NONE OF THESE WILL BRING DISASTER

for SA

by Propaganda

Kon is not the most perceptive person in the world. He knows this. He knows that he shouldn't trust his own judgement very often, because he's usually wrong and tends to jump to wild conclusions based on a gut feeling with no basis in fact.

Kon also knows that Tim is sleeping with Batman.

He doesn't like to think about it. Doesn't like to think about what he saw -- but he'll beat himself up for *why* he saw it. *Stalking* Tim (there's no other word for it) for weeks, ever since he fled out Tim's window and soared up through the smog of Gotham's sky. And Tim...didn't do much. Went to bed at ten pm sharp. Woke up at six thirty am. Showered. (And Kon was glad that Tim's bathroom had frosted glass so that he wouldn't even be *slightly* tempted to peek.) Packed his books and was out the door at exactly seven thirty, and strolled onto school grounds at seven fifty, where he met up with a blond named Bernard. Kon skipped detention four times to follow Tim home from school, and found that Tim *still* didn't do much. Finished his homework at six, at which point he went downstairs to watch the news with his father and a woman who looked nothing like Tim. And only once did Kon see Tim outside after dark.

Nine o'clock on a Saturday night, and Kon would've missed it if he hadn't been practicing lifting trash can lids from five feet away in the alley next to Tim's apartment building. He heard the building's back access door bang closed, and looked up to see a boy with Tim's height and build strolling down the street with his hands in his pockets and a beanie pulled down low over his face.

Tim made it to Gotham Park in about ten minutes and strode directly to the Botanical Gardens, as if he were late to meet someone. Kon followed him as silently as he could, the tips of his toes only just brushing the grass as he flew. When Tim leaned against a tree and glanced at his watch, Kon took off and landed as quietly as a leaf on the roof of the greenhouse, and wished that he weren't trying to keep Tim unaware of his presence, because he wanted congratulations on how stealthy he was managing to be.

Kon spent five minutes trying to keep from slipping down the steep pitch of the greenhouse roof, and suddenly Tim's head jerked to the right, even though Kon heard nothing but his own silent curses. "Batman," Tim said, and Kon thought, *Where?* but then the Bat melted out of the shadows, his cape like an oil spill on the grass around him.

"It's good to see you," Tim said, but Batman reached out and pressed his thumb against Tim's bottom lip, and Tim's eyes drifted closed, his head tipped back, pale scarred throat exposed.

"Tim," said Batman, and Kon swallowed at the *gentleness* in his voice, and then the Bat slipped his hand round to cradle the back of Tim's head and pressed his mouth to Tim's.

Kon leapt up into the sky and shot off like he'd been fired from a cannon.

And he hates himself for it. Hates himself for what he saw, hates himself for taking away the last secret Tim had left. Because Tim knows. Kon can feel Tim watching *him*, turning the tables. In the week since he's been back as Robin, in the day that they've been at Titans Tower, Tim hasn't said a word to Kon, but he knows he's watching.

When Tim comes into the gym and just *stands* there, his arms folded underneath his cape, Kon throws the freeweights to the ground and wheels around, fists clenched.

"Look, I'm *sorry*, okay?"

Tim just looks at him steadily. He might've blinked, but the lenses are down and Tim's gaze is blank and whited-out. "Why were you there?"

Kon tips his head back and stares at the ceiling before squeezing his eyes shut. "I...I'd been watching you for a while."

Tim actually *snorts*. "Yeah, you weren't very subtle about it."

Tim...can't have known that Kon was there when he kissed Batman. There's no way he would've...Kon clears his throat. "Did you know I was there in the park?"

"No." Tim resettles his cape around him. "Not, at least, until you alerted me to your presence."

By acting like a giant spaz. "Okay," Kon says, and makes as if to pick up the free weights, but Tim stills him with a tilt of his head.

"Why were you following me?"

Kon curls his fingers into a fist and hears his knuckles crack. "Uhm," he says. "I. Just kind of wanted to. I was worried about the -- and when your dad came in -- and I didn't want to get you in trouble --"

Tim smirks and tucks his hands back under his cape. "I understand." And then he's whirling on his heel and the door to the hallway is hissing closed behind him. Kon lets his hands uncurl, and can't tear his eyes away from the door.

===

The first thing Kon notices is that he's *freezing*. He cracks one eye open and reaches for the sheets, which he must've kicked off sometime during the night, and then --

He sits bolt-upright, one arm pulled back and ready to let fly with a nose-shattering blow, but suddenly the strange shadow crouching on the foot of his bed materialises into Robin.

And maybe this is a continuation of a dream. It's certainly surreal enough, with Tim hunched over his calves and staring at him, and the open window -- Tim came in through the *window*? -- and the way Kon can't seem to get his eyes to focus on any one specific aspect. And Kon *likes* sex dreams. He has no problem with them, and enjoys them when he has them, when he dreams about Tim coming into his room at night.

And some nights he dreams that Tim takes him silently. Slides into the bed and takes Kon's cock into his mouth, and brings him off without saying a word while Kon whimpers his name into the bunched fistful of sheets in his hands.

Other nights, when Kon's curled around his pillow and sleeping soundly, he dreams that Tim slips into bed behind him and spoons up tight against him, pressing his chest to Kon's back, hips snugged up tight against his ass and his arm wrapped around Kon's waist, fingertips drifting slowly under the waistband of his boxers, while he thrusts against Kon's ass, slowly, sleepily, as if Tim's dreaming too.

But tonight, Tim doesn't do any of that.

He's just *watching* Kon.

And maybe this is *another* kind of sex dream. One he hasn't had yet, and he's...definitely cool with that. Kon digs the heel of his hand into his eyes, then blinks at Tim, who hasn't moved. "Tim? D'you...did you want something?"

Tim makes a noise, low and deep in his throat, and Kon's immediately hard, a Pavlovian reaction to Tim's sounds. He leans forward until his hands -- and he's wearing his *gauntlets* -- are pressed into the mattress on either side of Kon's calves. "Yes," he says, and gives a sharp grin, one Kon thinks would make him *bleed* if he reached out and slid his fingers over Tim's lips.

"What do you *want*?" Kon whispers forcefully, and gropes for the sheets, starts to pull them up and over his body, like they're going to protect him. Robin yanks away the sheets and Kon *shudders*, curls in on himself and wraps his arms around his chest. Robin *groans*, and slides his hands further up the mattress, tilting his spine so that he's sprawled over the lower half of Kon's body, and snatches one of Kon's wrists in his hand.

"I want to *watch*."

Kon bites his own tongue and squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the rough bracelet of Tim's fingers around his wrist. He's certain that when he opens his eyes, Tim's going to be gone, kaput, vamoosed, outta there, and he'll be left with a hard-on straining at the front of his boxers and the tube of coconut-scented lotion in his bedside table drawer.

But Robin's still there, crouched over him, holding Kon's hand so that it's right above -- jesusgod -- the tent in his boxers. "Go on," Robin says, and lets go of Kon's wrist, and Kon curls up, hissing, at the sudden pressure of his own hand.

"Tim," he gasps.

There's a hard weight on his ankles and Kon manages to look up and see Tim, pressing his hands down hard -- and Kon knows he'd be feeling bones grind very uncomfortably were it not for the TK -- and glaring at Kon. Well. He could be glaring. The lenses are down, and Kon didn't think he *could* get harder but he's suddenly dizzy. The pressure eases slightly. "Do I *look* like Tim?"

Kon grabs himself tighter and swallows a moan. "Yes -- I mean -- you're in the --"

"Be quiet," Robin says. Kon doesn't hold back the moan, this time, and a smile slices across Robin's face. "*That's* a good noise."

Kon arches his spine and feels the vertebrae in his neck snap into place. "Jesus GOD Robin --" and it feels so fucking *wrong* but so *good* so *weighty* on his tongue -- "what do you want me to *do*?"

"Touch yourself," Robin whispers, his voice low and intense. Kon bites his tongue again and slips his hand into his boxers, wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock and *squeezing*, because Robin is *looking* at him. "If you do that," Kon pants, "this won't last long at all."

"No," Robin says, and reaches up and yanks down Kon's boxers with one swift tug. Kon cries out and curls in on himself again, but Robin's on top of him, pushing his shoulders down against the bed and *holding* him there, grinning down at him, knife-like and *dangerous*. "This will last as long as I want it to."

Kon let's himself be pinned down, but Robin's mouth twists in something like disappointment. "I wanted you to fight," he says.

Kon only takes a minute to find his voice. "I can fight," he says, and Robin bares his teeth.

"No. You can't." And then Robin reaches back and his gauntleted hand is on Kon's cock, stripping it, thumb pressing hard against the base, and Kon yelps and arches up, but Robin catches the yelp in his own mouth, their teeth crashing together. Kon tastes blood, and he knows it's not his own.

But he wants *more*. He grabs the back of Robin's neck, thumb digging into the hollow behind his jaw, and *holds* him, keeps him still while Kon's tongue slides over his teeth. Robin laughs into his mouth and jerks his cock again, and Kon's hips rise off the bed. Robin rolls with it, his own hips tilted up, and Kon can see through the tights that Robin's *hard*, so fucking hard, and he untangles his other hand from the sheets and presses it against Robin's crotch. Robin breaks the kiss, panting heavily against Kon's neck, teeth grazing the skin when he exhales. "Do it," he says, and his voice is so rough as to almost be a snarl. Kon rolls his head on the pillow and moans, and Robin tightens his hand on his cock. "Do it," he says, louder.

"Fuck," Kon groans, and yanks at the tights, fumbling stupidly, and this is ten, fifty, a hundred times worse than every girl whose bra he couldn't undo, this is sheer fucking *torture*, and he snarls and rips the tights until they're hanging in shreds off Robin's body.

Robin's hold on his cock loosens when he starts to laugh, leaning back and tilting his head so that the long curve of his throat is exposed. "Jesus," he says, grinning widely. "Those are supposed to be impossible to tear."

Kon has to laugh too, as he pulls the last of the tights away from Robin's hips. "Guess you got swindled."

And then that sharp smile is back, and Robin's other hand is on his face, pressing against his jaw, digging into the soft spot on his throat. "Oh, no," he says. "I got exactly what I paid for."

Kon swallows, and Robin tightens his hand momentarily before letting go and sliding it down to rest on Kon's chest. "I just," Kon says, and coughs. His voice is low and rough and *needy*. He wraps his hand around Robin's cock and slides it down to the base, and Robin moans, high in the back of his throat. "I thought you were with *Batman*."

Robin shakes his head rapidly back and forth, and he's breathless when he answers. "Nope, *Tim's* with Batman."

"Wait, *what* the *fuck* --"

Robin laughs again, harsh and sharp, and bends to bite Kon's nipples, pinching them between his teeth before sitting back up and jerking Kon's cock in earnest now. Kon's hips snap up and a moan squeezes out of his throat. Robin's gauntlet is *perfect* on his cock, rough and hard and *this close* to painful, and absolutely *perfect*. "Come on, Kon," Robin says, and he's still smiling, but it's not a *nice* smile, not at all; it's the kind of smile that used to make Kon run for the bathroom when they were still in Young Justice, the kind of smile that used to make him curl up in his bed and bite his pillow while he brought himself off again and again. "Like you ever really knew Tim. Like you ever really *had* anything with Tim. As opposed to me."

Kon gasped and arched up into Robin's hand. "You're *crazy* --"

Robin brings his mouth close to Kon's ear, lets out a breath with the words, "I need you."

Moaning, so loud he brought his own hand to his mouth and bit it. "Tim -- *Rob* --"

"Yes --" Drawing out the sibilance, hissing through his teeth as Kon thumbs the head of his cock, and comes, moaning, spattering Kon's chest with it. His hand speeds up on Kon's cock, and Kon twists underneath him, panting out, "Robin," as his orgasm jackknifes through his body.

Robin collapses down onto Kon's chest, and Kon watches him rise and fall as he breathes, and starts to laugh. Robin laughs a bit too, and rolls off to the other side of Kon, tangling their legs together as he pulls off his gauntlets. He drops them over the side of the bed and drapes his arms over Kon's waist, looking up at him with those whited-out eyes.

Kon closes his eyes and they fall asleep, curled together beneath the open window.

===

Every night that weekend, and for the next two weekends, Robin slips into Kon's room while he's asleep, and *watches* him -- at least, Kon's pretty sure that's what he does, as he can't *really* be sure -- until Kon wakes up, and then there's groping and moaning and gasping and lots of orgasms, so Kon isn't going to complain.

But he watches, too.

He watches Tim when he takes the mask off, watches him spritz himself with the little bottle of solution that lets him peel the mask from his face, watches to see which pocket on the belt it gets slipped back into. And Kon watches Robin fall asleep one night, and then reaches out with the TK, until he finds the utility belt thrown onto the floor. And without leaving the bed, and wishing Tim could see this, he opens the pocket containing the bottle of solution, takes it out, and brings it back to his hands.

He holds it tight for a minute, looking down at it -- it's smaller than he remembered, and is dwarfed by his large hands. Then he shakes himself, and spritzes solution onto his fingers.

Robin wakes up at the first touch of Kon's fingers on his cheek, but he doesn't move, just breathes a little faster as Kon runs his wet fingertips along the edge of the mask. And when Kon loosens it and grips the edge of the mask between his thumb and his forefinger, he lets out a tiny smile, and nods his head, like he's giving Kon *permission*.

And Kon pulls the mask away, fully expecting to see Tim smiling back at him.

But it's just Robin.

Kon swallows and hands the mask back to him, and Robin takes it and smooths it onto his face. Then he tilts his head back and looks up at Kon, and *smiles*, wide this time, lips twisted away from his teeth. "Look not through keyholes, Superboy."

Kon slides back underneath the blankets and pulls them up to his shoulders. "You are so. Fucking. Creepy." And it could be a joke, but he looks away from Robin at the last second.

Robin smirks at him, and pulls Kon tightly against his chest, holding him.

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