scioncfel:

@birdbraiin

     ❛ ― he… he’s flyin ! when did this start? ❜

tim’s kind of the wrong person to ask, because having a 11 month old and lifelong insomnia is one thing. having a 11 month old who’s capable of floating out of his crib under his own will power is another level. this level has not been particularly kind to tim’s already frazzled nerves. 

“ last week. and i think i’ve gotten 6 hours of sleep since he started and had about 3 mini heart attacks.” today he just reaches out for connley, catching him by the back of his onesie and reeling him into his arms before he can get anywhere. 

      “ did you start this early? “ tim honestly has no gauge for normal here, this situation wasn’t exactly covered in ‘what to expect when you’re expecting’.

kryptonianboy:

          Being dead – well okay, not really dead – was weird. The initial process
          had been pretty damn painful ( a word a Kryptonian doesn’t use lightly,
          mind you ) but he’d been able to save the day for someone else, to end
          another from being absolutely demolished. It was kind of a wild ride and
          for the most part, Conner had enjoyed it, but he missed home. He missed
          everything about home– Ma and Pa, Clark, Kara, Cassie, but who he
          missed the most was Tim. His best friend in the entire world. 

          Tim had been through everything with him, everything and even more. 
          As far back as he could remember, back to Hawaii and when he first
          started out as a hero, Tim had been there. He’d been there when they
          made their first group – Young Justice ( some pretty wild days, those
          were. Often times Conner looks back at them with very fond memories )
          and when they had upgraded to the Titans. And then there was all the
          terrible shit that had happened within the Titans, like the time Lex Luthor
          took over his brain and tried to get him to kill all of his friends? Yeah,
          good times. Although, Tim was still there for him through that and his
          struggles of trying to figure out of his path would remain good or turn
          twisted and evil. 

          When he’d come back, the only thing he could think about was going to
          see Tim. Gotham city might be dank and dreary with the smog and the
          rain, but he ended up here first, following the sound of Tim’s heartbeat.
          He always listened to his heartbeat like a radio station that he never
          turned off. It had become habit to seek out the familiar sound and it was
          no surprise that it happened automatically. He had come straight to the
          source of that steady thump-thump-thump. 

          A grin takes no hesitation in spreading over his face as he can obviously
          see Tim’s surprise. The slight smile on his lips? He was thrilled. Tim
          never broke his broody persona ( that honestly started to leak into his
          personalty outside the costume ) he kept up, so it was a huge thing for
          him to be smiling, even if it were just a little. The Super floats closer
          until his feet touch the concrete of the rooftop with a gentle taptap. 

          “Well, I wasn’t gone that long, don’t expect me to age twenty years
          overnight.” He snorts in response, the grin never leaving his lips. He
          honestly wasn’t quite sure how long he really had been gone– time had
          been totally different where he had been

kon has an amazing smile, bright & warm like sunshine. like the brightest of spring days– all warm breeze and the smell of honeysuckle. the sort of smile that makes him feel like— everything is going to be okay. in this case, he doubts it’s true. he wonders if he’ll lose him again for this. tim wouldn’t blame him– it was a violation, but crimes against the dead committed from the grief of missing them are easier to reckon within yourself & your moral code without a victim there to look at you. remind you what you took without permission. he doesn’t know if he could stand kon coming back to life– only to lose him again. & to lose him to tim’s own mistakes. no death to blame the separation on. 

he hopes he doesn’t though.

because connley didn’t exist in the normal way– but he was so good. all bright & sunny smile– just the same as kon’s. it makes tim smile, but with the shadow of ache in it, there is a bittersweetness to the similarity. he just hopes kon will understand. conn existed because of science but he’d never been a science experiment, or a weapon. he was a person, he was more a son than a clone or a super-in-training. 

kon touches down softly in front of him. he can still hardly believe he’s real…that this isn’t another one of the hundreds of dreams he had just like this. the kind that made him gasp awake, alone in bed & feeling all the more lonely for having dreamed of not being alone. he hesitates a moment before he rushes at him, hugging him tight for a moment. tim would feel bad about the way he squeezes at him but– kon can take anything he can dish out. he is blessedly solid & real– running warm like a mini sun. even in the cool of the wet gotham night, he’s warm. 

“ you were gone long enough. “ two & a half years didn’t sound like all that much, in the grand scheme of a life. 

       “ you know how things happen here. a lot can happen in two years, kon. you have no idea, how much. “ tim will have to tell him, but for the moment, he just wants to savor this moment of comfort. of being hugged by his best friend. ( the one he’s kind of in love with. ) but that’s always been better not thought of or considered. tim knew a lost cause when he saw one, calculated all the ways & reasons that it would never work. 

@kryptonianboy

it’s been so long since he’s seen kon– in front of him– living, breathing, real. he doesn’t know if he can handle it. he’d only just started to really get over him– to let him go. mourned & lost– fondly remembered but in a place beyond him where tim couldn’t reach. tim hoped that if heaven had existed– kon was there. ( probably flirting with big busted angels, if his best friend had his way of the afterlife. ) but now he’s— not dead. not at all & it’s not that tim isn’t happy about that. he’s delighted.

     this world is a better place with superboy in it. but it also means– owning up to certain things. emotional choices made in the crushing shadows of grief that had made it feel at first– that the sun had gone out of the world completely. 

( he’d been even more brooding than bruce, those first terrible months. )

it hadn’t just been the loss of kon. it’d been kon that was the straw that broke him, already crumbling from the deaths of his father & stepmother & steph & for a short time bruce as well. & then kon. the last thing he could bear, the that had broken him. 

      tim is selfish conscious about being broken. he knows he’s a human in a meta-human game. being broken is such a– a human trait. a vulnerable one. you can’t just be human & keep pace with the both the good & bad guys. you needed to be better, it’s what bruce had always taught him.

he looks up at him, set against the dark rainy sky of a gotham night…he’s pretty much the brightest star that tim could hope for. the only one that he wants to see. & as happy as he is to see him– tim wants to bolt. to run away from this. go home, home to his son. to the best thing he’d taken from the wreckage that had been his life. a precious seed of something that’d kept tim going even when he’d wanted to just stop. to let go. he’s got the cowl on…needs it for the moment. the barrier it provides…no matter how slight it is. 

“ hey kon. you look– “ he looks good, he looks like the best dreams that tim has that hurt more than the nightmares for a while because he’d always awoken to the cold knowledge that they weren’t real.

       “–you look just like i remember. “ he finally says, smile small– but genuine. 

@fatherofskeletons

if tim has learned anything in the give or take a year of parenting, it’s that the high ceilings of wayne manor are beautiful– but not at all designed with tiny meta-humans in mind. technically, connley’s been capable of flight since he was ‘born’. but it took him a good six months or so for the desire to do so to really asserted itself. most babies crawled and got into everything— tim had one that could fly. granted it was the toddler equivalent of it, a slow drifting wobbly kind of movement that reminded tim a lot of butterflies. a sort of– flittering unpredictable movement. 

“dada up.” 

this is, would have to be, his son’s favorite ‘game.’ he likes to be up in the air, weightless. he also likes seeing tim do all kind of flips and somersaults and jumps require to catch him mid-air. only 13 months old & already he had conner’s sense of humor where tim was concerned. tim couldn’t believe he was basically being razzed by his own son. 

“ no dada up. you come here to dada. “ he says, sweetly, arms open to catch him and scoop him in close to his chest. tim always felt the most secure when he was close to him, he seemed so fragile sometimes. even if tim knew he wasn’t. 

“ c’mon conn, i doubt alfred wants to figure out a way to clean your little handprints off the ceiling. “

which is about the time bruce walks in, looking pretty stoic about this but tim’s known him long enough & well enough to tell he’s amused by this. 

       “ i know it doesn’t look like it– but i have this situation completely under control. “ ok maybe that’s a slight exaggeration.