmosphere when they fall that they change shape and become unique."

"So every snowflake really is unique?" Kon asks between gulps of pizza. "That's cool. If we were snowflakes, I hope we started out together. That way we look the same as we fell down together."

"Me too," Tim says, smiling at his perfect, gorgeous boyfriend.


"Love you, Boy Wonderful," Superboy says, kissing Red Robin on the mouth. "See you at home?"

"Yeah, Superboyfriend," Red Robin teases back, bumping his cowled nose against Superboy's. "Give me two hours to turn in my report. Keep my side of the bed warm?"

"You know it," Superboy says, winking as he floats up, up until his shield is out of view.

Red Robin releases a deep breath, just in time to hear Robin faking a loud gagging sound. 


"Be right back, gotta hit the can. Love you," Kon whispers, leaning over to kiss Tim before peeling away. 

Dick watches Kon leave in the same way Jason did years ago, and Tim's fed up with his family acting weird around his boyfriend. After five years, he figured something should have changed. "Not you too."

"Hm?" Dick returns his focus to Tim, cocking his head to the side.

"Why does everybody look at Kon like that?" Tim groans. He's trying to keep his emotions under wraps because this is a charity function and he really can't afford to make the Waynes look bad, but Tim was to scream. 

"I wasn't- Oh, Tim," Dick says softly. He puts a hand on Tim's shoulder, and Tim can feel the question coming on. Dick's about to ask if they're thinking of getting married or having kids or using proper protection (which is not a conversation Tim can handle more than once in his life). "Have you ever told him?"

For once, that isn't a question Tim is expecting, and it takes all his grace to compose himself. "Told him what?"

"That you love him."

Tim stares at Dick, torn between horrified that Dick had to ask and anger that Dick would imply otherwise. "I- What are you talking about?" 

Dick shrugs, watching the champagne swirl as he spins the glass flute. "Every time I see you, it's always him saying it." He looks back up to Tim, eyes serious. "I just- Are you happy, Tim? Do you love him?"

"Of course I do!" Tim nearly cries, keenly aware he didn'y use the L word to admit that either. A few guests glance in Dick's and Tim's direction from the outburst. Tim adds, more quietly this time, "we've been together for years now. Do you think I'd stay with him if I wasn't happy?"

Dick holds his gaze and Tim hates feeling like Dick might think Tim would hurt himself just to spare Kon. Eventually, Dick nods, smile relaxing. "Good. I'm glad. I just want you to be happy."

Tim feels embarrassed suddenly. If Dick is worried about his relationship, shouldn't he be? 

"I tell Kon," he says defensively. Like last Friday: Tim's still not sure how Kon managed it, but he set up a perfect date night without Tim noticing. Kon surprised Tim with homemade boozy root beer floats, General Tso's chicken, and the Grindhouse double feature for an order-in date night. (And they ended the night licking apple pie and vanilla bean ice cream off each other's bodies in very creative ways.) He told Kon then how much he appreciated him, how thoughtful Kon was, and how happy he was to be with Kon. 

...So maybe he never actually said those three magic words, but Kon knew what he meant. Tim stopped himself from thinking of any other moments he failed to tell Kon, suddenly feeling guilty.


"I love you," Kon pleads. "Please don’t go to bed mad at me.”

Tim huffs, letting Kon hold him but intentionally withholding an, 'I love you.'


"I love you, Tim," Kon says as he pulls his duffel bag over his shoulder, "but I can't do this anymore."

'I'm sorry,' Tim doesn't say.

'Please don't go,' Tim doesn't say.

'But I love you,' Tim's doesn't say.


It's been an hour. An eerily quiet hour. Tim knows Kon needs space after- that. But he's starting to worry.

Tim walks in on Kon staring at the ring, as if he hadn't moved from the spot on the bed where he proposed this time. Kon had to have noticed him but he doesn't move until Tim creaks the door open with a knock. Kon stuffs the velvet box back into a sock, rubbing out his glassy eyes with a thumb.

"I- um. It's okay. I still love you." Tim forces a smile, and Kon's looks just as fake. "I'm not leaving this time, okay?"


When Kon comes back two weeks later, Tim's the first one to speak. His first words are, "I'm sorry."

Kon's are, "You should be."

Tim flounders for what to say. Half of him wants to ask for clarity of what they are now: boyfriends, partners, exes? The other half of him wants to collapse into Kon and never let him leave again. His hands fold and unfold into fists as his brain tries to tell him the best reaction. (His brain is as useless now as it was two weeks ago.)

Kon says, "Come here," and he hugs Tim tighter than ever before. Tim buries his nose in Kon's neck. Tim breathes and memorizes the scent just in case it's the last time. (He's going to memorize everything about Kon as if it's the last time. He'll be prepared this time.)

They're both pale and sleep-ridden and haven't eaten in two days, and they don't talk until they wake up from a twelve-hour nap. Kon's curled up against Tim's side, lacing their fingers together while resting his head on Tim's bare chest.

"So I did some thinking," he announces, flexing his fingers.

Tim looks at their joined hands, memorizing that as well. "And?"

"And I don't like it. You should have told me you were working with him. You should have told me you were planning on making another clone-"

"That could have been our baby, Kon. Our genes merged-"

"No," Kon says in that rare tone of finality. The edges of his eyes are red and he squeezes Tim's hand. "I told you to give it up. You couldn't figure it out back then and you couldn't figure it out now, not by yourself."

"But together we-"

"Listen to me." Kon exhales as if it's a difficult thing to do and shakes his head. "Our baby would have become commercial property, something to be sold and traded as Wayne or Luthor business. Is that what you want, Tim?"

"," Tim admits, in the smallest voice Kon's heard. "I just... I thought... I wanted..."

"I know. I want it, too. I still want it," he adds quickly. His lips thin into a frown. "But not like this."

Tim nods because he feels helpless and doesn't know what else to do. Kon nods back a single, firm nod.

"But I did my thinking and it's the same every time. I love you and I want to be with you." Tim releases an unsteady breath. "But."

Tim holds his breath.

"You're not allowed to do that to me, Tim. I swear, you do something that again and I'll tell Clark. You think your family is bad? Just wait til it's my family on your doorstep. I'm not even talking about Kara or Clark, I'm talking about Lois. I'm talking about Ma. And don't forget about- Breathe, Tim."

Kon rearranges so that he can hold Tim, pets his hair until he calms down. When Tim stops hearing white noise, he hears Kon whispering a breathing exercise to him. "So what now?"

"So we're going to start looking at adoption brochures and you're going to do whatever I say until I forgive you."

"That's it?"

"Well, and no sex for a month." Kon says. Tim pulls a face that says Kon's going to struggle more with than punishment than he is. Kon's face reddens, and he adds, childishly, as if it's the first thing that comes to mind, "and I want a Mustang! In red! And the TV remote!"

"Slow down there," Tim says weakly, cracking a small smile. "TV privileges? Too hardcore."

"Not even," Kon says, leaning in to kiss him. Tim memorizes that too.


"-and that's why ninjas will always beat cowboys," Tim says with an air of finality. He wiggles his toes through his socks, which are resting on Kon's bare feet, propped up on the Titans coffee table. He tosses another piece of popcorn into his mouth and unmutes Cowboys vs Aliens

Tim is tucked under Kon's arm and Kon's head is resting on Tim's head. If Kon leaned down just an inch and Tim angled his face up, they could be kissing right now. 

Kon presses his nose to Tim's temple as Tim takes a sip of his soda.

"You're so sexy when you talk nerdy to me. I love you so much," Kon says seriously. 

It's not the first time Kon has said it, but it's still so early in their relationship that it catches Tim off guard when he hears it. Tim ends up snorting most of his soda out of his nose and begins coughing.

Kon, the ass, laughs at him. 


"I don't know, Tim. I mean, I want to move in with you. I really, really do. But Gotham?"

"You spend more time over here than in Smallville lately, and you know I can't leave," Tim reasons. He presses against Kon's side and runs his hand up Kon's chest. "We could wake up like this every day."

Kon's looking up at the ceiling instead of at Tim. Tim hates when he can't figure out what Kon is thinking, like now. It doesn't help that Kon is giving him the worst case of mixed signals. It sounds like he wants to say no, but he pets the small of Tim's back, where he's holding Tim against him.

"What are we going to do about rent and utilities?" Kon's voice is small, insecure, unsure.

"They'll be in both of our names," Tim says simply.

Kon's nose wrinkles. "I meant- You make more than me. Obviously."

"I don't care about that." Tim grabs Kon's hand and holds it over his heart. Kon can hear his heartbeat anyway, but Tim likes making it clear that he's giving Kon permission when he holds his hand to his chest like this. "See? Not lying." 

Kon hums, starting to smirk. He splays his palm flat against Tim's chest before curling his hand and pinching Tim's nipple. Tim squawks unflatteringly as Kon moves to tickle him. They roll over several times as Tim gasps for breath. When they finally settle down, both of them are on their sides, facing each other. 

Kon bites his bottom lip. His eyelashes are downcast at he looks at Tim's lips. "Why do you want me to move in?"

Tim stares. He thought it was pretty clear already. Kon's commute between Gotham and Smallville makes no sense, and it's not like Tim can't afford a bigger place for the two of them. There's already been rumors about Superboy setting up shop in Gotham, much to Batman's displeasure, but there haven't been any mishaps. Yet. "I miss you. I want you to be here, with me. All the time."

"I... Okay."


"Okay," Kon repeats, smiling softly. "Tim, I love you. I'd move back into that small ass room in the Tower to be with you."

Tim's face splits into a smile. He presses his palms against Kon's shoulders until Kon's back is pressed into the mattress. Swinging himself between Kon's legs and hoisting one of Kon's legs over his shoulder, he decides to show Kon just how much he approves. And hey, if it helps convince Kon that moving in together is a good idea, then all the more reason. 


"I'm not raising my children in Gotham. It's not a place for kids," Kon had said. 

"I was born and raised here," Tim had pointed out.

"Yeah, and see how that turned out?" Tim had to give him that one, at least.

Which is how Kon and Tim end up sitting on their (newly cleared) dinner table. Four folders are in front of them, each with a lovely picture of a potential home staring at them. One is a flat in heart of Gotham, one is a duplex in a suburb that boasts being zoned for the best school in the county, and two are properties half-an-hour and an hour away from Gotham with plenty of land and space. 

It's a no brainer who chose what. The flat and the hour-long commute homes are obviously out of the question, but they remain on the table to give a sense of choice.

"Even if we don't live in Gotham, it's not exactly going to be the same as it is in Smallville."

"I know," Kon responds immediately. "But that's why we'll do summers in Smallville."

Tim nods in agreement. Kon had compromised to be based in Gotham for most of the year as long as the entire summer was spent in Smallville. As much as Tim recognized how badly Kon wanted to start a family in Smallville, he was pleased to see that Kon had come around to accepting there were better opportunities for their kids here in Gotham.

Kon pushes away the flat and Tim pushes away the long commute. They stare at the two choices left: the duplex and the farm house.

Kon groans, rests his elbows on the table, and presses his forehead into the balls of his wrists. "Why are we even doing this? We're getting the duplex."

"We're getting the duplex," Tim confirms. He doesn't sound remotely sorry.

"I hate you so much," Kon says as he reaches out for Tim's hand. He brings it to his mouth, kissing the knuckles.

"Do you really hate it?" Tim hates the way his voice sounds tight, nearly choked. 

"Oh yeah, it's the worst," Kon says and Tim has a hard time not laughing at his clearly mocking tone. "That great school we're zoned for? Makes me sick. And I hate that park that's two blocks away. Why would we go to the farmers market when we could be getting GMOs from the grocery store? And that back yard! It's so big, we'll need two dogs! Two, Tim!"

"Kon." Tim's smiling as he strokes Kon's cheek with his thumb. "Seriously. If you don't like it, tell me."

Kon shakes his head, smiling now. "Honestly? The thing I hate the most about it is that I love it."

"Hmm." Tim pushes the remaining country side property into the discard pile. Taking the duplex's folder into hand, he opens it and looks at the extensive report he collected about the neighborhood crime, rate of graduation, and other considerations. Tim stares at his collected data, lips pursed.

"...Oh my god, Tim. No," Kon groans. "What do you hate about it?"

Tim leafs through some of the papers for awhile longer before admitting, "It's in Cypress Park."

"It's an up-and-coming neighborhood! You said it yourself yesterday!" 

"I know, but- Cypress Park!"

Kon exaggerates his groan this time. He releases Tim's hand and stands up from the table, cracking his back when his stretches. "I," he announces, "am going to bed. And from now on, our bed is a pro-Cypress Park zone. So join me when you've accepted your fate as a Volvo-driving, commuting, football dad."

"Our kids are playing rugby, soccer, or tennis," Tim says with such certainty that Kon fears for their children coloring outside of the lines.

"You can take Superboy out of Smallville but you can't take Smallville out of Superboy," Kon insists, taking Tim's hands into his and pulling him up.

"That," Tim says, blandly, "was terrible. Even for you."

Kon wraps Tim into a firm hug, their feet dangling inches off the ground as Kon floats. He's always had a bad habit of floating without noticing when his happiness is overflowing. "Uh huh. You love me."

"You sure about that?" Tim teases, batting his eyelashes at Kon.

Their feet land harshly on the ground, at least harsher than what Tim's used to. Something in Kon's eyes harden, but his tone remains soft. "We're moving into a duplex in Cypress fucking Park so we can pass the home inspection for our adopted babies. I'm pretty sure you love me. But you tell me, you're the detective."

Tim runs his hands through Kon's hair, smirk playful and challenging. "Well, my detective skills tell me that I don't entirely hate our duplex."

"I can hear your heartbeat, Tim. You can't lie to me. I love you and you love me," Kon says sweetly, kissing Tim's nose, "and our Cypress Park duplex."


"So I heard you moved to Cypress Park."

"Oh my god, Jason, go away."


"So I heard you moved to Cypress Park."

"It's a nice place," Kon says before taking a sip of his coffee. "Quiet neighborhood, lots of kids on the block, and we have enough space in the backyard for a pool. Really. We got the quote yesterday. It's happening. Tim says we can't get it in the shape of the shield or it'll blow our covers, so we're getting the next best thing."

"I don't think Tim will be very happy if you have a T-shaped pool in your backyard," Clark says, popping some bacon into his mouth. "Besides, don't you think you've out grown that?"

Kon opens a straw and drops it into the orange juice. He plays with the wrapper as Clark talks. The whole conversation about changing from Superboy into Superman is not one he's fond of, even if he does feel silly calling himself Superboy when Conner Kent and Timothy Drake-Wayne have been filing joint taxes since they went public.

Clark notices Kon paying more attention to the wrapper than him, so he decides to switch topics. "What did Tim say when you moved into the new house?" 

Kon looks up with the same, 'not this conversation, please,' eyes he's been giving Clark for years. Clark always sounds so hopeful, Kon feels a little bad telling Clark the truth. It's not the first time he's wished he could lie to Superman, even though Clark Kent would be just as likely to know if Kon was lying through his teeth.

Clark frowns and Kon thinks he's about to say something like, 'It's been years, Kon,' or, 'I can say something to him if you're scared, Kon.' Luckily the waitress saves him, refilling their orange juices. 

"I know he's not lying to me," Kon says as he smears butter on his pancakes and douses them in blueberry syrup. 

Clark looks angry. "That doesn't mean it's okay for him to make you feel like-"

"He doesn't make me feel like anything, Clark," Kons cuts in, using the grown up tone he's learned from Tim. "He makes me feel loved. And I know he loves me. I don't have to hear him say it to know it."


Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. 

When Kon is insecure, he asks Tim, "do you love me?"

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

"Of course," Tim replies back. 

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. 

But Tim never says, "I love you."


Sometimes when Tim looks at Kon, he thinks he might love Kon. A part of him knows he loves Kon already. They've been dating for almost two years now, and how could anybody not love Kon? But- See, that's the problem with English. It's so imprecise. He loves Kon, but does he love Kon?

Tim thinks he could be a little in love with Kon. Was that possible? Was love something that was an absolute: you either had to be in it completely or out of it completely? Was it possible to love Kon with all his heart but not be in love with him completely?

"Tim? Earth to Tim...?"

"What?" Tim asks stiffly. 

"Nothing. You've just been staring at me for the past five minutes without saying anything. It's weird." Kon's cheeks are red and he's playing with his black wristband. "And there's nothing on my face. I checked."

"I was just thinking," Tim says, hoping that it's enough to calm Kon's worries.

Kon looks a little more interested. "Bout what?"


"Oh yeah? What about me?"

"About how I-" Tim's heart squeezes when he looks up at Kon and his hopeful eyes. He definitely loves Kon. But - and this was a big 'but' - if he didn't mean it in every sense of the word, then he didn't want to say it. He wouldn't risk hurting Kon like that, promising his love if he wasn't absolutely sure he couldn't give all of himself to Kon. "About how I love your bad dance moves and the way you drown your fries in ketchup and your bad taste in horror movies." 

"Santa's Slay is a great movie. And you know you want a piece of this," Kon insists, starting to thrust his hips in classic White Boy fashion.

Tim's too embarrassed to even look. "I take it all back. I don't love you at all. I- Oh my god, Kon, stop."


"It's not that big of a deal, Tim!" Kon says from outside the bathroom door. He could break it down, but Tim would just get more upset. Still, he hates when Tim's upset. Tim doesn’t talk – he holes himself up – and it's impossible to make him feel better no matter what Kon does. It's the only time he doesn't feel, well, Super.

Kon slumps against the bathroom door. If he'd use his x-ray vision, he’d find Tim in the same position on the opposite side of the door. He sits there, enjoying the sound of their breathing. They've been at this for at least an hour, but Tim’s breathing is starting to even out – which, isn’t saying much, considering it’s Tim.

“I didn't realize for twelve years, Kon,” Tim whispers, knowing that Kon can hear him clear as day.

"That's just it, Tim. You didn't know. And now you do and- Tim, you've told me how much you love me every single day since then."

Tim goes quiet again and Kon's about to ask him to open up when Tim breathes, "what if I mess up?"

"We're both gonna mess up," Kon says honestly. "Me more than you. Tim, I- I don't know what I’m doing most of the time. I don’t have a plan. But I trust you and I know you have at least a thousand plans. We're going to do this the same we do everything else."

"How's that?" Tim croaks.

"The best we can." Kon slides his pinky beneath the crack of the door.

Tim slides his pinky against Kon's, meeting him halfway. "I'm so scared."

"Me too," Kon admits. 

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

The bathroom knob unlocks. Kon shuffles off the floor to find Tim’s standing in the doorway, looking paler than death. 

"My son will not grow up thinking that he's unloved," Tim says seriously enough that his words could murder. 

Kon pulls Tim into a hug and kisses him on the cheek. "Between the two of us? Never. Now are you ready to go meet our baby?"


Two months after the adoption is finalized, Tim hears a very interesting piece of news. He's in the kitchen, preparing bottles of formula and stockpiling them in the fridge. Jack - named after Tim's father - is sitting on his high chair at the kitchen island, making loud baby noises as he bangs his Superman doll against the table. ("I am only going to say this once: I am not naming my son Jackal." "No, it's Jack-el. My name and yours!" "The answer is no.") Their kitchen TV is tuned into the news station, which Tim usually keeps on throughout the day. He finishes screwing the cap on a bottle as the reporter on TV begins an emergency broadcast.

Tim nearly drops the bottle when a young news reporter eagerly reports that marriage equality has been passed at a federal level. On the steps of Gotham’s courthouse in the light of day, she turns to kiss her girlfriend on national television.

The next half-hour is somewhat of a blur. Tim remembers scooping Jack out of his high chair and grabbing one of the emergency baby bags out of the closet. He remembers bursting into the bedroom and pulling out every drawer until he finds Kon's socks. He remembers nearly tripping when he reaches for the first pair of keys in their key bowl. He tries jamming the keys into the Volvo until he realizes he grabbed the keys for the minivan.

He remembers saying, "fuck it," as he strapped Jack's car seat into Kon's car and hotwiring the red, convertible Mustang. He remembers pulling up to the park two blocks from their home and parking in a fire lane. 

"Sir! You can't park here!" he remembers somebody shouting at him as he grabbed Jack and jumped out of the car.

"Tow the damn thing! I don't care!" he remembers shouting over his shoulder, running toward the Saturday morning farmers market. He remembers apologizing to Jack and promising to put a quarter in the swear jar.

Kon's sitting on a lawn chair behind his fold-up table, where bright signs describe the various benefits of organic honey and beeswax. Kon looks at ease, even though the right side of his head is starting to gray in an attractive salt-and-pepper kind of way. (The price of being a superhero, Tim thinks for a split second.) The logo on the red and black table skirt says "Bee Happy," and if you ask Tim, it's a much better business name than Superbees.

Tim thinks Kon says something like "There’s my boy!" or "I thought you said you were staying home this week!" or "I was waiting for you two to show up!" It could have been none of them or all of them, it doesn't really matter. Kon takes Jack from Tim as Tim automatically starts setting up a safe perimeter ("Play area, Tim. Play area! Not a safe perimeter. Otherwise you'll blow our covers.") for their son. Kon's bouncing Jack happily when Tim makes a sound for Kon to hand him over. 

Tim only focuses once Jack's secure and Kon's smiling at him, blissfully unaware. 

"Oh, hey. What’s up, Tim? Want some of my honey?" Kon teases.

Tim grabs Kon's hand before he can reach for a sample of that admittedly delicious wildflower-infused honey. "Kon. I want all of your honey."

"Uhh," Kon says intelligently. "Well, I think we still have about thirty jars at home."

"I'm not talking about that honey," Tim snaps.

Kon looks confused and Tim can't blame him. Tim's face is hot and he can feel himself sweating. Tim's sudden appearance has most of the neighborhood farmers market crowd whispering and watching as well.

Tim inhales. Kon exhales. They breathe together as Tim drops to one knee.

"Oh my god. Tim. What are you doing." It's not even a question as Kon's eyes go wide and his face pales so quickly, Tim's worried Kon might faint.

"Kon," Tim breathes as he pulls the velvet box Kon’s been saving all these years from his back pocket. "Will you marry me?"

Tim struggles to open the box, his hands are shaking so much. The white gold band is as shiny as it was on the day Kon first proposed to him. There are some fingerprint smudges from when Kon had held the ring and cried the next two times Tim refused to marry him. Tim presents it to Kon while feeling like his entire body might collapse at any given second.

Kon's eyes are already visibly wet, and some of the crowd has whipped out their cell phones to record the proposal. No doubt Timothy Drake-Wayne's anticipated proposal to Conner Kent is going to go viral within the next two hours. Kon slaps a hand over his mouth, wildly looking around as if to confirm this isn't a giant prank.

"Marry me," Tim pleas. "Please."

Kon's eyes dart from the ring to Jack to Tim. By now he's crying so much, he can't even choke out a 'yes,' but he nods furiously.

A weight feels like it’s been lifted from Tim's shoulders. "Yes?"

Kon nods again, crying so much he has to clench his eyes shut.

Tim stands up, feeling light and heavy all at once. The pressure feels relieving, yet he shakes from the sudden feeling of lightness. He grabs Kon's hand and tries slipping the ring on Kon's finger. Tim struggles to fit it on Kon's hand three times before his brain catches up and reminds him the ring's too small. It was, after all, made for him and not Kon. 

Tim feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment but Kon laughs. It's bright and clear and so strong that it makes him toss his head back and his entire body quake with laughter. Kon's crying and laughing at the same time and Tim's chest clenches because he loves this man, he really does.

"I have a ring, I swear," Tim says pathetically, trying against all odds to save his proposal, "but I took it to get engraved yesterday. I heard rumors they might pass marriage equality, but it wasn’t supposed to be for another two weeks and I-"

Kon cuts Tim off with a kiss. He realizes he’s nearly floating on his tippy-toes and grounds himself again.

"O-Okay," Tim stutters. "Look, I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Now please say you'll marry me so these people will stop recording."

Kon whispers loud enough just for the two of them to hear, “I do."


"Hi, baby. I'm your daddy and I… I love you so much,” Tim whispers, the first time he holds his baby in his arms. Kon is smiling with tears in his eyes, the same tears that have been in his eyes since he laid eyes on their child. Kon squeezes his family of three a little bit harder, kissing both of their foreheads. Tim can feel the oncoming tears straining his throat. "I love you both so much."