#theres a cop who knows kung fu after he got struck by lightning and also vikings with guns. there is a LOT going on in this movie.

[mamawasatesttube]

ok i posted a lil snippet of this fic last night but then decided i didn't like it out of context and deleted the post, but i do think i like this snippet well enough!!! current wip: kon versus the existential loneliness of being alive again.

warnings for internalized homophobia and suicidal ideation!

And then, just as a T-rex goes to fight the Nazi robot in the movie, Tim taps his long fingers against Kon’s knee. A jolt of lightning zaps through Kon’s body, but he ignores it.

“Hey,” Tim murmurs. “How’ve you been doing, big guy?”

“What?” Kon blinks. “I’m good. Why?”

Tim tips his head back and pins him with a piercing look. It’s not as piercing as Lois’s staring-daggers-through-your-soul looks can get, but it’s still up there.

“You’ve been avoiding everyone,” Tim says. “Cassie I get, ‘cuz, like, breakups are never fun. But Bart? Kory and Gar? Cass? And… me?”

“I saw Bart just the other day!” Kon objects. “We played video games and hung out for a while.”

“He said that only happened ‘cuz he invited himself over to see you.” Tim pauses. “Not that I mean we’ve been, like, talking about you behind your back or anything, uh—that’s not what I meant. I just asked because I haven’t seen you around much lately, and I didn’t know if that was a me thing, or…”

Oh. Kon could smack himself.

“No no no—it’s not you, I swear!” He groans, squeezing his eyes shut, and turns his head to hide his face in Tim’s hair. He smells of generic basic bitch men’s shampoo. “I’ve just, uh… I’ve been staying in Smallville mostly. Just… you know.”

Tim hums softly, his hand still resting on Kon’s knee. “Something on your mind?”

I keep wondering if I should have stayed dead. Also, something has been wrong with me since I came back, because I should be devastated about breaking up with Cassie, but all I feel is relief. Something is wrong with me, and I think I didn’t come back right, and I don’t know if I should’ve come back at all.

He can’t say any of that. Not to Tim, who was so shattered by his grief that he tried to clone him. Just to have a little piece of him back. Even if he knew it wouldn’t truly be Kon.

How could he possibly say any of this to Tim?

“Nothing, really,” he says. The lie tastes like ashes on his tongue. “Just… adjusting, I guess. Lost a year. That’s weird. Pa’s dead. That’s… I don’t even know what to say.”

For a moment, Tim is quiet. Then he shifts against Kon’s side, dislodging him. He turns to look Kon dead in the eyes; one hand reaches up and tips Kon’s chin up, resting against his cheek to prevent him from turning away. Kon resists the urge to squirm under his gaze.

“Dude,” Tim says. “You and I both know if it was just adjustment and grief, you wouldn’t be avoiding us.” Another pause. He scrunches up his face a little. “I mean—adjustment and grief both are real and suck and they’re totally valid reasons to be out of it, but that’s—you’re not…”

He trails off. Kon swallows hard and bites the inside of his lip. He can’t tell Tim what’s really eating at him, but his ability to read Tim is a two-way street. Tim knows how to read him, too.

Tim takes a breath. “You used to tell me just about everything.”

Fuck.

“Tim, I’m not…” Kon scrubs a hand over his face. His heart pounds hard in his chest. He can’t put this on Tim’s shoulders. He can’t. It would be so, so cruel to put that kind of fear in Tim’s head, the idea that Kon might want to die again—he doesn’t, he doesn’t want to die again. He just—he just thinks maybe he should’ve stayed dead.

But he can’t say that to Tim. He can’t be that cruel. Not to Tim, who’s already been through so much grief.

“There is something else bothering me,” he admits, unable to meet Tim’s gaze. “But I can’t tell you. And that’s—it’s not your fault I can’t tell you, it’s me, I just—I can’t, okay?”

Tim is quiet for a moment. Something explodes on the TV screen; the white light washes over his face as Kon peers at him through his fingers, heart racing with anxiety. He doesn’t want Tim to think he’s the problem—he just can’t… he can’t say it.

“Are you sure?” Tim asks, after a beat. “I know I’m… different. Not really the same guy I was when you died. If that’s… if you need space to process that, and that’s why—”

“It’s not!”

That’s—that’s too much. Tim can’t think that, Kon can’t let him think that, that would never in a million years be the reason Kon can’t tell him something and he needs to know!

Kon shoves the bowl of popcorn out of the way; his TTK is the only reason it doesn’t go flying across the room, and instead settles neatly onto the coffee table. He throws his arms around Tim’s waist and hauls him into a hug, mindful of the gauze on his upper back as he clutches at him. He can hear the beating of Tim’s heart, can feel it against his own chest; Tim’s bare skin and his own are separated only by the thin layer of Kon’s shirt, and he can feel the warmth of his body radiating through the fabric.

For an agonizing second, Tim is still, frozen in his arms. Then, like a spell has broken, he melts, slotting himself into Kon’s chest like he was made to fit there; his cheek comes to rest against Kon’s shoulder, nose brushing his neck, and his arms slip around Kon’s waist in turn.

“I swear, Rob, it’s not that,” Kon manages. “I swear it’s not. It’s—it’s something in my head. It’s not you at all. You’re—you’re perfect, okay?” He can’t fuck this up. He can’t fuck this up and make Tim think he’s the problem. He just—

He just can’t tell him.

“Kon…” Tim takes a slow breath, blows it out as a deep, heavy sigh against his shoulder. Kon holds him a little tighter, helpless. After a moment, Tim nods slowly against him. “Okay. I believe you.”

The relief is so poignant that Kon’s stomach churns. Thank god. His shoulders slump with the weight of it; gratitude settles like snowfall on top.

Then Tim draws back, looks at him with those same piercing eyes. Like Kon is a puzzle that he needs to turn over and over in his hands until he figures out what makes him tick. “But you still can’t tell me?”

Kon looks away. He misses Tim’s warmth in his arms already. He doesn’t want to think about what that might mean. “…No.”