Title: Monsters in the closet Fandom: DCU Pairing: Tim/Kon Rating: Teenagers doing adult things Summary: Kon finds a couple of things that creep him out. Tim doesn't want to talk about it. Notes: I shouldn't talk to <lj user="ficbyzee"> ever. These things keep happening. <lj-cut text="Yeah, yeah, I swore I wouldn't write this pairing. Shush."> There's something in the corner of his bedroom that has been bothering Kon for a few days. It's like in movies when little kids say there's a monster in the closet, except that there's nothing there. Until the vision kicks in, and he's scanning it up close enough to see tiny hairs in the paint flecks, skidding by while he stares, and -- that's not paint. That's a fucking camera. He's on the ceiling before he can even think about it, staring into the tiny eye. "What the fuck?" The phone rings. "Conner, dear," Aunt Martha calls up the stairs. "It's for you." He has to make himself not use superspeed and TTK to skid down the stairs and whip it out of her hands. As it is, he's there faster than -- well. Not a bullet, but fast. "Hello?" "Hi," says Tim. Or possibly Robin. "What the hell, man?" Aunt Martha's frowning at him, so he mouths "Sorry" at her and takes the phone upstairs. Robin -- definitely, with his voice that flat -- says, "It was for safety purposes." "Safety?" Kon throws himself onto the bed. "It's Smallville. I'm Superboy. What could happen?" There's a little smirk in Tim's voice. "Clearly, you haven't read the files on -- ah -- Superman's youth there. Besides, your aura is down when you're asleep. Someone had to keep an eye on you." "You're patrolling when I'm asleep." Kon punches his pillow. "And you should have asked." "Oracle isn't." Kon groans. "Jesus. You bug my room and give the film to Oracle?" "It's not film, per se, but she's the only person qualified to handle it." Kon throws back the covers and gets into bed, shoes and all. "And you didn't tell me -- why?" There's a Tim-pause there before Robin says, "You would have thought it was unnecessary." "Because it is." Kon puts his head under the pillow. "I'm never gonna be able to jerk off again." "That would be unfortunate." He can hear Robin smirking. Someone is going to get a maskful of TTK when they meet again. "Yeah, it will be. You should have told me." "Don't worry, Kon," Tim says, and that's a definite Tim-voice. "I'm sure it won't actually prevent you." Kon frowns. "What?" "Given how fond you are of it --" "You complete --" he remembers Aunt Martha and bites it back "-- jerk. How the hell would you -- oh." He appreciates that it's heat vision instead of heat touching, because otherwise he'd have a roasted pillow. "I'm going to rip the damn thing out of the wall." Robin is back on the line. "That wouldn't be a good idea. We'd just have to find another place to put one, and the Kents might be upset at the hole in the ceiling." "But until you did, nobody would be looking at me." Kon shivers. "Do you have any idea how creepy that is?" "Actually, yes. But it's for your own protection." Kon throws the pillow at the camera. "I hate you." "Really, Kon," says Tim, "there are good reasons for this." "You didn't tell me." Kon reaches out with the TTK and holds the pillow over the camera. "I don't care what your reasons were. You let Oracle watch me get naked every single night for how long, and you didn't tell me. How am I supposed to trust you?" "She didn't watch those parts." Robin does a pretty good trust-me-I'm-a-vigilante voice. "She went to infrared and -- listened." Kon squints. The camera's so small, it probably doesn't have many features, but what does he know about Bat-technology, really? "Sure. What if it'd been something that wouldn't show up on infrared?" "We thought of that after a couple of weeks," Robin admits, "so -- I did that part of the monitoring, whenever I could." Kon wishes he knew Kryptonian so he could swear just as much as he wants to. "So you've watched me take my clothes off and -- whatever -- every day for -- how long?" "About a year." "I hate you." Kon reaches for the button to turn the phone off. Robin whispers, fast and almost too soft -- is that superhearing, at last? -- "I love you." Kon stops and feels the pillow fall. "You are such a jerk." "Well, it's true," Tim says. "And this is what you do when you -- feel that way? Plant cameras in their room and stare at them?" Tim's laughing and it sounds like it hurts. "Actually, yes." "You need help," Kon says, and he's almost too tired, now, to be scared or happy or anything. Of course Tim loves him. And watches him. And is watching him right now. It makes perfect insane sense, because it's Tim. But it's really hard to deal with. He doesn't know what to say, especially not over the phone. 'I hate you' is getting overused, and he's not going to pull out the l-word for someone he's never actually touched like that. "I can get someone else to monitor the camera if you want," Tim offers. "Nightwing, maybe." "No." Kon throws the pillow at the camera again. "I -- look, are you busy?" "Kind of. Why?" Kon opens the window. He could leave Aunt Martha a note, but that would take time, and he might change his mind, and -- better to just go. "Where are you?" "Gotham," Tim says, in the "You are an idiot" voice. "Why?" "Keep talking," Kon says, and hangs up. They'll find the phone on his bed when it rings again. He's getting faster, now, and -- maybe that is superhearing coming in, really, because he can hear Tim's voice in his head, and also, a little, in his ears. Tim is telling him how he shouldn't get upset, and Robin isn't mentioning the little "I love you" slip. This is all business, all cape-stuff, and Robin's still glaring at him when he grabs him off a roof and heads up again. "Hi." "I have things to do," Robin says. "Right. How far away do we have to go to get out of camera range?" Robin wriggles a little, gets his arm free, and touches something on his mask. "There. That's the one I know about." Kon stares at him. It's redundant to say, "You guys are fucked up," but he does it anyway. "Safety first, Kon," Robin says. Or Tim says. Hard to say. And it doesn't matter because whoever it is, Kon is kissing him. He doesn't know how Tim tastes or Robin tastes, so he can't really tell the difference. It makes Tim -- he hopes it's Tim -- wrap his arms around Kon's neck and sigh and kiss him back, shivery and needy. It has to be Tim. Robin wouldn't groan like that, or unfasten his uniform in midair, even just a little. Kon wishes he had better clothes on for this. Conner Kent -- whoever the hell he is -- probably doesn't pick vigilantes up on a whim, and Robin wouldn't kiss him. Maybe he's kissing Kon, behind those blanked-out eyes, instead of Conner. It would be better if it was them, if it could be Kon and Tim instead of Robin and whoever the hell this is. Kon and Tim in Kon's bugged bedroom. Or Tim's bugged bedroom. With how many bat-eyes watching, really -- No. This is better, especially when Robin puts the lenses up. He has Tim's eyes, blue and a little hurt. "I should have told you," he admits, "but it's against protocol." "Whose protocol?" Robin gives him a thin smile. "Whose do you think?" He kisses Kon again, unfastening his pants with one gloved hand. The fabric makes him shiver. It's too close to the armored slickness of Robin's back where Kon's holding him up. "Take that off?" Robin looks up, meets his eyes with Tim's amusement, and tugs the glove off with his teeth. It tucks neatly into his belt, and there's a panel under the belt that's definitely not designed for this purpose, but it's good enough, and it lets Kon touch him in ways that make him sigh an altogether Tim sigh. He doesn't let his eyes close all the way, and when he smiles at Kon it's Robin again, reaching for him, stroking him with hot, sweat-damp fingers. "Better?" "Hell yes." TTK is the best thing in the world. He could stop holding Robin with his hands if he wanted to, maybe, and just jerk Tim until he makes that little noise in his throat again, and again. "God, Kon," he says, "that's -- that's not what you usually do --" Kon would really like to punch him for that, but he settles for using the TTK to make the next stroke stronger. "You're not invulnerable." Robin shivers. "Neither are you, all the time." "I can take more than you can," Kon says, upping the force again. He expects Robin to whimper. In the bad way. He's wrong. "Just like that," he says, pushing into the touch. "Just like -- oh, Kon --" and he comes. "Oh," Kon says, and Tim opens his eyes. "That's what you do, isn't it?" He kisses Kon lightly. "Yeah. It is." Kon's not sure what Conner would say about getting someone else's come all over his flannel, but Superboy would definitely not even complain. Aunt Martha's going to wonder where the shirt went, but whatever. "Yeah." "Thought so." Tim kisses him again, stroking him harder. "I don't think I can quite --" Kon feels his concentration slip a little and holds him a little tighter, thinking about every contour on that uniform that's Tim, and everything that's Robin, and everything in between. How it all feels, under TTK, and how -- for once -- there's no one watching anywhere. "It's -- it's okay." "I should have told you," Tim says, and starts nibbling his ear. "But you might have made us stop, and sometimes -- sometimes I just watched you sleep." There's something there that makes Kon's skin creep. But he can't push Tim away, can't drop Robin, can't even stop himself from wanting this. "Oh. God." "You look so safe when you're asleep," Tim says, stroking faster. "Like nothing could ever hurt you, even though your TTK's down. Like everything's going to be okay, no matter what happens. I need that." He uses his nails on a stroke that makes Kon's eyes roll back into his head. "I need you to be okay." Kon hugs him with probably too much force. "Jesus, Tim." "There's no one else like you, Kon." "God --" Kon squeezes him again and bucks into his hand, and he's not sure he meant to say, "I love you," but he does it, all tight and tense. Tim's hand doesn't feel like his, Robin's strength doesn't feel like his, and the orgasm is different, a little. Or maybe it's just that no one's watching except Tim. "I love you, too," he says, and he looks too embarrassed to be Robin. "And I'm not taking the camera out." Kon shivers. "Okay." "I should probably get back to work." Tim kisses him, and now it's rueful. "We should talk." "If I'm off the comms much longer, Batman will send -- someone." Tim glances at their sticky hands and arches an eyebrow. "Let me go home?" Kon gives him a little squeeze and starts for the sparkling city lights below. "We still have to talk." "You know how to get my attention." Tim smiles a little and starts fastening his uniform. "Yeah, I guess I do." Kon sets him down and punches him lightly in the shoulder. "I'm still mad at you." "Okay." Robin puts his lenses down again. "Talk to you later." "You'd better." Kon waits long enough to watch him jump off the roof and swing away, then heads for home. </lj-cut>
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