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themaevethcometh · 5 months ago

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okay i've had this scene from an au stuck in my head recently so here's 3k of timkon identity shenanigans where kon has been recently taken in by luthor for nefarious reasons and is forced to attend a gala where tim and bruce show up. robin hasn't revealed his identity to the team yet even though they've been friends for years. canon/timeline has been put in a blender and liquified.

Kon takes a deep breath in through his nose, holding it for a few seconds before slowly letting it out of his mouth. It’s a technique that Robin taught the team when he was trying desperately to get them on a more bat-approved training regime, including meditation and an acrobatics routine that Nightwing allegedly used on the Teen Titans years ago. Kon is fully aware that he’s got weird stuff going on with his body’s organs and systems compared to humans, but the slow, rhythmic breathing still brings comfort and helps center him, slowing everything down enough so he no longer feels like he’s going to accidentally fry someone with his heat vision.

He tugs at the collar of his dress shirt, gulping and taking a deep breath again. The shirt and tie feels so much more restrictive than his Superboy uniform, tightening like a noose around his neck, and the inflexibility of the suit coat makes him feel like a stiff, awkward mannequin.

“Stop that,” Luthor says, putting a heavy hand on his shoulder. Kon immediately stills, straightening and trying to relax at the same time.

“These people are vultures,” Lex says, voice low. Kon tries to focus his super hearing on him, rather than the woman with the loud laugh across the ballroom or the clink of glasses down the hall where the staff is continuously loading and unloading equipment. He can hear the steady beat of Lex’s heart, the rhythmic whoosh of air traveling in his lungs, the slight gurgle of his stomach (gross!). Kon decides he doesn’t like listening to Lex Luthor very much.

“Remember what I told you,” Lex is still saying. “Be on your best behavior. Today is about getting your name and your face out there. Be polite, but not a pushover. Never let them see weakness.”

Kon forcibly bites back the retort that his only weakness is kryptonite and makes himself nod instead.

Luthor leads him over to a group of people with his hand still clamped on Connor’s shoulder like a shackle. From there, it’s an exhausting parade of schmoozing with millionaires and billionaires, shaking hands firmly (but not too firmly!), laughing at unfunny jokes, and pretending that he loves dear old Dad instead of wanting to punt him through the nearest wall.

Kon is charming. He knows this. It’s something that he’s known since he freshly came out of a test tube, and it’s something that he’s perfected with smiles and body language and a well-placed word or phrase. Kon can get most people eating out of his hand with barely any effort, but it’s usually normal people a little closer to his age, not rich, egotistical, out-of-touch old people who want to pinch his cheeks but absolutely cannot be allowed to due to his invulnerable skin. Kon forgets everyone’s name almost as soon as he hears it, clutching his flute of sparkling cider like a lifeline (but not hard enough to shatter).

Kon doesn’t know how long he gets paraded around as Luthor’s newest pet, but it feels like forever. Everyone talks around where he’s been for the past 17 years of his life (nonexistent and then in a lab and then gallivanting around with superheroes and then, finally, as of two month ago a little farm in Kansas until Lex Luthor uprooted everything with a few well-placed threats), and Kon lets Lex tell the cover story about how he didn’t find out about Connor until recently, but he’s happy to be reunited with his son now.

Son. Connor isn’t anyone’s son. He was maybe getting to be a family member to the Kents finally, but Luthor threw a wrench into all of that.

Connor had a room at the farm. He had a chore list to do and homemade meals to eat, and Clark has finally stopped flinching when he sees him. Clark grinned at him the other day, not his public smile or a small, polite thing, but an actual, honest to goodness grin. Connor bets he can kiss that goodbye now, just like he can kiss goodbye ever knowing Robin’s real identity, because there’s no way that Batman will let him tell Kon now that Kon is semi-legally under the guardianship of a supervillain, and just like there’s no way that Kon can have anything remotely resembling a normal teenage experience as the ward of a billionaire and forced showpony, and just like–

“I’ll be damned,” Lex breathes next to him, interrupting Kon’s spiral. Kon follows his gaze to the entrance of the ballroom, ears picking up the loud, boisterous laugh of Bruce Wayne clapping someone on the back a little too forcefully. Kon has never seen Bruce Wayne in person, but he’s difficult to miss in the papers, especially with how often he finds himself in trouble. Robin has told him of a few instances when he or one of the other Gotham vigilantes has had to rescue him, and Kon knows that Lois interviewed him once and Clark has informally run into him at a gala such as this.

Clark says he tried really hard to be the journalist from the Planet here tonight once Lex demanded that Connor be there, but it was too late notice. Neither Clark nor Lois are among the reporters clustered in the corner. Kon is alone.

“He didn’t RSVP,” Lex says, miffed. Kon immediately likes Bruce Wayne significantly more because of it. “Oh, and he brought a friend.”

Kon peers around the crowd that has quickly amassed around Gotham’s favorite billionaire and finally spots the person Bruce Wayne has a hand on the shoulder of. It’s a teenage boy, dressed in a dark suit with dark hair parted in the middle to keep it out of his eyes. He’s slight, but not skinny, and he’s not overly tall, probably closer to Robin or Bart’s height than Connor’s. He doesn’t show any signs of discomfort at the press of adults around him, offering polite handshakes and letting the women kiss his cheeks the way some of them have tried with Kon. Bruce doesn’t stray far, taking the boy with him when they finally finish with the crowd near the door and head to the bar. The boy doesn’t seem to mind the attention. Kon, however, does not appreciate the tone of voice that Lex used when he said friend. He’s ready to do some superheroing if he needs to.

“Let’s go,” Lex says, putting his hand on Connor’s shoulder again to steer him through the crowd. “Let me handle Bruce Wayne. The kid is Timothy Drake. He recently became the head of his parent’s company when his father died. This is the first time he’s been seen at an event since the death. Bruce is almost certainly going to adopt him. Timothy stayed with him when Jack Drake was in a coma, plus he has the dark hair and light eyes and Brucie favors in his kids. He’s your focus for the rest of the night. Forget about everyone else.”

“Lex! I didn’t know you’d be here, you old dog!” Bruce calls before Connor has time to process all of that, slinging an arm around Luthor’s shoulders and seemingly crushing all of the air out of him in less than a second.

“It’s my party,” Lex wheezes.

“Good thing I’m here to liven it up, eh?” Bruce asks, elbowing Luthor in the ribs.

Kon really hopes that Bruce Wayne’s obsession with dark haired, light eyed boys is an innocent coincidence, because he doesn’t want to apprehend him for being a pedophile when he’s pissing Lex off so easily.

“Hello, Timothy,” Luthor greets, holding out his hand. Bruce pouts at being ignored while Timothy shakes politely. “May I just say, it’s refreshing to see you out and about. I’m sure running your parent’s company is stressful all by yourself.”

Timothy tilts his head, reminding Connor vaguely of a bird.

“I’m happy to do it,” he says, polite but firm. “It’s what my parents would have wanted, and they left things well organized for me.”

“And I suppose Bruce here has been giving you advice?”

“Now Lex,” Bruce says, wagging his finger at him, “you know that’d be a conflict of interest. Besides, Tim could run circles around me. I should be asking him for advice!”

Connor feels his eyes start to glaze over as Luthor and Bruce volley back and forth, seemingly forgetting that he’s even there. Having Lex’s attention off of him and on someone else is a much needed break, so he’s not about to complain, but it’s also really fucking rude. Connor hasn’t even been introduced to these two.

Timothy catches his eye, sweeping his gaze over to Luthor and Bruce and rolling his eyes. Connor smirks. Timothy raises an eyebrow and Connor mirrors him, just a slight quirk.

Timothy looks pretty nice, up close. His eyes are the promised light blue, but his dark eyelashes are long and thick, framing them beautifully. He’s pale, almost reflective in the glittering chandelier light, and he carries himself with a self-assuredness that Connor envies in this environment. The suit fits him really nicely, hugging his shoulders and accenting his trim waist and long legs. When he raises his flute to take a sip of the drink inside, Kon finds himself tracking the liquid as it disappears past his pale pink lips, his throat flexing as he swallows.

He’s not bad to look at. He could easily turn out to be dull as a brick or a total douchebag, but so far first impressions are good.

“And who is this young man?” Bruce asks, snapping him out of his thoughts. Luthor puts a hand on his back to push him forward a step, and Kon doesn’t have to move, but Lex is going to be mad if he doesn’t and the situation is delicate.

“This is my son, Connor,” Luthor introduces. Kon offers his hand with his most charming smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking first Bruce’s hand (better grip than he expected) and then Timothy’s (rougher than he thought it’d be, skin warm).

“Son, eh? He must take after his mother!” Bruce laughs. Lex’s face pinches, but Connor doesn’t have a chance to relish in it before Bruce is sweeping Luthor away with another arm around his shoulder, talking loudly about secret children and parenting hacks. Luthor tries to protest, but it’s quickly drowned out by Bruce, and he doesn’t have a chance to so much as glance back at Connor before they’re swallowed by the crowd.

Kon blinks.

“Bruce will keep him busy for a while, sorry,” Timothy says, not sounding very sorry. He takes another sip from his glass, then leans in. Cologne tickles Connor’s nose.

“Hold your drink by the stem, not the glass,” he says quietly. “It’s supposed to keep your drink from getting warm, an old etiquette thing. It’s small, but it’ll help you blend in a little more.”

Kon looks around the room, taking in the people with flutes like him and where they’re holding it. The majority are holding the stem, and the ones that aren’t are people that Luthor hasn’t bothered to introduce him to yet. Kon adjusts his grip accordingly, off-balance and embarrassed.

“Thanks,” he says. Timothy tilts his head.

“You want to get some air? There’s a balcony over there. Your father will be able to find you easily once Bruce releases him.”

“Yes,” Kon agrees immediately. He’s used to not fitting in, but having the eyes of so many judgy rich people on him when he’s pretending to be Lex Luthor’s human son has been exhausting. No one has been too rude so far, but the weight of Lex’s hand on his shoulder is heavy, and this complicated set of social rules that he still doesn’t understand puts him on edge.

Normally he’d say fuck the rules and do what he wants, but the situation is too delicate for that. Clarke and Robin both told him that he needs to be careful and think twice about every move he makes, and for once neither of them sounded condescending about it. He could tell that they don’t like the situation, either, worry and sympathy clear in their faces.

“Come on,” Timothy says, heading towards a set of double doors. He doesn’t glance back, trusting Connor to follow him, and Connor does, stepping in his footsteps as he expertly weaves through the crowd, deflecting anyone trying to stop to speak to them with smooth excuses and a well-placed smile. In no time at all he’s pushing open the large french doors, releasing them from the ballroom and into the cool night air.

Kon tilts his head up, blinking at the night sky above him. It’s cloudy, obscuring what few stars manage to make their way through the light pollution to reach Metropolis. Connor wishes he could fly up there, feel the dampness of early rain on his face, burst into the dark and escape everything. For now, he keeps his feet on the ground, instead joining Timothy by the railing.

“So, how often do you come to these things, Timothy?” Connor asks, leaning back on his elbows. The other boy perches with a hip pressed against the railing, arms crossed over his chest.

“Tim, please,” he says. “Timothy makes me feel like I’m in trouble or you’re trying to swindle me out of a business deal.”

“Okay. How often do you come to these things, Tim?” Connor corrects, testing the feel of it in his mouth. Tim relaxes at the sound.

“Decently often, but I usually stick to Gotham,” he says. “I’ll have to start coming to more now that I’m in charge of Drake Industries, but I grew up going to galas. Is this your first one since Luthor found you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Connor asks. Tim smirks, but shakes his head.

“I think I’d remember if I’d seen you at one of these before.”

Connor flashes him a charming smile.

“I bet you say that to all the boys.” Tim’s cheeks turn pink, his blush noticeable against his pale skin even with the limited light out here. Kon takes a sip of his sparkling cider, satisfaction making it taste sweeter on his tongue.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re probably the only people under thirty in the whole building besides some of the catering staff,” Tim says.

“You missed the toddler earlier,” Connor hums. “She was throwing a tantrum. I very much sympathized.”

“Did I really?” Tim asks dryly. “What a pity. Oh no. How unfortunate that Bruce likes being fashionably late to everything.”

Connor snorts.

“Bruce Wayne, huh?” he says. “How’d you two meet?”

Tim shifts so he’s leaning back against the railing like Kon. Kon takes a moment to drink in his profile, tracing the sharp jut of his nose, the hair shielding his eyes from him at this angle.

“He’s my neighbor,” Tim says. “I’ve kind of always known him, but our families weren’t really close until a few years ago. When my dad was in a coma, Bruce took me in. My uncle was supposed to get custody of me now, but…”

Tim trails off, searching for words. Eventually, he shrugs.

“He’s fostering me right now. We’ll see where it goes from there.”

“Do you want to stay with him?” Kon asks. Tim considers his words carefully. Connor’s mouth is always running away with him, but Tim seems to have the opposite approach. Everything is measured and careful, cold and tactical. It reminds Kon of Robin in the middle of missions, keeping his reactions even and methodical to counteract the impulsiveness of the rest of the team. Kon wonders if Tim is the type of person to let himself be stupid and emotional around friends like Robin is, or if he always keeps everything bottled up.

“Yeah, I do,” Tim breathes eventually. “But it’s complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

Another pause. Kon does Robin’s breathing exercise, staying patient. Some people need time to talk, and Kon can’t help if he doesn’t know what’s wrong.

“I guess I don’t want him to adopt me because he feels obligated,” Tim says. “He has a family. There’s–It’s a long story, too long to explain now. Sorry, this is a weird first impression, huh? But enough about me! What about you? Where were you before Luthor found you?”

“Uh,” Connor says, still recovering from the whiplash of topics and searching for Luthor’s cover story. “Kansas.”

“Kansas?” Tim prompts.

“Yeah, Kansas. I was in the foster system for a while, then I got adopted by this nice old couple who live on a farm in Smallville, which is just as small as it sounds. I didn’t know anything about my birth parents until Lex showed up.”

“Wow,” Tim says. “This has to be a big adjustment, then.”

Connor scratches the back of his neck.

“Yeah, kinda.”

Kon’s whole life feels like a big adjustment, from adjusting to existing and Clark’s negative feelings towards him, to adjusting to working for Camdus and living in Hawaii, to adjusting to Young Justice and Teen Titans, to finally trying to adjust to Smallville, only to be ripped away from that and forced into Metropolis high society.

“Do you miss them?” Tim asks. “The old couple who adopted you?”

Kon swallows against the unexpected pang that rolls through him. He can almost taste Martha’s pancakes on his tongue and hear the crinkle of the newspaper as Jonathan hands him the cartoons.

“I wasn’t with them very long. Only a few months.”

Tim tilts his head.

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Connor shrugs. He doesn’t know what the right answer is here. Martha and Jonathan are the closest thing he’s ever had to parents, but part of him never expected to stay with them. When Luthor ripped him away from them, there was a part of Kon that wasn’t surprised at all, even if a bigger part was in agony.

Martha kissed his forehead when he left the farm and gave him a sad smile.

“You can always come back here, okay? This is your home, no matter what Lex Luthor has to say about it.”

“If they formally adopted you, Lex Luthor’s claim as your biological father isn’t enough to force cut contact,” Tim says, pushing off the railing and taking a few steps closer. “Trust me. I researched this stuff when my dad came out of his coma.”

Kon frowns.

“He didn’t like Bruce?”

Tim wavers.

“It’s complicated,” he offers. Kon snorts.

“Yeah, I get that.”

Tim’s mouth quirks up, giving Connor the shadow of a smile again.

“It’s not really a first meeting story.”

“Guess we need a second meeting, then,” Connor says.

“Yeah?” Tim asks. “My weird family dynamic really captivated you, huh?”

“It was your eyes first, actually,” Connor says. Tim opens his mouth, then closes it again, eyes wide. Kon holds his breath. He says flirty things all the time, both to his friends and to people he rescues who seem like they need a pick-me-up, but it’s been a while since he sincerely flirted with someone he plans to see again. He almost never does it with someone who only knows him as Connor rather than Superboy, much less a boy.

If this goes badly and Tim tells the entire Metropolis elite that Lex’s son is a homosexual, maybe the scandal will be enough for Luthor to send him back to Smallville. If it goes well…

“You have… very nice eyes, too,” Tim says eventually. Connor beams, then beams even more at the sharp inhale Tim draws in response. Tim shifts.

“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” he asks. “There’s a decent ice cream place open late a few blocks away. We can be there and back before anyone misses us.”

Connor glances towards Luthor in the ballroom. He’s still talking to Bruce Wayne, and they’ve amassed a small crowd around them.

“Bruce will keep Lex busy for a while. He likes to talk. Besides, you can always tell him that you were networking,” Tim offers.

Luthor said that Tim should be his focus for the rest of the night. He never said that they had to stay at the gala.

“Lead the way,” he says, gesturing grandly towards the French doors. Tim blinks once, then again, then smiles. His eyes light up with it, and Kon suddenly understands why Tim had to inhale before.

“Come on,” Tim says, leading the way. Kon follows just as closely as he did before, trailing him until they spill out into the Metropolis night and he can stand next to him, almost close enough for their arms to brush.

Maybe living with Lex Luthor won’t be so bad if comes with seeing Tim Drake, too.

#my writing #timkon #timkon fanfic #i feel like i'm not going to have the focus to actually make this the full fic it deserves #the plot would be a bear to figure out even though i have inklings #but i love the idea of kon being forced into this situation where he has no allies and is blackmailed into helping lex #and tim and bruce manage to show up and help him as civilians #because there's no way tim would abandon him with a supervillain and a bunch of rich people #buy back the secrets has inspired a deep appreciation for identity fics so! here we are #anyway. this is my first ever timkon piece of writing and i'm scared! but we're vibing #i might put this on ao3 but i don't want to until i'm certain i won't expand on it and make it a full fic

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