Chapter Text
Six months ago…
"Happy Lex Luthor Goes to Jail Day!" Supergirl yells as she floats up and unfurls the twelve-foot GUILTY banner over the buffet table.
The crowd of heroes cheers and whistles, and Flash streaks through the crowd to hand out party poppers. Kon pulls his, then laughs and ducks as Clark grabs him around the shoulders and tries to ruffle his hair.
"Long may he rot!" Green Lantern shouts (Kyle? There are a bunch of them and he was a little overwhelmed during the introductions. This one is Kyle, unless it’s not), and hits the music.
Thank God, someone with taste, Kon thinks as loud dance pop echoes through the glowing green speakers. Not that Clark isn't great, but he really doesn't know how to plan a party. If they'd put him in charge he'd probably be playing Sinatra and serving Jell-O salad between rounds of bingo.
The Lex Luthor verdict countdown party was all Kara's idea.
She dropped by early in the trial to find Kon pacing in front of Lois' television watching the news. He didn't even realize he was doing it: he was surfing the channels since nothing interesting was playing on MTV, then he heard Luthor's voice and everything else kind of…stopped.
Mentally, he knows he doesn't have to care what Luthor says any more, now that Superman has his back and he's officially Kryptonian, not an undocumented alien clone. But after spending his entire life on edge at Luthor's every word, he quickly found out he can't turn the instinct off in a hurry.
(“You’re lucky you make such good publicity, god knows you’re no good for anything else...”
“At least you’re marginally useful as a test subject.”
“The only reason you’re still around is because Nintendo would ask questions if you didn’t turn up—”)
He couldn't look away—the next thing he knew, Kara was yanking the TV plug out of the wall.
“Enough of that,” she declared as he stared at her blankly, then hauled him out of the building. "You're my fake kid brother, after all," she said as she led him to the gates of the Metropolis Arena for a women's basketball game. "We need to be seen together."
After that, Kara visited Metropolis whenever she could to distract him from the trial, ending with the huge party on the day of the verdict. And by that point it was pretty clear what the verdict was going to be (although Kon still couldn’t help feeling on edge: this is Luthor, after all).
Obviously they don't actually call it the Rot In Pieces Party, or the Go To The Hell Luthor Party, or (Lois' suggestion) the Karma's a Bitch And She’s Here To Collect Party. Not officially. When Kara rents the building, a remote lodge at a country-style conference resort in the mountains upstate, it's under the incredibly boring title of Crime Prevention Strategy Development Conference And Professional Networking Luncheon.
Which, just like Kon's status as Superman's cousin and Kara's younger brother, isn't not true.
It feels like half the Justice League is there…but no Batman, of course. Parties and Bats don't mix: Kon thinks seeing a single disco ball might give him an aneurysm, let alone hearing decent music.
At first Kon thinks none of the Gotham crew decided to join at all. He knows Robin doesn't like the spotlight either (and there’s always the chance Batman grounded him again), but it still stings a little. He thought he’d realize how important this was…but he can understand that Bat Stuff takes priority.
He just doesn’t have to like it.
Without Robin, there's hardly anyone else there close to his age. Except Green Arrow, who is very cool in the martial arts department but was apparently raised in an honest-to-god monastery. With, like…monks. And absolutely no TV. His idea of a hot night out is probably meditating next to a bonfire.
The trick shots are incredible (and as a bonus he's very cute), but a relatable conversationalist he is not.
Then, about two hours in, Nightwing arrives with Batgirl and most of the Titans.
"The party is officially here!" Cyborg announces as he fires a confetti cannon into the vaulted roof.
Robin doesn't enter with them, but when Kon takes a closer look through the building a few minutes later he sees him perched on a corner crossbeam, the black cape standing out in sharp gothic angles against the white Tudor walls. When he catches Kon looking at him he raises a gloved hand to wave.
Kon floats up and swoops through the rafters past red-and-blue streamers. Robin smiles as Kon lands next to him on the broad oak beam. "Thought you weren't coming, Birdie," Kon says, looking down at the mask.
Most people would probably find it weird, being best friends with someone and never seeing his face—being in love with him, even, getting weird warm flutters every time he smiles.
But if there's one thing Kon learned about the whole mess with Luthor, it's that trust has nothing to do with faces.
He’s so used to the mask that sometimes he almost forgets there’s anything actually under it. The green vinyl clings so naturally to Robin’s face that it almost seems part of him, and it's flexible enough to shift when he emotes.
And it sets off the lines of his face so well…
The only thing that's strange are the eyes. The flat frosted lenses are unnerving if Kon doesn't remind himself to expect them. They make it hard to tell where he's looking, or, if he's bleeding and not moving…whether he's conscious at all. Or alive.
The second night they met, Kon caught Robin out of the air still and silent and stared down into the blank white lenses, waiting for him to breathe and wondering why it suddenly mattered so much.
Robin scoots closer—the rims of the lenses shift a little with his smile, softening the intimidating angle the mask was made with—and Kon braces an arm against the wall behind his head. Leaning this close, he can just tell Robin has eyes behind the lenses, but not what color. The mystery is exciting in its own way, and he finds himself staring until Robin flushes a little and breaks eye contact.
"I wanted to surprise you," Robin says as his heartbeat ripples a little. "I'd never miss this."
Robin looks down and waves across the room: besides the dance floor forming in front of Green Lantern's speakers, Nightwing is starting a Twister showdown with Batgirl and Beast Boy, Cyborg and Flash are tinkering with the soda fountain (Kon catches the incredibly promising words 'slushee bazooka'), Superman is showing off Krypto's tricks for Shazam, Wonder Girl is hurling handfuls of olives in the air for Green Arrow to shoot, and Wonder Woman, Starfire and Hawkgirl are in the middle of a flexing competition.
"They really know how to party," Kon says, sliding his arm down and around Robin's shoulders, his fingers running over the smooth aerodynamic weave of the cape. "Except Superman. All Kara let him do was bring ice cream cake. Speaking of…"
Kon checks to make sure Robin is actually looking, then dives down with a snazzy flip to snatch up a couple of the generous portions Kara is slicing off. "Caramel and rocky road,” he announces as he swoops back up and hands Robin a plate. “He does know how to make a cake."
Robin laughs. For a few minutes they just sit in silence, eating ice cream and watching the happy chaos.
In those heady early days, before Luthor showed his true colors and Kon really believed the ridiculous story he'd been told to keep him complacent, he thought the raucous swirl of the celebrity lifestyle was all he needed to be happy. And even after that—after he understood he was doomed—he still kept trying to convince himself. Might as well have fun while it lasted, right? And at least it kept him thinking about how fast his future was running out.
Then a Bat-tourist arrived from Gotham, and Kon discovered what he was actually missing was someone he could sit next to and do absolutely nothing.
Kon zaps a flying olive with his heat vision before it can land on Robin's plate. "Watch it!"
Shazam looks up at them and waves. "Sorry!" He shouts, then turns back to Beast Boy. "Okay, so we've confirmed juggling isn't part of the Wisdom of Solomon. What was next?"
Robin laughs. "I'm surprised you're not the center of attention," he says after the last few bites of ice cream are gone. "Isn't this mostly your party?"
Kon shrugs. "I'm happy Kara set it all up. It's great—I didn't want to be by myself today, for sure. But it's just…not as simple for me as everybody else."
Robin's eyebrows go up.
"Because of, you know. The whole thing."
"Ah."
Besides Kon, probably only about five of thirty people in the room know the full extent of the situation. As far as everyone else is concerned, Lex is finally getting what he deserves (for a few years, anyway, until he can get out on appeal), and Kon is an innocent, manipulated victim whose only mistake was crash landing in the wrong backyard.
And it's not that Lex doesn't deserve it, obviously. But Lex made Kon. He wouldn't exist without the illegal experiments Lex is going down for. And he knows how easily he could have given in and been exactly what Lex wanted: another weapon to use against Superman.
If he hadn't made the right choices—if Robin had seen him as an enemy, as he probably deserved, instead of trying to help someone who could kill him with a look—this party could have been about Kon in a very different way.
Robin's gloved hands brush his as he takes the plate. "Careful, you break things when you're upset." Logically, he shouldn't be able to make the eerie white lenses look reassuring, but he manages it somehow as he looks up at Kon. "You don't owe him anything, I promise."
Kon sighs and curls up on the beam, resting his arms on his knees. "Like don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled he's in jail and I hope he stays there. He can rot for all I care. It's just…" He shrugs. "Complicated."
“Well, if you’re not in the party mood…” Robin pokes Kon in the side and nods towards a propped-open skylight. “Maybe we could go somewhere more private?”
"Sure your chaperone won't mind?"
They both look down at Nightwing, now dancing pressed so close between Batgirl and Starfire that it's probably illegal in several of the more boring states.
"...No, I think we're good."
They kiss a little, on the roof, but mostly Kon just looks at Robin, watching the sun set behind him. The light pushes soft gold highlights through his hair and across the mask, almost making the lenses glow. When he leans in slowly and kisses just where the green vinyl meets his forehead Kon can actually hear the tiny, tantalizing brush of Robin's lashes as he blinks behind the mask.
The way Robin is sitting, leaning on one hand with his legs tucked to the side, makes the enveloping cape fall behind his shoulders to pool on the roof, exposing him far more than he usually allows when he’s in the costume.
Kon has seen a lot of Robin before in his various disguises—most notably the time Kon had to try to keep his mind functional while Robin was wearing a skirt with a slit high enough that there was very little left to the imagination every time he took a step. But somehow seeing him like this: the cape slipping away to display the sleek material of the Robin suit, the contrast piping tracing the lines of his chest and legs, the scar seaming one bicep under his sleeve…it’s even more intense, because it’s more real.
Of course, nothing about Robin can be entirely real, not with the safety of the Bats on the line. But Kon thinks he can live with this for now: even if Robin offered to take the mask off, Kon doesn't want to push him before he's ready.
And there's an undeniable appeal in flirting with a dangerous masked man…
Robin grabs Kon’s jacket with his free hand and pulls. “Are you going to kiss me again, or just keep staring?”
Right. Priorities.
“How’s staying with Lois going?” Robin asks, once they take a break from kissing to just lay on the roof watching the sunset.
“Oh.” The stress of the trial almost made Kon forget about that particular issue. “Oh. That. Oh god.”
“I thought you liked Lois…?” Robin says slowly.
“Of course I like Lois!” Kon rolls over and pushes up on his elbows to face Robin. “She’s great! She’s awesome! She’s getting way better at Mario Kart! But…” he sighs and flops back down on the roof, burying his face in his arms with an anguished moan. “Birdie, if I have to third wheel her and C—Superman one more single day I will explode and die.”
“Oh god, that bad.” Robin speaks in a deep, serious tone that Kon has figured out Bats use when they're trying desperately not to laugh.
"Worse. I can't take this much longer."
It's not that they don't want him around. In fact, Kon thinks he might be part of the reason they're back together, since apparently Superman being dead broke them up for a while. And Kon loves that they're trying to include him and take him on outings, he really does. But they are so freakin' adorable and as a teenager raised by Metropolis' most cynical billionaire he just cannot handle that level of sweetness and earnestness.
Last week when he got back from going riding with Kara (Where's my flying horse, universe, any time now just saying) they were actually slowdancing. To Elvis. And…floating.
Kon thought he might die on the spot from how cute it was. Instead he made a few theatrical gagging sounds and fled to his room.
“I can’t stay there…but I can’t ask her to pay for an apartment, they’re already spending enough helping me out…”
Lois even bought the Nintento Kon’s been using to tutor her in Mario Kart strategy, and he can’t even repay her for that, let alone rent his own place. Being Luthor's secret clone propaganda weapon wasn't exactly a paid position, unless ‘still being alive’ counted as a salary. And Kon can't sue Luthor for damages without putting said secret at risk of leaking.
So, ever since Luthor's arrest, he's been flat broke apart from the last of the spending money the police let him retrieve from the penthouse when he went back for his stuff. (Not that he wanted any of Luthor's stupid toys: all he kept was the rack of spare suits and his posters.) And, even if she'd taken it, which she didn't, seventy dollars wouldn't have covered so much as the extra groceries Lois bought the first week. It would go nowhere in terms of setting out on his own
Kon sighs and looks up to find the white lenses only inches from his face: Robin pulls his hand back before he can touch Kon's hair, and Kon pretends he doesn't notice. Robin likes kissing (a lot) but he's still tentative about all the other touchy stuff that tends to come with it. Probably comes of being raised by Gotham's poster boy for not having a life, Kon thinks. And, well, Kon's good at the touchy stuff himself but still has a lot to learn about the feelings part, so he figures between them they make one moderately functional…whatever this relationship is.
“What I need is a job," he says. "Is Pizza Hut hiring?”
“I don’t actually work at Pizza Hut,” Robin says as he sits up. "I keep telling you this."
Kon remembers. But he also really liked the uniform, so he's hoping if he hints enough times Robin might dig that particular disguise out again. “Batman?”
“Somehow I don't think you'd pass the stealth test.”
“Darn.” He sighs and puts his chin in his hands. "Maybe I could go freelance…I could probably still do commercials. But I can't run a business out of Lois' apartment, so. Back to square one."
"I...might have some ideas," Robin says.
"About that, or about…" Kon raises his eyebrows hopefully.
"Oh, definitely about that too," Robin says, but just as he leans down to kiss Kon again something starts beeping loudly from his belt. "Damn it."
"Bat-curfew?" Kon floats up and rolls, wrapping his arms around Robin's neck from behind. "That's rough." Lois hasn't put down much in the way of house rules as long as he cleans up after himself, although she did make it clear that if he's ever gone all night she'll assume he's been abducted and send out a super search party.
"Yeah, I've got—" Kon kisses his temple just next to the mask and Robin jolts with a tiny gasp, gelled spikes brushing Kon’s cheek. "I've got school tomorrow so I'm doing early patrol. Have to be back in Gotham by 8. So I need to get moving if I'm going to make it out of the mountains…" Robin finally pushes Kon away and stands up, smoothing out the cape.
Kon shifts into a kneeling position on the roof and grabs a corner of the cape before Robin can move. Robin takes a step back and looks down, the last of the sunset playing across his face, and suddenly it hits Kon how this must look, him at Robin's feet and clinging to his trailing cloak like he's pledging his love in some cheesy fantasy movie…
Robin would definitely be annoyed if he realized that Kon is casting him as Maid Marian in this scenario, so he doesn't say that. "I can fly you back?" he offers instead, in a way that was supposed to sound smooth and suggestive but is totally not either thing.
"It's okay," Robin says. "I have to think about some stuff. Besides, I can't take you away from your party…" Kon shrugs and stares down at the roof, and Robin twitches the edge of the cape in his grasp until he looks up. "They're all here for you. Let them show it. Besides, you shouldn't hide the whole time, you'll ruin your rep."
"Fine," Kon grumbles, standing up and looking out over the forest. "I guess I'll have to go and teach them how to really party. But only because you're making—"
When he turns back, Robin is gone.
"Bats," he sighs, but he can’t help smiling.
After the party, two weeks go by without anything much happening. Normally, Kon would be bored—okay, he still is bored, it's not his fault somebody messed up in the lab when they were measuring out attention spans. But, compared to the trial and the constant tension, it's a weirdly nice kind of bored. It's nice to be able to just sack out on the couch in front of the tv again without worrying he'll hear Luthor's voice on the news and go into a panic fugue state.
(SNL even did it once! Freaking SNL! And worse, it wasn't even a good impersonation, Kon is apparently just that messed up.)
So on the whole he's happy the whole thing is finally over and he can relax. Do normal human stuff and…normal-er super stuff, instead of being Luthor’s pet alien playing pretend at heroics.
He plays Scrabble with Lois as she tries to convince him 'these are totally valid spellings, you just didn't learn them in clone indoctrination school' (nice try—'Molidinum', seriously).
He goes to a seeing eye dog school with Superman for a donation drive (if there is a clone heaven it had better be made of Labrador retrievers).
He even flies up with Kara to visit the second clone on the Watchtower, though he's not lucid enough to handle meeting someone with his same face yet (Kon can't bring a real Labrador into space so he leaves an armful of Beanie Babies with the Martian Manhunter).
On the whole, Kon thinks his life could be declared pretty damn chill. Though there still is the little issue of freeloading with half of the super-sappiest couple in Metropolis.
Maybe there’s the tiniest sting of jealousy that…with all the Bat-secrets, he and Robin can't have what Lois and Clark are enjoying so much. But just thinking that makes him feel like a jerk, so he tries not to dwell on it. Even if Robin is being a little distant outside of Bat-pager messages (apparently he meant it about needing to think about stuff), Kon has plenty to occupy his time.
After a Sunday night drive-in movie, Kara drops him off in Metropolis before heading downtown for a charity dinner at the botanical gardens. Kon was invited, but decided listening to rich people talk about how important ferns are was not his thing. Not that he doesn’t support, you know, plants in general. That sounds important. To…science stuff.
Get that cash, ferns. Make it rain.
“Lois!” he calls up the stairs as he swoops up towards her front door. “I got your mail. It all looks boring, but…”
"Kon? I’m in here."
Lois sounds tense. This is what Kon has categorized as the ‘concerned cool aunt’ voice, meaning something is up. He drops the mail on the couch and leans into the kitchen: Lois is perched on the counter with a notebook, so story inspiration must have struck her in the middle of doing the dishes.
Kon floats over to the sink and starts rinsing. "What's up—whoa!" A Lion King glass bursts in his hand and they both stare down at the remnants on the floor. "Still learning," Kon mutters, and looks for the broom.
“You got a phone call today,” Lois says in a slow careful way as he picks up the last glass shards.
Kon manages not to dump them all over the floor again when he jolts. Of course it’s not really a secret that he’s staying with Lois, and probably plenty of news colleagues have her number. Someone calling for Kon on Lois’ phone shouldn’t be a surprise.
It doesn’t mean—
(“I hope you’ve had fun on your little excursion, ‘Superboy’. How is Miss Lane, by the way?”)
It’s—probably fine. Probably.
“I…” Kon feels meaninglessly proud that his hands aren’t even shaking when he pours the broken glass pieces into the trash can. “I wasn’t. Expecting one.”
“Do you know a Tiffany?”
The broom snaps as he picks it up. “Oh gosh, sorry, I’ll get a new one—yeah, Tiffany, uh, last name Winter? I know her. Kinda.” Freakin’ warn a guy, Robin, what the heck.
“She says her…cousin? Wants to meet with you. For a business opportunity.” Lois taps her eraser against the notebook, frowning doubtfully. “But you don’t have to go, of course, it’s so obviously a scam—”
“Oh no I’ll totally go!” Kon says instantly. “Tiffany is…I know Tiffany. You can trust her."
Lois frowns. "Are you saying that because it's true, or because she's cute?"
"It's not like that, I swear. When and where?”
After an hour of convincing, Kon learns that ‘Tiffany’s’ ‘cousin’, however Robin swung that—maybe he roped in Nightwing again—wants to meet that Friday in one of the older Metro business districts, a rundown strip between the theater square and what used to be the finance district before they moved the subway line a mile over.
Kon walks past a couple shuttered lunch restaurants, a print shop that definitely is a front for something, a ballet studio over a RadioShack, before pausing in front of an antiques and collectibles store.
It all looks…well, he wouldn't call it completely safe, but it doesn't look like the kind of place for a supervillain ambush either. Lois agreed after she cased the street the day before, but Kon is still under orders to call her by sunset to assure her he's safe or else she’ll make Clark call the Justice League.
It's a little embarrassing being worried about all the time like he’s some stray Pomeranian. He's Superboy, after all, he can take care of himself. Still…he doesn't entirely hate it.
Luthor never cared if he was safe—after all, he could always launch another one. All his surveillance was just to make sure Kon didn’t run.
The building he's heading for is just around the corner, and despite how few people there are in the street he can already hear whispering behind him. Whoever's waiting for him, they probably won't want a crowd, or a tipoff to the press. So he'll just have to give everyone another reason for Superboy to be in this end of town.
The bell jingles as he opens the door, and a woman in a quilted apron looks up from a doily-covered workbench in the back of the room, where she’s polishing the face of an antique clock.
Oh god, Kon thinks in sudden panic as she looks him over, if I have to pretend I like clocks and Civil War coins nobody's ever going to think Superboy is cool again and my brand will be screwed, but then she rolls her eyes and nods towards a glass-fronted cabinet. "Beanie Babies and Pogs are over there. Don't touch the music boxes."
Kon supposes he ought to feel annoyed at the scorn. What if he was interested in kitschy music boxes covered in dorky little angels, huh? How about that? But complete indifference to Superboy's presence is such a refreshing reaction, especially after the chaos during Luthor’s trial, that he feels a sudden flood of affection when he hears her mutter about kids these days not having fashion sense.
This from someone one lightning strike away from an AquaNet themed superpower, he thinks with a smile as he opens the cabinet. Huh, maybe I should sell out for Pogs, Flash sure has a lot…
Ten minutes later, Kon spends his last twenty dollars on a Beanie Baby (“That is heinously overpriced. It’s not even a rare one.” “I’m not the one who made the world go crazy over those things, kid, do you want it or not?”). Once he steps out on the street, he gives everyone a chance to register that he’s there finishing up his completely normal shopping, nothing to see here random citizens, then swirls away with super-speed, looping back through an alley and onto the stairs of the brick building around the corner.
It’s a totally normal three-story building: sad but trying its best convenience store on the ground floor, offices fronting studio apartments on the other two. Kon walks all the way up and pushes the office door open.
“I’m just letting you know up front if this is a trap you will not enjoy what comes next…”
There are four pieces of furniture in the office—table, desk, one chair each—and all of it has seen better days. Leaning on the shaky table is a slim red-haired man wearing a dark suit and blocky sunglasses.
He’s completely unfamiliar.
Then he reaches up and flicks the sunglasses with a smile, and he isn’t.
“Superboy, I presume?”
Robin holds out a hand as he stands and Kon takes it automatically. There must be lifts in the shoes: he has about half an inch on Kon today. Looking up at him is new.
“Yeah…you’re Tiff’s cousin?”
Robin nods. “I’m trying to lay more of a paper trail on this one, that’s why it took me a couple weeks.” He gestures around the office grandly but there's a nervous hitch in his breathing. “Behold! My idea.”
Kon raises his eyebrows. Robin picks up a file off the desk and holds it open. “Certificate of Incorporation…Galactic Talent…filed on behalf of Kon of the House of El…huh?”
“All the Superboy branding reverted to you after Luthor’s arrest, since the court decided you were too young to sign contracts and he couldn’t count as your guardian. So, if you’re interested and Lois and Superman are okay with it…you can start right back up where you left off. Just, uh, slightly less fancy. Sorry.”
Kon swirls through the office, then opens the dividing door to the studio. “Oh my god, call the seventies, they must have a missing persons alert out for this wallpaper.” Maybe not the most grateful reaction, but if he said anything he was actually feeling right now he might do something incredibly uncool like start crying and he can’t let Robin see that. He drops onto the plain twin bed and tries to catch his breath.
“I can help repaint it later…I’ll fix it up, I swear, I’m just on a budget because I’m not using Bat-money for this.” Robin is speaking in a rush as he leans through the studio door. “I’ve done enough research on your old agency that I’m sure I can help you get started and then, I don’t know, maybe we could even hire back Angela, she seems to check out…”
“Oh man, Angela, I haven’t heard from her since the trial…” Kon stares up at the smudged plaster ceiling.
Angela was always nice—she looked out for him as well as she could, and though she couldn’t have understood exactly how much it meant to him, she never treated him any differently than she would have any other human talent. She just didn’t realize what was really going on, and she only saw him when he was booked for events, so the most she could do was bother him to eat lunch, occasionally hint that she did not entirely buy that Kryptonians didn’t go to school past twelve, and insist on him not working on sets longer than the legal limit.
She had no idea Luthor was keeping him in his own private SimCity, or that the agency she worked for was double-booking to hide that it was considerably less independent than it pretended to be. And when she found out, she was more than happy to appear as a witness for the prosecution: Lois wouldn’t let him go to the courthouse, but she let him meet with her for a few minutes when Angela came for an interview at the Planet office.
Kon feels a little bad for getting distracted. Maybe he should send her a thank-you card or something. He floats off the bed and flips to sit in the air in front of Robin. “That would be, uh, great, Rob…what do I call you, anyway? Not like your real name,” he adds quickly, because this isn’t the time. “I mean for this. You know.”
“Oh, right, should have explained that…” Robin fishes in his pockets and comes out with a business card. “There it is.”
“Terry Winter…nope, means nothing.”
“That’s the point.” Robin leans against the doorframe and shrugs. “It’s an identity I’ve had on the back burner for a while, so he has enough history that even if anyone starts looking he’ll check out. And he’s old enough to file paperwork, and he has a pretty okay credit score. Not good enough to look suspicious but good enough we won’t have any trouble with financing.”
Kon flips the card over and hears Robin’s heart speed up. “‘Mister Sarcastic’?”
Robin snatches the card back. "Cripes, I forgot those were double-sided. So, long story, you wouldn’t be interested, this one time I had to infiltrate a stand-up comedy club—not important—I'll make new ones—"
Kon curls up in the air with his chin in his hands. "Oh no this is suddenly the most important thing in the world, please tell me there's video."
"No!"
"You're lying..." Kon floats accusingly around him until Robin flees back into the office.
"There's no video." He mutters something under his breath that sounds awfully like ‘and if there is I’ll have to kill Nightwing.’
“Sure, have it your way. One question?”
“Yeah.” Robin picks up a briefcase from one of the chairs. “There’s just a few things you need to sign if you want to do this, I understand after everything that’s happened if you’re concerned about—”
“You’re not actually a redhead, are you?”
Robin blinks behind the sunglasses. “Is that a…problem…?”
Kon tries not to think of photos of young Lex Luthor. “...No?” he says weakly.
“Well, I’m sorry to say…” He takes in the shocked horror on Kon’s face for a few seconds. “...I’m not. Strict Bat-dresscode.”
“Oh thank freakin’ heck.” Once he can breathe again, Kon reaches for the pen Robin holds out, then snatches his hand back. “Shit, almost forgot.” He fishes for the inner pocket of his jacket and comes out with his purchase at the antique store. “Got you this.”
Robin’s face fades into a weird kind of blank expression. Kon holds the Beanie Baby out hopefully by its little wings and wiggles it.
Kon starts to worry he’s messed up something big as Robin doesn’t say anything for a long time (long for someone with superspeed, anyway). Maybe there was some other relationship stage between making out and giving each other stuffed animals that he missed?
“They didn’t have a robin, I looked…”
“No, I, uh.” Robin coughs. “That’s. That’s great.” He takes the Beanie Baby and looks at the tag. “Rocket the Blue Jay will live in a place of honor in this establishment.”