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It’s times like this where Tim is grateful for Ivy. At least with her, if you get thrown several feet straight into an alley, you land on flora. Sure, said flora may attempt to consume you, but it’s a soft landing nonetheless. Crashing into a shattering pile of ice makes Poison Ivy’s vine traps sound like heaven.
The padding in his winter suit helps, but not much. His everything hurts. Ow.
Tim rises to his feet slowly, so as to not slip and fall again. The weather had already not been entirely in his favor. It’s all cold and brittle and nasty. Winter is unwelcome in his bones. Winter is mean and dark and it sucks . He knows this because unlike Bruce, Tim actually enjoys leaving the house.
Then, Mr. Freeze decided to have a field day—man, he wishes it was an actual field day—with the Upper West Side of downtown, effectively turning his seasonal grievances from moderate to severe.
He pats around his suit to make sure all his gear is intact when he hears it. A small, fragile voice calls out a very simple, “Hello?”
Tim scans around for the source of the voice and comes up empty. Up until he sees movement near a pile of cardboard boxes. A small head peeps out from behind the stack, face covered by a forest green beanie and a pale blue scarf, leaving only their eyes visible.
“Hello?” Tim tries.
“You’re Robin.” The muffled voice responds. Their hands are now resting over the boxes, their fingers are covered by frankly adorable cat mittens.
Tim glances down at himself. “I guess I am.”
The kid comes around the boxes putting themself in full view. They wear a big, puffy coat that makes their legs barely visible, chunky winter boots that go almost knee-high, and carry a hefty-looking backpack. They give him a once over, big eyes squinting. “My grandma says you aren’t real.”
Tim snorts at that. “Depends on who you ask. Where’s your grandma now? Are you out here all alone?”
They shrug. “Yea, I was out picking up some things for her when all the freezing started. She’s at home. I was trying to get back there but…” They dig one of their boots in the snow, leaving a deep trail.
“Oh, alright. Well, there’s a shelter not too far from—“
“Could you take me home?” They perk up. “That’s what Robin does right? Make sure people are safe?”
Tim thinks about further outside this alley, where the fight rages on. B is dealing with Freeze all on his own. Due to the fact that, of course, everyone but Tim was dealing with relief efforts. But, Bruce can handle himself. He’s Batman , for crying out loud. If everyone else can help out around Downtown, so can he. Batman isn’t the only one who needs Robin.
“Of course, where’s your address?” He responds just as his communicator buzzes.
“Robin, you with me?”
Tim puts a finger to the child before tapping on his mic. “Here. Fell out dealing with one of Freeze’s little bots, but I’m helping out a civilian now. You need something, Oracle?”
“Not at the moment,” Babs admits, “You just went still for a while and I wanted to make sure you weren’t concussed again.”
Tim huffs, leaving a cloud of air in its wake. “Oh c'mon. It’s been a good while since I’ve gotten one of those.”
“Who knows, maybe you were due for a new one,” Babs throws back, “Anyway, good to know you’re okay. Do you need anything?”
“Actually, I do.” He turns his attention back to… He never asked their name, huh? Tim puts a hand on their shoulder, moving down to their eye level. “Hey, my friend can help you get home. I just need your address, and then we can map out a safe route. Sound good, kid?”
“Sounds good, but don’t call me kid. I have a name; it’s Melanie.” The kid— Melanie informs him.
“Grandma says I’m not supposed to tell people because it’s dangerous, but you’re not people, you’re Robin.” She adds, matter-of-fact.
“Okay, Melanie. Can I get that address?”
She pulls out a lanyard from her backpack. It jiggles with every slight movement, weighted with various colored keys. He recalls the address to Oracle and she begins routing a safe path for them. They sit in the alley in awkward silence for a few beats before Melanie speaks up.
“If your friend Batman? ‘Cause my grandma says he’s not real neither.”
“No, not this friend.”
“Oh,” she says, sounding a bit disappointed, “but he’s real?”
Tim’s lip twitches. “Maybe.”
“Sending you the safest route.” Babs’ voice crackles in, “And, Tim, be safe.”
“Thank you, O, I will. Over and out.”
He looks over the route and mourns the fact he doesn’t have Redbird right now. It would be a lot easier than trekking through this impromptu winter storm, but you take what you can get. It’d be a lot more convenient to just take a quick—albeit a little rough—drive over to Chinatown, but fate is not on his side today.
Tim also realizes has absolutely no idea on how to take care of children. Sure, Robin’s dealt with plenty of kids, but never just one for an elongated period of time. And something tells him baby lessons aren’t gonna work much with a fully grown child. He’s truly flying by the seat of his pants with this one.
Before taking off, he tells Melanie he’s going to check her for any injuries and she agrees. He checks her head, arms, and legs for any aches or pains. According to her, she didn’t get into any trouble before she went to hide in the alleyway; she’s unaffected by any shenanigans from Freeze sans the bitter coldness.
Tim asks her if she thinks she can walk and Melanie smartly informs him that she walks home by herself all the time. Well, excuse him.
There’s one more precaution he wants to take before they head out—He checks his utility belt for…ah! There it is. Tim pulls out a clip and presents it to Melanie.
“I’m gonna to clip you onto me so we don’t get separated, is that alright?”
The girl scrutinizes the cord in front of her for a moment. Then, she nods. “Yea, that sounds safe.”
Cautiously, Tim steps out onto the sidewalk. He makes sure to do a scan of the area before letting Melanie fully out. The street is wrecked. It’s all frozen over, bits of various things broken off from the bitter cold. A lamppost bisects a store sign to his right, a newspaper box crushes an abandoned motorcycle to his left. Thankfully, there are no signs of Freeze or his robots. There are, however, cars flipped over and countless alarms going wild.
Behind him, Melanie winces and he feels empathy for her. Tim isn’t too much a fan of loud noises either. She keeps pace with him without prompting, which is convenient because he needs to keep her in his sight at all times.
As they trek through the mounds of snow, Tim tries his best to keep her entertained. He tells her about all the other times Mr. Freeze has attacked, with varying levels of absurdity. Part of him itches to tell her about some of his Young Justice misadventures, but that thought quickly gets shoved deep, deep, down. It can’t hurt him if he doesn’t think about it.
Tim’s in the middle of recounting a particularly wild rogue encounter when he hears a low rumble. He immediately tenses, might be a bot back for another round. Tim instinctively moves to unsheath his bo staff, but Melanie tugs at his sleeve.
“Um, Mr. Robin.”
“Yes?” He looks down at her and is met with pleading eyes.
“I’m kinda hungry.”
That’s no problem for him. Alfred always double checks that he has extra granola bars in his utility belt. Tim reaches for the pocket hiding them—and comes up empty because he snacked on them earlier while he was monitoring Freeze’s activity.
He’s gotta have another snack somewhere… Tim pats around his compartments for a needless few seconds before concluding that, yea, he has no food.
Oh, hell.
“I’m gonna see if we can get you some food, alright?” Tim promises, unsure if he can keep it.
Everything in view is likely abandoned and or frozen over. He tries for his comm, but is greeted with a dreaded static sound. So, power and Bababra’s backup generators are down. He has no idea where Nightwing and Batgirl are in all of this mess, and there’s no way he’s asking Batman. As far as he knows, Spoiler is missing in action for this particular scuffle.
Despite his active repression, Tim’s mind wanders to his team. Well former team now, he supposes. Even though Tim broke it off with them, he still kept an emergency beeper just in case of a dire situation. And looking for food for a hungry child in a powerless, desolate, winter hellscape feels like a pretty dire situation.
Tim holds his breath as he presses down on the signal. Hopefully it’s Cassie, they weren’t on horrible terms when he left, despite her choice words. He knows she can hide hurt behind anger at times. Scratch that, Anita would be a miracle. Teleportation from one of his more faithful friends sounds like a dream at the moment.
Not even a few minutes after he sends out the signal, he feels a swoosh of air behind him. Oh, lord. The universe looks down on Tim and laughs.
The mantra please be Impulse, please be Impulse, please be Impulse pounds through his head. Until he remembers that Bart quit. Why is the world so cruel to him specifically?
“Rob?” An all too familiar voice exclaims. He really does not need this right now.
To his surprise, the two hands clasp onto his shoulder are strangely gentle. He gets whipped around and is face-to-face with a very concerned looking Superboy. Tim cringes on Melanie’s behalf, the poor kid probably got whipped around right with him. “Oh my god, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Kon lifts his hand to Tim’s chin and tilts it back and forth, scrutinizing his features.
“Um,” Tim responds, eloquently.
Kon quickly backpedals, pulling his hands to his sides. “Oh, uh, sorry. I just thought you might be— You seem…unharmed.” He must register Melanie, because his eyes shoot up. “Who’s the kid?”
“I’m Melanie,” she responds before Tim can even open his mouth, “You’re Superboy.”
Kon preens at the recognition. “Why yes, I am.”
Tim clears his throat, regaining his footing. “Superboy, could you…assist with something.”
Kon pivots midair. “Sure, whaddya need? I’m assuming it’s gotta do with Hell freezing over.” He then winces at his use of ‘hell’ in front of a child.
She only shrugs. “I’ve heard way worse. You should hear what my grandma calls the landlord.”
Something tells Tim he does not want to hear what her grandma calls the landlord.
“So, I’m trying to get Melanie home, but it’s quite a ways away by foot, and she’s getting hungry, so I thought you might…” Tim trails off, not fully wanting to admit he needs help. He makes a vague gesture with his hands to fill the silence.
Kon tilts his head like a dog. “You want me to take her home?”
“Can we get Big Belly Burger?” Melanie pipes up.
Tim frowns. “Melanie, I don’t think Big Belly Burger’s open.”
“Ah, man.”
“Anyway, yea I was hoping you’d be able to. If you want, of course.” He exaggerates a cough and a sniffle. To his delight, Kon’s concerned face turns right back on. Maybe he’s getting a little enjoyment out of messing with Kon, sue him.
Kon nods. “No—yea of course.”
Tim runs the route by Kon, who nods intently with every point. Going over it, he notices that Melanie is seemingly becoming more and more antsy. He really wishes he had another snack on him. B always keeps a lollipop in one of his belt compartments, just in case, so you’d think Tim would be more on top of it, but alas.
Kon scoops Melanie up onto his shoulders with ease, then he holds his hand out to Tim. He expects to be just sort of floated off to the side with TTK, but Kon takes care to hold him close to his side. As they go up into the sky, Tim very quickly remembers how much he missed flying.
He hadn’t realized he’d gotten so accustomed to flying around on the Super-Cycle. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s driving the cycle again. Wind wiping his face, adrenaline spiking in his blood, and there’s even the chatting off to the side. Tim looks over and sees Kon talking Melanie’s ear off. In his defense, Melanie is talking just as much, so Tim might just be giving him a hard time.
As if he had been reading Tim’s mind, Kon tells Melanie about how they got the cycle. Tim waits for the twisting of the story, for Kon to somehow make himself the center—out of his usual persona of blustering, or pure spite—but the moment never comes. He tells it exactly how it happened, and a few times he has to bite back laughter, or even sneak a glance at Tim. He can’t help going along with it, correcting small details, laughing at the right intervals.
And it’s weird, because aren’t they supposed to be distant right now? It shouldn’t be this easy to fall back into a rhythm. Yet, here they are, laughing about something that would’ve been a couple years ago now. Despite the harsh cold, there’s a cozy bubble where this conversation lies.
Maybe Tim spoke too soon, because pretty soon thereafter it started to hail. Typical Gotham. Tim starts to pull up his hood, but stops when he realizes the hail isn’t touching him. Melanie looks up with pure wonder as she watches the hail roll right off her over and over again.
“Woah! How is that happening?” She exclaims.
Kon leers at Tim before dramatically clearing his throat. “Well, you see Mel, know how I told you I can do all the things Superman can do?”
Melanie nods, “‘Cept lasers?” Tim almost snorts.
“Yes, except lasers.”
“And freeze breath?” That gets a chuckle out of him. Kon lets a hailstone graze his cheek as payback.
“Yea, yea, that too—but the point is! I can also do things Superman can’t do, thanks to my trusty TTK.”
“What’s a TTK?” Melanie inquires, suddenly very intrigued.
“That would be tactile telekinesis, little dude. I move things with my mind.”
“Oooo, that’s really cool. I want a TTK.” Melanie informs them.
“Who doesn’t?” Kon says, looking directly at Tim.
“As you can see, he’s very proud of it.” Tim chimes in, smothering his mouth with his hand.
Kon kicks him down where their ankles are touching. “Yes I am, Rob. Who wouldn’t be,” he turns his attention back to Melanie, “See Mel? If you stuck with bird brain here you’d be…totally…uh.”
That’s weird. “Superboy, you good?” Tim baps his shoulder to get his attention.
Kon pales and gets this faraway look in his eye. Even Melanie looks concerned. “What? I mean, yes. There’s just, uh, lightning. Out ahead.”
Tim nods. “Should we land? Your TTK doesn’t fare well against energy blasts.”
Kon, eyes still fogged over, slowly nods. “Yea, I’ll zone in on a place to land.”
Melanie starts squirming in her seat atop Kon’s shoulders. “Are we anywhere near home?”
Tim looks over at Kon, an eyebrow raised under his mask. “Why’re you lookin’ at me? I thought you had the route on your Bat Map thingy.”
Tim holds it up and it blinks, no signal. It might’ve been able to pick up better early, but now with the storm it’s officially down for the count.
Kon sighs, touching ground in front of a Big Belly Burger. Melanie squeals. “We should be pretty close, but we’re not getting anywhere in this storm so…” He trails off, looking like he’s barely containing sadness again. It’s not a good look on him.
Tim says nothing as Kon unlocks the door, or as they find a bunch of cold, abandoned burgers and fries. Nor when Kon makes Melanie a triple decker burger along with a ton of fries and just one for himself, or when Kon goes off to a corner when he’s done. He does, however, say something when he comes back from checking in on Melanie a final time.
Kon is curled up when he gets there, never a good sign. “Hey, you okay, SB?”
He shifts when Tim plops down on the floor with him. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”
“No.”
“Well, there’s your answer.”
Tim picks at the floor, unsure where to begin. “You wanna talk about it?” Kon likes talking about things, right?
“I dunno…it’s just when I saw that—that lightning…It reminded me of,” he swallows, “of Bart’s scout.”
Oh. Oh.
“I know you weren’t there but…Rob, it was horrible. And it happened so fast. Which I guess is in fashion or whatever.” He huffs out a humorless laugh. “You wanna know the worst part of all of it, Rob? It was all my fault. I was the one trying to boss everyone around, trying to take charge like…like you.”
Tim watched Kon and Cassie die, in Granny Goodness’s torture chamber. He watched Lil Lobo die, watched him melt, right in front of him not much before that. He has an idea of how horrifying it was.
Tim steels himself, falling back into that team leader mindset. “Kon, that wasn’t your fault. It was no one’s fault. It’s a place called Apokolips for crying out loud.”
Kon scoffs. “I’m the reason we ended up there in the first place.”
“Well, yea. But that doesn’t mean you could’ve known what would happen with Bart. It's just—dude, are you crying?”
“No.” His voice cracks, and so does a bit of Tim’s heart.
Cautiously, slowly, Tim moves to put an awkward arm around him. “Hey, hey it’s okay.”
Kon doesn't pull out of the embrace, but he doesn’t recuperate either. “It’s not. I was so busy fighting with you that I… I was so dumb.”
“We all were, we all were a little dumb.” Tim doesn’t have enough fingers to count all the careless slip-ups he made.
“Your dumb didn’t get your friend put into a coma.”
Tim sighs. “Kon, I don’t want you thinking like that.”
“You just want me to stop freaking out.”
“I want you to be happy,” Tim tries for a smile, even though Kon can’t see him. “I want you to realize that you’re important to me. You’re still my friend, man.”
Kon raises his head for the first time since he curled up. His eyes are bloodshot. “Well you’re my best friend.” Oh that…ouch.
Tim swallows, at a loss for words. You’d think this would be easier with years of training comforting civilians. His use of simply “friend” definitely struck a chord. Why is this so hard? “Kon.”
Ignoring Tim, he continues. “You’re my best friend and I misjudged you. I hurt you, and, and you can act like it’s the whole team being untrusting of you, but I know it’s mostly me.”
Okay, they’re going there. Tim has been dreading this conversation. “Not true.”
Kon huffs at him. “Don’t be dense, Rob. I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid. Obviously what I said back on Apokolips made you upset. Even before the whole Bart fiasco, I was being defensive and a shitty friend.”
They sit in silence a little more, while Tim gathers his thoughts. He lets out a sigh.
“Listen, I get where you were coming from…maybe you could’ve just gone about it differently?”
That causes a shift in the conversation, for whatever reason. Kon properly snaps his head up. “Do you?”
“Huh?” Tim retracts his arm.
“Get where I’m coming from?”
The hell is that supposed to mean? “What?”
“…So, I was talking to Supergirl a while back. About you, us, our fight. And, y’know what? I just don’t think you get it. When you wear this,” Kon taps the S-shield on his chest, “you’re part of something greater than you. It’s a symbol of hope. A symbol that means the world can be better. Will be better. And when you share that symbol…it means you’re family. We have each other’s backs. Despite how brash the decision was, that’s why I went after Steel.”
“But, the Bat— the Bat’s something else entirely. It’s almost like… like bragging rights. As if you’re saying you stand out. That you’re better than everyone else. It’s frustrating, Rob. ‘Cause you’re just so, so high-strung all the time. You almost never just, I dunno, let loose. It’s hard to be your friend when it feels like you think so highly of yourself, and so lowly of everyone else. Of me.”
Tim works his tongue in his mouth, hoping his expression is blank. Because, honestly, he wishes Kon had just punched him again or something. That hurt he had repressed when he was accused of having contingencies back on Apokolips flames back to life, his chest tightening.
He could be mean. He could tell Kon to go back to the clubhouse and never talk to him again. Tell him that he’s definitely never coming back now. Tim could tell him that yes, he is the whole reason he left, untrue as it might be. He could prove Kon’s point, could tell him he does see him as beneath himself. But all of those options make the pit in his stomach sink deeper.
Part of him wants to argue back. That’s not what it means, here’s a multi-point breakdown on why that’s not what it means. Part of him wants to argue he doesn’t even wear a Bat. Not like Bruce and Cassandra do now, or Dick and Babs did in the past.
He wants to argue that Robin is something else entirely. Dick created Robin to be a light to contrast Bruce’s darkness. His own beckon of hope. And Tim became Robin because he wanted to protect that light. But, he can’t tell Kon too much of that because of Bruce’s identity politics and this is all so stupid.
In his silence, Kon's face twists into something almost apologetic. He sighs. “Look, that was…that was probably too far. I messed it up again, I’m sor—“
“I don’t even wear a bat.”
Kon’s eyes grow wide. “Oh.”
“I don’t even wear a bat, and I don’t plan to either. Because this,” he taps his shuriken, mirroring Kon’s motion earlier, “was my symbol of hope growing up. Robin was made to be a light, a promise of a brighter tomorrow. And I can’t speak on the Bat, but I know when I put on this costume, it’s because I'm working to make that promise come true.”
“Kon, I’m really, truly, sorry that I can’t tell you everything about me. But, I swore an oath. An oath that was fashioned so I can fight for the cause I love while protecting the people I love. Me leaving the team was my realization that everyone, including myself, has to accept that.”
Kon opens his mouth, closes it. “Um, Rob—“
Tim rises to his feet with practiced poise. “I’m gonna go check on Melanie. Be right back.”
He is not storming off. Storming off would be childish, which Tim is not.
Melanie, surrounded by various toys and encased by a rather bulky looking blanket, is polishing off her fries when he walks up to her.
“Are you and Superboy fighting?”
Tim decides to ignore that question. “Are you about ready to head home?”
Melanie looks down, suddenly sheepish. She looks all jittery again. “I, uh—But, the storm and…” She mumbles something inaudible under her breath.
“What was that?” Tim asks, crouching down to look level at her.
“I don’t wanna go home. Not yet, anyways.”
Never a good sign, but he tries to approach it gently. “Oh, alright. Is there a reason why that is?”
Melanie fidgets, feigning eye contact. “…’Cause I was lying earlier when I said that I was getting stuff for my grandma,” a pause, “I was running away.”
That sure explains the bulky backpack, and the full winter gear despite it being only a bit chilly pre-attack.
Tim frowns. “Why would you want to run away? Do you…not feel safe at home?”
She violently shakes her head, loose hair going in every direction. “No, no I like home. That’s why I don’t wanna go back.”
Tim tilts his head, prompting her to continue.
“I’ve been staying with my grandma, and I like it a whole lot. She’s great and it’s quiet there and I like all my friends at my school. But, my ma’s got custody of me again, ‘cause she’s not sick no more. So, I have to go stay with her…and her new boyfriend. It’s all really weird. I haven’t even seen my ma since I was,” she counts on her fingers, “four.”
That is. A lot. “And how old are you now?”
“I’m nine.”
Tim nods. “That’s a really long time to not see someone. I’m sorry you’re dealing with all this. To be honest, change is always going to be weird and difficult. But, change is part of life. Sometimes it hits you hard, and it may feel overwhelming, but you can’t run away. Speaking from experience, change is easier if you push through it.”
He really hopes he gets through to her, considering she is a nine year old. Baby talk feels too patronizing, but speaking like an adult doesn’t always help either; Tim crosses his fingers that he hit a happy medium. To some extent, she seems like she understands it on a basic level. Melanie slowly nods, starting to gather her things she had laid out right as Kon peaks into the threshold.
“The storm’s pretty much cleared up. We could probably head out now.” Which was really code for: I have officially stopped freaking out enough to function; but as of right now, Tim won’t hold him to it. He looks more ashamed than upset.
“Okay.” Tim replies when he realizes he was just kind of blankly staring at Superboy for an uncomfortable amount of time.
“Almost ready.” Melanie chimes in, looking a bit worse for wear. Tim convinces her to let him get up the rest of her things, which she seems relieved about.
She meanders over to Kon as Tim packs the last of her things. He’s throwing the bag over his shoulder when he hears her gasp. Instinctively, he tenses, but relaxes when he sees what she was gasping about.
Kon had used his telekinesis to make her a flurry of little origami napkin birds, and is making them fly around her head. It’s an admittedly adorable sight, Kon has a small grin set on his face as Melanie giggles, grazing her hands across the birds. Tim quietly enjoys it, trying very desperately to not make eye contact with Kon.
Well, until he feels one of the makeshift birds land on his head. An apology of sorts, he guesses. Tim reaches above his head to pet the paper. The way Kon’s eyes crinkle when he smiles is leagues above the frown that stained his face a few minutes prior.
Before heading out, he checks that Melanie is properly bundled up. The flight over to her house shouldn’t be too long, but you can never be too sure. This time when they float up, Kon doesn’t take his hand. He does, however, wrap his arm around Tim’s waist, which is arguably worse. They say basically nothing this round. The only sound is the wind whipping around them and the occasional sniffle.
Tim tries to pour his focus into watching the sunset. He’s grateful for the clouds that parted so that it could peak through. It’s breathtaking, the way it washes golden over everything. Kon looks nice in sunlight, which is a given—he’s Krptonian after all. Tim would never tell him this, godforbid that boy’s ego was fed more than it already is, but it’s true.
As true as it is that Tim can’t find himself all too upset with him anymore. Not to the same extent, at least. It’s hard to stay angry at someone who crossed state lines on a dime because you simply called.
He thinks about earlier; Kon had called Tim his best friend. Tim doesn’t think he necessarily earned that title. What with him holding back so much of himself. Although, it might not be about earning it. It might be about the fact that when you’re in close contact with someone that long, go through so much with them, they just…become that.
It’s not a conscious act, it simply happens. As much as Kon is stubborn in his stance of Tim being too secretive, he was steadfast to give him that title. So Tim’s not too mad anymore, can’t be.
When they touch down at Melanie’s grandmother’s apartment building, Kon offers to take her in. Tim was going to ask for that anyway, urban legend shtick and all that, but it’s nice to not have to. He scales a building across from the complex to watch through a window. Tim sends a silent wish to the universe that Melanie’s situation works out. Dealing with parents themselves is already a lot, let alone their new partners.
Tim watches as Kon speaks a few words to who he can assume is Melanie’s grandmother. She chuckles and pats him in the shoulder. Then, she disappears into the house for a brief moment, before returning with a container covered by foil. Kon takes it graciously, turns to Melanie to say something he can’t make out, and leaves with a salute. Not long after, he appears by Tim’s side.
“Hey,” he gestures with the plate at Tim, “scored us some goods.”
In response, Tim lifts the foil to reveal a decent amount of latkes. He stuffs one into his mouth, not realizing how hungry he was. It’s good . “That’s a pretty solid score. I haven’t had these since I was little.”
“Really? Mrs. K made some not too long ago, y’know if you’d like some more or whatever.” Kon rubs the back of his neck, a new habit. Tim wonders when and where he picked it up.
“I’m good, but thank you.”
“Right, yea. So, I know you didn’t let me apologize before—“
Tim puts up a hand. “You really don’t need to.”
“No, I definitely do. Look Rob, no matter what else… I cherish what we have, and I’m sorry that I hurt you.”
Tim stares at him, giving a belated nod. “Me too, uh, thanks.”
Kon beams. “Yea, no problem,” he fishes around in his jacket pocket, “I’ve been thinking for a while that we should… kiss and make up.” He then unceremoniously drops an acorn (???) into Tim’s hand.
Tim gives him a dumbfounded look.
“Oh c’mon, Rob. It’s a kiss! Y’know like Peter Pan.” Kon states like it’s oh so obvious.
He looks up at Kon, down at the acorn, then up again, and bursts out laughing. “How long have you been sitting on that one?”
Kon shrugs. “Psh, definitely not long at all. I just thought… I dunno. Thought you’d think it’s kinda funny. It’s hard to tell, you have a weird sense of humor.”
Tim almost wipes a tear from his eye before remembering he has a domino on. “No, yea, it’s funny. Thanks Kon.”
“Anytime, Wonder Boy,” he starts to hover again, “I guess I’ll see you around?”
Tim smirks at him. “Yea, guess you will.”
He puts the acorn in his pouch for safe keeping. Not too bad of an apology gift from your best friend.
Later—with Bedlam defeated again, Tim and Bart back on the team, and things back to semi-normal—Kon finds a thimble placed beside his stereo at the clubhouse. He has a pretty strong idea of just who left it there.