Fic: Time Management, Pre-Young Justice, Tim/Kon, PG, 1/1
It doesn’t matter that Superboy’s visit was a surprise; Robin still has plans for him…later.
Based on this picture by glockgal
Time Management
After capturing Metallo and Poison Ivy, Robin hadn’t given much thought to whether he’d ever see Superboy again. He’d presumed, of course, that should Metallo or another of Superman’s enemies show up in Gotham, he’d contact him, and that Superboy would do the same if Poison Ivy or one of Gotham’s Rogues decided to show up in Hawaii.
The fact that Superboy showed up in Gotham more than once in the ensuing weeks just to ‘hang out’ as he put it…well, Tim scolded himself for not expecting that.
He also scolded himself for giving Superboy one of the Bat-comms, attuned specifically to his, so that he could call before showing up (and Robin could managed to keep Batman out of the know). The fact that he occasionally - occasionally - used the comms himself to keep in touch with Superboy…
Well. It was the price of having a friend.
Still, Robin hadn’t actually thought that Superboy would surprise him in the middle of his patrol one evening. The fact irked him, but it took a moment for Tim to even recognize Superboy, since he wasn’t wearing his costume. He was wearing faded jeans, newish boots, a puka shell necklace with a turtle charm…and a black T-shirt with a red S on the front.
“Subtle much, SB?” Robin asked, cocking a brow above his mask as he took in sight of muscles flexing and straining underneath the simple black cotton.
Superboy shrugged and shoved his hands in his pocket. “It’s not like I’ve got a secret identity or anything.”
Tim did, however, and every time he thought about it, he kept thinking that maybe he should end this…thing…between them. Superboy didn’t even have a name, for Christ’s sake - unless one counted ‘Kid’ - and here Tim was forced to hold his own back.
That Superboy didn’t seem to care about the inequality inherent in their relationship only made it worse, to Tim’s mind.
“So, man…you free?” The hopeful look Superboy sent him made Tim wish he was.
Robin shook his head. “I’m on stakeout for the next hour, at least.” If nothing happened by the end of that hour…then he’d be free.
Superboy grinned. “Cool.”
So it was that Superboy ‘hung out’ with Tim while Robin did surveillance on one of Boss Mahoney’s warehouses. The first half-hour passed with Superboy hovering just above the roof behind his back. Robin knew it was because Superboy didn’t feel like he could be sneaky about crouching on the roof; the reality was that he fidgeted so much he ruined any attempt at stealth.
Superboy had been nice and quiet, so when he let out a sigh, barely a gust of breath, Robin asked him to fly around the building.
Face brightening - and God, Tim had always thought ‘sunny smiles’ were a cliché, but Superboy’s was - Superboy did as asked. When he came back barely a minute later, his face was schooled into seriousness. “They’re loading up some stuff into this big van,” he said. “I saw four guys and the driver,” he added.
Robin tipped his head in acknowledgement, and considered for a moment. If Mahoney’s goons were moving the contraband technology already, it was probably to the docks. Batman had thought that the Mahoney would lie low for a while after he stole the tech. It would have been the smart thing to do - not that he wouldn’t have been caught anyway - but apparently Mahoney was either stupid or cocky, and thought he could get away with it.
At Superboy’s impatient look - he was practically tapping his foot in midair - Robin made a ‘wait a minute’ motion and crept off to a corner of the roof to inform Oracle of what was going on. She conversed with Batman and Nightwing, and then gave him his orders.
“B wants you to tail them to the docks,” Barbara told him. “Let us know if anything changes. Then you can call it a night.”
“Thanks. R out,” Robin said, and made his way back to Superboy, who was hovering just below the roof line, and fiddling with his necklace. It had most probably been a gift of some sort, but it hadn’t seemed like the type of jewelry the Kid would usually wear. Now Robin knew why he was; Superboy wore it so he could have something to fidget with.
“So?” Superboy asked, expression pathetically eager for action.
“We follow them,” Robin said, and because it was Superboy, he let the ‘Duh’ be heard in his voice.
Superboy sighed and made a big production of rolling his eyes. “Yeah, but then what?”
“Then I’m off for the night.” Barring a huge blowup in which Batman and Nightwing needed his help, he didn’t say; Superboy would be more likely to jump into the fray first if things went cross-eyed.
Pumping his fist in the air, Superboy hissed a quiet, “Yes!”
Robin couldn’t help but smile at this reaction; the Kid wasn’t the only one who had plans for the evening. He shot out his jumpline, heading for the docks. Superboy flew underneath his swinging arcs in silence for a few moments, before turning to shoot him an inviting glance, ‘You wanna?’ shining clear in his eyes.
Feeling his cheeks warm at the thought, Robin nevertheless put up his hand in a stop gesture. They were working right then.
They would make out later. In fact, Tim was planning on it.
Based on this picture by glockgal
Time Management
After capturing Metallo and Poison Ivy, Robin hadn’t given much thought to whether he’d ever see Superboy again. He’d presumed, of course, that should Metallo or another of Superman’s enemies show up in Gotham, he’d contact him, and that Superboy would do the same if Poison Ivy or one of Gotham’s Rogues decided to show up in Hawaii.
The fact that Superboy showed up in Gotham more than once in the ensuing weeks just to ‘hang out’ as he put it…well, Tim scolded himself for not expecting that.
He also scolded himself for giving Superboy one of the Bat-comms, attuned specifically to his, so that he could call before showing up (and Robin could managed to keep Batman out of the know). The fact that he occasionally - occasionally - used the comms himself to keep in touch with Superboy…
Well. It was the price of having a friend.
Still, Robin hadn’t actually thought that Superboy would surprise him in the middle of his patrol one evening. The fact irked him, but it took a moment for Tim to even recognize Superboy, since he wasn’t wearing his costume. He was wearing faded jeans, newish boots, a puka shell necklace with a turtle charm…and a black T-shirt with a red S on the front.
“Subtle much, SB?” Robin asked, cocking a brow above his mask as he took in sight of muscles flexing and straining underneath the simple black cotton.
Superboy shrugged and shoved his hands in his pocket. “It’s not like I’ve got a secret identity or anything.”
Tim did, however, and every time he thought about it, he kept thinking that maybe he should end this…thing…between them. Superboy didn’t even have a name, for Christ’s sake - unless one counted ‘Kid’ - and here Tim was forced to hold his own back.
That Superboy didn’t seem to care about the inequality inherent in their relationship only made it worse, to Tim’s mind.
“So, man…you free?” The hopeful look Superboy sent him made Tim wish he was.
Robin shook his head. “I’m on stakeout for the next hour, at least.” If nothing happened by the end of that hour…then he’d be free.
Superboy grinned. “Cool.”
So it was that Superboy ‘hung out’ with Tim while Robin did surveillance on one of Boss Mahoney’s warehouses. The first half-hour passed with Superboy hovering just above the roof behind his back. Robin knew it was because Superboy didn’t feel like he could be sneaky about crouching on the roof; the reality was that he fidgeted so much he ruined any attempt at stealth.
Superboy had been nice and quiet, so when he let out a sigh, barely a gust of breath, Robin asked him to fly around the building.
Face brightening - and God, Tim had always thought ‘sunny smiles’ were a cliché, but Superboy’s was - Superboy did as asked. When he came back barely a minute later, his face was schooled into seriousness. “They’re loading up some stuff into this big van,” he said. “I saw four guys and the driver,” he added.
Robin tipped his head in acknowledgement, and considered for a moment. If Mahoney’s goons were moving the contraband technology already, it was probably to the docks. Batman had thought that the Mahoney would lie low for a while after he stole the tech. It would have been the smart thing to do - not that he wouldn’t have been caught anyway - but apparently Mahoney was either stupid or cocky, and thought he could get away with it.
At Superboy’s impatient look - he was practically tapping his foot in midair - Robin made a ‘wait a minute’ motion and crept off to a corner of the roof to inform Oracle of what was going on. She conversed with Batman and Nightwing, and then gave him his orders.
“B wants you to tail them to the docks,” Barbara told him. “Let us know if anything changes. Then you can call it a night.”
“Thanks. R out,” Robin said, and made his way back to Superboy, who was hovering just below the roof line, and fiddling with his necklace. It had most probably been a gift of some sort, but it hadn’t seemed like the type of jewelry the Kid would usually wear. Now Robin knew why he was; Superboy wore it so he could have something to fidget with.
“So?” Superboy asked, expression pathetically eager for action.
“We follow them,” Robin said, and because it was Superboy, he let the ‘Duh’ be heard in his voice.
Superboy sighed and made a big production of rolling his eyes. “Yeah, but then what?”
“Then I’m off for the night.” Barring a huge blowup in which Batman and Nightwing needed his help, he didn’t say; Superboy would be more likely to jump into the fray first if things went cross-eyed.
Pumping his fist in the air, Superboy hissed a quiet, “Yes!”
Robin couldn’t help but smile at this reaction; the Kid wasn’t the only one who had plans for the evening. He shot out his jumpline, heading for the docks. Superboy flew underneath his swinging arcs in silence for a few moments, before turning to shoot him an inviting glance, ‘You wanna?’ shining clear in his eyes.
Feeling his cheeks warm at the thought, Robin nevertheless put up his hand in a stop gesture. They were working right then.
They would make out later. In fact, Tim was planning on it.