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Tim woke slowly at first, blinking unseeing eyes open, twisting his feet in the covers, and listening to someone choking, someone struggling to breathe. His face pinched and he tried to ignore it, to sink back down into the soft cushions on his bed. Then, reality smacked into him and he surged upwards with a hoarse gasp.
The world around him wavered and he fought to catch his breath. Open window. Curtains fluttering. Moonlight. Shadows. He jerked backward. A figure. Curled up in the corner of the room. Shaking.
He blinked rapidly, trying to steady his pound heart and fuck. He wrestled with the tightness in his chest to gulp in air, forcing himself to hold it, to count, and to let go until his heart stopped surging and his mind quieted enough to hear-
‘Conner?’
His boyfriend was sobbing, painful and hard, strangled sounds tearing from his chest and shredding his throat. Tim flung himself to his feet, stumbling as the world tilted.
‘Conner,’ he repeated as level as he could manage. His heart rate had picked up again and he had to tamp down on the panic, the desperation, the please-no-don’t-let-him-be-hurt-please to keep his knees from collapsing underneath him. Because why else would he be at the Manor in the middle of the night when he was supposed to be on a mission?
Tim moved forward, a little more frantically than he’d have liked, but he couldn’t listen to it anymore. The anguished cries made his stomach churn.
‘Conner, baby, please,’ he managed, breathless. He crouched down and a hand shot out to halt him, not touching him just hiding his face and shrinking away.
‘Don’t- I- Don’t-’ The words sounded strangled and Tim took a deep, trembling breath.
‘Okay,’ he forced out, backing up a step, heart jumping in his throat, ‘I won’t touch you.’
There was a long moment of stillness, a moment of Kon’s agonized sobs cutting into Tim’s chest like knives, and then he stuttered an inhale.
‘I- Fuck. I shouldn’t be here. I- You- Fuck,’ he looked up and- It- He-
‘Conner,’ Tim’s voice cracked and he dropped fully to his knees, ‘Conner.’
No other words would come because Kon looked- Tim inhaled to calm himself.
He looked wrecked.
Tears carved lines down his cheeks and his muscles twitched and his lips trembled and-
Anger flared, hot and burning in Tim’s veins and his vision blurred red.
‘Who?’ he heard himself growl, ‘who did that to you?’
There was a ring of bruising around his neck, dark against washed-out, clammy skin, and in the hollow at the base of his throat, surrounded by scorch marks, the contusion turned a sickly - both in color and how Tim tasted vomit at the back of his throat - green. Tim racked his brain for where Conner had said he was going, who he was fighting, who the fuck had access to kryptonite.
‘I- No- It’s- Don’t- That’s my own fault- I- Please- I shouldn’t-’ he was hyperventilating and it hurt to listen to. It made pressure gather behind Tim’s eyes and he itched to reach out for him, anger melting quickly into heart-aching despair.
‘Whatever happened-’ Tim took a shaky breath, ‘it wasn’t your fault.’
‘The mission, I almost- I could’ve- telepathy,’ he gasped out, ‘I’m dangerous. Please, please stay away. I don’t know why I’m here.’
Tim’s hands clenched into fists and his teeth clamped together. Mind control. Or mind torture. Or some other kind of disgusting invasion of privacy. He took a deep, whistling breath through his nose.
‘I’m glad that you are,’ he fought to keep his voice level, ‘I wouldn’t want you to be anywhere else but here with me.’
He reached out slowly.
‘You’re not gonna hurt me,’ he murmured, ‘I promise.’
Honestly, Tim didn’t care. He needed to see the bruises, he needed to stop the sobbing, he needed to hold him. It hurt more than any physical wound to stay away.
‘I am. Fuck, Tim. I am,’ he looked up, hauntingly certain eyes meeting Tim’s, ‘maybe not today but what about tomorrow? Or the day after? Or the day after that, huh? What if someone gets into my head and what if I come back and you’re- and I-’ his entire face crumpled, ‘If I’d- If- Tim, I’d-’
Tim could feel the unease in the air. He could hear his furniture creaking as it shuddered in time with Conner’s shivering. It had been a while since Tim had seen Kon’s TTK react to his distress. It had been a while since Tim had seen him this distressed.
Tim tried again.
‘You’re not gonna hurt me.’
This time his hand reached Kon’s knee, pressing into the fabric of his jeans. The warmth under his palm soothed the ache a little.
‘I don’t know how I’d react,’ his voice came out lifeless, gravelly from crying, ‘if I hurt- If I killed you, Tim. I-’
‘You’re not responsible for what happens when some psycho fuck with a god complex decides to use you to play puppeteer,’ he spat the words, anger surging from the pit of his stomach to the tip of his tongue.
‘It’s what I was made for-’
‘Fuck that,’ Tim scoffed and shook his head, ‘No. Just- I truly couldn’t give less of a fuck, Conner. You’re the most kindhearted person I’ve ever met. You would never hurt me or anyone.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Conner's words sounded strangled and he flinched with the pain of swallowing.
‘God, you don't understand. It’s not just about you, Tim. If I came back and you were- Because I’d- I don’t know what I’d do. Anyone nearby I’d-’ he stuttered a breath and steadied himself.
‘If I killed you, Tim, I’d destroy it all. I wouldn’t be able to control that kind of grief.’
Tim’s hand was shaking as he brushed it against Kon’s shoulder. If there were words that could form a response to that Tim doubted he’d be able to speak them. His throat had closed and his tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he couldn’t-
He couldn’t think about it right now.
He let his hand move upwards, softly cupping the warm skin of Kon’s neck and feeling a juddering pulse beneath his fingers.
‘It’s okay,’ he managed, thumb rubbing against sweaty skin, ‘I promise that it’s okay.’
‘You are- Do you know what you mean to me? I’m supposed to keep you safe,’ his hands came up to yank hard at his hair and Tim’s stomach twisted. Conner looked tortured, eyes dull and lifeless, cheeks puffy, eyelashes wet.
‘I’m supposed to keep you safe,’ the words sounded pleading and he struggled to get them out. He opened his mouth, gasping, staring through Tim and swaying, nauseous.
‘But I’m the reason you’re in danger,’ he choked on a humorless laugh, ‘what kind of boyfriend-’
He broke off, chest heaving as he gulped air dizzyingly fast. Tim swayed, feeling his own breathing quicken in response.
‘It’s okay,’ he said hoarsely. It was all he could manage. His throat pulsed and his heart hurt but he knew any other reassurances would fall flat.
Tim could praise Kon forever and then some but doing that now would just fuel the heart-wrenching certainty he spoke with. He’d see it as proof; proof that Tim loved him to the point of self-sacrifice. Proof that Tim would rather die by his hand than lose him again. Proof that loving Conner was going to kill him.
It wasn’t. Sometimes, loving Conner was the only thing that he had. It was the opposite of killing him.
Tim swallowed the lump in his throat.
‘It’s okay,’ his other hand drifted up to untangle Kon’s hands from his hair, taking them gently in his own, ‘I promise. I’m here and you’re okay.’
He made a choked, wounded sound, and his head bent, tears dripping onto his jeans. Then, he untensed, slumping forward and crashing into Tim.
Tim had his arms around him in a fraction of a second. It was awkward and uncomfortable but he ignored it. He buried his face into Conner’s soft hair and rocked gently, murmuring reassurances, pressing kisses to everywhere he could reach, and rubbing the tense muscles of his back.
Tim let the other boy’s weight crush him in a way that was somehow comforting as sobs ripped from his chest, despairing and painful. Hands looped around his waist, loose and trembling, and Tim tried not to let that break him. Conner wasn’t- He wasn’t insecure. Not around him. Tim bit his lip and blinked back the pressure behind his eyes.
Distantly, as Kon’s sobs became hoarse, hitched breaths, Tim heard footsteps. He tilted his head to listen as they padded in the hall and paused outside of his door.
Anger burned his tongue again. Fuck the rules. He didn’t care that he wasn’t being quiet and he didn’t care about the no sleepover rule. If Bruce wanted Conner to leave then he’d have to physically rip the boy out of Tim’s arms.
‘C’mon,’ he said, pushing the thoughts away and focussing on the exhausted, cried-out boy slouched against him, ‘let’s get you into bed, yeah?’
He made no effort to lower his voice - and maybe his annoyance was misplaced but he wasn’t sending Conner away. He wasn’t- and he waited until he felt Kon nod shakily against his collarbone before he moved. He let Conner slump against him heavily as he maneuvered him to the bed, settling his too-warm body on top of the sheets and lying down beside him.
His head had barely touched the pillow when Conner turned, clutching at him and pulling him close. Tim could feel his chest shudder with every strangled exhale.
‘It’s okay,’ he repeated as he felt Conner’s hands twist and lock together behind his head, ‘I promise you’re safe.’
He heard a deep sigh from behind the door and then the footsteps faded away. Tim let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
He brushed a hand along the other boy’s neck, trying to soothe the awful trembling.
‘Baby,’ he said calmly, ‘what do you need?’
Tim felt Conner stiffen, felt him swallow, and then Tim jolted as he sat up. He yanked his t-shirt over his head, hands blurring with the motion before moving to tug at the hem of Tim’s, lifting it hesitantly, touch featherlight against skin.
Tim’s eyes prickled as he took in the image of Conner in the moonlight, vibrating, scared of rejection, of himself, teeth biting through his lip, muscle in his jaw jumping as he waited for Tim to respond. Tim gave a jerky nod and then his shirt was being pulled over his head, catching awkwardly on his chin and his nose.
He chuckled wetly as they lay back down, chest to chest, skin to skin. He wrapped an arm securely around Conner’s waist and hooked a leg over his hip. The jeans were rough against the soft fabric of Tim’s pajama pants and it was just uncomfortable enough to be grounding. Tim could feel the other boy’s heat, feel that he was okay, that he was safe.
Conner was cradling him like he was something precious, warmth and softness wrapped all around him, and it was all Tim could do to press a hand to the other boy’s chest and feel the rhythm of his pounding heart.
He let its gradually steadying beat soothe him.
There really wasn’t much he could say.
He couldn’t promise that he’d never stand between Conner and a threat. He couldn’t swear that he’d never wager his life to save the other boy. He couldn’t offer the reassurance, the certainty, that he’d kill a mind-controlled Superboy before he got hurt, or at all, ever. He couldn’t lie.
So he just pushed impossibly closer and let himself settle into the space between Kon’s arms like there was nowhere else he belonged.
‘I love you,’ he murmured after a moment.
When Conner replied, his voice was fierce and his breath brushed against Tim’s hair.
‘I love you too.’
Tim wasn’t sure how long it took for either of them to fall asleep. But they did.
Things were better in the morning. There were soft reassurances. Warm caresses. Long, meaningful kisses.
And when they went downstairs, there was an extra place set at the breakfast table.