the unfinished work dump, part 2: dc comics
Tim Drake/Connor Kent
001. 07/26/11. prompt: almost paradise. word count: 742
Sometimes Connor has this smile Tim can only define as wolfish. It’s sharp and cunning and fully predatory but it always manages to make Tim laugh, because despite all his darkness it’s still Connor. If he didn’t know him as well as he did, it might have scared him, might have impressed him even, but instead it just made him laugh, made him roll his eyes and go back to his book, ignoring the other boy’s pleas to stop reading and just have some fun. Connor was right, Tim knew that much, they had such little time to actually sit around and enjoy themselves, but this was how Tim enjoyed himself. For once he just wanted to sit, didn’t want to ache at the end of the day like he always did. For the first time in a long time he had a day to sit around on the beach like a normal kid with his best friend and not because they were waiting for something to go wrong and not because he still needed to heal from some injury or another. They weren’t Red Robin and Superboy today, just Tim Drake and Connor Kent and that was enough to make Tim feel at ease, to sit back and relax and enjoy it all.
At least until Connor purposely sent the frisbee towards him, knocking it into his book with his TTK, Krypto at his feet in an instant, wagging his tail and biting at the plastic disc. Connor’s face feigned innocence but both boys knew better, dissolving into laughter. He knew it meant giving up the peaceful day at the beach he had kind of hoped for, but he was with Connor, that kind of day was never really going to happen. As long as they were together, as long as it was them on their own it was fine, cut off from civilization on some island Tim had found and Connor had flown them to. Pushing himself up from the blanket on the sand, Tim moved out of the shade of the palm trees and onto the beach, feeling the warm sand between his toes, standing across from his friend.
“It’s not really fair playing catch with a person and a dog that have super speed and super strength you know. The odds are majorly stacked against me.” It was an observation, not a complaint, Tim’s laugh giving him away as Connor just smiled.
“Here Krypto.” The dog always answered when Connor called, ears perked up and tail wagging, eyes following the red disc in Connor’s hand as he launched it towards the water. Krypto wasted no time speeding off after it, leaving the two boys on their own. Throwing a strong arm over Tim’s shoulder Connor pressed the smaller boy closer so they were bare skin on bare skin. Tim’s hand rested on his friend’s back, moving slowly over the light sheen of sweat coating his skin from the sun baking on him for the better part of the morning. “Wouldn’t it be cool if we could stay here forever?” Tim’s mouth opened to respond, to remind Connor of their lives at home and that they didn’t really belong to them, that they were there for the greater good of the rest of the world. He wanted to say it reminded him too much of Hawaii, that he would miss Dick and Bruce and Barbara and sometimes Steph too much because they were the only family he had left. He wanted to remind Connor of Ma and Pa Kent and how they took Connor in and tried to raise him as well as a clone boy could be raised when he was already pretty much fully grown. But rather than speak, he just nodded, leaning his head over to rest on Connor’s shoulder, smiling as they looked out over the clear teal water lapping at the white sand.
“Yeah, it would be great.” It wasn’t really a lie, Tim knew it. He could imagine it, the two of them building some Swiss Family Robinson treehouse (Tim designing, Connor doing the actual building with the whole super speed/super strength/heat vision thing), living off the land and spending their days on the beach. Together they could make their own little paradise and it filled Tim with sadness that they could never have that, that something that could make them both so happy was so completely out of their grasp.
002. 09/10/11. prompt: football. word count: 390
Tim’s a genius on the ball. It’s all Connor can think when he watches him, watches the way the smaller boy seems to glide around on the field, the way he anticipates the opposition’s movement before he acts, the way his face lights up but he somehow manages to remain so polite to the other team and their fans when he puts the ball in the back of the net. Connor notices all these things, notices that Tim is never selfish and will pass the ball whenever he needs to, whenever he sees that someone is open and in scoring position. He could go pro in a second if he wanted to, he’s heard the rumors everyone else has heard, that the MLS scouts have been watching him since he was in high school, that even EPL scouts have been after him since he started playing college ball. He’s been called up for the US u21 squad, Connor’s seen those pictures in the paper, Tim Drake in that new all red kit, number ten on his back. Tim Drake surrounded by the most talented soccer players in America and eclipsing them all. People don’t take the sport all that seriously back home, Smallville was always a football town, the kind with pigskin and helmets and pads, not the dance of strength he watches whenever he sees Tim take the pitch. Football in Smallville was never beautiful like futbol in Gotham, but then again there was never anybody like Tim Drake in Smallville. He’s lithe and beautiful, toned from spending years in the sport, and even with his face red with exertion and black hair slicked with sweat and water, Connor can’t look away from him. He jots notes down in his notebook, which number passed to who before it was intercepted, at what minute Tim recovered the ball and passed it to the team’s number seven to score. He nudges Bart next to him to pay attention and actually take pictures, but Bart is beyond bored because for him this fast paced game is slow. It would be for Connor too, without Tim anyway, but he’s enthralled so he took this job for the paper, for a chance to actually have a reason to talk to Tim Drake, to have a reason to watch him as intently as he does.
003. 09/17/11. prompt: college au. word count: 1542
There are a few things Tim Drake knows. The first is that his parents would absolutely kill him for even thinking about riding a motorcycle. The second is that his parents are dead, so there isn’t much killing that they’ll actually be doing unless they return as zombies or black lanterns or something equally as horrible. The third: Connor Kent looks disgustingly good on a bike. He fits the part of bad boy so well, the thick black hair, the piercing blue eyes, the way his lips always seem to be turned up into a cruel smirk or curved down into a scowl of distaste. He never seems to wear anything but jeans and black tshirts, some with faded and crumbling band logos, of glam metal bands of the 80s that seem to fit him so well. His jeans are ripped and his shoes are always boots if he’s got his bike, or chucks if he’s on his board, and he is the kind of devastatingly handsome that makes all the girls on campus fall all over him whenever he’s around. There’s something about Connor Kent that just oozes charm and Tim is envious of his ability to make people fall in love with him.
Tim’s sitting alone at one of the tables in the courtyard when Connor pulls up. He’s studying, or supposed to be, letting the Metropolis sun bake into his skin, too pale from spending all his time in Gotham and Bludhaven. It’s like the sun never shines there, but Metropolis was a nice change of pace for university, sunny and warm and full of things to keep him interested, like Superman and all the things that came with having a superhero inhabit your city. He had seen it all in Gotham, but there were times Gotham felt smothering, too dark and dreary and filled with hurt and pain for everyone who lived there. Too many bad memories, too much hurt sealed in every stone of every building. He’s supposed to be focusing on the words on the page in front of him, but his molecular biology textbook is nowhere near as interesting as the boy on the motorcycle, pulling up the ramp on the sidewalk to where the rest of the kids on campus park their bikes. Tim knows he’s not the only one looking, hears the little lovesick sigh from the next table over of the blonde girl from his Ancient Greek Lit class, Cassie Sandsmark or something. The sound reminds him to look back at his book and not stare at Connor getting off his bike, to not notice the way there’s a few beads of sweat trickling down the back of his tanned neck, to not pay any attention to the way his faded black Motley Crue shirt sticks to his abs or how tight his jeans are around his thighs. He wishes more than anything that he didn’t have a nearly photographic memory and that a few seconds of Connor Kent in the near vicinity is enough to make him want to curl up in a hole and die, because Connor Kent is a reminder of things he will never be and things he will never have.
Tim lets the light late summer breeze push his black bangs forward on his forehead, masking his own blue eyes as he lifts them just slightly, watching Connor walk past him and to the table filled with girls, watches him as he leans down to kiss Cassie on the lips in front of her friends as they all make room for him to sit with them. They make the perfect couple, Connor looking like the cross between the small town bad boy and the cliche football jock, all big and muscular and disgustingly masculine and Cassie all tall and blonde and skinny and beautiful. It makes something inside Tim hurt, makes his skin feel prickly and makes his muscles ache, so he turns his attention back to his book, but he can’t concentrate. He’s read the same passage six times over before he realizes that things aren’t clicking for him, not when he can hear Connor and Cassie making out the next table over. He packs up his books as quietly as he can and hopes he can find somewhere else to study, maybe sit in the campus gardens and enjoy the sunshine and beautiful flowers and just keep an eye on the time so he can make it to class without being late.
It’s as he’s walking away he hears them talking, one of Cassie’s friends speaking up.
“God, that kid is so weird. Did you see him like staring at you?” He doesn’t turn around to see which one it is, only hears Connor’s gruff “yeah” before his laughter and Tim swallows back the hurt and just walks away. There are times Tim wishes he wasn’t so acutely aware of everything all the time.
--
It’s not that Tim can’t sleep, at least that’s what he tells himself as he carries his telescope up to the roof of the dorm. He’d love to sleep, it’s just that he has this astronomy homework, it’s just that even when he lays in bed all he sees is Connor and pictures what he would look like lying there with him, burying his strong fingers in Tim’s hair and assuring him that he’s not weird at all. Imagination is a powerful thing and sometimes Tim almost feels like there’s someone else there with him, someone else’s weight over his body, someone else’s lips pressing on his skin. He wonders if this feeling is repression, if it’s the fact that he’s eighteen and still a virgin, that he’s never done anything more than kiss a few girls here and there and when they wanted to do more he backed off right away. He wonders why he wants to kiss Connor so bad, why he wishes for the weight of the larger boy’s body against his own, the feel of his skin against his own...
He shakes off the thought and continues up the stairs, sets up his telescope and turns his attention to the stars. He means to stare at the stars, to try and see the constellations, to maybe pretend that he’s back in time and seeing them how the ancient greeks saw them, how they were clear enough to see shapes in the clusters. He means to, but when he focuses his telescope he sees a flash of red and blue and follows it until it stops, focuses it so he can see Superman just floating in the air, his arms crossed over his broad chest as if he’s waiting for something or someone. Tim just wants to watch him, he doesn’t really mean any harm in it, but when a second figure joins him, he can’t help but gasp. Floating up to Superman is a familiar figure clad in torn jeans and a black tshirt, barely visible against the night sky. But Tim still manages to see him, watches through the lens as they speak, Superman calm and collect and Connor aggitated and annoyed. Connor yells, but Tim can’t hear, and Superman replies something calmly back to him. It seems to calm Connor down, at least until Superman says something else and nods his head in the direction of Tim’s rooftop, and before he knows whats happening Connor is touching down on his rooftop, and Tim is just backing up, hoping to god he doesn’t wind up thrown off it by the irate superhero.
“Were you fucking spying on me?” There’s venom in Connor’s voice and Tim is genuinely fearing for his life, feeling his heart jumping into his throat.
“No, I swear I just came up here to work on my astronomy homework, I didn’t know you would be out here I swear...” The words come out fast and pleading and Tim has backed up to the lip of the roof, hands shaking and eyes wide with fear. Before Connor can react, Superman is on the roof with them, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Don’t touch me.” Connor spits and twists away from Superman’s touch, and the older man only looks at him sadly, shaking his head.
“He doesn’t mean anything by being up here, do you, Tim?” Tim is stunned that Superman knows his name, but he only nods, trying to to seem like he’s shaking too much. Connor just snarls and lifts off the roof, hovering in the air above them.
“Just leave me alone. Both of you.” Like a flash he’s up towards the sky, leaving Superman and Tim staring up after him.
“You’ll keep his secret, won’t you Tim?” Superman’s voice is quite but Tim knows he has no choice in the matter now, just swallows and nods.
“Of course, sir.” Tim has no chance to say anything else, no chance to ask how the older man knows his name, because with his promise, Superman is gone and Tim is alone on the roof again, too shaken to stay up there on his own. He packs up his things and heads back down to his dorm room, laying down, but not sleeping. Tim has too many fears to sleep.
Tim Drake/Dick Grayson
001. 10/01/11. prompt: batman. word count: 183
It’s the way his lips curl up underneath the cowl. It’s wrong, so wrong, Batman doesn’t smile, Batman is intimidating and inspires fear in the heart of man. Dick is the man in the suit, but he’s not Batman, never will be Batman. Working with Dick, moving through the city he once knew like the back of his hand with this notBatman, Tim feels ill at ease. He hates this, hates the idea that everything is different now. Dick’s ahead of him and Tim can watch him move, see the strides he makes that are so much trying to fit Bruce’s, but never will be.
He wonders sometimes about how things would have been. If Damien had never come between them, if Dick had accepted being Batman and let Tim be his Robin, if this was their city together, like Bludhaven had been once. He wonders what it would have been like if they both weren’t in cowls, if they had never had to grow up like they did.
Tim thinks sometimes what would it have been like if they had normal lives.
001. 07/26/11. prompt: almost paradise. word count: 742
Sometimes Connor has this smile Tim can only define as wolfish. It’s sharp and cunning and fully predatory but it always manages to make Tim laugh, because despite all his darkness it’s still Connor. If he didn’t know him as well as he did, it might have scared him, might have impressed him even, but instead it just made him laugh, made him roll his eyes and go back to his book, ignoring the other boy’s pleas to stop reading and just have some fun. Connor was right, Tim knew that much, they had such little time to actually sit around and enjoy themselves, but this was how Tim enjoyed himself. For once he just wanted to sit, didn’t want to ache at the end of the day like he always did. For the first time in a long time he had a day to sit around on the beach like a normal kid with his best friend and not because they were waiting for something to go wrong and not because he still needed to heal from some injury or another. They weren’t Red Robin and Superboy today, just Tim Drake and Connor Kent and that was enough to make Tim feel at ease, to sit back and relax and enjoy it all.
At least until Connor purposely sent the frisbee towards him, knocking it into his book with his TTK, Krypto at his feet in an instant, wagging his tail and biting at the plastic disc. Connor’s face feigned innocence but both boys knew better, dissolving into laughter. He knew it meant giving up the peaceful day at the beach he had kind of hoped for, but he was with Connor, that kind of day was never really going to happen. As long as they were together, as long as it was them on their own it was fine, cut off from civilization on some island Tim had found and Connor had flown them to. Pushing himself up from the blanket on the sand, Tim moved out of the shade of the palm trees and onto the beach, feeling the warm sand between his toes, standing across from his friend.
“It’s not really fair playing catch with a person and a dog that have super speed and super strength you know. The odds are majorly stacked against me.” It was an observation, not a complaint, Tim’s laugh giving him away as Connor just smiled.
“Here Krypto.” The dog always answered when Connor called, ears perked up and tail wagging, eyes following the red disc in Connor’s hand as he launched it towards the water. Krypto wasted no time speeding off after it, leaving the two boys on their own. Throwing a strong arm over Tim’s shoulder Connor pressed the smaller boy closer so they were bare skin on bare skin. Tim’s hand rested on his friend’s back, moving slowly over the light sheen of sweat coating his skin from the sun baking on him for the better part of the morning. “Wouldn’t it be cool if we could stay here forever?” Tim’s mouth opened to respond, to remind Connor of their lives at home and that they didn’t really belong to them, that they were there for the greater good of the rest of the world. He wanted to say it reminded him too much of Hawaii, that he would miss Dick and Bruce and Barbara and sometimes Steph too much because they were the only family he had left. He wanted to remind Connor of Ma and Pa Kent and how they took Connor in and tried to raise him as well as a clone boy could be raised when he was already pretty much fully grown. But rather than speak, he just nodded, leaning his head over to rest on Connor’s shoulder, smiling as they looked out over the clear teal water lapping at the white sand.
“Yeah, it would be great.” It wasn’t really a lie, Tim knew it. He could imagine it, the two of them building some Swiss Family Robinson treehouse (Tim designing, Connor doing the actual building with the whole super speed/super strength/heat vision thing), living off the land and spending their days on the beach. Together they could make their own little paradise and it filled Tim with sadness that they could never have that, that something that could make them both so happy was so completely out of their grasp.
002. 09/10/11. prompt: football. word count: 390
Tim’s a genius on the ball. It’s all Connor can think when he watches him, watches the way the smaller boy seems to glide around on the field, the way he anticipates the opposition’s movement before he acts, the way his face lights up but he somehow manages to remain so polite to the other team and their fans when he puts the ball in the back of the net. Connor notices all these things, notices that Tim is never selfish and will pass the ball whenever he needs to, whenever he sees that someone is open and in scoring position. He could go pro in a second if he wanted to, he’s heard the rumors everyone else has heard, that the MLS scouts have been watching him since he was in high school, that even EPL scouts have been after him since he started playing college ball. He’s been called up for the US u21 squad, Connor’s seen those pictures in the paper, Tim Drake in that new all red kit, number ten on his back. Tim Drake surrounded by the most talented soccer players in America and eclipsing them all. People don’t take the sport all that seriously back home, Smallville was always a football town, the kind with pigskin and helmets and pads, not the dance of strength he watches whenever he sees Tim take the pitch. Football in Smallville was never beautiful like futbol in Gotham, but then again there was never anybody like Tim Drake in Smallville. He’s lithe and beautiful, toned from spending years in the sport, and even with his face red with exertion and black hair slicked with sweat and water, Connor can’t look away from him. He jots notes down in his notebook, which number passed to who before it was intercepted, at what minute Tim recovered the ball and passed it to the team’s number seven to score. He nudges Bart next to him to pay attention and actually take pictures, but Bart is beyond bored because for him this fast paced game is slow. It would be for Connor too, without Tim anyway, but he’s enthralled so he took this job for the paper, for a chance to actually have a reason to talk to Tim Drake, to have a reason to watch him as intently as he does.
003. 09/17/11. prompt: college au. word count: 1542
There are a few things Tim Drake knows. The first is that his parents would absolutely kill him for even thinking about riding a motorcycle. The second is that his parents are dead, so there isn’t much killing that they’ll actually be doing unless they return as zombies or black lanterns or something equally as horrible. The third: Connor Kent looks disgustingly good on a bike. He fits the part of bad boy so well, the thick black hair, the piercing blue eyes, the way his lips always seem to be turned up into a cruel smirk or curved down into a scowl of distaste. He never seems to wear anything but jeans and black tshirts, some with faded and crumbling band logos, of glam metal bands of the 80s that seem to fit him so well. His jeans are ripped and his shoes are always boots if he’s got his bike, or chucks if he’s on his board, and he is the kind of devastatingly handsome that makes all the girls on campus fall all over him whenever he’s around. There’s something about Connor Kent that just oozes charm and Tim is envious of his ability to make people fall in love with him.
Tim’s sitting alone at one of the tables in the courtyard when Connor pulls up. He’s studying, or supposed to be, letting the Metropolis sun bake into his skin, too pale from spending all his time in Gotham and Bludhaven. It’s like the sun never shines there, but Metropolis was a nice change of pace for university, sunny and warm and full of things to keep him interested, like Superman and all the things that came with having a superhero inhabit your city. He had seen it all in Gotham, but there were times Gotham felt smothering, too dark and dreary and filled with hurt and pain for everyone who lived there. Too many bad memories, too much hurt sealed in every stone of every building. He’s supposed to be focusing on the words on the page in front of him, but his molecular biology textbook is nowhere near as interesting as the boy on the motorcycle, pulling up the ramp on the sidewalk to where the rest of the kids on campus park their bikes. Tim knows he’s not the only one looking, hears the little lovesick sigh from the next table over of the blonde girl from his Ancient Greek Lit class, Cassie Sandsmark or something. The sound reminds him to look back at his book and not stare at Connor getting off his bike, to not notice the way there’s a few beads of sweat trickling down the back of his tanned neck, to not pay any attention to the way his faded black Motley Crue shirt sticks to his abs or how tight his jeans are around his thighs. He wishes more than anything that he didn’t have a nearly photographic memory and that a few seconds of Connor Kent in the near vicinity is enough to make him want to curl up in a hole and die, because Connor Kent is a reminder of things he will never be and things he will never have.
Tim lets the light late summer breeze push his black bangs forward on his forehead, masking his own blue eyes as he lifts them just slightly, watching Connor walk past him and to the table filled with girls, watches him as he leans down to kiss Cassie on the lips in front of her friends as they all make room for him to sit with them. They make the perfect couple, Connor looking like the cross between the small town bad boy and the cliche football jock, all big and muscular and disgustingly masculine and Cassie all tall and blonde and skinny and beautiful. It makes something inside Tim hurt, makes his skin feel prickly and makes his muscles ache, so he turns his attention back to his book, but he can’t concentrate. He’s read the same passage six times over before he realizes that things aren’t clicking for him, not when he can hear Connor and Cassie making out the next table over. He packs up his books as quietly as he can and hopes he can find somewhere else to study, maybe sit in the campus gardens and enjoy the sunshine and beautiful flowers and just keep an eye on the time so he can make it to class without being late.
It’s as he’s walking away he hears them talking, one of Cassie’s friends speaking up.
“God, that kid is so weird. Did you see him like staring at you?” He doesn’t turn around to see which one it is, only hears Connor’s gruff “yeah” before his laughter and Tim swallows back the hurt and just walks away. There are times Tim wishes he wasn’t so acutely aware of everything all the time.
--
It’s not that Tim can’t sleep, at least that’s what he tells himself as he carries his telescope up to the roof of the dorm. He’d love to sleep, it’s just that he has this astronomy homework, it’s just that even when he lays in bed all he sees is Connor and pictures what he would look like lying there with him, burying his strong fingers in Tim’s hair and assuring him that he’s not weird at all. Imagination is a powerful thing and sometimes Tim almost feels like there’s someone else there with him, someone else’s weight over his body, someone else’s lips pressing on his skin. He wonders if this feeling is repression, if it’s the fact that he’s eighteen and still a virgin, that he’s never done anything more than kiss a few girls here and there and when they wanted to do more he backed off right away. He wonders why he wants to kiss Connor so bad, why he wishes for the weight of the larger boy’s body against his own, the feel of his skin against his own...
He shakes off the thought and continues up the stairs, sets up his telescope and turns his attention to the stars. He means to stare at the stars, to try and see the constellations, to maybe pretend that he’s back in time and seeing them how the ancient greeks saw them, how they were clear enough to see shapes in the clusters. He means to, but when he focuses his telescope he sees a flash of red and blue and follows it until it stops, focuses it so he can see Superman just floating in the air, his arms crossed over his broad chest as if he’s waiting for something or someone. Tim just wants to watch him, he doesn’t really mean any harm in it, but when a second figure joins him, he can’t help but gasp. Floating up to Superman is a familiar figure clad in torn jeans and a black tshirt, barely visible against the night sky. But Tim still manages to see him, watches through the lens as they speak, Superman calm and collect and Connor aggitated and annoyed. Connor yells, but Tim can’t hear, and Superman replies something calmly back to him. It seems to calm Connor down, at least until Superman says something else and nods his head in the direction of Tim’s rooftop, and before he knows whats happening Connor is touching down on his rooftop, and Tim is just backing up, hoping to god he doesn’t wind up thrown off it by the irate superhero.
“Were you fucking spying on me?” There’s venom in Connor’s voice and Tim is genuinely fearing for his life, feeling his heart jumping into his throat.
“No, I swear I just came up here to work on my astronomy homework, I didn’t know you would be out here I swear...” The words come out fast and pleading and Tim has backed up to the lip of the roof, hands shaking and eyes wide with fear. Before Connor can react, Superman is on the roof with them, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Don’t touch me.” Connor spits and twists away from Superman’s touch, and the older man only looks at him sadly, shaking his head.
“He doesn’t mean anything by being up here, do you, Tim?” Tim is stunned that Superman knows his name, but he only nods, trying to to seem like he’s shaking too much. Connor just snarls and lifts off the roof, hovering in the air above them.
“Just leave me alone. Both of you.” Like a flash he’s up towards the sky, leaving Superman and Tim staring up after him.
“You’ll keep his secret, won’t you Tim?” Superman’s voice is quite but Tim knows he has no choice in the matter now, just swallows and nods.
“Of course, sir.” Tim has no chance to say anything else, no chance to ask how the older man knows his name, because with his promise, Superman is gone and Tim is alone on the roof again, too shaken to stay up there on his own. He packs up his things and heads back down to his dorm room, laying down, but not sleeping. Tim has too many fears to sleep.
Tim Drake/Dick Grayson
001. 10/01/11. prompt: batman. word count: 183
It’s the way his lips curl up underneath the cowl. It’s wrong, so wrong, Batman doesn’t smile, Batman is intimidating and inspires fear in the heart of man. Dick is the man in the suit, but he’s not Batman, never will be Batman. Working with Dick, moving through the city he once knew like the back of his hand with this notBatman, Tim feels ill at ease. He hates this, hates the idea that everything is different now. Dick’s ahead of him and Tim can watch him move, see the strides he makes that are so much trying to fit Bruce’s, but never will be.
He wonders sometimes about how things would have been. If Damien had never come between them, if Dick had accepted being Batman and let Tim be his Robin, if this was their city together, like Bludhaven had been once. He wonders what it would have been like if they both weren’t in cowls, if they had never had to grow up like they did.
Tim thinks sometimes what would it have been like if they had normal lives.