Please, cuddling, and TimKon?
. . . I am sorry but also I am NOT sorry for what I have done with this reply, but hey, why don't we all enjoy this one being the only prompt fill from this meme that got a read-more cut??
“Please,” Kon tries, trying not to look–he doesn’t know, weird and needy and like an embarrassment, or whatever. It feels like such a stupid thing to ask for. He knows Tim’s not really a hugger or a touchy-feely guy or whatever and that he likes having his own space and basically always hops out of bed right after sex to go write down all the shit his post-nut clarity made him think of, and the idea of, like, just staying still and actually cuddling or whatever is probably basically literal torture to him, assuming it’s ever even occurred to him at all, just . . .
Just he’d kind of like to sometimes, maybe? Like–not regularly or whatever, he’s not trying to drive Tim nuts or cut into either his worktime or downtime here, just . . .
Just he’d like to do it sometimes, that’s all.
Tim’s not the tactile type. Tim isn’t even the eye contact type, unless he’s lying to somebody or at work or just faking it for Robin-mode or whatever. Kon gets that. He’s been, like–careful about that. Not trying to take up too much space or ask for too much attention or mind when Tim doesn’t even look up at him when he–
He’s been careful about it.
But he is . . . well. The tactile type. Like . . . kind of, anyway.
Like–it’s kinda unavoidable, honestly.
“Oh,” Tim says, blinking at him in just enough bemusement to make him feel even more self-conscious about bringing this shit up to begin with, and Kon tries to keep his expression casual and noncommittal and–and just normal about this. Because he is totally normal about this. He is so normal about this. He is.
He’s also normal about the fact that when he asked Tim if he could talk to him about something, Tim didn’t even put down his tablet. Didn’t even put it to sleep, or actually even look up from it until . . .
Kon’s normal about that. About all of this.
(and he definitely never feels kind of weird or a little bit abandoned because Tim can’t EVER just bring his stupid laptop back to bed or at least work on whatever he’s thinking about IN the bedroom at the untouched desk he's got set up in there or even just, like . . . stick around and hang out on the couch with him, or anything like that. he definitely totally ENTIRELY doesn’t ever just feel like a casual fuckbuddy or an easy hookup or a gala-night accessory or just the most immediately convenient option and not actually–not actually any kind of a–not actually something that–
he doesn’t.
definitely.)
“Uh,” Kon says, and backpedals awkwardly, because clearly this conversation is not going the way he’d wanted it to and Tim just looks so surprised by it all, like–like it never even occurred to him or something, that maybe . . . that maybe Kon would want anything like that, or like he literally just hasn’t noticed how hard Kon’s been trying to be normal about it, or . . .
It doesn’t feel very good, the idea he’s been trying so hard to respect Tim’s space and preferences and comfort levels and Tim hasn’t even noticed that he was doing anything at all.
Especially because Tim usually notices just about everything.
Maybe Tim’s just never thinking about it. Maybe he gets out of bed so quick because he’s spent the whole time in it thinking about other shit and just putting up with–just–
“Kon,” Tim says, his voice going a little tight, and Kon just tries not to wince. He didn’t mention any of the complicated stuff he’s been trying not to feel, he just asked if Tim could–if Tim would–
He didn’t even mention any of the complicated stuff, so it’s, like–not a great sign that Tim’s looking at him like that right now, like he’s said something really serious or upsetting or . . .
He really shouldn’t have said anything, yeah.
“Sorry,” he tries stiffly, glancing away and wrapping his hand around his own wrist and digging his fingers into the inside of it. It’s–tactile. Just . . . something tactile. “I know you don’t–sorry. Uh. Just forget it.”
“Fuck,” Tim mutters for some reason, and Kon feels like such an idiot for saying anything at all, and a worse one for apparently doing it in a way that’s got Tim making that face at him. That face is Robin’s “my utility belt is empty, comms are fried, and the mission just went to shit” face.
He really fucked this up. It was fine. Everything was fine, and now he’s wrecked it and Tim’s about to say it’s not even that serious, it’s not like it’s even–not like they’re even–and that Kon’s clearly gotten the wrong idea and they should just–just–
“How long have you felt this way?” Tim asks very, very carefully, like the question’s something fragile, and Kon thinks from literally the first fucking time you left me alone in bed all night so you could go recalibrate some stupid useless specialty sensor that wasn’t even part of your primary gear, like, a WEEK into us sleeping together and says, “I dunno. It’s not–I told you. Forget it. It’s not a big deal.”
He’s being weird about this. He’s being an asshole about this, actually, because being prepared for literally every single possible contingency ever is the Bats’ whole thing and he got into this knowing Tim wasn’t the touchy-feely type or all that expressive and emotive about–about his feelings, or whatever, and–and it’s not like he even–not like he–
(he just wants a fucking HUG he didn't have to FUCK him for every now and then, or for Tim to at least exist in the same space as him for longer than the time it takes for the next email from Oracle to come in or next alert from Batman to go off or next self-assigned project to finish processing or–
but that’s not something Tim does, and Kon knew that going in, so–so it’s his own stupid fault if he feels SMALL sometimes, when . . . when there’s always something else, always another problem to solve or place to be or thing to think about, always . . . always something more important than just . . . staying, just for a little bit, and just BEING with–with him. just him. not the team, or either of their families, or . . .)
He knew all this going in, Kon reminds himself. He knew it. If he were this bad at being with literally anyone else, he’d just–he’d just–
But something about it being Tim means he just . . . can’t.
Tim’s jaw tightens, and he finally sets down his stupid tablet.
Only now, though, Kon thinks bitterly, and digs his fingers a little deeper into the inside of his wrist.
“Kon,” Tim says again, says too carefully again. Like something’s fragile, again. “I–”
“I said forget it, for fuck’s sake!” Kon snaps too hotly, and maybe hates himself for both doing it and for the stricken look that doing it puts on Tim’s face, and also maybe cheats a bit by super-speeding straight out the balcony door into the night air and not taking his cell or his communicator with him. Or–definitely does, in fact. Definitely that’s cheating. He knows it is.
He just really can’t stand to hear Tim tell him how he’s fucked up this time right now, though. He just–he tried so fucking hard not to fuck up this time.
He really, really tried.
He should’ve known it wouldn’t work, but . . . but he really did try.
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Danny Fenton is a Gotham Police Officer
Danny is just a random Street Cop in Gotham, but he has a good relationship with everybody else, even the corrupt ones. He decides to not use his powers on the job, since the Anti-Ecto Acts are still in the process of being repealed and Gotham has a pretty harsh attitude towards Metas (and he does count as a meta, a meta is classified as a sentient being with powers. It is not exclusive to people with Meta-Genes)
One day, while Danny is on duty he stumbles upon a battle between the Bats and a gang. They were caught while investigating a lead and were outgunned, but they can’t leave without the evidence or the entire case will be ruined.
Danny saw that one of them was about to get hit as they run to get the briefcase holding the evidence, so he pushes them out of the way and takes a shot to the head.
All of his cop buddies are sad, and Commissioner Gordon is sad that he lost one of his non-corrupted cops
Danny’s body is taken to the Morgue and the Bats go to pay their respects and thank him for saving one of their own.
Just as Batman is giving Commissioner Gordon a big speech about how they will make sure his sacrifice wasn’t in vain, and how he was one of the good ones, Danny’s immortality kicks in and he just sits up on the Examination Table.
He says, “Hey Boss”. Everybody turns around and sees him sitting up, “What’s everybody staring at me for?”
He just tells them that he was in a lab accident as a kid that turned him immortal, and he hid it because of Gotham’s attitude towards Meta-Humans.
And from then on he is just, “Danny the Immortal Cop”, just a swell guy who just so happens to have a problem with dying.
He also stops hiding it so much, he rushes into burning buildings, he acts as a distraction during shootouts, he gives up his Gas Mask to his fellow officer when there’s a Scarecrow/Joker attack, and generally he is the guy you call when you need help in a dangerous situation.
Not to mention he’s a darn good Cop.
And that’s just the stuff that comes from the initial immortality reveal, what about what comes next? Do Villains try to buy him out? Do they try to test his immortality? Are they determined to get rid of this guy no matter what, because he isn’t somebody you can just make go away?
Part 2
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