#and i immediately was like. who is the funniest person for krypto to do that to and i think its alfred

[mamawasatesttube]

“You haven’t laughed in a long time, and I guess I was staring ‘cause I forgot how that looked like.” with timkon maybe :) the sillies

The Batcave is draftier than Tim remembers it being.

He’s gotten used to his setup in his apartment building’s basement, and it’s a couple of degrees warmer over there. Probably because of the giant computer sans an entire cave to heat up.

Oh, well. That’s what capes are for. Particularly the ones made of blankets. And also thick, fuzzy socks. And fluffy pajamas stolen from Dick’s drawer (it’s not like he’s touched it in ages, since he’s off in New York, but Tim still hopes he’ll notice the theft and be indignant about it eventually).

Cold water drips from his hair onto the back of his neck, and he shivers. Scowls at the keyboard in front of him. He took such a nice, hot shower immediately after Kon got him back—getting tossed into the harbor in midwinter sucks—but the draftiness down here doesn’t care.

“Thanks for the tea, Alfred,” Kon says, somewhere behind him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get the dishes? I really don’t mind—“

“Certainly not, young Mister Kent.” Alfred sounds almost fond. Kon’s got Ma Kent’s country manners drilled into his head; Tim has to admit it’s pretty cute. “You are a guest in this house. It would hardly be proper. Besides which, you’ve already helped me plenty by ensuring I don’t need to dig any bullets out of Master Timothy tonight.”

Tim resents that. He wasn’t in any danger of getting shot—okay, no more than usual, anyways. He was a lot more in danger from the guys who managed to chain a cinder block to his ankle and then threw him off a boat. However, since he’s a paragon of maturity and not an insufferable pedant, he elects to finish typing up his stupid mission summary while it’s still fresh in his mind, instead of arguing.

And then, the strangest thing happens:

Alfred squawks.

There’s a clatter of porcelain and a whoosh of air, and Tim whips around just in time to see Kon, holding Alfred’s tea tray in one hand, catch Krypto by the cape with the other.

“Dude!” Kon scolds. Krypto’s tail wags a mile a minute. “You can’t just do that outside the house! What is wrong with you? Oh, man, Mr. Alfred, I’m so sorry, he’s never done that to anyone but Pa before—”

…What did Krypto do?

Alfred scrubs the back of his neck with a daintily-folded pocket handkerchief, his face is filled with disgust. He examines the handkerchief, mustache quivering with indignance, and then sighs. “I do hope this is just regular slobber and not some sort of super-related variant."

Krypto barks once, excited, and prances in a circle around Kon’s hips, wrapping his cape around Kon until Kon sighs and lets go.

Tim—

Tim wheezes.

Krypto just silently snuck up and licked the back of Alfred’s neck?! And—and he used to do that to Pa Kent? Does he just have a thing for licking old guys on the neck or something? Or is he replacing one old guy with another, now that Pa’s dead? And he’s so pleased with himself now, sitting back on his haunches in midair like he expects a treat!

Tim laughs so hard his stomach hurts. Every time he thinks he’s gotten ahold of himself again, his mind just flashes back to the look of utter revulsion on Alfred’s face, and he loses it all over again.

By the time he catches his breath, Alfred has vanished, tray and all. He’s probably upstairs muttering derogatory things about dogs. Kon and Krypto, however, are still here; Krypto’s inspecting the crumbs on the floor where Alfred nearly dropped the tea tray, and Kon…

Kon is staring, the tenderest smile Tim has ever seen on his lips.

Oh. Um. Tim’s cheeks heat. “…What?” he huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “That was funny, okay!”

“Oh, yeah, no, I’m not disputing that,” Kon says absently. He’s still looking at Tim with that soft, adoring smile. “You just, uh… you haven’t laughed in a long time, and I guess I was staring ‘cause I forgot how that looked like.”

What.

Tim opens his mouth. Closes it again. Looks away, face burning. “Oh, come on. I’m sure I’ve laughed recently. Pretty sure I laughed after you fished me out of the harbor.”

“Yeah, but that was all, like, sarcastic and ‘ooh, look, I’m making jokes because I nearly just drowned in the smelliest harbor on the planet’, not ‘cuz anything was actually funny.”

Kon closes the distance between them and rests a hand fondly atop Tim’s head. His smile fades, slightly, and his hand slides down to cup Tim’s chin, tipping his face up. Blushing or not, Tim meets his gaze and holds it steadily, raising an eyebrow.

Kon just tilts his head ever so slightly, the same way Krypto does. He looks a little contemplative. That’s new; he never used to be nearly this introspective before. Dying and getting resurrected probably does something to a guy’s psyche, Tim supposes, but he wouldn’t know.

And then Kon asks, “Rob… Have you actuallylaughed at anything since I died?”

He may as well have just sucker-punched Tim in the gut. All the breath whooshes right out of Tim’s lungs. “I… I’m sure I have. I must have,” he says, and frowns. He can’t really think of anything that made him feel particularly light in the past year and then some, but… just because he can’t remember doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Statistically, he had to have laughed properly at something, right?

Kon lets go of his chin to ruffle his hair. “Man,” he says, and sighs, dropping onto an invisible chair at Tim’s side. He’s close enough that their thighs press together; Kon’s a solid line of warmth against Tim’s body. He tosses his feet up onto an invisible footrest and folds his arms behind his head, leaning back. “You nearly done with whatever you needed to do here?”

“Nearly,” Tim says, glancing at the screen. “I think that’s enough details for anyone trying to pick up the smuggling case to use, if they wanna do something before I get to it, I guess.” Though he doubts anyone will. They’ve got their own cases to work on. He’ll get the weapons smugglers next time; they got lucky this time, that’s all.

“Cool.” Kon glances over to Krypto. Tim follows his gaze; Krypto’s inspecting the dinosaur now, floating up near one of its eyes. “Krypto, be careful with that!”

Krypto wags his tail in acknowledgment.

“I hope he doesn’t try to eat it,” Kon sighs. “He got ahold of a T-Rex bone this one time we went back in time—long story, it was that thing with Lori’s mom I called you about a few weeks back. But I just hope Krypto didn’t, like, acquire a taste for ‘em.”

Tim snorts. He hits save, then lets his head fall against Kon’s shoulder. “Would be kinda funny if he did, though.”

Kon snorts, too, draping his arm around Tim’s shoulders. Even through his sweatshirt and the thin blanket he’s using as a cape, Kon’s warmth radiates gently against his skin. The weight of his arm is… nice.

“Would be kinda funny,” Kon agrees, sighing fondly. “Anyways, you done with that thing?”

“Yeah.” Tim hums. “If you wanna go back to my place, we could do that, or if you’re busy, that’s chill, so…”

“Oh, actually, I’m kidnapping you,” Kon says breezily, and just like that, the familiar net of his TTK wraps around Tim’s body and scoops him up. “I’ve decided you need to laugh at something dumb some more, so we’re gonna go back to the farm and watch this one really weird anime about the composers that Bart showed me last week. Krypto! Come!”

What. “I didn’t even pack anything. Do I get a say in this?” Tim asks. Kon’s already heading for the exit with him in his arms, so he gets the feeling that he’s already got his answer, but still.

“No.” Kon grins. “Didn’t you hear me? I said this is a kidnapping. You’re already in PJs, and you can just borrow something to wear tomorrow. We got spare toiletries at the house. So it’s chill.”

Tim rolls his eyes. But, as they emerge outside under the starry night sky, he finds that he doesn’t really mind.

[elareine]

Jason is like the best mom friend to his brother's friends. Some of them probably bunk in Jason's apartment when they're in Gotham.

I have no idea if you meant this as a prompt or not, but headcanon accepted. Thank you @yeats-nana​ for looking this over <3

Okay, so he got a headstart with Dick’s friends, which is only natural, seeing how some of them were on his team for a while.

(“Always will be, Jaybird,” Roy says, and Jason only rolls his eyes a little.)

No one actually likes staying at the manor, so it made sense that they crash in his safehouse-warehouse-apartment-club thingie instead. It gets bad enough that he grudgingly converts three rooms into guest rooms and doubles up on his groceries, just in case.

He picks up Bart by accident. Something blurs past him, and he reaches out by habit, grabbing whoever it was by the arm and stopping them in their tracks. It’s a neat trick, even if it always makes him feel like his arm socket is getting chewed on by Krypto.  

Honestly, he expected Wally. But that’s a significantly less amount of human dangling from his hand. “The fuck?”

“Hey, you! Let Bart go!”

Oh, he’s seen that particular combo of bad boy looks and himbo vibes before. “You’re Drake’s clone boy, aren’t you?”

“He totally is,” the speedster still in his grasp—Bart—agrees equitably. “Hey, you’re Jason, right? Is that pizza you’re carrying? Can we come with and have some? Because I’m starving.”

Jason’s so flabbergasted that they know who he is and don’t immediately, like, try to kill him for what he did to the replacement (which—fair) that he completely forgets to object when they invite themselves in. And then call someone called Cassie to come over, but not bat-Cassie, which just makes things needlessly confusing.

Apparently, once the kids decide you’re the ‘cool brother’ (and Jason will never let Dick forget that), they never leave. Whenever it’s field-trip-to-Gotham time, or whatever they do when they’re here, they stay at his place. As a consequence, he sees a lot more of replacement—Tim, these days. The kid seems to think it’s the funniest thing that ever happened to him.  

It’s not bad. It’s not bad, at all.

(He could do without being asked for relationship advice by teenagers deep in the throes of puberty, though.)

Steph tags along one day and just never leaves. Jason has no idea what her deal is, but he likes having her around and is more than happy to have her study in his living room. At least someone in this family is taking education seriously.

And Jason thinks that’s it. It’s more than enough, honestly. Everyone is pretty good about leaving him be when he actually needs some privacy; it’s still a lot.

Until he finds a miserable looking Superboy, Version Two, curled up on a roof.

Jason takes a second to put his guns away and double-check his hands for blood. Then he approaches cautiously. “Hey, Jon, right?”

The boy startles. For a second, his eyes glow red before he visibly calms himself down. “Oh, hey, you’re Robin’s brother! “

Jason tries not to sigh. “Yeah, I guess. What’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to meet up with Dames, but he’s not back yet.”

It takes a moment for Jason to connect ‘Dames’ with the Robin who tried to stab him two days ago, and not in a playful way.

“You could wait for him at the manor,” he suggested.

Jon looks down. “I might fall asleep.

“And?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Uh.” The kid shuffles awkwardly in place. “Sometimes I get bad dreams, and when I wake up I don’t—”

Right. Superpowers.

“How about you stay over at my place?” Jason hears himself ask. “The rooms are Roy Harper-proof, you should be fine.”

Wide blue eyes stare at him in confusion.

“It means they can withstand anything you can throw at them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, your brother stays over all the time, he tried to break them before. You can text him if you want to.”

But Jon perks up. “Oh, if Kon stays there, it should be fine! Thank you!”

(Jason plans to have a talk with Jon about that in the morning. Really, he gets that the kid is superpowered and doesn’t have to fear much, but you should not go home with a stranger! What if Jason was more of a villain?)

By the time Jason gets them home and shows Jon his room for the night, the kid is already half-asleep. Man, was he ever that young?

“Dames might stop by later,” he tells Jason, just before falling face-first into bed. His next words are distorted by the pillow, but still audible. “It’s okay when he’s there, you know. It never gets bad then.”

Christ. “Okay. Good night.”

He texts Dick to let him know what happened, and as soon as he gets the number from his, Lois. Because Superman is off-planet right now, but he is not the terrifying one in that marriage.

(Little does he know it’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Lois is not one to let contacts with knowledge about organized crime go to waste.)

So really, this is it. Roy and Kori drop by frequently, Tim’s gang less so, and Jon likes to drag Damian along for visits. Steph has started paying rent. (Jason doesn’t have the heart to tell her he’s his own landlord because the old one was exploiting minors and had to be dealt with.) He’s cooking for three or more people most weekends, which is as he likes it.

And then, one sunny afternoon, the doorbell rings.

Jason frowns, because—no one really does that anymore. So he’s cautious all the way down the stairs, opening the door in person, just to find a slightly awkward looking Duke Thomas standing there, clutching a backpack.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Duke draws himself up. “Stephanie said you’re good at tutoring and I—I might need some help. To keep my grades up.”

And fuck, it’s not like Jason can say no to that. As far as he knows, Duke is a straight-A student.

He steps to the side and lets his brother inside. “C’mon in, then. I was just preparing lunch. Hope you like alambres.”

[mamawasatesttube]

Can I request konbart and 86 please?

86. "Don't be scared; I'm right here."

"You're doing it again," Bart complains.

On the big common room TV, a zombie looms out of the darkness and slams into the hallway window—classic jumpscare. Bart doesn't flinch; he just opens his inventory, grabs the wooden planks, and boards up the window just as the zombie crashes through. Then he sticks his tongue out at it, for good measure.

The TTK holding his waist in a vice-grip, however...

"Kooooon." Bart reaches over and smacks one rock-hard (ow!) shoulder. "You're squishing me!"

The TTK loosens immediately, and Kon lifts his head from the pillow he's been hiding his face in with a sheepish look. "Sorry. It's just—that's so creepy, dude! How do you not freak playing it?!"

"You're scared of the zombies?" Bart can't help it; he laughs. "The zombies are the least scary thing in this whole game! Just wait 'til you see Mr. X."

"What the fuck is Mr. X?" Kon grips the pillow tighter, his eyes wide. Bart wonders just how much superstrength its seams can take before they give. "Bart. Who or what is Mr. X?"

"You giant baby." Bart grins. Leon keeps traipsing down the corridor; the unfortunately-bisected body of Officer Elliot lunges at him from the floor, and Kon yelps, clutching at Bart's shoulder again. In any other circumstance, it'd be cute; as is, Bart has to laugh at him. "Aw, don't be scared. I'm right here."

His distraction costs him; another zombie looms out of the shadows, and on the screen, Leon cries out as it sinks its teeth into his neck. Aw, grifenuggets. Bart's trying to go for that good good Hardcore mode S rank; he can't afford to waste heals on these chumps!

"This hallway sucks ass," he moans, knifing two of the zombies to death (redeath?) and then booking it outta there, pronto. "It gets worse once Mr. X is in here, though."

Kon stares at the screen with deep, deep suspicion. Bart can't wait to see him jump when Mr. X finally shows up in the station. "Bart. Who the fuck is Mr. X?"

"Oh, don't worry about it!" Bart sing-songs cheerily. The funniest part of this is, Kon was nowhere near this freaked out when they all ended up in that haunted house that was like actually full of malicious ghosts last week (...long story), but the scary video game? Ohhh, noooo. Superboy can't handle that.

It's like when he makes fun of Krypto for being scared of the vacuum cleaner, Bart thinks with glee.

Guess what, Kon? Mr. X is the vacuum cleaner now.

"I'm very worried about it!" Kon huffs. His TTK tightens a little around Bart's ribs again, and then Kon tips over into his side, rigid as can be. He's still clutching his pillow like a lifeline—better it get crushed than Bart's organs, though.

How indignant would he get if Bart told him he's being really cute right now? Like, in a really stupid way, but still. Cute.

"Sounds like a personal problem," Bart says instead, and keeps playing with a grin as Kon splutters at his side.

♥ angst/fluff prompts ♥