#i love drama but im so bad at keeping it concise...... catch me in megs dms wailing about this like 3 separate times

[mamawasatesttube]

“Wait! Please— I’m sorry, just— wait.” for the game?

"Don't"—Kon rips the last strip of medical tape and presses it into place against Tim's upper arm, his hands gentle even though his voice is furious—"ever do that again. Promise me."

Tim leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. His shoulder throbs with pain; ibuprofen can't do that much against a bullet wound. It was a clean shot, though, just through muscle, not hitting bone, so it'll heal fine.

"I'm not making that promise, and you know it," he answers, a few seconds late.

Kon inhales sharply, as if Tim has just slapped him. Then—

"Fine," he hisses. Tim opens his eyes just in time to see him shoot back to his feet and whirl on his heel. He takes two furious strides towards the door before Tim's sluggish sense of alarm slams into action and adrenaline surges through his chest, because Kon's leaving and Tim can't—!

"Wait!" Tim pushes away from the wall and stands. He's a little woozy from blood loss, yeah, but that pales in importance when Kon's about to vanish. "Please—I'm sorry, just—wait."

But Kon isn't in front of him any longer. He was too late. Or maybe Kon was just too upset with him. And—

"Sit back down, idiot," Kon's voice says, behind him, and strong hands catch him just as he wobbles. When did Kon get so close? "You need to replenish your fluids before you go gallivanting off to be a self-sacrificial idiot again."

Kon eases him back down into the armchair. Tim pinches the bridge of his nose with his good arm, the world spinning.

"It didn't kill me," he mutters. "It's just a flesh wound. Why are you so worked up about it?"

Even dizzy as he is, he can still see Kon stiffen at his side. "Because—!" Kon jerks away, wrapping his arms around himself. "That was a fucking kryptonite bullet, Tim. That was meant for me. You shouldn't—why would you—"

"Because it was meant for you." Tim closes his eyes again. He's exhausted. He needs Kon nearby. Just... so he can be sure he's okay.

Kon lets out a distressed, unhappy noise. "That doesn't mean—it's still a bullet, you stupid little—"

"I know!" Tim bursts out. He opens his tired eyes to glare at Kon. "I know it's a bullet! I felt it go through my damn shoulder, Kon, I promise I know it's a bullet!"

Kon glares right back. "Then why would you—"

"Because I can't lose you again!"

The words hang in the air between them as heartbeats tick by. Kon's impossible, luminous eyes are wide, his lips slightly parted. His eyelashes are thick and dark; the shades pushed up into his hair are cracked. He's so beautiful Tim could weep.

How can he make him understand? He saw the green glow, he saw the gun pointed at Kon's chest, and he—it wasn't an active thought. He just saw a golden statue in his mind's eye, and he moved. He can't lose Kon again. He can't live through that again. He can't.

"Rob," Kon murmurs. His voice is gentle, all the frustration melted away. He reaches over, cradles Tim's cheek in a warm, smooth hand. Tim presses into his touch, his chest suddenly tight. "You're not gonna lose me."

"I can't," Tim repeats a little hoarsely. "So I can't make you that promise."

Kon blows out a deep, tired sigh. "We'll... talk about it later," he says. "For now, I just... I want you to drink that Gatorade I got you. Okay? You need fluids with electrolytes."

Tim chews at his lip. The bottle sits innocuously on the side table. "Okay."

Without being asked, Kon opens it for him. He presses it into Tim's good hand, and then—

He leans down, his shadow falling over Tim's face, and brushes a tender kiss to Tim's forehead. He lingers, as Tim's breath catches in his throat, his lips pressed to Tim's skin. He can definitely hear the way Tim's heart beats faster as Tim sits there, wide-eyed, as sparks shoot through his entire body and fill him with a strange, fluttery warmth.

Kon draws back and sinks to his knees. He leans against Tim's legs and rests his head in Tim's lap. None of his fury and dismay from just a few minutes ago remain; if anything, he just looks... melancholy.

"You're not gonna lose me again, Robbie," he says softly. "I'm here."

Tim takes a sip of his Gatorade to quell the lump in his throat. He carefully threads the fingers of his other hand into Kon's messy curls. "Yeah," he says, his voice a little smaller than he'd like it to be. "You are."