Work Text:
“I’m in love with you.”
Tim’s back is ramrod straight, muscles tensing tightly, his joints locked in place as he sits at the table. Across from him, Kon freezes, his spoon full of cereal raised halfway to his mouth which has opened in a slight ‘o.’ He’s just staring.
Tim flushes. It’s strange, a distant part of him thinks. Every single day that Kon had been gone, had been dead , Tim had regretted, in some way or another, never telling Kon that he loved him. Some of those days had been worse than others. On those bad days, he had dreamt scenarios that stick horrifically to his mind, altered events and never-would-be’s of moments when he could have confessed to Kon but hadn’t let himself take the risk. Only after it was too late had Tim considered that perhaps the risk had been worth the reward. That maybe all his excuses – it wasn’t the right time, Kon might not reciprocate, their friendship was more than enough and it would be selfish to want more — were just bullshit.
Kon keeps staring at Tim, and Tim thinks of the hundreds of ways he had imagined this confession. Carefully planned romantic ones and spur-of-the-moment ones and awkward ones and angry ones and unreciprocated ones. He had never imagined confessing over two bowls of cereal at breakfast. But then he had also never imagined that Kon would come back — or that it would be so hard to tell Kon in the aftermath of his resurrection after swearing never to make that same mistake again. Tim supposes that it is just his luck that finally when the moment has come when he has built up the courage to finally, finally tell Kon, it was now of all moments.
“I —” Kon starts.
Tim interrupts him. “I’m in love with you,” Tim says again, more confidently this time. And again. “I’m in love with you, Kon-El, and I missed you so much every single day that you were gone and I don’t even care if you don’t like me the same way, but I love you, and I can’t— I can’t go on anymore without you knowing, okay?”
Kon doesn’t say anything and Tim bites his lip.
“Fuck. Okay. I take it back. I do care. I care a lot and I regret everything. You don’t like me like that, do you? I knew it. I fucking knew it. Oh god, I never should have said anything, I’m so stupid, I—”
Kon reaches across the table with his right hand and places a finger on Tim’s lips, effectively shushing him.
“Shhh. Please just, give me a moment, will you, Tim? I was going to say that, uh—” He looks unsure. It looks so wrong on him. In Tim’s mind, Kon is brave and confident and never doubts himself. He doesn’t second-guess himself. Not like Tim.
“Tim, I like you, too, you idiot. A lot. I um— I think I’ve loved you for a while, actually.”
There are so many things that Tim could say to that.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Okay.”
Kon doesn’t bother to go around the table, he just stands up and leans far over the table into Tim’s space. Tim doesn’t have to move far at all. He stands up and even separated by a table he still feels dwarfed by Kon’s size, his bare presence. It doesn’t feel threatening, though, just feels safe. Tim looks at the space between Kon’s arms and thinks that he would fit there quite nicely. Then, he looks up at Kon’s lips. He had imagined those lips so many nights alone in his bedroom.
Tim kisses Kon. He tastes like the sun — burning and powerful and destructive and life-giving all at once.
It is so much more than he had ever imagined.