Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the offices of LexCorp, there was an aura unlike anywhere else. But that was to be expected—after all, the presence of Conner Kent always stood out among the company’s workers.
Yet compared to his other visits, this one was different.

A face marked by sorrow, eyes downcast and wandering, stripped of the usual spark they carried. Even his walk seemed almost clumsy.

Sadness. Conner radiated sadness.

The “closest” employees to Lex quickly noticed his son’s mood and wasted no time contacting him.

“I can’t believe it…” murmured the dark-haired young man once the elevator doors closed and began to rise. He pressed his forehead against the doors as his mind drifted into the memories of what he had witnessed.

Devastating—truly devastating.

The chime announcing the elevator’s arrival broke his thoughts, and Conner lifted his forehead from the doors. Before him stretched the vast view of Metropolis: towering modern buildings, green streets bathed in the golden glow of that day’s beautiful sunset.

Conner walked into the lounge, carrying his heavy mood with him. Then, exhausted, he collapsed onto one of the couches facing a large portable television. He grabbed the remote, let out a sigh, and turned the screen on. After a few moments of searching on YouTube, he settled on a song and turned up the volume.

The sound of drums followed by trumpets filled the room—and even drifted down to the lower floors, where the company’s workers were startled to hear music booming from above.

“Mr. Luthor,” said an employee as he entered his boss’s office. Lex raised an eyebrow in response.
“Um… your son… young Conner is acting a little strange today. His usual attitude and spirit seem… unbalanced.”

“What nonsense are you telling me?” asked Lex Luthor, stepping closer to the worker. “He probably just had a bad day…”

But then, the sound of the song reached Lex’s ears—a melody he recognized.

“No, I don’t think this is just a bad day, sir,” the employee replied nervously.

Lex quickened his pace and left his office. He had to find out what was troubling his son.

----

The sound of the melody grew louder as Lex Luthor approached the upstairs lounge, and a faint sense of concern began to creep over him. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he could form a vague idea from the lyrics of the song playing. “Damn it,” he muttered. When he arrived, he was surprised to see a singer in a red dress, flowers in her hair, and a band playing in the background—while his son, Conner, sat on the couch eating a huge tub of chocolate ice cream. “Can someone tell me what’s going on here?” Lex asked, then closed the elevator door with the employees still inside, sending them back down by pressing the button next to it. Conner turned his head toward Lex, and the older man noticed tears welling in his son’s blue eyes. Worry washed over him. “He loves someone else,” was all Conner managed to say as more tears streamed down his face. Lex Luthor moved closer to his son. He didn’t know what to say exactly. He had never prepared himself for a moment like this. The crash of cymbals and the electric guitar emphasized the song. Lex lifted his gaze and noticed the singer pouring her sadness into the performance, while his son mirrored her grief. “I know how she feels,” Conner said, scooping more ice cream into his mouth. “Mon Laferte gets me.” Lex sighed, trying to summon all the patience he could. “Son, I think it would be good if you told me what happened, so I can give you some advice,” he said, glancing at the singer before them. “I don’t think you care…” Conner replied in a low voice. “If I’m asking, it’s because I do care.” Conner sighed, set the ice cream down on the glass coffee table before him, then sat up straighter and exhaled. “My Robin started dating another guy,” he said, his eyes filled with sorrow. He kept his gaze lowered, but Luthor didn’t need to see his face to know how badly he was hurting. “I really thought I had a chance…” Lex raised an eyebrow. “You two weren’t dating?” he asked. Conner turned to him with a frown. “No… we were never a couple.” “So everything I read was false?” Lex asked indignantly. “What did you read?” Lex Luthor pulled his phone from the pocket of his suit, and another television lit up in front of them. With a swipe of his finger across the screen, the image appeared on the larger display. “This.”

An image of a page that Kon didn’t recognize at first, but the page had a striking headline: Superboy and Robin are dating. // Theory + LexCorp is trying to HIDE IT!
Next to the headline appeared the user’s profile, showing an image of Nightwing along with the name and the publication date: 01/11/2025.

Superboy stared at the screen with a frown. As his father kept scrolling through the “news,” Conner realized that Lex had stumbled onto a fan-made page.

“Lex, that’s a fan page made for theories…” he said, practically glaring daggers at his father.

Lex didn’t know what to say. Embarrassment began to creep over him, and remembering the headline of a real news outlet, he quickly switched the page to another.

“Well, and what do you say about this one?” he asked as another “news” article appeared on the screen.

Kon felt as though his soul had drained from his face; his complexion noticeably paled as embarrassment began to wash over him.

The news report displayed two photos: one where he was holding hands with Robin, and another—a close-up of their intertwined fingers.

“Superboy and Robin TOGETHER?” read the headline. Below it, the caption continued: “From allies to something more: citizens suspect that Superboy and Robin share more than just patrols.”

The young man blushed as his images appeared on the news. His father watched him expectantly while he rubbed the back of his neck.
“There’s an explanation for that…” he said, embarrassed.

“Whatever you say, son,” Lex rolled his eyes as he stared at him, waiting for an answer. “I thought you two had… a more special relationship. I didn’t want to interfere, because then the gossip starts about me being a bad person and all that. Besides, it worked in my favor—people who think I don’t support minorities…”

“But Lex, you don’t support minorities…”

“Wrong. Of course I support you in… whatever it is you have with your partner.”

Superboy exhaled, crossed his arms, and returned to his sorrowful expression.
“I don’t have anything with my partner,” he said sadly.

“But you love him, don’t you, son?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore… He loves someone else, and all I can do is support him,” he replied, before going back to the couch and playing another song from the same singer as before.

Lex looked at his devastated son, an idea forming in his mind. He called one of his assistants while walking away from Conner.
“I need you to get me a card and transfer half a million dollars into it,” he said into the phone. “Yes, for right now!”

He hung up and returned to Conner.
“Son, I don’t think listening to sad songs in Spanish is going to lift your spirits. Come on, why don’t you go out and distract yourself? It’s not that late yet—the fair’s open until two in the morning… same with the nightclubs. Just don’t make a big scene and that’s it.”

Conner set his ice cream down again and raised an eyebrow at Lex, clearly confused.
“Is there some kind of catch to this?” he asked.

“No. I just want you to feel better. Your mood devastates me, and I can’t focus on my work,” Lex replied coldly. “Besides, if you go out and socialize, it makes people feel like they’re part of your life, and that boosts your popularity—something we can both benefit from.”

Conner rolled his eyes. Of course, there was always a reason behind Luthor’s actions.
“Fine, I’ll go out. But how am I supposed to pay for the attractions?”

“Don’t worry about that, your new credit card is already on its way,” Lex said, and seconds later, an employee entered the lounge carrying a brand-new card.

“Here’s the card you requested,” the employee said.

Lex stepped forward, took it, and gestured for the young man to leave.
“Here, son,” he said, extending the card toward Conner. “Enjoy it.”

Conner received the card and looked at it without much enthusiasm.

“All right, I’m leaving,” he said, adjusting his leather jacket.

“And don’t forget not to do anything stupid,” Lex said before Conner stepped into the elevator.

 

Superboy leaned against one of the elevator walls as he stared at the card his father had given him. Looking closely, he noticed a small mark in the corner: Wayne Enterprises. Instantly, he wanted to throw it away.

“No way—damn it!” he muttered angrily, shoving the card into his pocket with fury.

It was true that Lex didn’t know who was behind Robin’s mask. But Superboy did—and from that moment on, it would mark him forever.

Chapter Text

The fairs in Metropolis were unique. Or at least that’s what the citizens said.
Kon-El was standing in line to pay for his ticket. He was wearing casual clothes—or at least what he called casual. For him, it meant wearing exactly the same thing as his uniform, just without the “S” logo on the chest. After that came a pair of jeans that fit perfectly around his hips, a fitted gray T-shirt with sleeves down to his shoulders, tall black leather boots, a black jacket, and a pair of sunglasses.
“This is taking forever,” he thought, tilting his head back and crossing his arms.
He lifted his sunglasses to look once more at the card Lex had given him.
“Tim…” he thought with sadness. His eyes didn’t shine—they couldn’t. Not while the person he loved most was possibly in someone else’s arms.
A sharp cry, almost like a squeal, made Conner lift his gaze toward the source of the noise. However, he didn’t expect that peculiar sound to come from a girl who looked more excited than scared.
“It’s Superboy!” the girl exclaimed.
Her bright smile caught Conner’s attention. She pulled her phone out of the pocket of her white denim shorts, grabbed her friend by the wrist, and began pushing through the line to get closer to him. Conner noticed that everyone around had turned to look at him because of the commotion.
“Damn,” he thought, slipping the card away and running his hand through his hair, switching his demeanor.
“Ladies,” he said playfully, placing his hands on his hips and smiling, which earned a squeal of excitement from the girl. Meanwhile, the crowd was starting to form a circle around them to catch a glimpse of the superhero, most of them pulling out their phones to record. “I didn’t think two beautiful girls like you would recognize me.”
Conner studied the girls more closely. The one who had recognized him was undeniably attractive—she had warm brown skin, hazel eyes, and stunning chestnut hair. Gold bracelets and rings framed her white-painted nails, while a brown lace bralette with fringe straps looked spectacular on her. Paired with white denim shorts and matching low brown boots, she stood out effortlessly.
“She’s really pretty,” Superboy thought as he looked at her more intently.
The girl raised her arm, phone in hand.
“Can we take a picture with you?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
—“Of course!” Conner replied, stretching his arms around both girls as he smiled for the photo.
After snapping the picture, each girl kissed him on the cheek before leaving completely thrilled.
“We love you, never change,” one of them said before walking away.
Conner watched them go, his mind wandering to the peculiar thought that his “fans” happened to be attractive. A trivial, yet curious detail.
“Superboy, over here please!” a voice called out behind him.
Conner turned and found himself facing a blond boy, just a little shorter than him, carrying things in his hands. His green eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and a wide grin stretched across his face.
Conner stared at him curiously. There was something… peculiar about this boy that made him linger on him a little longer. Despite the casual outfit he wore, he looked quite good.
The boy pulled a pen and a small notebook from the pocket of his loose hoodie.
“Could I get your autograph?” he asked, eyes shining brightly. He stepped a little closer to the hero before him. “I’m a huge fan of your work and career!”
Conner looked him up and down. He could sense that something was going on with this boy, though he couldn’t quite tell what. But it wasn’t danger that he felt. No. It was something else… something more emotional?
He immediately shook his head. Ridiculous. He didn’t even know the boy.
He smiled, then took the pen and notebook to grant his “fan’s” request.
As he finished signing the notebook, he noticed the blond boy in front of him trying to contain his excitement, bouncing slightly on his toes as if he were jumping from joy.
Superboy found it amusing and let out a soft chuckle.

 

“I’ve never met anyone so excited to meet me,” he said as he handed the boy’s belongings back to him.
“I really consider myself a big fan of yours, Superboy!” the boy replied cheerfully. “You’re incredible—I follow your work with Young Justice closely! That last feat with your team was amazing. You’re all such an inspiration!”
Conner’s smile widened. It felt warm knowing someone truly appreciated his work.
“Can we take a picture together?” the boy asked, ignoring the noise from the others also waiting for a photo session with the superhero.
“Of course!” Conner answered, leaning slightly closer and wrapping his right arm around the boy’s shoulders.
A few seconds later, the blond boy’s phone gave a soft click as he and Superboy posed for a selfie.
Once the picture was taken, Superboy noticed how the boy in front of him was practically glowing with joy.
“Thank you so much, Superboy!” the boy said.
Conner was about to respond, but he noticed an extra hand on the boy’s shoulder, gently guiding him aside to make way for the next fan.
Something in Conner’s chest stirred—his curiosity about that blond boy only grew. He didn’t feel like he knew him; after all, it was the first time they’d met. But still… he felt oddly familiar. Maybe it was his scent?
More people stepped up for photos, even some of the fair’s staff, eager to share a moment with Superboy. It wasn’t long before one of the fair managers arrived with a couple of police officers to “clear out” the entrance area.
“Damn,” Kon thought, remembering Luthor’s warning: Don’t get into trouble. Well, this was starting to feel like trouble.
“Just act normal,” he told himself, inhaling deeply and recomposing his nerves.
“My apologies for the inconvenience, gentlemen,” Conner said with his best smile. “I didn’t expect to be recognized here.”
“One of the finest superheroes,” said an older man in an elegant suit, his whole demeanor screaming “boss.” If you asked Conner what gave him away the most, he’d say it was the security detail standing firmly behind him. “I’m glad to know our attraction is enticing enough for someone as important as you,” the man added in a deep voice.
“Oh, of course,” Conner replied, loosening his stance.
“In that case, let me grant you free entry, young hero,” the man said in front of him.
Conner’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. His usual playful expression softened into something calmer, though clearly astonished.
“Wow, thank you so much, really,” he said warmly.
The man gave him a smile, and moments later, Conner entered the fair without having to pay.
Once inside, Conner smiled as his blue eyes took in the vivid sight of the fair’s lights.
It was beautiful. Blue, purple, sky-blue, and yellow lights illuminated the main attractions—carousels, rides, the Ferris wheel, food stands—all glowing with a unique charm alongside the laughter and energy of the people. A vibrant, lively atmosphere.
Just what he needed.
“Where should I start?” Kon wondered with a smile, until his eyes caught a cotton candy stand shaped like animals.
“Over there,” he thought, quickening his pace toward the stall.
“Superboy, over here!” a girl’s voice called out near him. Kon turned, only to be met with a microphone close to his face.
“We’d like to report on your presence here at the Metropolis Fair,” the reporter said, adjusting her headset.
“Oh…” Conner muttered, swallowing hard. “I didn’t think I’d be on-air today.”
“It’ll just be a few shots. People want to know more about one of today’s most popular heroes,” the reporter replied with a wink.
“I doubt I’m that popular,” Superboy said in a low tone.
“But you’re trending on every platform,” the reporter said, pulling out her phone to show him a chart of recent social media trends. Sure enough, Superboy was among the top five.
“Wow, sorry for what I said. I don’t use social media,” he admitted with an embarrassed smile.
“Don’t worry about that,” the reporter said as she tucked her phone away. “Would you mind if we followed you around the fair?”
Conner hesitated before answering, but he knew Lex Luthor would handle this sort of thing far better than he could.
“Record whatever you like and send all the footage to this number,” Conner said, pulling out his phone to show a contact from LexCorp. “They’ll tell you what material can be released and what can’t.”
“Perfect! Han, write this down!” the reporter called to her assistant, who quickly waved to the superhero and jotted down the number in her planner.
“You can go ahead, Superboy. Pretend we’re not even here,” the reporter added.
It felt strange to Conner, knowing a camera would be following him, but he was used to it. From the moment he came into this world, cameras had always been around him.
“Well, time to distract myself as much as I can,” he thought, trying to pump himself up as he continued waiting in line for cotton candy.

--

 

But it was his fault he was there.
If only he had swallowed his pride and let his best friend Jon Kent fly him back to Gotham, he wouldn’t be leaping from one high rooftop to another, trying to make his way back home.
It was exhausting.
He stopped on the rooftop of LexCorp. He was drained, but not physically.
It was strange—he had never felt like this before.
Love… a feeling of suffering.
He wished he could just want his best friend, not love him.
A sigh escaped his lips as he rested his left leg on the edge of the building.
Everything seemed calm. Metropolis was calm. For the first time that day, he could feel a moment of peace.
His gaze drifted to the beautiful sunset before him. Beautiful—the tall buildings adorned the city alongside the lights.
“At night, this view must be spectacular,” he murmured to himself.
His eyes kept wandering until they fell lower, and that’s when he noticed someone familiar walking out of the very building he was standing on.
“Conner?” he muttered with a frown.
It struck him as odd. It was a weekday. Shouldn’t he be at the base with the rest of his team?
A bad feeling coursed through him. Tim never allowed anyone to leave the base on weekdays… which meant…
Conner had sneaked out.
It wasn’t that Damian didn’t trust Superboy. He knew him as his brother’s teammate, and he was also his best friend’s brother. But nothing could erase the fact that he was bound—irrevocably—to Lex Luthor.
And now here he was, sneaking away to visit his… father’s company.
“Something doesn’t add up,” Damian whispered, pulling out his grappling gun, aiming at the next building as he tracked the streets Conner was heading toward. Once certain of the direction, he fired, hooking the line and swinging after him.
“What is he doing at the fair?” he wondered as he hid among the rooftops of a darker street.
It didn’t take long before some girls recognized the hero, and soon a crowd gathered around the fair’s entrance.
“What an idiot if he thought they wouldn’t recognize him,” Damian thought, rolling his eyes.
It was far from common to see superheroes walking casually among civilians. That is, unless their identities were hidden. Conner was a special case—everyone had always known who he was. There was no need for a disguise.
And that led Damian to a small hypothesis.
“Maybe this is part of Lex Luthor’s plan to win people’s trust.”
Yes. Perhaps Superboy could never truly be separated from Lex.
And that’s why it baffled him that Tim trusted that boy so much.
He had often wondered if Conner was just waiting for the exact moment to betray them—especially after secretly discovering that Tim had revealed his identity to him.
He almost resented him for believing in him so blindly.

 

------

 

“Yes, everything’s fine with my team,” Tim said as he crossed his arms and handed a report to Nightwing, who opened the folder and examined its contents.
He smiled.
“Incredible, this is spotless,” Dick said, grinning as he closed the folder a few minutes later and ruffled Tim’s hair slightly. “Congratulations, I’m impressed with your ability to lead your team.”
Both of them smiled—until quick, heavy footsteps echoed through the Batcave.
“Tim!” Damian exclaimed as he stormed in, his face twisted with anger.
Grayson turned, a hint of surprise on his face. Tim only raised a brow at the sudden outburst.
“How dare you reveal your identity to Conner?!” Damian demanded, his voice sharp as he jabbed a finger at his brother.
Both Damian and Dick waited for Tim’s reply. Tim, however, looked utterly calm.
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” he answered.
“How can you say that?!” Damian snapped, his voice rising. “Need I remind you he’s also Lex Luthor’s son? If he tells anyone, we’re finished.”
“And I remind you that he’s also someone very important to me!” Tim shot back, his voice firm.
“That doesn’t matter, he’s—”
“He’s also Jon’s brother, in case you forgot!” Tim cut him off before Damian could finish. “And before you say something you’ll regret, let me point out that while Clark, Jon, and Kara all know our identities, Conner’s left out! And I won’t let him be excluded again!” His anger built with every word until he slammed his hand lightly against the table behind him, startling both Damian and Dick.
Damian opened his mouth to reply but shut it again, looking Tim up and down, realizing just how furious he was.
“I’ll never understand how you can trust Lex’s son so blindly…” Damian muttered.
“And I won’t waste my time making you understand that, to me, Conner is far more than who created him,” Tim interrupted sharply. “You don’t know him—but I do!”
“Enough, both of you!” Dick stepped in before the fight escalated further. Both brothers looked at him. “If Tim trusts Conner, there’s a reason, Damian, and you need to respect that. Besides, he’s right—Conner is Jon’s brother.”
“Jon is nothing like him. For starters, Jon would never let himself be manipulated by Lex.” A low blow, aimed directly at Tim, whose jaw tightened at the words.
“How did you—?”
“It’s not that hard to find things out, Tim. I’m warning you,” Damian said, pointing his finger squarely at his brother, “if Lex ever manages to hurt any of us… believe me, not Jon, not you, no one will stop me from making your Superboy pay for that betrayal.”
With that final threat, Damian stormed out, leaving Tim with a bitter taste and simmering anger.
Dick never scolded him for it. Deep down, he knew Damian had his reasons.
And there he was, once again, trailing Conner as quietly as possible.
He noticed the fair had granted Conner priority access. It made sense—having a superhero at a public event was a golden opportunity for promotion, publicity, and more.
Tim aimed his grappling hook at a taller building, swung up quickly, and kept his eyes on Superboy from a distance. Pulling out his binoculars, he zoomed in for a closer look.

 

More and more people gathered around Conner for a picture, while others stayed at a distance, too shy to approach.
Conner already had his cotton candy in his hands and took a playful bite out of the green panda’s ear.
He savored it while a reporter’s camera recorded him.
His eyes lit up after a few seconds, and he hopped lightly with excitement before thanking the vendor with genuine cheer.
“This is delicious, congratulations on such great work!” he exclaimed, shaking the man’s hand with surprising enthusiasm.
“Th-thank you very much, young hero!” the man stammered timidly.
Superboy continued exploring the fair.
His next stop was the hammer ride.
There was a short line—it was one of those attractions that gave people an adrenaline rush, the kind some avoided while others sought out.
Kon wondered if, being half-Kryptonian, he’d feel the same thrill as a normal human… or if it wouldn’t affect him at all.
Smiling at the thought, he stepped into the ride.
He cursed the moment he decided to go in—especially alone. He had never screamed so much or felt his body tense up in such a way.
“OH GOD!” he shouted as the ride swung into its third of six rounds. He bit his lower lip, trying not to scream even louder.
“Superboy, you’re my favorite hero!” a girl from the cabin in front of him screamed excitedly.
“Thank you!” he shouted back with the same energy.
He grinned, relieved he wasn’t the only one feeling this way.
“WOO!” he yelled in a long, euphoric cry as the ride dropped and shot back up.
Once again, he was upside down against the sky. He pulled out his phone mid-swing to record.
Luthor would probably fall out of his chair if he ever saw the footage—Superboy screaming, people’s voices echoing all around, and the crowd’s reaction every time he swung down.
And that thought made him smile.
He had the people’s affection—he could feel it. Somehow, it made him feel lighter, better.
During the next rounds, every time the two rows came close, someone from the opposite side would shout a compliment or a catchphrase at him. Superboy replied to each with kindness and gratitude, his adrenaline surging higher.
On the final swing, he let out one last roar, releasing everything he had been holding in. The ride finally slowed to a stop.
Chest heaving, a wide smile on his face, Conner removed the restraints and stepped out, victorious, greeted by applause and cheers from the crowd.
“How ridiculous… why are they applauding him just for going on a ride?” Damian thought, watching the entire show with a scowl.
Superboy, however, was already helping the others in his row climb out. Some seized the chance to take a photo with him.
The same reporter from earlier rushed over.
“Incredible, Superboy! What did you think of your experience on the ride you just got off?” she asked, holding the microphone close.
“Super,” he replied with a grin, adrenaline still running through him. His eyes quickly landed on his next stop.
The Tagada.
“Wow, I get to serve Superboy!” the man running the attraction whispered under his breath, smiling.
“The one and only,” Kon replied with a grin.
“Do you want to ride alone or with some company?” the man asked.
Superboy glanced back at the line behind him, the people staring with anticipation.
He smirked.
“You,” he pointed at a red-haired boy. “You,” he said to a short brunette girl with glasses. “And you,” he pointed toward a dark-skinned boy near the back. “You’re coming with me.”
The line erupted in applause as the chosen ones stepped forward, thrilled to join the hero.
Superboy took the second-to-last seat and gestured for the girl to sit beside him. She accepted with a shy smile.
The other two boys sat on his other side while the rest of the crowd filled in the remaining seats.
“How strong is this ride?” Kon asked his new companions.
“You’ve never been to a fair before?” the dark-skinned boy teased, smirking at the superhero.
“Have you ever seen me on the news at a fair, kid?” Kon shot back playfully.
The boy coughed awkwardly, trying to hide the embarrassment at realizing the hero’s reply was almost flirtatious.
“N-no…”
Superboy chuckled at his reaction.
“It’s a pretty wild ride,” the redhead added, glancing at him.
“It’s my first time on this one,” the girl said timidly.
“Well, if it scares you, you can hold on to my arm,” Superboy replied with a light smile.
“Really?” the girl asked, her voice tinged with shyness.
Superboy nodded.
And the ride began.
And it really did start strong. Barely five minutes had passed and they were already spinning wildly in the air.
The girl’s high-pitched screams cut through the noise, her eyes squeezed shut as she gripped her harness tightly, feeling more fear than thrill.
“Hold onto my arm!” Superboy shouted over the chaos.
Tears threatened to spill from her closed eyes, and she shook her head in panic. She couldn’t do it.
So Superboy took her hand himself, wrapping her arm through his. She clung to him, slowly beginning to feel safer.
Bit by bit, she dared to open her eyes. The sight that greeted her was the superhero laughing, clearly enjoying the ride, helping her through her fear with nothing but his presence.
Minutes later, she too joined the laughter and joy of her companions.
“Everything good, guys?!” Superboy shouted, glancing at the two boys to his left.
“THIS IS AMAZING, WE’RE ON A RIDE WITH SUPERBOY!” the boy next to him cried, grinning from ear to ear.
“I’m just as happy to be here with you!” Kon shouted back, adrenaline rushing through his veins.
More screams, more flashes from cameras. Superboy’s laughter echoed as the ride kept going.
After six minutes, it finally slowed and came to a stop. Chests were heaving, hearts pounding, but smiles were everywhere.
Superboy was the first to undo his harness, then checked that the others had no trouble with theirs. One by one, he helped people off the ride.
“You’re incredible, Superboy. Without a doubt, you’re my favorite hero,” said the girl he had comforted.
“You flatter me,” he said warmly.
“Uh… Superboy?” the red-haired boy asked, trying to catch his attention.
“Yeah?”
“My older brother is a huge fan of yours… would it be possible for you to record a quick video saying hi to him?” the boy asked shyly.
“Of course!”
And he did. A personalized video, a genuine greeting for the boy’s brother.
Damian still watched from afar through his binoculars. Conner only seemed to be having fun—but something deep inside Damian kept whispering that there were other motives behind this whole spectacle.
“You’ll slip up soon enough,” he murmured.
After the video, the same reporter hurried over once again.
“And we’re still here with you, Superboy. Videos of you at the fair are already blowing up online. People want to know: why are you the only one from your team here? Is there some special occasion? Maybe the pre-anniversary celebration?”
“Well… honestly, I just wanted to clear my head from so much work… Wait—today’s the pre-anniversary party?” he asked, eyes almost sparkling.
The pre-anniversary of Metropolis was a youth-driven celebration. Unlike the traditional festivals, this one was a night-long adrenaline rush, something people like Lex Luthor found distasteful—chaotic, even. But it was wildly popular, and expensive to attend.
“Exactly two hours from now,” the reporter confirmed, pointing at the tallest building on the main avenue. “That’s the venue—big enough to hold three thousand people.”
Superboy’s eyes widened. His father’s words came back to him: Have fun.
If the fair was this exhilarating… what would a party like that be like?
“I doubt there’ll be any space left for me,” he said cautiously. “I mean, it’s one of Metropolis’ most famous events. People travel from other cities just for it…”
“I’m pretty sure they’d make space for you,” the reporter replied.
Cameras, phones, people crowding around—all waiting for his answer.
“I’ll think about it.”
Captured.
Social media exploded. People rushed to the fair hoping to get a glimpse of him, nearly overwhelming the entrance. Videos of Conner on rides, buying snacks, helping people, all circulating with the same question:
Why was he there?
Speculation about a possible threat to the city gained traction. After all, it wasn’t common to see superheroes casually mingling among civilians.
Meanwhile, Damian had relocated—unintentionally, he was now perched on the very building the reporter had pointed out.
“Damn it,” he muttered, scanning for a way to keep tailing Conner without being spotted. He prayed the Kryptonian wouldn’t suddenly use his x-ray vision.
Ten long minutes passed. Nothing.
Finally, Damian realized Conner hadn’t noticed him. He relaxed, sitting on the rooftop.
“People are already recording everything,” he said to himself, pulling out his phone. A quick check of the trending topics confirmed it—interviews, clips of Superboy on rides, all uploaded in real time. “People are fast with this stuff.”
He scrolled through one by one…
Until he reached the Daily Planet’s feed.
“Shit…” His eyes widened. Someone had already caught wind of it.
“This is going to be fun.”

 

—————

 

Superboy was definitely going to the pre-anniversary party. But he wasn’t ready to announce it aloud yet—it would cause a frenzy. For now, he kept it ambiguous.
He left the roller coaster with a grin, though two more things still tempted him:
The shooting gallery and the strength hammer.
First stop: the shooting gallery.
Cameras followed him, though he ignored them.
“Mommy, I want that plushie,” a small girl’s tearful voice reached his ears.
“I don’t have any more money, sweetheart… I promise I’ll get it for you next year,” her mother sighed—only to fall silent as the superhero approached.
The little girl turned, her tears halting at the sight of Superboy.
“I… I can win the plushie she wants,” Kon said nervously.
“Would you really do that?” the mother asked, a little embarrassed.
Conner swiped his card, then bent down to ask the girl which plushie she wanted. She pointed to a little lamb wearing a bonnet hat with a bow tied around its neck.
Conner studied it—it was adorable, soft, and sweet.
“Alright. I’ll get it for you,” he said with a reassuring smile.
Five darts, five targets. He hit them all.
Applause erupted behind him as the cameras flashed.
“Congratulations, Superboy,” the attendant said. “You can pick whichever prize you want.”
Without hesitation, Conner grabbed the lamb plushie and handed it to the girl.
Her eyes lit up as she hugged it tight, then hugged him in thanks. Her mother offered heartfelt gratitude before they walked away.
“Superboy!” the young attendant called again, nervously fidgeting. “Could I… ask a favor?”
“Of course, what is it?” Kon replied.
The boy hesitated, then dug into his backpack.
“A while back… I was rescued by your teammate—Robin,” he said, smiling nervously.
Kon’s heartbeat quickened at the name. His jaw tightened.
“I never got to thank him… but I made him a gift. That night in Gotham, I was about to die. He saved me. He got badly hurt because of me, and I never repaid him,” the boy confessed softly, almost ashamed. Finally, he pulled out a small decorated box. Inside was a hand-stitched letter R, bordered with lace, alongside a miniature drawing of the hero who saved him, and a separate note with heartfelt words of gratitude. “I hope he can receive my thanks.”
Superboy was speechless. The gift was beautiful.
Heroes never expected anything in return. At least not Tim. He only ever wanted to help—always pushing himself to improve as a leader, as a person, as a hero.
“I…” Conner swallowed hard. It was all too much. Just moments ago he’d been lost in pure adrenaline, and now his heart was back in his hands, aching at the memory of his Robin. “I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“Thank you so much, Superboy.”
Conner wanted to leave; he didn’t want to see Tim or give him the gift. At least not until he felt better.
“Superboy, what a beautiful gesture you just made!” The same reporter was still following him. Conner remembered he still had an audience in front of him.
He coughed awkwardly, slipping back into his usual façade.
“Ah, yes. It’s always a pleasure to help however I can,” he smiled while quickly tucking the gift away. “Well then, I’ll try the last game for you all before leaving: the Strength Hammer.”
At least some applause would help lift his spirits a little.
He paid for the ticket as everyone around him watched expectantly, cameras flashing and people pushing lightly to get a better view of the hero.
“Get your cameras ready!” Superboy shouted as he grabbed the hammer. His idea was simple: to take out his frustrated feelings with a bit of brute force.
Like training, but with the small chance of having to pay for a broken game.
He stared at the hammer, and Tim’s words echoed in his head:
“I’m dating a guy.”
He’d said it so happily, like it was nothing. As if Kon wasn’t worth enough to be in his heart.
Anger. He began to feel anger.
He gripped the handle tighter and positioned himself to strike with all his strength.
Time seemed to rewind, taking him back to that moment when Kon realized he loved Tim—more than he ever wanted to admit.
He wanted to scream, but instead he closed his eyes. He was just about to strike when a very familiar voice called out.
“Superboy!” That voice rang out with authority.
“Shit,” he muttered in anger. He looked up, and there he was.
Superman, watching him from above at a considerable distance.
His eyes said only two words: Come here.
All the cameras and people turned to the greatest superhero of all. Superman himself.
Conner lifted off reluctantly, stopping in front of Kal-El, his father.
“What?” he asked bitterly.
“What are you doing here? You should be at the Tower with your team, not wandering around a fair where everyone can recognize you.”
“Did Lex send you for me?” he asked, frowning.
Superman sighed.
“No. I found out because you’re trending online,” his father replied with disapproval in his eyes. “Son… Conner, why are you putting yourself on display like this?”
“Not my fault I was born under the public eye.”
"I know that, but—”
“Besides, Lex gave me a card,” he pulled out his credit card. “I’m allowed to be here. So don’t think you can just order me home because: No. I. Won’t.”
Superman kept the same stern gaze fixed on the boy before him.
“Fine. But don’t come asking me for comfort if you screw it up.”
“It’s not like I’d ever ask for your comfort anyway,” the younger one snapped. “I don’t need you. Or anyone!”
“Conner!” Superman’s eyes widened, shocked at what he heard. “What’s wrong with you today?”
“Nothing!” he lashed out. “Just go away, I’m fine.”
Superman knew something was wrong. But getting Conner to talk, to open up… it was impossible right now.
“If you need anything… the doors of home are always open,” he said before leaving.
He figured maybe Conner just needed some time alone.
And he would go visit a friend to ask for advice.
Conner descended, immediately swarmed with questions from the reporter.
“It was nothing. Superman… he worries about me, was surprised to see me here and asked if everything was fine.”
“If only he also attended events like you, Superboy,” the reporter added with a smile.
“I doubt it,” Superboy replied, returning to the game.
And yes, he had to pay for the damage caused by the excess of strength in the hammer game. But it wasn’t a problem with the card. Lex pays.
The crowd went wild. Applause, cheers, compliments echoed after he played the game.
Then it hit him.
“I’m Superboy,” he said to himself. “Why suffer? I’m free tonight…”
With that thought, he smiled.
And a new idea sparked in his mind.
“Let’s go to the pre-anniversary party! Entry and drinks are on me!” he shouted to the entire crowd.

Chapter Text

Paid parties are usually chaos. They barely start, and people already know why they’re there:
To enjoy the night as best they can, have fun with friends, make connections, and drink for a while.
Or—
To flirt.

Conner didn’t fit into either category. He just wanted to clear his mind from the frustration he felt.

It was strange how, just last week, he had thought about telling Tim about his confusing feelings toward him. He was going to tell him the truth on Friday. He had the perfect plan.
Friday night, free, before his beloved went back to Gotham and left the base. He’d even prepared a script to introduce himself to his family if everything went well.

Conner was aware that Tim’s brothers didn’t fully trust him. He knew it was because he was Lex Luthor’s son… and maybe because he’d proven more than once that Lex could manipulate him.
He hated himself for that.
And yet, he still turned to Lex when he felt his heart break.
Who else could he turn to?

At least with Lex, despite his arrogant attitude toward others, Conner could feel a bit of warmth.
When Lex asked if he needed anything, if he’d eaten properly, if he had any serious injuries, if everything was fine with his social circle.
Yeah, the usual.
Maybe he wasn’t the best person, but at least he genuinely showed interest in him—he cared. Conner could feel it.

So he wasn’t going to walk away from Lex Luthor just because other people—who couldn’t even offer him a helping hand emotionally—told him to.

But Tim…
Tim was the only one who never asked anything of him.

“I wish I could understand you a little more,” Conner said as he floated a few feet above Robin, who was monitoring the huge computer in the base. Tim stopped when Kon spoke, turning his masked face toward him, waiting for him to continue.
“I mean… how can you still trust me after what happened with… Lex?”

There was worry in his voice—also regret and shame.
Tim took his time to respond. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Conner was lost in thought while Tim searched for the right words.

Tim gave a soft, comforting laugh that made Conner lift his gaze toward him.
Tim placed his hand over Kon’s, in a friendly gesture, but it had the effect of making Conner’s heart race.

“It’s because it’s you,” Tim said simply, smiling with warmth.

“I still don’t get it,” Superboy replied, lowering his gaze.

“I always knew there’d be problems having you here, Conner,” Tim said—not with any negativity, just honesty. “But… you let me get to know you. You let me into your life, and I let you into mine.” A smile spread across Tim’s face—one full of kindness and joy. “I know you might falter sometimes, but I’m your teammate, your leader, and more importantly, your friend. I’ll always trust you and be there for you, no matter what.”

Conner realized that it wasn’t normal for his heart to beat faster after hearing that speech. He also realized it wasn’t normal for his cheeks to flush, or that in the following days he started noticing things about Tim he’d never paid attention to before:
His skin was pale, a bit dull, but it suited him. The dark circles under his eyes gave a unique touch to his bright blue ones that looked like two diamonds—at least to Conner. His build was nice, not too muscular or too slim, and training had given him a more defined shape. Conner could imagine his waist fitting perfectly between his hands… or how it would feel if he placed them a certain way. His hair was straight, which made it seem soft to the touch.

He also found Tim’s scars beautiful. They covered his arms, legs, back, and torso. Conner would’ve given anything to kiss them gently.

“But… your family,” he said, unable to finish the sentence. The thought hurt. The idea that maybe he didn’t deserve Tim’s trust and affection.

“Don’t worry about them,” Tim replied, stepping closer to his partner slowly. Then he took Conner’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “They’ll never change how I feel about you.”

--

Superboy was sitting in the back seat of a red Porsche convertible with soft brown leather seats. He could feel his hair blowing wildly in the wind, and his glasses almost slipped off his face from how much he was laughing. Next to him was a girl with black hair, fair skin, and a slim build; at the wheel was another girl with blonde hair and gray eyes, and two other guys kept them company—one with dark hair and tanned skin, the other a redhead with hazel eyes.

Yes, he had agreed to come along after seeing the gorgeous car. But it was also because he hadn’t found another way out—the black-haired girl had grabbed his arm and dragged him toward it.

A euphoric shout came from the girl beside him. The music was blasting, and Conner couldn’t help but enjoy being surrounded by people with a completely different vibe—so free, so fun, each with their own unique style.

“Remind me—what’s your name again?” he asked, smiling at the girl.
“Amelia!” she yelled over the noise, her hair flying back in the wind. Her red-tinted lips with gloss looked stunning with her dark green satin mini dress and all the accessories that sparkled under the lights. “I’m the second daughter of a Metropolis business owner.”
“A millionaire, I take it,” Kon muttered, noticing her jewelry—each piece looked like it cost thousands of dollars.

“Are you all ready? We’re almost there!” shouted the blonde girl at the wheel, turning the radio up even louder.

The group cheered with excitement while Conner leaned against the door, arms crossed and a grin on his face. Life wasn’t so bad with moments like this, after all.

The blonde girl adjusted her clear glasses to see better and suddenly noticed a massive crowd of paparazzi outside the club.
“Amelia! There are paparazzi! You’d better think fast about how we’re getting in!” she yelled over the music.
The named girl managed to hear her and immediately pulled out her phone to check for special entries for them.

“Something wrong?” Superboy asked, looking at the girls.
“You’re pretty famous, dude,” said one of the guys, glancing at the superhero. “Don’t worry—we’ve got this covered.”

Then he pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of everyone in the car.
“Mind if I post this?” he asked with a grin.
“Sure, no problem!” Conner replied.

And just like that, the car pulled up to the club entrance, and instantly the paparazzi and reporters swarmed, taking thousands of photos per second.
Amelia grabbed Conner’s arm, pulling him toward the front of the car so they could step out. The flashes kept coming. The rest of the group cleared a path so Superboy and the girls could slip through a side entrance with less media attention.

“Wow!” Conner exclaimed once they were inside the building, which was dark but pulsing with heavy bass. “Didn’t expect that many paparazzi…”
“Word got out that you’d be here,” Amelia said with a smile. “Come on, follow me!”

They all followed her through what looked like a kitchen area.
“Is it true you invited everyone from the fair?” one of the guys asked.
“Yeah, I said it at the time—but they can send me the bill later,” he replied, stepping through a door that opened into the main party room. He was speechless at the sight—there were so many people. “Wow…”
“Not gonna be cheap, man,” one of the guys joked as they all moved into the crowd.

The place was lit with neon lights shifting between red, blue, purple, pink, green, and yellow. The DJ stood up on an elevated platform while the rest of the crowd filled both the main area and the VIP section.
“Come on,” Amelia said, waving at the superhero. “VIP’s on me,” she added with a wide grin.
“If you say so,” he replied.

The group climbed the stairs to a moderately packed room facing the DJ booth. Conner leaned near the large window, watching the crowd below dancing, singing, and drinking.
“Can I offer you a drink?” a waiter asked as he approached the superhero.

Superboy was caught off guard by the sudden question, unsure how to respond.
“Oh, come on! It’s included with VIP service,” Amelia said, her waist held by the redhead.

“Uh…” Conner hesitated. He didn’t want to ruin the vibe or damage his already-established image, but he’d only had alcohol once in his life. “What do you recommend?”
“I can offer you a Clericot—it’s a summer classic,” the waiter said.

Superboy thought about it for a second, then nodded.
The music kept shifting as Conner watched people enjoy themselves, nodding along to the rhythm of the electronic beats.

It didn’t take long for his drink to arrive.
“Thanks,” he said as the waiter left. Conner stared at the glass and took a small sip, tasting the blend of wine and fruit. “Not bad.”

Suddenly, the music stopped, catching everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to the DJ, whose face was hidden under a hood at least two sizes too big.

The DJ raised an arm and grabbed a shiny microphone.
“Tonight’s a night to forget,” they said to the crowd. “Tonight, no matter what your problems are—you deserve to have fun!” They placed both hands on the mixer, starting a beat. “So screw everything else and let’s enjoy it!”

The crowd erupted with cheers, most already drunk and ecstatic. Superboy smiled.
The DJ was about to put the mic down—until they noticed the superhero’s presence and brought it back to their lips.
“W-wait, is that Superboy?” they asked, making everyone turn toward him. Within seconds, cheers and praise filled the room as the hero blushed slightly, smiling. “Get him up here!”

Kon looked at the group who had brought him, and they urged him to go. So, he took a long sip of his drink and headed down.
Within minutes, he was climbing the stairs to stand beside the DJ.

“Nice to meet you—I’m really liking your mix,” Conner said, extending his hand toward the DJ.

He didn’t get a handshake right away. Instead, the DJ gave a small smile and then pulled down their hood, revealing a young woman with warm brown skin and light pink curls streaked with blonde.

“Wow, you’re a woman!” Conner exclaimed in surprise, and the girl only smiled. “Now it makes sense why the music’s so good.”

She laughed sweetly, clearly flattered.
“You’re flattering me. What brings you here?” she asked while setting up the next mix.
“I just came to clear my head,” he said, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.
“Mmh, sounds like a lot of drama in your life,” she said, cueing up a new song for the crowd.
“S-something like that.”

“Wanna play DJ for a while?” she asked, pulling out another set of headphones.
“M-me?” he asked, surprised.
She nodded.
“Give me a few songs you like.”

Kon thought for a second—he was at a party, so it had to be something that fit the euphoric energy, something people could dance to.
“I like Tainy’s productions…”
“Wait—Superboy listens to Tainy?!” the DJ said with a wide grin, and the superhero blushed a little. “That’s an honor for a Boricua like me.”
“You’re from Puerto Rico?” Conner said, astonished that the night kept surprising him.
“Of course,” she replied, and at that moment she made a quick, practiced motion on the mixer—turning knobs, pressing buttons with fluid precision.

A familiar intro exploded from the speakers, looping hypnotically.
The crowd roared. Strobe lights crossed the air, and the atmosphere burst into pure, electric energy.
Superboy smiled.
For a moment, he forgot who he was. There was only the music.

*(Song: El Teléfono)*

Conner grinned at the unmistakable beat he loved so much, moving to it with more energy than before, a half-smile on his lips.
“A classic,” said the DJ, handing him the headphones.

Superboy took them and slipped them on, feeling the rhythm pulse through his body.
He felt like he was in heaven—but in a completely different way.
“I love this so much… I don’t know why I never tried it before,” he said, noticing people in the crowd snapping photos, trying to catch him in the frame. It made him smile with both amusement and tenderness.

One of the VIP waiters approached again, offering him the same drink as before. Kon accepted, taking a long sip and leaving the glass half-empty.

Then he leaned toward the mixer, curious about how it worked.
The DJ noticed and gently took his hand, guiding it toward a set of sliders.
“With this, you lower the volume like this,” she explained, moving it down. “Then I change the bass, and with this one—” she guided his hand again “—you trigger the effect and transition into the next song.”

A scratch-like sound echoed through the club, followed by the intro of another classic track.

(Song: Salgo pa’ la calle)

“That intro,” the DJ said, letting go of his hands. “I’m guessing you know it.”
Superboy looked at her and burst into a loud laugh—the alcohol was starting to hit him.
“I had my earbuds on during a fight once, and that song randomly started playing. I had to throw them off when it ended.”

The girl laughed uncontrollably, still amazed she was standing next to one of the most famous heroes of the moment.
“This is one of the best days of my life. Who would’ve thought a superhero listens to Tainy,” she said, taking Conner’s arm, “and that I’d get to teach him how to DJ! I’m putting that on my résumé.”

Superboy laughed, feeling the warmth of the alcohol mix with the excitement of the moment. He turned away from the mixer and finished his drink, signaling the waiter from afar for another.
“Have you tried Clericot?” he asked her. “Wait, I don’t even know your name yet.”
“My name’s Mya,” she replied while switching the song. “And yeah, I’ve tried Clericot—but I can’t drink while I’m working. Wouldn’t want to fry the equipment.”

Superboy nodded in understanding.

Mya queued up another track, then leaned a little closer to the hero beside her. The rumors were true—he really was stunning.
She brushed her hand through her curls and took off his sunglasses, while the superhero smiled at her, his cheeks still lightly flushed.

Compared to Superman, Kon was far more susceptible to alcohol’s effects—ironic, since he couldn’t even taste its strength, but still fell under its influence.

The photos didn’t take long to spread, and soon social media was flooded with shots of the hero at Metropolis’s wildest party, clearly having the time of his life.

 

But on the other side, Damian wasn’t having as good a time as Conner.

“Damn, this music is all over the place,” he muttered as he scanned the club’s layout on his projector. “Ugh…”

His plan was to stay in the ventilation ducts and then grab Kon once he was off-guard.
Why? Because Conner was making a spectacle. In Damian’s eyes —and probably in the eyes of most heroes— what Conner was doing tarnished their image. And even if Superboy was Tim’s problem, Damian intended to use this golden opportunity to prove he could be a better leader than his brother.

And finally, he would get a team to lead.
He would win.

Having found the club’s schematics, he started calculating the closest entrance to the ducts.
“To the left,” he murmured, and moved. Once there, he tied one of his thin cords to a sturdy anchor point and began descending along the wall.

Darkness surrounded him; he went unnoticed.
He descended about eight of the club’s thirty meters, then cautiously approached the grille of the main duct and slipped inside. The next phase was to move toward the food area.

It wasn’t far from where he had entered —the duct emptied directly beneath the main area. After a few minutes he arrived and waited until the staff were distracted, then slipped into the kitchen.
He descended silently, but one of the workers nearly screamed when he saw the hero.

Robin quickly covered the man’s mouth with his hand and drew his blade, forcing everyone to step back.

“Listen to me,” he said, looking around at them with a threatening glare. “I need you to cooperate.”

— — —

“Last song, then I’m out!” Mya shouted into the mic, met with a few sympathetic groans. She just smiled and changed the track. “Special thanks to Superboy and the club for this amazing night!”

The crowd went wild, screaming and taking pictures as the DJ looped arms with the hero, both smiling like old friends. Photos, and more photos.

“Hey, thanks for the incredible set,” Conner said, leaning against her—how many drinks was he on? Who cared. Luthor would cover it.

“Thanks to you,” she answered. “This’ll definitely help my business grow.”

“Ah… you’re welcome,” he said, distracted.

The last song played and Mya handed the superhero a paper with her number.
“The booth is yours —mix until the next DJ arrives,” she said with a final smile.

Conner put the large black headphones back on and picked a track at random that had “bachata” in the title, preparing it to mix.
Once everything was set the way Mya had taught him, he cursed the curse/blessing of understanding languages effortlessly.

(Song: Cancioncitas de amor)

His expression changed in seconds, going from lively and mischievous to something that gradually faded as the song played on.
The lyrics hit him like a bucket of cold water. He only hoped that his shift in mood didn’t show too much.
The crowd was drunk enough not to care —they could always blame it on the alcohol. That made everything believable, right?

He left the song playing halfway through while everyone else kept dancing to the unique melody, and Conner… suffered with the lyrics.

His expression was blank. Not sad, but irritated.
Yes, the song annoyed him, but he didn’t want to stop it. Something in the melody —or maybe in the words— kept him there, rooted.

Yes, Cupid got on his nerves.
Yes, he also believed love shouldn’t exist.
Yes, he envied anyone who was happy.

“Hey, can I get another drink?” he called, pulling off the headphones and turning toward the back.

“Right away,” a waiter replied, disappearing into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Kon turned back to the music. The flashes, the cameras, the laughter —all still there. He bet the news channels were already broadcasting his contained downfall live.

He cursed the alcohol. Any minute now, he’d head to LexCorp to wallow in his tragedy —but not before one last glass of clericot.

“Good drink,” he muttered, loading the next track.

*(Song: Nena Maldición)*

He’d never heard it before, but the intro was nice. He slid the headphones back on.

> “Estoy perdido en el azul de tus ojos.”

Conner froze, eyes wide.
Why did Spanish songs always have to fit his heartbreak so perfectly?

He rested both hands on the mixer and exhaled. He was exhausted.

“Tim…” he murmured, lowering his gaze —then slowly raising it toward the crowd.

And there he was.

Tim.

Standing in the middle of the crowd, looking straight at him. Conner could swear a spotlight illuminated only him, as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

He pulled off his headphones, disbelief flooding his face.

Before he could act or even think, a voice came from behind.

“Excuse me, they need you in the kitchen,” said the same waiter as before, though his expression was different —nervous, maybe scared.

Superboy frowned but followed, too weary to question it.

The music kept playing as they walked through the narrow halls toward the kitchen.

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. Something felt off.
Still, he blamed the alcohol and pushed the door open.

“All right, what’s the—?” he began, but trailed off when he saw the kitchen staff staring at each other, terrified, like they were hiding something.

Kon stepped forward, frowning in confusion.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.

The music outside grew louder —a new DJ had taken over.

“We didn’t have a choice,” one of the workers muttered.

Kon’s brow furrowed. “Didn’t have a choice for wha—?”

Before he could finish, a sudden thud came from above —and then two knees slammed straight into his face, knocking him flat.

“That’s enough. I need you to help me get him out of here,” Damian ordered, grabbing Kon by the collar of his jacket.

“They’re going to fire us,” one of the employees stammered.

“No, they won’t. I’ll take care of it,” Damian replied, tossing a card to one of them. “Contact me around five.”

And with that, the workers helped drag the unconscious Superboy out through the back exit.

“Robin’s scary,” one of them whispered as they shut the door behind them.

A bucket of cold water hit Conner, making him jolt upright in shock.

“Alcohol worn off yet?” Damian asked, setting the red bucket aside and eyeing the half-Kryptonian with open disapproval.

“You—what the hell are you doing here?!” Conner snapped, irritated.

“Since Tim can’t seem to keep you under control,” Damian replied, arms crossed, “someone had to do it for him.”

“He doesn’t *control* me!” Conner shot back, anger flashing in his voice.

Damian arched an eyebrow. Without another word, his hand went to his utility belt. The faint green glow of kryptonite lit his face.

“Watch your tone,” he warned, voice cold and calm —the kind of calm that didn’t need to shout. “I don’t know how you talk to *your* Robin, but I won’t let someone like you raise your voice to me.”

Conner stepped back, fists clenched.
He knew Damian didn’t like him. Neither did Jason. And depending on the day, not even Dick.

“What do you want from me?” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Nothing,” Damian said curtly. “Just keeping you from ruining your image even more in front of Jon and Clark.”

Conner’s jaw tightened. That hit deeper than he wanted to admit.
Damian noticed —and pressed harder.

“I couldn’t handle someone like you. You’re reckless, arrogant… probably an idiot. I don’t get how Red Robin still keeps you on the team. Someone like you is just dead weight.”

Conner felt the heat rising in his chest, a twitch flickering in his eye.
He refused to answer.
He simply turned on his heel and started to leave, ignoring the venom still dripping from Damian’s words.

“Arrogant bastard…” he muttered under his breath.

“Hey!” Damian’s voice snapped behind him —followed by a firm grip on his shoulder.

Conner’s patience snapped. He shoved Damian back, hard.
But Damian was faster.

He already had the kryptonite ready —and without hesitation, struck him across the face.

The hit landed solid. Conner staggered backward, clutching his cheek.

“That wasn’t necessary!” he barked, furious and in pain. “What the hell is your problem?!”

*“You!”* Damian spat, barely holding his temper. “How can you hang around a damn club like some celebrity? You’re supposed to be at your base!”

“That’s none of your business…” Conner growled, pressing a hand to his burning cheek. “Cocky little brat… you didn’t have to hit my face with *that*.”

A low, pained sound escaped his lips —half groan, half whimper.

Damian froze. Then, with a sigh, he pocketed the kryptonite. A flicker of regret crossed his face.
Maybe Kon was right.

Conner hadn’t actually done anything to deserve the hit.
Damian had just reacted —lashing out from the anger he refused to direct at Jon.

“I can… patch you up in Gotham,” he finally said after a tense silence, as Conner kept rubbing at the sore spot.

The Kryptonian looked at him, eyes narrowed with anger and distrust.
But when he noticed how Damian avoided meeting his gaze, shoulders slightly tense, voice softer than usual —something in his chest tightened.

It wasn’t rage.
It was sadness.

“…Fine,” he murmured, barely loud enough for Robin to hear.

 

---

 

The roar of a motorcycle echoed through the streets of Metropolis.
Red Robin was speeding toward the club where the Pre-Anniversary party was being held.
“Faster,” he thought, pressing the accelerator even harder.

“Damn, he’s really mad!” Bart shouted, running just a few meters behind, with Cassandra flying above him.
“Mad is an understatement,” Wonder Girl replied, her brow furrowed and worry filling her eyes. “He’s going to set the city on fire with that glare.”

Both tried to keep up, though they knew an angry Tim Drake was nearly unstoppable.
And that scared them more than any villain ever could.

Minutes later, the sound of the engine died down in front of the club where Superboy had last been seen.
“Paparazzi,” Wonder Girl warned, landing gracefully just as Tim and Bart stopped. Bart, panting, could barely stay on his feet.
“I was about to fall asleep… this isn’t fair,” he complained between breaths. “I’m exhausted.”

Red Robin looked at him. Just one look.
That was enough for Bart to hide behind Cassie, who grabbed his shoulders with a forced smile.

Yes —Tim Drake was furious.

As soon as they approached the entrance, a storm of flashes and questions surrounded them. Reporters and onlookers crowded chaotically.
“Impulse,” Tim ordered, his voice firm.

Bart didn’t hesitate. In a matter of seconds, he cleared the area, pushing back the photographers one by one.
Thirty seconds later, the entrance was clear.

“Let us in,” Tim said, turning toward the guard.

The man swallowed hard, feeling that sharp gaze pierce through his soul.
“Uh… Superboy paid for his entry,” he stammered, trying to stay composed.

Tim took one step closer, his voice low but dripping with threat.
“Do I look like I came here to have fun?”

The guard paled and nodded quickly, letting them in without another word.
“Don’t let anyone else through,” Red Robin ordered before stepping inside.

The music still pounded and the lights danced as if nothing were wrong.
But the atmosphere changed instantly. Eyes started to wander, whispers spread.

Was Superboy still there?

Suddenly, the main door burst open, slamming against the wall with such force that even the DJ froze mid-song.
Every head turned.

And then they saw them: Young Justice, standing at the entrance, framed by lights and shadows, with Red Robin leading the charge.

The air went still.
The party stopped.

“The party’s over!” Red Robin roared, his voice cutting through the noise like thunder.

The crowd erupted into confused protests, not understanding what was happening. Tim ignored them.
His eyes swept across the room, instantly recognizing the scene of the disaster —the same club where Superboy had been photographed drinking out of control.

Without hesitation, he leaped from the entrance, landing squarely on the dance floor. The impact of his boots echoed louder than the DJ’s bass.
The lights flickered.
The murmurs died.

Tim sprinted straight toward the DJ booth. The boy, startled, barely had time to raise his hands before Red Robin grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close.
“Where is Superboy?!” he demanded, voice burning with both anger and urgency.
“M-man, I don’t know!” the DJ stuttered, terrified. “When I got here, he was already gone…”

Impulse appeared at his side, watching the scene cautiously.
“I think he’s telling the truth,” he said, sounding a bit nervous.

Tim kept his eyes locked on the DJ for a few seconds before letting go. Then his gaze shifted toward a door at the back, where white lights peeked through.
The kitchen area.

Without a second thought, he headed that way.
The door flew open, crashing against the wall with a bang that made the staff jump. Everyone froze the moment they saw who had entered.

Young Justice.
Robin at the front.

Tim walked in slowly, eyes scanning every corner.
“Superboy,” he said, frustration heavy in his tone. “Do you know where he is?”

The employees looked at each other, paralyzed. The air grew tense —first Robin, Batman’s partner… and now the entire Young Justice team interrogating them.

Cassandra stepped forward, resting a hand on Tim’s shoulder.
“They won’t talk if you keep that posture, Robin,” she said gently. “I know you’re upset…”
“Upset?” he repeated, turning to her. “I’m furious, Wonder Girl.”
“Robin, calm down,” Impulse intervened, raising his hands. “We’re not getting anywhere like this.”

Tim closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale.
When he spoke again, his voice was more controlled.
“I need your cooperation,” he said, looking each of the employees in the eye.

They glanced at one another, still fearful. Finally, one of them stepped forward.
“Yes… he was here,” he admitted. “But we promised confidentiality toward Robin.”

Tim’s stare hardened. He stepped closer to the boy who had spoken.
“Tell me what happened,” he whispered, cold and firm. “Superboy is part of my team. Did that Robin take him?”

The employee hesitated, searching his coworkers’ faces for support. Then, silently, he nodded.

Rage coursed through Tim’s body.
“Damian…” he thought, fists tightening at his sides.

Chapter Text

The road to Gotham was uncomfortable, strange, and very quiet.

Too quiet for Conner.

But maybe, if Damian hadn’t left a scar that covered half his face, Conner might have started a conversation.

He still wondered why he had accepted the younger Wayne’s help.

The hard way, Conner had learned that Damian was impulsive, spoiled, and arrogant — but also someone who hid his emotions behind questionable actions.

How did Jon even put up with him?

On the other hand, Tim was almost just as impulsive and spoiled, but at least he could be more honest with himself.

“Almost like two sides of the same coin,” Conner thought, glancing at the younger Wayne, who kept his head down and whose heartbeat was slightly uneven.

“Something must’ve happened to make him like this,” he concluded as he kept watching him.

Without realizing it, Damian lifted his gaze toward Conner, and their eyes met.

“What is it you’re so desperate to ask me, Clone?” Robin asked, glaring at Kon with a sharp expression.

“What were you doing in Metropolis?” Conner asked without hesitation. Maybe, at another time, that typical Bat-Family stare would’ve made him nervous — but not now.

The burning on his face was still there, and Conner had promised himself that if Damian attacked again, he would forget that he was Tim’s brother.

Damian’s pulse quickened for a few seconds. Then Conner noticed him swallow hard, his eyes widening just slightly.

Just a little — but enough to reveal emotion.

“I had a mission there,” Damian replied, avoiding his gaze and turning his eyes back toward the city below them.

They were crossing the bridge that connected Gotham and Metropolis.

Just a few more minutes and they’d be at the mansion. Conner knew a shortcut.

“If you say so,” Kon muttered, looking at him with clear disbelief.

The trip was uncomfortable.

Too uncomfortable — especially for Conner, who could barely stand the burning on his face anymore.

“We’ll get off here,” Damian said after a long stretch of silence.

Kon obeyed, descending while still holding Damian by half of his cape.

Once they landed, a tear slipped down the side of Conner’s injured face — the sting was unbearable.

Damian looked at him silently, and guilt began to creep into his conscience.

But he wasn’t going to say anything about it.

“There’s a metahuman detector in the mansion,” he said, pointing toward his balcony. “They installed it a few days ago.”

Conner raised an eyebrow as he looked at the mansion.

“Why did they install a metahuman detector?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he came up with a quick theory. “Did someone attack you or something?”

“No…” Damian replied, glancing toward the mansion as the memory resurfaced. It was a secret, but he knew Conner wouldn’t talk. “Barbara was the one who set it up,” he added
with a sigh. “She suspects Wally’s been coming to the mansion to see Dick during his ‘free time’. Which is fine, but she doesn’t think it’s appropriate. So she installed that detector to keep track of whatever goes on between her boyfriend and Wally when she’s not around.”

Conner was confused.

“There’s nothing wrong with two friends visiting each other,” he said.

“No, but she probably suspects something weird… or she’s just toxic.”

“Richard Grayson…” Conner thought, remembering the time he’d caught him kissing Barbara back at the Titans’ base. ‘Cute.’ Then he recalled one of the few times he’d visited the Justice League headquarters—where he’d found Nightwing and Kid Flash in a… strange moment.

 

“Conner, bring me this. Conner, bring me that,”
the young hero’s voice echoed through the silent halls as he imitated Superman’s tone.

“It’s insane that he only calls me over to play his personal servant! Even Lex doesn’t treat me like this!”

Conner had two options:

Either “rebel” against Superman in front of the entire League—then leave, only to have triple the problems later with Lex and his other dad—

Or, just obey Superman’s orders quietly and ask Tim for advice afterward.

Either way, Conner preferred the second option. At least that way, Clark couldn’t call him disrespectful.

But the urge for a small, harmless revenge was definitely there.

“Ugh, where’s that damn device?” he muttered, checking each door with his x-ray vision.

Nothing.

It wasn’t until he stumbled upon a particular room—one designed so that powers like x-ray vision couldn’t penetrate—that things clicked.

“Of course. The private room,” he said to himself, rolling his eyes. “Classic Superman, hiding his stuff in places like this.”

Conner stood before the door, letting the system scan him. After a few seconds, the light turned green, and the doors slid open.

The hero let out a sigh, his expression showing boredom and fatigue—
until it shifted completely to surprise when he saw two heroes in front of him quickly pull apart.

“…Nightwing?” Conner asked after a few seconds of silence.

The man in question cleared his throat, his posture and gestures revealing a hint of nervousness—slight, but definitely there.

“Hey, Superboy!” Wally called out, trying to draw Conner’s attention away from Nightwing. He walked up to the Kryptonian with a bright smile and, in a rather not-so-subtle move, positioned himself to block Dick from view. “What brings you here?”

Conner didn’t know what to say. He could’ve answered the question perfectly fine, but the situation was… so weird.

“My father sent me to get a device. I thought it might be here.”

“What does it look like?” the speedster asked quickly.

“Uh, it’s rectangular, metallic, with a glowing green line.”

Wally glanced toward one of the tables at the far end of the room, then dashed there at super-speed. Once in front of it, he threw a quick look over his shoulder at Conner before zipping back with the device in hand.

A grin spread across the redhead’s face as he held out the gadget.

“Here you go, kid!” he said, tossing it to Conner, who caught it—still full of doubts. But before Superboy could say or even think anything, Wally slipped his arm around Kon’s neck, steering him toward the door.

“Hey, do us a favor and don’t tell anyone what you saw today, yeah?”

Wally’s tone changed—
not entirely, but enough. It still had that trademark lightness of his, though Conner could tell this last part sounded more like a warning than a friendly request.

“W-what?” Conner stammered, feeling a slight chill crawl up his spine.

Wally wasn’t smiling anymore, but he didn’t look angry either—just serious.

“I know you’re close to your dear Robin,” Wally said, looking Conner up and down before giving him a light pat on the shoulder. “Be a good friend and forget this ever happened. See you around.”

With that, Wally stepped back into the room, taking a few steps in reverse before slamming the doors shut.

Conner was confused. Sure, it had been weird—but he didn’t entirely understand what he’d just seen.

He hadn’t even gotten a good look at Nightwing—just enough to notice he was nervous.

And in his mind, Kon started wondering if maybe… those two were hiding something.

 

“Whatever,” Damian muttered as he pulled a tablet from who-knows-where. “Give me a second, and I’ll disable the alarm.”

“What’s so bad about me going in?” Kon asked, his voice carrying a hint of—was that sadness? Maybe. He still didn’t feel entirely welcome.

“I don’t want to be seen with you,” Damian replied, blunt and cold.

Ouch.

Yeah, that one stung a little.

But Conner said nothing—it was better that way.

“Alright, we can go now. I also disabled the security cameras facing my room,” Damian said, grabbing Conner by the arm.

Kon understood the cue and lifted Damian toward his balcony.

Within seconds, they landed on the edge of the enormous bedroom.

“Right. Bruce totally doesn’t play favorites,” Kon thought, glancing around at the size and luxury of the place.

“If you think I’m Bruce’s favorite because of this room, that’s only because you haven’t seen Richard’s,” Damian said, removing his domino mask and tossing it onto the bed. “God, you look terrible,” he muttered, referring to the large scar across Superboy’s face.

“I wonder why,” Conner replied sarcastically.

Damian didn’t respond. He crouched down and pulled a box from under the bed.

“Here, this is what you need,” he said flatly. “Sit down—I’ll patch you up.”

Conner did as told, sitting carefully at the edge of the bed, trying not to make the boy beside him uncomfortable.

Damian rolled his eyes and exhaled.

“I need you to come closer so I can clean the wound,” he said, a bit annoyed. He immediately noticed Conner seemed… afraid. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Kon scooted a little closer, sitting by his side—close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. Then he leaned in slightly.

“This is going to sting,” Damian warned.

“I’ve had worse,” Kon replied.

Damian soaked a cotton pad in a blue liquid and gently dabbed it along the burn.

Conner closed his eyes as he felt the sting, but it was bearable.

“So,” Damian began suddenly, “are you going to tell me what you were really doing parading around Metropolis like a celebrity, or do I have to play nice first?”

“I knew your generosity had strings attached.”

“And yet you accepted it. Go figure,” Damian said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me what you were doing in Metropolis—without Jon.”

Damian froze. His pulse quickened slightly. Conner noticed.

“If you tell me it’s because you saw something on social media, I won’t buy it. The timeline doesn’t match.”

“You’re getting more observant.”

“You learn a thing or two from Tim when you spend enough time with him.”

Damian smirked faintly.

“Fine. I fought with Jon. Happy now?”

“Why’d you fight with him?” Conner asked after a few seconds. “Last week he looked really happy—like he’d just won the lottery or something.”

“Tt.” Damian made an annoyed sound. “He was happy because he started dating someone, genius.”

“Wait—Jonathan has a partner?!” Conner exclaimed, his face showing obvious shock.

Damian had to hold himself back from snapping a picture—just to laugh about it later.

“Yeah. You’re late to the party,” he replied dryly.

Conner opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, frowning as he tried to recall if he’d noticed anything unusual last week.

Nothing.

“But,” he said, catching Damian’s attention, “you don’t look too happy about it.”

“I couldn’t care less about what Jonathan does,” Damian replied curtly, pressing more of the blue liquid onto the cotton with visible irritation.

“Are you… jealous?” Conner asked softly. He wasn’t teasing or trying to make Damian mad—just curious.

No answer.

“Don’t worry about it,” Conner added gently, placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “You’ll always be his best friend.”

Damian nearly dropped what he was holding at that so-called “comfort.”

“You Kryptonians really do have negative IQ.”

“Hey, that’s rude!”

“Then start using your brains—for once,” Damian retorted, pressing the cotton against Conner’s wound again, this time near his nose.

“Ow!” the half-Kryptonian complained, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he caught a glimpse of something—sadness—in Damian’s gaze. The same expression he’d had when he’d apologized earlier.

“What’s really going on between you and Jonathan, Damian?”

“It’s… complicated,” he said, pausing for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “Turns out he’s more like Clark than I thought.”
Conner began piecing everything together.

Okay, Damian wasn’t going to tell him outright, but…

Jonathan had a partner.

Damian clearly didn’t like it.

They fought, and Damian ended up in Metropolis afterward.

Conner tried to comfort him—because no matter what, Damian would still be Jon’s best friend.

And now Damian said Jon was “more like Clark than he thought.”

Wait.

Damian was in love with Jonathan.

“You’re in love with Jon!” Kon blurted, covering his face with his hand.

“Congratulations, you’re the first to find out,” Damian said flatly. “Just know that if anyone else hears about it, that scar will look like a paper cut compared to what I’ll do to you.”

“N-no! I—I won’t tell anyone,” Conner stammered, still stunned by his own realization.

“Now, are you finally going to tell me why you were acting like some kind of A-lister at all those VIP parties?” Damian asked, staring at him without much energy.

“Oh… that,” Conner said, blushing slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, um… it’s kinda similar to what happened to you.”

Damian frowned, holding back his immediate reaction.

Something similar to what happened to you…

If someone broke Damian’s heart, that meant…

Someone broke Conner’s too.

But who?

Damian’s gaze lifted slightly, meeting Conner’s gray eyes—eyes not so different from Tim’s.

And then it hit him.

Tim.

Just days ago, he’d announced that he was dating a guy.
And, maybe he was exaggerating, but once everyone found out who it actually was, their jaws hit the floor when they realized it wasn’t Conner Kent.
"So you were in love with Tim after all!" Damian said, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. Conner looked down, embarrassed.
Honestly, everyone in the manor bet the two of you would end up together."

"What?!" Conner exclaimed, placing both hands on his face in surprise "What do you even mean by that?!"

"Oh, God" Damian rolled his eyes. "Tim gets unbearable when it comes to you—more than usual—" he added, finishing wiping the long wound on Conner’s face "I mean, I still remember how annoying he got when I told him I disagreed with you knowing our identities. Damn Tim didn’t talk to me for the rest of the week, and during patrols he completely ignored me. Who does he think he is?"

Hearing Damian’s words made Conner’s pupils slowly dilate as the image of Tim defending him played in his mind.
"He… really defended me?" Kon asked softly, almost shy and unsure.

Damian raised an eyebrow as he looked at him.

"Yeah" he said, crossing his arms "It’s impossible to say anything about you or… your situation" he emphasized that last word "without Tim jumping in to interrupt or say something cheesy like, He’s not like that. He’d never do that. You just don’t know him like I do. Blah, blah, blah."

Conner smiled unconsciously, with tenderness and warmth.

"That’s so sweet" he murmured.

"Ugh" Damian grimaced "You two are disgusting" he added, continuing to treat Conner’s wound. "But honestly, I really thought Tim was in love with you… I mean, the way he talked about you, how he protected you even when you weren’t around…" Damian looked up at the ceiling, recalling more details that supported his theory "The way his whole world seemed brighter when you were there… Yeah, Tim’s a weirdo."

Damian stopped talking when he noticed tears starting to fall from Conner’s eyes.

"No, no, don’t cry next to me!" he said, as if warning him.

Which, of course, only made Conner cry harder.

Damian wanted to jump off his balcony right then and there.

He finally sighed and placed a hand behind Conner’s head, pulling him closer to his shoulder.

"Alright… it’s fine, it’s my fault you’re like this" he muttered, gently patting his back to comfort him.

Conner didn’t care about Damian’s personal space; he just threw his arms around him, more tears streaming down his cheeks.

As uncomfortable as Damian was, he didn’t push him away. He knew Kon needed comfort—and maybe even to let out some heartbreak—so he simply held the hug for a few seconds before letting go, staying still as the Kryptonian cried.

This is so awkward, he thought, glancing sideways at him.

"Do you want me to bring you some tissues?" he asked once Conner’s breathing had steadied.

Kon shook his head.

This is going to be a long talk, was Damian’s final thought before Conner finally pulled away.

---

Tim let go of the store employee and tried to think without letting his anger take over.

“Wonder Girl, Impulse!” Tim exclaimed as he started forming a plan, heading toward the back door. “I need to leave, now!” he added, as his two teammates followed him out.

“Wonder Girl, I need you to write the report for tomorrow…”

“What?! Me?!” Cassie interrupted.

“Yes, you!” Tim snapped, speaking quickly as he jumped on his motorcycle. “Impulse, the moment you get to the base, I need you to delete every single post or video about Superboy that’s circulating online.”

“And how am I supposed to do that if I don’t even know how the buttons in the base work?!” Bart exclaimed, completely baffled.

“I don’t know, but we need it done right now!” Tim replied, his voice tense as he put on his helmet. “Look up a YouTube tutorial or ask Wonder Girl for help!”

“Hey! I don’t know how to do that either!”

“Oh, don’t worry. I can call Nightwing—”

“NO!” Tim cut him off angrily as he revved up his bike. “Superboy is my problem. I don’t want any other hero involved in this.”

Neither Cassie nor Bart could say anything else. Tim had given his orders—and his warnings—and immediately sped off.
“Damn it…” Cassie muttered, standing on the sidewalk beside her teammate.

The two exchanged confused looks.
“He’s furious, but he definitely found something out,” Bart said.
“I think I’ll be praying to the Goddess Tyche tonight,” the blonde replied.
“For Conner?” Bart asked, glancing back at her.
“For Conner… and for us.”

Robin’s motorcycle roared down the road, almost crossing the line of what was legal—but he didn’t care.
He had to find Damian and Conner.

“Damn it, Damian,” Tim thought as rage surged through his chest.
He knew his brother. Damian had probably taken Conner to some base he shared with Jonathan… or something like that.
Or—
He’d taken him to the Batcave.
Tim was almost certain it was one of those two options.

Unlike Tim, Damian didn’t have a proper team yet, so having his own private base was out of the question.
But there was Jonathan.
Who knew what those two were hiding? Jonathan would do anything to keep Damian happy.

Tim was already crossing the bridge that connected Metropolis and Gotham, pushing his bike to the legal limit.
He was angry, frustrated, and confused.

“Why would Conner do that?”
“Was Lex behind all this mess?”

So many questions—and soon, he’d have answers.
Or at least, that’s what he believed.

It didn’t take Tim long to reach the Batcave, thanks to the shortcuts he knew by heart.
As he entered, he felt a faint flutter in his stomach but decided to ignore it.

However, once he parked his bike and scanned his surroundings, his heart sank at the sight before him.

“Superman?” he asked, a mix of worry and tension in his voice as he removed his helmet.
“Tim,” the hero replied.
“I assume you’re here for Superboy,” came Batman’s voice from the shadows, as silent as ever. A chill ran down Tim’s spine as he swallowed nervously. “Damian’s already handled it.”

Tim’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He lowered his gaze, unable to meet either Superman’s or Batman’s eyes.
“I’ll fix the problem,” Robin said, his voice shaky. No one replied. “I’ll go get Conner—”
“No, you won’t,” his father interrupted, freezing him in place. “Damian’s already taking care of it.”
“B-but he’s part of my team—”
“Tim, listen,” this time it was Superman who spoke, stepping closer to Red Robin. “Damian seems to be doing a good job getting Conner to talk. If you interrupt them, we might lose our chance to find out why he acted the way he did.”
“But how’s Conner?” Tim asked, a tremor in his voice. “Damian’s the one interrogating him—I doubt he’s even treating him right!”

Batman pressed a button on the Batcomputer, and a holographic feed lit up on the screen—a live video from the security cameras in Damian’s room.

Tim’s eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly at the sight.
Conner was resting his head on Damian’s shoulder while Damian held him in an embrace.

“No... No way,” Tim thought as he stepped closer to the projection.
“What—what are they talking about?” was all he managed to say, turning his eyes away from the scene.
“We don’t know,” his father replied. “Damian turned on the soundproofing in his room the moment Conner walked in.”
“Turn it off,” Tim snapped without thinking about whom he was addressing.

Bruce didn’t move or say a word, but Clark noticed the surprise in his body language at Tim’s outburst.
“Are you all right, son?” was all Superman asked.

Tim’s eyes widened as he looked at his father, the cowl still hiding his face.
“I—I…”

He didn’t know what to say, or even what he was feeling.
Confusion? Anger?

“Why is he like that with Damian?” he finally asked, his gaze returning to the screen as his fists clenched. “He’s only like that with me…” he muttered under his breath.

Bruce and Clark exchanged a quick glance, then looked back at the young hero.
They already knew what was going on.

“Tim, you should go back to your base,” Clark said first. “You’ve had a rough day, and I doubt Conner will be in good shape for a few hours. Give him a chance to open up to Damian—”
“No!” Tim interrupted sharply. “He shouldn’t be like that with him!”

“That’s enough, Tim!” Batman raised his voice, making his son lower his head instantly. The Dark Knight stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look, I know you’re worried about your friend. But he’ll come back to you and your team soon enough.”

Tim’s jaw trembled with restrained anger.
“Go back to your team,” Bruce ordered firmly. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Damian and Conner.”

Tim had no choice but to obey. With heavy, quick steps, he returned to his vehicle, started it, and sped out of the Batcave.

He accelerated as fast as he could—not because he wanted to get somewhere, but because he was trying to calm the storm inside him. The image kept replaying in his mind.
Damian was holding Conner… and Conner was resting his head against Damian’s shoulder and neck.

What was happening?

His grip tightened around the handlebars, as if he could crush them. The wind hit his face as he drove, filled with nothing but bitter emotions.

The truth was, he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to storm back into that room, break up whatever was going on, grab Conner by the collar, drag him out, and then threaten Damian to never—
Never.
Interfere with his team again.

After a long and tense ride, he finally reached Mount Justice.
He was exhausted, irritated, and weighed down by everything that had happened.

And yet, he still had to deal with the damn social media fallout and finish the report for the afternoon.

“I just hope Cassie and Bart at least managed to get something done…” he thought as he walked into the base.

 

---

 

"Are you sure you don't know?" Bart’s voice echoed through the monitor room of Mount Justice.
It was very late—around two in the morning—and the speedster stared in terror at the huge screen in front of him while holding his phone to his left ear.

"No, Bart, it’s two in the damn morning, and I swear I’m this close to hanging up," Jaime’s voice came through the phone, hoarse and tired—the kind of voice someone has when they’ve just woken up.

"Don’t be like that with me," Bart replied, hesitating as he hovered over one of the control buttons in front of him. "I really need help with this… If I press something wrong, Robin’s gonna kill me!"

Jaime’s sigh was clearly audible through the phone.
"Did you talk to Nightwing yet?" he asked.

"No, I can’t. Robin said no one else can get involved in this!" Bart answered as he put the phone on speaker and switched to the social media feeds to check if the videos of Conner were still up.
He frowned when he saw they still were.

"If he doesn’t want anyone from the Bat-Family involved, how does he expect you to hack into social media and delete the videos?" Jaime asked from the speaker.

"I don’t know!" Bart shouted, growing frustrated. "He was furious and just gave us orders! What else could I do?!"

"Whoa, Bart, calm down," Jaime yawned. "Let me see what I can do from here. I won’t leave you alone in this."

Bart inhaled and exhaled deeply, then took the phone off speaker and held it to his ear again.
"Alright. If you find anything else about the situation, tell me, okay? I’ll try to make this massive pile of tech work without triggering any alarms."

"Good luck," Jaime replied, his tone softening a bit at Bart’s exhausted voice. "Hey, I’ll visit you at the base tomorrow. I’ll bring pizza, okay?"

That actually made Bart smile.
"If Robin doesn’t kill me first, I think… it’ll be fine."

"Yeah… from what I can tell, he’ll be too busy with Conner before coming after you."

Bart let out a small laugh, then hung up when he heard his teammate’s footsteps approaching.

"Cassie," he said, pocketing his phone. "Did you finish the reports?"

"Um… sort of," the blonde replied, crossing her arms. "Did you have any luck deleting Superboy’s videos?"

Bart lowered his gaze. "No."

Cassie sighed and sat down in front of the massive computer.
"Let me see if I can handle this."

"Have you ever worked with a base computer before?"

"No," she admitted, pressing a button to power it on. "The Titans never really let me into their base, and don’t even get me started on the Justice League." Cassie rolled her eyes. "But you’ll just have to trust me on this."

"I don’t have much of a choice…"
Bart watched everything his friend did—and somehow, she actually managed to find the password for the main system.

Both smiled, starting to feel things were finally looking up.

"Alright, now…" Cassie paused for a second, reading the screen carefully before typing into specific command lines that required access keys. "I’ll try to hack into the main network. That should handle about seventy percent of the job."

"How did you even find the passwords?" Bart asked, a bit more relaxed now.

"There are some things better kept secret."

"You made a deal with a god, didn’t you?"

"Yeah…" the blonde replied reluctantly. "In my defense, it was either that or face Robin. And I’m not facing Robin. Not when he’s pissed off."

"I would’ve done the same," Bart said after a few seconds of silence.

Cassie continued working, and after a few tense minutes, she finally managed to start deleting some of the main content circulating online.
"With that, we’ve almost completed the task," she said, leaning back with relief. "Now we just have to wait for it to load. Luckily, most people in Metropolis are asleep… That should make the process faster."

The sound of the door opening made both Bart and Cassie freeze instantly.
"Robin…" the blonde muttered as she stood up from her chair.

Tim didn’t respond right away—his expression looked almost sleep-deprived.
"Did you do what I told you?" he asked after several moments of silence.

Cassie and Bart exchanged a look before the taller one spoke.
"I’m in the main network, deleting the videos. It should be working in a few minutes."

"Good," was all Tim said. He moved closer to the computer and took a seat. "You two can go rest. I’ll take care of the rest."

Bart and Cassie exchanged surprised looks behind Tim’s back. Then the Amazon started signaling toward him with her eyes, frowning.
Ask about Conner, she mouthed.

Bart understood the message but shook his head quickly, terrified.
Cassie exhaled and rolled her eyes.

"Uh, Robin…" she began in a low voice, trying not to make him angry. "Were you able to… find Conner’s whereabouts?"

Tim stopped typing, and both of them instantly regretted asking.
There was no response for at least three minutes.

"He’ll return to the base tomorrow," he finally said flatly.

"What?!" Bart exclaimed, crossing his arms. "Why didn’t you bring him back?"

"I…" Tim began, trying to come up with a coherent excuse. He didn’t sound nervous, but there was hesitation in his tone. "I found him with Superman, so I couldn’t interfere."

Impulse frowned, confused by that answer.
He was about to say something when Cassie grabbed his arm and tilted her head toward the exit.

"Alright, we’ll go get some rest," she said simply, pulling Bart along with her toward the door.

Tim didn’t pay much attention. His mind was still stuck on the image of Conner—his Superboy—with Damian.
After a few minutes, he felt his personal phone vibrate in his pocket. He took it out, and his expression changed when he saw the notification.

It was a message from Bernard—his boyfriend.
Tim’s face softened, a small smile forming as he looked around to make sure he was alone before opening it.

"He texted at midnight," he murmured under his breath when he noticed the time stamp, then began reading the messages.
Everything seemed normal at first: a greeting, an apology for texting so late… and then the message that made him freeze for several seconds.

"Look who I ran into at the fair."
And right below it—a photo of Bernard and Conner.

"You’ve got to be kidding me!" Tim snapped, gripping his phone tightly in frustration. "What am I supposed to say to that? ‘You two look great’? ‘Glad you finally met your idol’? Oh, hell no!"

He ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back in pure exasperation.
He couldn’t take any more of this day—and it was barely two in the morning.

Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temple and tried to think clearly before finally typing out a response.

"That’s great that he agreed to take a photo with you—he really seems like a great guy. You look amazing, sweetheart.
Sorry for replying so late, I had a family meeting about some company details. But I’m heading to bed now. Hope to see you tomorrow 💞"

Then he turned off his phone and left it somewhere nearby, not wanting to look at it again.
There was one small detail in Tim and Bernard’s relationship.
Bernard didn’t know that Tim was Red Robin—and it had to stay that way, by Bruce’s orders.

And on the other hand, Tim had never shown Conner a photo of Bernard, nor had he ever described what his boyfriend looked like.

“No problem,” he muttered to himself, trying to stay optimistic. “At most, Bernard will just tell me about his experience meeting Conner, and then we’ll talk about literally anything else that’s not related to this… Yeah, that’s definitely what’ll happen.”

The computer finished processing, and a message appeared on the screen: Request Approved.
Good. He could finally finish deleting Conner’s videos.

Wasting no time, Tim began identifying each video and removing them.

“That should do it,” he said after half an hour of nonstop work.

It was three in the morning, and he still had to check if the reports were complete.
Letting out a tired sigh, he left the main room, walked to the kitchen, and pulled an energy drink from the fridge. He cracked it open and took several gulps, then leaned back against the marble wall, lost in thought about what he’d say to Conner once he came back.

But more importantly—what would he say to Damian?

The image of Conner resting against Damian while the younger Wayne comforted him still lingered in his mind, gnawing at him.
He took another sip of the drink and returned to the main console.

After another half hour, everything was finally done. The reports looked fine, surprisingly enough—but he’d had issues with the videos.
There were too many for it to be three in the morning, and worse, he hadn’t been able to delete them from the major news outlets.

The Daily Planet had already uploaded the footage to its official accounts along with the headline.

He was screwed.

Now all he could do was try to salvage what was left of Superboy’s public image.
Fantastic.

Tim realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere at three-thirty in the morning, so he finally left the room and headed to his private quarters.

 

---

 

“Hey… are you feeling any better?” Damian asked, running a hand gently across Conner’s back. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. That comment was unnecessary.”

“No… I guess it’s good to know how other people see things.” Conner let out a muffled groan and pulled Damian’s body a little closer to his own.

Damian continued holding him, tired but steady, for at least two more minutes before feeling Conner start to pull away—his face wrecked, and not just because of the wound.

“I’ll finish cleaning that up,” Damian said after noticing that the cut was still fresh.

He grabbed a bit more of the blue ointment and carefully spread it over the injury. After a few minutes, Conner began to feel its cooling effect.

“Better?” Damian asked.

Conner nodded.

Damian started putting all the medical supplies away. “Good. I suppose you’re starting to regret what you did.”

“Something like that,” Conner replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t really plan on making a whole scene… It was more like—I just wanted to forget the rejection.”

Damian sighed. “I know what that feels like,” he said quietly, but loud enough for Conner to hear.

They stayed silent for a long moment, until Conner finally spoke again.

“I should probably go. Thanks for… this,” he said, not quite sure what he was thanking him for—whether it was for pulling him out of the party before things got worse, or for patching up the wound he’d caused himself.

“You can stay here tonight if you want,” Damian offered. “It’s almost three in the morning. I doubt you actually want to go out at this hour with your face looking like that, and you’ve probably still got some alcohol in your system.”

“How is that even possible? I should be immune because of my Kryptonian DNA…”

“There’s nothing a little Kryptonite can’t fix,” Damian said with a smirk.

“You didn’t—?! It was you?!”

“Who else?” Damian rolled his eyes. “Besides, you made it easy for me. You showed up all euphoric after hanging out with your rich Metropolis friends, you liked the drinks, and I just needed to wait until you ordered another round to slip a little Kryptonite into it.”

Conner began to piece everything together as Damian spoke.

“Clever,” he murmured.

Damian smiled faintly at the rare compliment.

“You practically handed it to me,” he said. “Then you started playing Spanish music to wallow in your heartbreak, kept drinking, and that just made it easier to knock you out.”

Conner raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking up in mild surprise. “You like Spanish music?”

The question caught Damian off guard. “Out of everything I just told you, that’s what you ask about? Seriously?”

Conner nodded, and Damian crossed his arms.

“Yes, there are some good Spanish songs,” he admitted. “But the ones you played at that party aren’t exactly my favorites. Just so you know.”

Conner could already tell what kind of music Damian preferred.

“Have you ever listened to Mon Laferte?” Conner asked, his eyes glinting with a strange spark.

“Yes,” Damian replied, curiosity flickering in his tone at Conner’s unexpected line of questioning.

“Can you… sing in Spanish?” Conner asked, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. The plan forming in his mind might just help them both let off a little steam.

Kon stood up from the bed and walked over to the cabinet in front of the TV. Then he turned around and motioned for Damian to come closer. The Wayne hesitated, stepping forward just as the Kryptonian turned on the TV and searched for a karaoke version of “Tu Tanta Falta de Querer.”
He glanced at Damian and nodded toward the screen.

“Do you seriously think singing a song like that is going to help?” Damian asked.
But the song had already started playing—and the first notes hit him like a punch to the gut.
He shifted uncomfortably, the lingering sadness in him surfacing once more.

“I don’t know how to sing, just so you know,” Conner said, holding the remote like a microphone.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be Ricky Martin, don’t worry,” Damian replied.

Conner looked ridiculous—but they were both too heartbroken, drowned in the music, to care.
He sighed and began to sing.

“Hoy volví a dormir en nuestra cama y todo sigue igual. El aire y nuestros gatos, nada cambiará. Difícil olvidarte estando aquí.”

The last words hit Conner harder than ever—he was standing inside Tim’s house. He could still smell him while walking through the hallway.
Everything reminded him of him.

Damian grabbed the remote, snatching it from Conner’s hands before the next verse could play.

“Te quiero ver, aún te amo y creo que hasta más que ayer. La hiedra venenosa no te deja ver, me siento mutilado y tan pequeño.”

Tears threatened to spill from Damian’s eyes. Unlike Conner, he hadn’t given himself the time to grieve. He was often too proud to let himself break down—but he didn’t mind being there right now, because at least he wasn’t the only one feeling it.

“Ven y cuéntame la verdad, ten piedad y dime ¿por qué?”
Conner wasn’t the best singer, but there was something about his voice—raw, trembling, painfully real. The sorrow could be felt from miles away, especially when he sang as if there were no tomorrow.
“¡¿Cómo fue, que me dejaste de amar?! ¡Yo aún podía soportar… Tu tanta falta de querer!”

Conner gave up; the tears betrayed him, slowly falling as the ache in his chest grew heavier.

“Hace un mes, solía escucharte y ser tu cómplice. Pensé que ya no había…”
Damian stopped there, taking a deep breath to keep from falling apart too soon before continuing,
“Nadie más que tú, yo fui tu amigo y fui tu compañero.”

“Ahora dormiré, muy profundamente para olvidar, quisiera hasta la muerte para olvidar. Me forro para quitarme esta amargura.”
Both of them sang that line with anger, bitterness, and disappointment.

“Ven y cuéntame la verdad,” there it was again—that chorus, that damned beautiful chorus.
“Ten piedad… Y dime ¡¿POR QUÉ?! ¡¿Cómo fue que me dejaste de amar?! ¡Yo aún podía soportar TU TANTA FALTA DE QUERER!”

Their voices were completely broken. It didn’t matter—the room was soundproof. They could let out every bit of pain they’d been holding in.

Both were in tears now. Damian felt defeated, and Conner humiliated—not just because of what had almost happened at the party, but because of everything: Tim, his anger toward himself, and the strange mix of emotions drowning him. The alcohol hadn’t fully worn off yet.

Damian shook his head and walked toward the bathroom, grabbing a clean set of clothes.
“You can stay here tonight,” he said flatly, “but you sleep on the couch.”
He closed the door behind him without waiting for a response.

“Are they singing karaoke?” Superman asked, watching the live feed from Damian’s room.

“Damian may seem cold and distant with people like Conner,” Bruce replied, pulling back his cowl, “but it was only a matter of time before they realized they’re not so different. They’re both just as broken—and both need someone who understands them so they don’t feel lost.”

“Wow…” Superman said, stepping closer and resting both hands on the back of Batman’s chair. “Of all the things I could’ve expected from Conner, I never imagined he’d earn Damian’s affection. Quite an unexpected duo, don’t you think?”

Bruce didn’t respond for a moment.

“I think someone’s not going to be too happy about this…” he finally said, his expression shifting to one of concern before letting out a deep sigh. “I’d better start preparing for when Tim finds out.”

At the LexCorp offices, several employees were getting ready to leave after a long workday, while Lex remained awake, waiting for Conner’s return.

“He should’ve been here by now,” he muttered, glancing at the gold watch on his wrist.

Two in the morning.

A faint sense of unease washed over him, but before he could process it, his assistant knocked on the door.

“Come in,” he said, sitting back down at his desk.

“Sorry for interrupting at this hour, sir,” she said politely, “but I think you should see this.”

She was holding a sleek black tablet in her arms, the click of her heels echoing across the room. Once she reached his desk, she played a short video.

It lasted only fifteen seconds—but it was enough to make Lex’s face twist with fury.

“Conner!” he shouted, snatching the tablet from her hands and hurling it toward one of the decorative shelves, shattering it instantly.

“That was mine…” the woman muttered under her breath, looking pained.

“What the hell was Conner doing in Amelia’s car?!” Lex barked, slamming his fist on the desk. “We just closed a deal with her father last week—if he finds out, we’re screwed!”

“Was he the Colombian gentleman who arrived thirty minutes before the meeting?”

“Yes, him!” Lex began pacing around his black marble desk. “If Conner did something with that girl, we’re done for—no, wait. I know my son. He wouldn’t do that… I think. I’ve never seen him go through a breakup before. What if he uses sex to forget his pain? Damn it, if that’s the case, he definitely got that from me.”

His assistant grimaced at that last comment but swallowed hard and continued, “They were in Amelia’s car, but one of her friends was driving, and there were two other guys with them—also her friends.”

“Which social network did you get the video from?” Lex demanded.

His assistant answered, and Lex immediately opened his laptop to investigate for himself.

“Give me the boy’s account name,” he ordered.

She complied, and within minutes, they found the profile of the teenager who had been posting the clips.

“Will you be punishing your son for this, sir?” the woman asked as they watched videos of Conner partying like some kind of superstar.

Lex didn’t respond right away. He copied the video links, opened another tab, and began checking who was viewing the clips.

When he found something interesting, a slow smile spread across his face.

“No… I think this might actually work in our favor,” he said, smirking.

His assistant leaned in for a closer look at the list of accounts watching the videos—and her eyes widened when she saw brand ambassadors, contractors, and stylists among the viewers.

She could already imagine the flood of multimillion-dollar offers that would soon hit at her email.

Chapter Text

Conner couldn’t sleep; the endless stream of doubts circling his mind wouldn’t let him close his eyes.
Damian, on the other hand, had managed to fall asleep—but it had taken longer than expected.

“Damian, are you still awake?” the half-Kryptonian asked, raising his voice slightly.
Damian opened his eyes and sighed.
“Yes, but I’m trying to sleep. You should do the same,” he replied, turning over under the sheets.
“I have too many questions on my mind. I can’t sleep.”

Conner was staring at Tim’s gift in his hands, holding it gently as his thumb brushed over the drawing of Tim.
“If I answer, will you go to sleep?” Damian asked reluctantly.
“Yes, sir,” Conner replied, as if following a direct order.
“Then go ahead.”

Conner took a few seconds to answer, trying to decide which of the many questions to ask.
“Do you think Tim tried to look for me?”
“What do you mean?” Damian asked, frowning slightly with his eyes still closed.
“Let’s say he found out I went out into the streets of Metropolis… Do you think he tried to find me?” Conner asked shyly, his cheeks turning a bit red.

Damian processed the question for a few seconds before responding.
“I couldn’t tell you for sure. But if he did… he’s probably furious right now.”
“Why would he be furious?”
“Because Tim is jealous,” Damian replied flatly. “If he finds out I brought you here, that you’re sleeping here, and that I comforted you here—he’ll be breathing fire.” Damian let out a laugh after that. “Honestly, Tim’s the most fun one to mess with among my brothers.”

“I never thought Tim was… a jealous person, to be honest,” Conner said, bringing the drawing of Red Robin closer to his chest.
“That’s because he doesn’t like others to notice. I know my brother—unfortunately. Do you remember that time you had to patrol with me a few months ago?”
“When you were put in charge of Young Justice for a day because Tim broke his leg…?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Did something happen after that? He only rested for nine days, as far as I remember.”
“Tim went through all nine circles of hell during those days—ha!”
“Hey, that’s not funny!” Conner never would’ve raised his voice at someone like Damian, but if it meant defending Tim, he would. “He went through a lot because of that accident, and if Nightwing and you hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve gone to see him.”

“I know,” Damian replied, yawning afterward. “Anyway, Tim threatened me not to say anything… but I think you deserve to know what he told me before I left for Mount Justice.”

Conner sat up on the couch, turning to face Damian.
“What did he say?” he asked.

Damian smiled as he remembered the moment.
“Maybe another day,” he said, letting out another yawn. “I really need to sleep.”

Conner didn’t respond—he only listened to the soft rustling of Damian’s sheets.
“I should sleep too,” he thought, closing his eyes.

Even though he still couldn’t stop thinking about Tim, exhaustion was finally about to take over him.

6:00 AM

Conner’s phone started ringing, making him jolt awake as he scrambled to find it and shut it off.

Incoming call: Lex.

“Shit,” he muttered, trying to fully wake up. He pressed the answer button and prayed his father wouldn’t be too angry.
“Yes, Lex?” he asked in a timid voice.
“I want you here before six-thirty,” was all Lex said before hanging up.

Conner could tell by his tone—it was commanding, but not in the usual way Lex spoke when ordering him to do something against his will. No. This tone was commanding and irritated. Very irritated. Maybe even furious.

“Damn it,” Conner said nervously, and then he remembered someone—Damian. Without hesitation, he turned toward the bed, but to his surprise, Damian wasn’t there.
That made him hesitate for a moment, but there was no time for that now. He had to get to Lex.

–––

Conner arrived on time—two minutes early, in fact.

The employees at LexCorp looked at him nervously.

“Something’s going on,” he thought.

“There you are,” Lex’s voice rang out, making Conner turn in its direction.
He swallowed hard.

“H-hey, Dad…” he said, his voice trembling.

“Oh, so now you call me Dad?” Lex said with authority, crossing his arms in front of Conner.

“Uh…”

Conner was cut off as Lex suddenly wrapped his arms tightly around his torso.
“I always knew my intellect had to be hiding somewhere inside that head of yours, my boy,” Lex said, giving Conner’s forehead a light tap. “A true visionary.”
“What…?”

“You see, son,” Lex continued as his secretary handed him a new tablet, “your little outburst last night caught the attention of several brands. They’ve been contacting the company with million-dollar offers for your image.”

Conner froze in place, unable to process what was happening.

“Excuse me?” he asked. “I don’t understand—what are you talking about?”

“People love you, my boy,” Lex replied. “And brands love that. Just imagine it—Superboy, the first superhero on magazine covers.”

Conner’s expression turned anxious.

“Superman’s going to kill me,” he muttered.

“Well, he’ll have to deal with me first,” Lex said calmly. “Because I’ve already accepted one of the offers.”

“What?! No!”

“Oh, son, relax. It’s a great opportunity. You’ll be part of an upcoming campaign for a very prestigious brand,” Lex said, gesturing for Conner to follow him. “And you won’t be alone. A business partner of mine asked if you could model alongside his daughter.”

“Lex, no. Seriously. I’m a superhero, not a model or some public figure.”

“But you’re also my son. You can handle a public image just fine.”

“Superman’s going to kick me out of the League…” Conner’s voice was filled with panic and desperation as he tried to reason with Lex. “Please, Dad, give me another punishment—but not this…”

“Superman won’t do a thing. Besides, if you don’t participate, you’ll pay back everything you spent last night.”

Conner stopped in the hallway—and so did Lex.

“A-and how much is that… exactly?” he asked, holding onto a sliver of hope.

Maybe if he worked at the farm long enough, he could pay it off by the end of the year.

Lex gestured to his secretary, who understood immediately and showed her tablet screen to the young hero.

Conner’s eyes widened at the massive amount of money displayed.

Not even selling the Kent farm would cover half of it.

“Da—” Conner started to use his childish “please, Dad” tone, hoping to soften him up.

It didn’t work.

“No,” Lex said firmly. “If you don’t have the money you wasted last night, then you’ll do exactly as I say.”

“At least let me think about it…”

“There’s not much to think about, son. It’s just a few public photos. You complain as if you don’t already appear in newspapers all the time with your little friends,” Lex said as he continued walking, Conner reluctantly following behind. “This is almost the same—except this time, it generates profit and publicity for the company.”

“And what do I get out of it?” Conner asked, his tone suddenly firmer.

If he couldn’t refuse, he at least wanted to know his reward.

“Now you’re thinking like a businessman,” Lex said, opening the door to his office and walking in with Conner. “Fifty percent of the earnings will go into your bank account. Sound fair?”

“Shouldn’t I get more? It’s my image on the line—and potentially my career as a hero.”

“We’ll see about that later. Let’s see how this first campaign goes,” Lex said, pulling a pen from his shirt pocket and placing a black folder in front of his son. “Here’s the contract for the campaign. I just need your signature.”

Conner grabbed the pen and the folder nervously.
His hand began to tremble as he looked from his father to the paper. Slowly, he brought the pen closer to the page.

“LEX, STEP AWAY FROM CONNER RIGHT NOW!”

The sound of a wall breaking made both Conner and Lex turn in shock.
While Lex’s brow furrowed in irritation, a chill ran down Conner’s spine.

“Superman…” Lex said coldly, keeping his usual stern expression. “Now you decide to care about Conner?”

“Conner, we’re leaving. Now.”

Lex gripped his son’s shoulders firmly.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” he said, pulling the boy back against him. “My son’s not leaving until he signs that contract.”

“Lex, Superboy isn’t some celebrity to be paraded around in commercials and magazine covers!” Superman snapped.

Lex frowned deeper—then smiled faintly at his son.
“Conner, please wait outside,” he said, signaling to his secretary to open the door.

Conner looked at Superman, then at Lex. Deciding not to anger his father further, he quietly stepped out of the room.

As soon as the door closed, Lex spoke again.
“You’re such an idiot, Superman!” he shouted, crossing his arms. “For your information, Conner was a wreck last night. All I did was give him a break.”

“A break?!” Superman’s voice rose. “You turned him into a teenage public figure overnight!”

“I’ll remind you that he is my son,” Lex countered sharply. “Frankly, I think it’s great he’s taking his mind off all that hero nonsense—saving the world nonstop. Now the public adores him more than ever. He’s become one of the most popular heroes of the moment. So tell me—why not make some profit from it?”

“Does he even want this?” Superman stepped closer, anger flaring in his eyes. “Or is this just what you want him to do?”

Lex rolled his eyes.
“You talk as if you were some kind of loving father figure. Tell me, Superman—have you ever actually sat down and talked to him? No. Do you even care about his well-being outside League business? Also no. In fact—” he added, pointing straight at the Kryptonian, “—you don’t even let him take part in most of those missions.”

That made Superman hesitate.
Just a little.

“The boy came to me last night heartbroken,” Lex continued. “It’s obvious he trusts me more than he trusts you. I bet he doesn’t even feel like he gets half the attention you give your other son.”

That one hit harder. Superman stepped back slightly.

“Face it, Superman,” Lex said with a triumphant smile. “You can control his life as a hero all you want… but the rest of his life? That’s mine to guide. Unless, of course, you start acting like a halfway decent father.”

“Conner is not a celebrity,” Superman said flatly.

“Of course not. He’s much more than that—tall, handsome, charismatic, heir to everything you see here, and a superhero,” Lex chuckled. “He could have the world at his feet if he wanted.”

“Lex…” Superman warned, frowning deeply.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” Lex said, returning to his desk. “A third of whatever he earns from these campaigns will go toward your filthy little space station.”

“How did you—?”

“Don’t interrupt me, Superman!” Lex barked.

The Kryptonian fell silent.

“We’ll split the profits into three parts—one for the company, one for him, and the last for whatever you choose to do with it. I’m being very generous here, just so you know there’s no trick involved.”

“I doubt it’ll amount to much,” Superman said cautiously.

“You really have little faith in the boy,” Lex muttered, opening his laptop. He pulled up an email and turned the screen toward Superman with a smug grin.

Superman leaned forward to read. When his eyes reached the end, his jaw nearly dropped.
“No way…” he breathed. After a quick calculation, it would be worth—what?—forty farms? “That much?!”

Lex only laughed.
“Convinced yet? These people are professionals. They know how rare it is to get the image rights of a superhero. Of course they’re willing to pay millions.”

Superman hesitated, clearly torn.

“So you’re saying a third of that goes straight to the Watchtower?”
“You can do whatever you want with your share—but yes, it’s yours.”

“This is just so we don’t pull Superboy out of the deal.”
“Everything I’m doing now is for him,” Lex said, standing up. “I know you, Superman. You’d kick the boy out over one mistake. At least this way, he pays for it on his own terms.”

Superman lowered his head, staring at the laptop.
It wasn’t such a bad deal.
They could even use the money to cover damages caused by the League’s missions.

“Fine,” Superman finally said. “But he’s still getting punished for what happened last night.”
“That’s your problem,” Lex replied, pouring himself a glass of water.

“Anything else I should know about last night?” Superman asked.

Lex was about to say no—but then he remembered that particular video, and his mind spun for a moment.
He cleared his throat, trying to choose his words carefully.

“Well, uh… as you know,” he began awkwardly—something extremely rare for Lex Luthor—“sometimes young people can be… impulsive.”
“Just be direct,” Superman said firmly.
“I think Conner might have… slept with the daughter of one of my business associates,” Lex replied bluntly.

Superman froze. For several seconds, he couldn’t even speak.
He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Not entirely,” Lex admitted, “but I’m not ruling it out.”
“Did you talk to him about it?”
Lex laughed.
“I’m not having that conversation,” he said. “You will.”

–––

Tim couldn’t deny that he’d barely slept all night.
Still, he convinced himself he had to—after all, he had a date with Bernard.

When he finally drifted off, his sleep was plagued with restless dreams—an awful combination.

By 7 AM, he took a quick shower and downed more energy drinks the moment he stepped out of his room.

Neither Cassie nor Bart were awake, which left him alone with his thoughts.

“How do I tell Damian to stay off my team for good?” he wondered. “Something like last night can’t happen again… Damn it, Conner—how could you let Damian comfort you? My room was right next door.”

He took another sip of his drink and made himself a sandwich.

The image of Damian and Conner together refused to leave his mind.

“I should prepare in case Damian brings it up,” he thought, sighing.

“No. Damian wouldn’t do that,” he tried to convince himself.

Then he pulled out his phone to send a message.

But the moment he saw the name of the person he was about to text, anger bubbled up inside him—he nearly wanted to bite the phone out of sheer frustration.

 

---

 

A single message.

Just one was enough to make his whole body tremble with fear like never before.

“I’m dead,” Conner thought.

Tim had sent only one text: Hurry.

He didn’t need to say more — Conner already knew what it meant.

He texted Lex a quick goodbye, promising to return when he could to talk about what had happened.

Then, like lightning, he took off toward Mount Justice.

Questions flooded his mind.

What would Tim say to him? What kind of face would he have? Probably not a friendly one.
Would he even forgive him?
No — impossible. No matter how angry Tim was, he’d never do something like that… right?

Conner’s mind filled with more doubts, ones that went far beyond the immediate situation.

How deep was his friendship with Tim, really?
After this, would they still be friends?

Too many questions, too little time. Without even realizing it, he had already arrived at the base.

His heart was pounding, feeling like it might burst out of his chest.

He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

—

The atmosphere was tense. Even though Young Justice only had four members, it was more than enough to make the air feel heavy.

Conner walked through the zeta tube, and as soon as he appeared in the main room, he saw Bart and Cassie sitting together.
Both of them stood up the moment they saw him.

“Superboy…” Cassie said first, scanning him from head to toe. “Under different circumstances, I’d be ready to scold you, but…”
She stopped, exchanged a glance with Bart, then looked back at the Kryptonian.
“…right now, I just hope Hera is with you.”

Superboy didn’t even have time to fully process her words before Bart placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I love you, Conner,” Bart said simply, his eyes showing nothing but genuine concern. “He’s waiting for you in the monitor room.”

“Right. They’re acting like this because they know Tim called me here,” Conner thought, and the fear came rushing back.

The three of them walked together toward the monitor room — until, at a certain point, Bart and Cassie stopped.
Conner turned to look at them.

“You’re not coming…?”

They both shook their heads.

“How mad is he?” Conner asked quietly.

“You should’ve seen him last night,” Cassie replied. “He was furious. But honestly, I can’t blame him — what you did was stupid.”

Conner didn’t even try to deny it.

Bart used his super speed to rush over and pull him into a quick hug.
“It was nice working with you.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Bart!” Cassie scolded. “Robin’s not going to kill him.”

Bart turned to her.
“How sure are you about that?”

That made Cassie hesitate.

“Hey, don’t scare me like that…” Conner muttered.

“It’s better if you just go in,” Bart said, stepping back beside Cassie. “We’ll be right here if you need us.”

Conner turned, took a deep breath, and pressed the button to open the door.

 

--

Conner stood frozen in place, watching Tim sit in his chair as he finished typing something on the main computer in the studio.
Nervous energy buzzed through his entire body. He found it almost funny—he’d never even felt this nervous around Lex.

Tim set his mug down on the edge of the desk, then slowly turned toward Conner.
The Kryptonian didn’t need to see behind the domino mask to know that Tim was glaring daggers at him.

Neither of them said a word.

What am I supposed to say? Conner wondered. Would a simple apology even be enough?

Tim stood up from his seat and began walking toward him with steady, deliberate steps—radiating a unique kind of anger.
Conner felt his legs trembling.

Tim stopped a couple of meters away.
“Well?” he asked, his tone colder than anything Conner had ever heard from him.

Kon didn’t know how to respond.
For the first time since everything had happened, he actually felt genuine shame.
He lowered his gaze and bowed his head slightly.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured.

What else could he possibly say?

Tim stepped closer. He was about to speak—Conner could tell—but something made him pause, and his expression shifted to one of surprise.

Conner hesitated.

Tim raised his gloved hand uncertainly, then after a few seconds, removed the mask from his eyes.
His gaze was completely different now—his blue eyes had softened.

Conner watched as Tim came closer still and removed one of his gloves.
Conner shut his eyes tight when Tim lifted a hand toward his face, bracing for whatever might come.

But instead…

He froze in surprise when Tim’s touch turned out to be gentle.
Tim ran his fingertips carefully over the wound on Conner’s cheek, then placed his whole palm against that side of his face, his thumb brushing softly along the scar.

“Did Damian do this to you?” Tim asked quietly, still tracing the mark.

Conner couldn’t fully grasp what was happening. Just minutes ago, Tim had looked ready to kill him, and now he seemed… completely different.

“You mean…?” Conner hesitated, confused by the sudden change—but then caught on to the question. “Ah—yeah, but don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

Tim didn’t seem convinced. He ran his thumb across the wound for a few more seconds before speaking again.
“You treated this yourself?”

“Damian healed me,” Conner replied.

That answer didn’t sit well with Tim at all.
His hand dropped from Conner’s face, and the image of Damian flashed vividly in his mind again.

Without another word, Tim grabbed Conner by the arm and pulled him toward a spare chair, a little farther from the main console.
He pushed Conner down into it, then stepped away, leaving the Kryptonian confused.

“Tim?” Conner whispered.

No verbal response.
Tim silently opened one of the drawers near the monitor, his expression unreadable.
After a few seconds, he came back holding a small metal box.

Without saying anything, he set it on the table near Conner and opened it.
Conner followed every move in silence.

A moment later, Tim held a piece of cotton soaked with some kind of antiseptic.
“Don’t move,” he said sharply, though his tone still held authority rather than anger.

Conner obeyed.

Tim dabbed the cotton along the wound. Unlike when Damian had treated it, it didn’t sting this time.
Tim exhaled deeply.

“You don’t need my brother to patch you up,” he said, continuing carefully, his tone softer now. “You’ve got me. And unlike him, I’ll actually be here for you.”

He paused. Conner’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“You’re not going to run to Damian for comfort again, are you?” Tim asked, his voice almost cracking.

“I—I don’t know what you’re—”

“I saw you, Conner,” Tim interrupted, his other hand coming up to cradle the opposite side of Conner’s face so he held it between both palms. “But don’t worry. That won’t happen again.”

Tim smiled—calmly, too calmly for what he was truly feeling inside.
Of course, he was furious. But now that his theory was confirmed—that Damian had hurt Conner—he knew Kon would never seek him out again.
That thought alone brought him a twisted sense of relief.
He could rest easy, knowing nothing would happen between his Superboy and his brother.

Conner didn’t know how to respond. Then again, hardly anyone ever truly understood Tim Drake.

Tim applied a thin layer of ointment over the wound, finishing the treatment with steady, gentle movements.
Conner just sat there, accepting the care—grateful, even. Anything was better than seeing Tim angry at him.

“All done,” Tim finally said, straightening up. “This should heal within a few hours.”

“Thanks,” Conner murmured, glancing away.

Tim stood, silently packing everything back into the box.
The silence between them felt unbearable.

“For today and tomorrow, you’re in charge of cleaning the Tower,” Tim said after a few minutes, putting his domino mask back on.

Conner looked up at him—the boy in front of him now carried a colder, sharper expression.

“Ah—”

“That’s an order,” Tim cut him off before he could finish. He turned and started walking toward the exit. “And be careful with Bart’s room,” he added with a mischievous smirk. “You never know what you might find in there.”

And with that, he was gone.

--

“Can you hear anything?” Bart whispered to his friend.
“No… I think Tim actually killed him this time,” Cassie replied, pressing her ear against the wall that separated them from the meeting room.
“Don’t say that…” Bart muttered, feeling anxiety creeping up his spine.
“Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating—hey!” Cassie noticed how his leg started bouncing restlessly. “Relax, I am exaggerating.”

But Bart wasn’t calm at all. He was genuinely worried for his friend.
They could face chaos from collapsing dimensions or monsters thirty meters tall—
—but Tim? No.

Before either of them could say or do anything else, the automatic door slid open. Both of them jumped back as fast as possible, pretending they had just been casually passing by.
Neither dared to make eye contact with their leader.

They waited until Tim was gone before rushing into the room.

“Conner?!” Bart exclaimed as soon as they entered.
“Hey, Bart,” Conner answered, just before his friend pulled him into a hug.
“Man, I’m glad you’re alive,” Bart said, stepping back.

Cassie came closer, placing a hand on the Kryptonian’s shoulder.
“What happened to your face?” she asked, noticing the cream spread across his cheek.

“Oh, that’s from yesterday,” Conner said casually. “Batman’s partner can be a little—”
“Wait. Tim’s brother did that to you?!” Cassie interrupted, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Uh, it was an accident,” Conner admitted. “He already apologized.”

“So Tim patched you up,” Bart added.
Conner nodded.

Cassie and Bart exchanged a glance.
“That explains why you’re still alive,” Cassie sighed. “That totally saved your life.”
“I don’t see how that makes sense,” Conner replied, frowning.
Cassie rolled her eyes.
“Never mind. The point is—you’re okay.”

“Anyway, I have to stay behind today and tomorrow to clean the entire base.”

Both Cassie and Bart immediately started inching toward the exit.
“Guys—wait,” Conner said, suddenly getting an idea. “You wouldn’t happen to—?”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before his two dear friends had already disappeared from the room.

–––

Tim was counting down the hours until his date started.
Naturally, he needed time to get ready—an hour for preparation, and another to make it to Bernard’s place on time.

It was still early. He’d already resolved the situation with Conner, so he planned to relax that afternoon.
At least until the alarm went off, signaling that something was happening.

Tim quickly answered the call, and a member of the League appeared on screen.

“Damn it,” he thought.

In the end, they had to respond to a hostage situation involving a gang in Metropolis.

Why didn’t the League handle it? Easy.

The Titans were already undercover on another mission.

The rescue took five hours. By the time it ended, Robin rushed back to base.

It was already three in the afternoon.

The others were surprised to see their leader in such a hurry, but none of them dared to ask questions.

It wasn’t a good day for gossip.

“Cassie, if they call again, you take the next one,” he ordered while climbing up through the Zeta Tube with his team. Cassie just nodded. “Bart, order dinner for tonight.”

When they arrived back at the main room, Tim turned to Conner before heading to his quarters.

“Don’t forget to clean everything today,” he warned. “I’ve got an important matter to attend to. Don’t bother me unless it’s really urgent.”

As soon as he reached his room, Tim locked the door and dashed straight to the bathroom.

Just like he’d planned, he was ready in exactly one hour.
He even had time to put on an under-eye mask.
It worked.

Now came the final decision—whether to apply his cologne here or wait until he arrived at Bernard’s house.
He decided to pour a bit of his favorite perfume into a small bottle before heading out.

Cassie whistled as soon as she saw him.

"Where are you going all dressed up?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe.
"I have… a company matter to take care of," he excused himself. "I’ll be back tomorrow."

With that, he hurried out of the base.

Bart happened to pass by and quickly approached the blonde.

"Did you see him?" he asked, pointing in Tim’s direction.

"According to him, he’s off to handle a company issue," Cassie laughed. "Yeah, sure — I’ve never seen him that dressed up before."

–––

Conner sighed as he swept the floor of the room where he and Tim had been just a few hours ago.

He hated this kind of punishment — and of course Tim knew that.

"Fine," he thought bitterly. "Next time Lex gives me money, I’ll donate it to charity."

He kept sweeping for another half hour until his phone started vibrating.
Unknown number.
But it wasn’t marked as spam, so he answered.

"Hello?" he said after hitting the accept button.

"Conner Kent," replied a familiar voice.

Conner hesitated.

"Damian?" he asked, surprised. "How did you get my number?"

"Wasn’t hard," Damian said flatly. "Tim underestimates me way too much. Cracking his access code was like taking candy from a baby."

"Access code…?" Conner repeated, and then the pieces clicked together. "Oh no— Damian, tell me you didn’t do it just to mess with him."

"I wouldn’t call you just for that, smart guy," Damian replied, then sighed. "I need… your help."

"My help?"

"Do I really have to repeat myself like a broken record?" snapped Damian.

"N-no, it’s just— I’m surprised. You’ve never asked me for anything before."

"There’s a first time for everything."

"Alright…" Conner leaned against the wall. "What do you need my help with?"

Damian took a moment before replying.

"Can you patrol with me?"

Conner froze — more shocked than before.
He was about to repeat the question, but remembered Damian’s earlier complaint.

"What about Jon?"

"Like I told you last night, I’m staying away from him," Damian said, his tone softer now, almost reluctant. "I’d rather patrol with someone whose skills are already well-honed. You understand?"

Conner nodded, even though Damian couldn’t see him.

"Tim made me clean the entire tower," Conner said. "I don’t think I can help you today, sor—"

"Green Lantern owes me a favor," Damian interrupted. "He’ll handle the cleaning today."

"Then why don’t you patrol with him?"

A loud laugh burst through the speaker, making Conner pull the phone slightly away from his ear.
"Not a chance."

Conner glanced around the half-cleaned room — he’d barely done twenty-five percent and already felt exhausted, like he’d cleaned the whole place twice.

"Tim might find out," he tried to argue.

"Why would he care? He’s on a date with his boyfriend," Damian replied casually.

Conner felt a sharp sting in his chest.

"So that’s why he looked so dressed up," he thought, tightening his grip on the phone out of frustration.

"Fine," he said at last, exhaling. "I’m on my way."

Chapter Text

Bart was sprawled across the couch, his head hanging off the edge and his phone held above his face, refreshing his messages every few seconds. Cassie, sitting beside him, flipped through the channels without much interest.

“I’m worried about Conner and Tim,” she said suddenly, not taking her eyes off the remote.

“Why?” Bart replied without looking, his fingers flying across the screen.

“Didn’t you notice?” Cassie turned toward him, raising a brow. “Conner is just… too in love.”

Bart clicked his tongue.
“How cute,” he said, not paying much attention.

“I’m being serious, Bart,” she insisted. “I’m worried it might start affecting the team.”

He let out a distracted laugh, still staring at his phone.
“You’re probably overthinking it. Conner and Tim have always had that weird thing going on.” He refreshed his messages again. “Where’s Jaime when you need him…?”

Cassie frowned.
“Are you even listening to me?”

“Mhm. Worried. Conner. Tim. Drama,” he recited with a crooked grin.

Cassie rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the TV.

An entertainment news segment appeared on screen, and although she didn’t care about it, she left it on just to fill the silence.

She tried not to dwell on her thoughts, but the knot in her stomach refused to loosen. She didn’t doubt Tim, but she knew just how intense Conner could get when it came to feelings… and how much that could complicate things between them.

The sound of the zeta-tube pulled her out of her thoughts. She glanced at Bart, who was already on his feet, stuffing his phone into his pocket with a triumphant smile.

“And where are you going now?” Cassie asked with a raised brow.

“Jaime just arrived,” he said. “I’m going down to see him before Robin shows up.”

“Hey! You still haven’t ordered dinner!” she called as he approached the tube.

“That’s on you—thanks!” he shouted right before vanishing in a flash of light.

Cassie sighed and dropped the remote onto the couch.
“Great,” she muttered, resigned, before getting up to order something for delivery.

—

Once he reached the main courtyard of the base, Bart wondered if his friend had gone to the woods in front of the building. He used his super-speed to sweep through part of the area, then returned to his starting point with a frown.

Still nothing.

He checked his phone again.

The message had changed—from “I’m here” to “arriving soon.”

“How do you even mix up two different messages?” he muttered.

Before he could think of an answer, a fluttering sound above him echoed in his ears. He looked up to see his friend descending with a pizza box in his hands.

Bart smiled and pocketed his phone.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Jaime said, taking a long breath to calm his panting. “The mission ran longer than expected. As soon as I was free, I grabbed the pizza and tried to get here in record time.”

“Blue!” Bart wrapped his arms tightly around him, resting his head against Jaime’s chest. He had really missed him.

“It only took us ten minutes because of the pizza. Then five more to get here. We definitely outdid ourselves.”

“Oh—” Bart circled around Jaime until he was face-to-face with Khaji Da. “Hi, Khaji. Sorry for not greeting you earlier. It’s a pleasure to hear your voice again.”

“The pleasure is mine.”

“I hope the food isn’t cold,” he added, grabbing the pizza box. Then he took his friend by the wrist, and the two of them headed into the woods.

—

“Finally!” the redhead exclaimed, grabbing the first slice of pizza he could get his hands on. “I was starving.”

“You guys didn’t eat anything?” Jaime asked, curious.

Bart shook his head.
“Tim left everything in our hands,” he said, mouth full of pizza. “I was supposed to order food, but I dumped it on Cassie. Luckily she’s really understanding.”

Jaime sighed.
“She must be furious.”

“Nope. She’s too worried about Conner and Tim to get mad over dinner.”

“Right… What did happen between Conner and Tim?” Jaime had overheard Richard mentioning it to Wally the day after Bart’s call, but not enough to understand the situation. And honestly, he was way too curious to let it slide. “The day after you called me, I heard Nightwing talking about it with Wally. He sounded really… worried. But I didn’t catch much.”

“You want me to tell you, don’t you?”

Jaime nodded, a grin forming on his face.

Bart smiled back and began his story.

—

Conner waited for Green Lantern to arrive. Damian’s instructions were clear and precise: stay there until Lantern arrives, then get to Gotham as fast as you can.

Twenty minutes had passed. He decided to keep cleaning his room until he heard someone knock on the door.

“Come in,” he said without much energy. He set the broom aside and turned to see who it was.

He was surprised to find Cassie leaning against the wall beside the door.

“I came to see you,” she said, crossing her arms. “How are you?”

Conner swallowed nervously, feeling the weird tension in the air.

“I’m fine. I just don’t love the idea of cleaning the entire building,” he answered, adding a hint of sarcasm at the end.

Compared to other times, Cassie kept a neutral expression as she walked in and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Come on, sit for a bit,” she said.

Conner set the broom aside and sat next to her, leaving a bit of distance between them.

Cassie sighed.

“I’m glad you’re still alive,” she said with a hint of sarcasm, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Why do you say that?”

“Tim was about to kill you. I’m not sure what happened between you two, but apparently whatever it was helped him calm down.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Conner replied sarcastically, then let out a laugh.

“Mh, at least you’re not tense anymore.”

They both laughed, the awkward atmosphere shifting into something more familiar and “lighter.”

After a few seconds, the black-haired boy’s mind began to wonder about her real opinion on everything that had happened.
Maybe she really came to talk about it, he thought. Why else would she be here?

“I never heard your take on yesterday’s… conflict,” he said, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand, still looking at her. “I mean… You were there after all. And I do care about your opinion.”

Cassie smirked.

“You already suspected I came to talk about that, didn’t you?”

“What else would we talk about?” he replied with a sarcastic edge in his voice.

“In part, I also wanted you to know what happened when we found out.”

“Let me guess,” Conner said, pretending to think. “Bart found out first, then he told you, and neither of you had any idea how to break it to Tim.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah… it was pretty obvious,” Cassie admitted. “But I wanted to talk to you about Tim’s reaction.”

“He was furious, wasn’t he?”

“Let me finish talking!” Cassie snapped with authority, making Superboy shrink a bit. “We all knew he was furious, but… I noticed he was also worried. The way he left the tower without caring what he was doing, the way he sped up the motorcycle… I’d never seen him like that. If we had found out earlier, maybe we would’ve caught up to you. But…” she paused, “I think his worst moment was when he found out it was another Robin who got you out of there.”

Cassie replayed their leader’s expression in her mind.

“I think…” she lowered her voice, as if it was still hard to say it, “I think I’ve never seen Tim like that. He wasn’t just angry—he was ashamed. And… something else I can’t quite put into words.”

Conner’s stomach twisted. Hearing Cassie talk about Tim like that made something stir in him. But his father always said curiosity killed the cat.

It was better to avoid the topic, at least for now.

He wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about his complicated relationship with Tim, and trying to figure out Tim’s feelings tonight would only leave Conner even more conflicted.

Especially because Tim already had someone.

“I think you’re exaggerating, Cass,” Conner said, standing up. “I think Tim was just scared. But I doubt he cared that much about Robin being the one who got me out.”

Cassie raised a brow.

Conner averted his gaze, trying to come off as casual.

“Then tell me—what did he say when you two were locked in that room together?” she asked.

“You don’t need my brother to patch you up,” Tim had said, running the cotton gently across his wound. “You have me. And he won’t always be there for you.”

Those words echoed in Conner’s mind—the ones he tried hard not to overanalyze.

What was that supposed to mean?

“You have a point,” Conner admitted. “Tim didn’t like seeing me with Robin… but he also knows he has a tiny rivalry with the person who pulled me out of there, so…”

He stopped when he spotted a faint green light outside the window—shaped like an S.

Green Lantern had arrived.

“So relax, we’re fine. Nothing’s going to happen,” Conner rushed out as he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door.

Cassie was about to protest, but Conner had already ushered her out of his room.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to do around here. So… I’ll see you in a few days. Good luck with your family meeting.”

Cassie stared at him, almost as if she had figured something out.

“Conner…”

“I gotta go,” he cut her off without looking at her.

“Hey—how do you even know I have a—?”

Conner closed the door right in her face. It was rude, but Cassie understood that he probably wasn’t ready to talk yet. Fine. She’d try again another day.

“Men,” she muttered in frustration before walking off.

—

“Took you long enough,” Hal Jordan’s unconcerned voice echoed as he stepped into Conner’s room. He looked around and made a face of disgust.

“Good evening, Green Lantern,” Conner greeted respectfully—the way Superman had taught him. A show of respect for… older heroes.

Superboy closed the window and stood in front of Hal, who grinned in amusement.

“So the eldest son of Superman needs help with cleaning…?” Hal teased, a smirk forming on his face.

“I’d remind you of your position right now,” growled a voice through the earpiece in Hal’s right ear. Damian Wayne. Hal’s smile vanished instantly. “You don’t get to mock anyone. In fact, you are the joke.”

Hal huffed and switched the earpiece off.

“Brat,” he muttered.

Conner raised an eyebrow, then looked away.

He didn’t have a close relationship with most members of the Justice League, so he settled for showing respect by staying quiet.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Hal added, annoyed. “Go on, the spoiled son of Batman is waiting for you. I’ll take care of all this.”

“T-thanks, Lantern,” Conner replied before flying out through the same window Hal had come in through.

“Young people these days get bolder and bolder…” Hal muttered to himself, now alone, lifting objects with his ring while sweeping with a pained expression.

“If the League saw me like this…” he grumbled.

Yes, the night was definitely going to be long.

—

Jaime Reyes had a unique expression on his face, so his friend immediately pulled out his phone to snap a picture.
A click and a flash went off in an instant.

“Hey!” Jaime protested once he realized what Bart had done. “Don’t you dare upload that.”

“Relax, it’s going to my favorites,” Bart said, tapping a heart on the photo while laughing. “Amazing, right?”

“Dude, I need to know what happened during those minutes those two were locked in that room,” Jaime said, rubbing his face while trying to form theories.

“Wow, I’m impressed.” Khaji Da’s comment came right away, making Bart laugh.

“That’s all you have to say, Khaji?” Bart asked, amused.

“She’s surprised, and she also wants to know more. That’s why she’s staying quiet.”

“Well,” Bart continued, “after that, we had a mission where they both seemed to have sorted things out. Oh! And Conner has to clean the entire base now—Tim’s punishment.”

“Does that include cleaning your room?”

Bart nodded.

“Well, good thing Tim had already calmed down,” Jaime added with irony.

Cleaning a speedster’s room was anyone’s worst nightmare.

Bart just laughed.

His smile was contagious; Jaime couldn’t help but smile too.

“That joke was terrible, Jaime,” Khaji interrupted their laughter, making her host frown.

“Well, after the mission, Tim seemed in a hurry to get back. He rushed straight into his room, and a few hours later, he came out… dressed up. Better than ever, actually.”

“All data indicates Tim is currently on a date,” Khaji Da announced.

“Exactly!” Bart beamed and stepped closer to Jaime, their faces ending up very close. “I need you not to tell anyone about this, please.”
Bart’s expression shifted to something far more serious.
“Neither you nor Khaji Da can tell anyone.”

“Uh—yeah, yeah. We won’t say anything,” Jaime said, trying to lean back with nervousness creeping in. Apparently, he’d never fully get used to his friend’s casual—but harmless—lack of personal space.

“Promise!” Bart demanded, leaning in even more.

“I promise,” Jaime answered with complete seriousness—no hesitation in his voice.

“Good.” Bart stepped back to his seat with a smile. “Here’s the interesting part… Tim is going out with a guy.”

Once again, Bart’s phone camera clicked and flashed.

He would never get tired of Jaime’s expressions—or of Khaji’s startled noises.

“This one beats the other one, Blue,” Bart said, amused.

“¡Me estás jodiendo!” Jaime grabbed Bart by the shoulders and moved closer. Bart shook his head, confirming it. “This is too good to be true. Now Richard’s face makes sense…”

Jaime stepped back with both hands covering part of his face as he tried to process what he’d just heard.

“You guys aren’t accepting new part-time members, right?” he joked, making Bart laugh again.

“That joke was worse than the last one,” Khaji Da pointed out.

Jaime would’ve paid more attention to what she said, but he was too stunned to give her the focus she deserved.

“Dude, everyone in Titans Tower swore that between Tim and Conner there was… something,” Jaime said, putting special emphasis on “something” to make his point clearer.

Bart didn’t fully understand what he meant.

“He means that all the Titans—except for Starfire, Wally West, and Richard Grayson—had speculated that Tim and Conner had already shared sexua—”

“Khaji, silence!” Jaime quickly turned around, trying to reach his back to shut the scarab up. Once he managed it, he looked back at his friend, who was now frowning. “I mean… We thought that beyond that, the two of them had… an unresolved mutual attraction! Yes!” Jaime smiled nervously while Bart kept frowning. “Come on, Bart, try to understand! The way they look at each other… Or at least the way Conner looks at Tim—it’s like he’s about to kiss him any second.”

“Mh, I really didn’t notice that,” Bart said as he closed the pizza box. “How do you even know when someone is looking at another person like that?”

The question was completely genuine.

“Uh…” Jaime had no idea how to answer. He searched for an explanation that made sense without sounding vulgar. “When someone feels attracted to another person… their look changes.”

“For example,” Khaji Da added, “once, when our leader and Wally West finished training, Wally gave Nightwing one of those looks while running his hand over the back of his neck and slowly lowering it. It was that same look, but much more intense.”

“When did that happen?!” Jaime exclaimed, shocked. “How did you find out and not me?!”

“I discovered it when I connected to the Tower’s security cameras. I accessed that deleted recording, and it remained in my memory.”

“WHAT?!” Jaime and Bart were equally stunned. The speedster rushed to stand beside Jaime and Khaji Da. “I need to know—what happened after that?”

“Miss Starfire intervened, causing them to immediately pull away from each other.”

“I need to know if something is going on between those two,” Jaime muttered.

Bart was about to say something, but Khaji Da announced that a third person was approaching.

The Blue Beetle armor deployed instantly, while Bart slipped behind Jaime, still in civilian clothes.

“Wait!” Bart exclaimed, placing a hand on Jaime’s shoulder to pull him back. “That’s Green Lantern.”

They both hid deeper in the trees, watching as Green Lantern called out to someone inside the base.

Bart and Jaime exchanged a look, then turned their attention back to the scene.

After a few minutes, Conner opened the window, making Bart and Jaime duck completely out of sight.

“What is Green Lantern doing here?” Jaime whispered.

Bart didn’t have a clear answer.

“I think this is gonna be better than a Telenovela Mexicana” Bart said with a grin.

Jaime shot him a dirty look.

“That joke was very good,” Khaji Da commented, much to Jaime’s annoyance.

--

Tim arrived at Bernard’s house at the agreed time.
Nerves rushed through his entire body as he lightly bit his lower lip, trying to calm himself down.
He was about to press the white doorbell beside the carved wooden door, but he stopped when he noticed his hands.
Empty.

That wasn’t good; usually, when someone goes on a date, they bring a small gift to remind the other person they’ve been on their mind.
But no, he hadn’t even managed to get Bernard a piece of chocolate.

He sighed in frustration.

“Well, it’s fine… I can buy him something when we go for a walk,” he thought, and pressed the doorbell.

After a few minutes, the door opened and Tim’s eyes lit up.

“Hey, Tim,” Bernard said, resting one hand on the doorframe with a smile. Then he opened the door fully, and the two stared at each other for several seconds—until the blond stepped forward and wrapped Tim in a warm hug. “I missed you,” he whispered, leaving a soft kiss on his cheek, making the black-haired boy tense up. “Come in, my parents aren’t home.”

That only made Tim’s nerves spike further.

He stepped into the main living room, following Bernard, who seemed much more relaxed than he was.

Bernard closed the door, the familiar sound making Tim take a quick, deep breath.

“I was thinking maybe we could go see a movie,” Tim said, clasping his hands together in an attempt to calm himself. Bernard approached him. “Or maybe just go to a café—there’s a really good one I know—”

“Wait,” Bernard said, cutting him off as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “First, I need you to come with me.”

Before Tim could notice, Bernard took his right hand and began guiding him down the hallway.

“Where are you taking me?” Tim asked, his voice slightly unsteady.

“To my room.”

Well, that sent a shiver through Tim’s entire body.

They had been dating for two weeks, but of course, the thought of intimacy had crossed his mind at some point. Not in the typical romantic way—more in the “analyze and mentally prepare for all possible outcomes” way.

He just hadn’t expected it to come this soon.

A small, awkward half-smile crept onto his face without him noticing.

“Maybe today will turn out better than expected,” he thought, nerves mixing with excitement.

“Are you sure it’s just the two of us?” Tim asked nervously.

Bernard let out a low laugh.
“Of course. Though my cat will be here too. But don’t worry, she won’t bother us.”

“Noted,” Tim thought with growing enthusiasm. This was about to happen.

He silently thanked himself for wearing perfume—he smelled great, and he had noticed how subtly Bernard had leaned in to breathe it in. He liked Bernard’s cologne, too.

The room was a bit far from the living area, but the walk wasn’t long.

They finally reached the blond’s bedroom and stepped inside. Bernard turned on the main light once Tim entered, then grabbed a slim remote and switched on some LED strips.

Tim was surprised—nice touch. The LEDs shifted colors until they settled on red.

“Okay, it’s happening,” he thought, heart pounding. “Should I… unbutton the top of my shirt a little?”

His hand hovered nervously near the top buttons of his dark navy shirt.

Bernard stepped behind him, his breath brushing against the back of Tim’s neck.

“Ready?” he asked, sounding excited.

Tim felt his cheeks burn, and he nodded.
However, Bernard’s hand landed on his shoulder as he smiled.

“Great, look at this!” he said, turning on the laptop on the desk beside them.

“W-what?” Tim asked, the smoke of his earlier assumptions fading as his boyfriend sat down and opened the laptop.

Bernard didn’t answer. He quickly typed and clicked through several windows with a huge grin on his face. After a few seconds, he looked at Tim.

“Come here,” he said excitedly, pulling another chair over.

Tim moved closer and sat down, though his expression looked… a bit disappointed.

“Remember when I ran into Superboy at the fair?”

Ah… right. They still hadn’t talked about that.

Tim knew Bernard loved and admired everything related to the Justice League, but ironically, his real favorite was Young Justice. For him, they proved that young people could be just as capable as any adult.

“Of course, I remember, you look amazing in that picture,” Tim said warmly. He wasn’t lying—he genuinely liked seeing Bernard happy.

“Yes, but did you see how Superboy looks in it?” Bernard asked with a teasing tone. Tim raised a brow in response. “That guy is ridiculously handsome in person. I swear cameras don’t do him justice.”

Bernard spoke with such ease.

“You never told me what you think of him… or of Red Robin,” Bernard added, looking at him curiously.

“It’s just… I don’t know enough to give you an honest opinion.”

“Oh, please. Superboy once escorted you after a possible attack in the Manor.”

Tim blinked. He had forgotten about that.

Bernard knew almost every move the team made. Not because he worked with them, but because—as any good fan would—he followed every piece of news and rumor about his favorite heroes.
That Young Justice operation had only been mentioned in a few small channels; the information disappeared quickly. Bruce made sure of that, paying to have the report pulled before it reached any major headlines.

“Yeah, but I only met him in a professional context, you know?” Tim tried to sound as convincing as possible.

Bernard rolled his eyes playfully.
“But you’re not even going to comment on whether he’s handsome or not?”

Tim paused, taking the question surprisingly seriously.

“I mean…” He stopped to reconsider his answer. “If you look at Superboy from a certain angle, he is very attractive… And his messy hair gives him a unique charm.” Tim crossed his arms as he continued thinking. “His style suits him really well. Even though he wears the same thing all the time, it’s almost like it’s become his signature look, and it’s pretty appealing when you combine it with his outgoing, funny personality. He’s also pretty tall, which gives more weight to his presence, and that just increases his attractiveness… Although, actually, forget what I said at first—he looks good from almost any angle…”

Tim stopped when he noticed Bernard’s confused expression.

“Did I… say too much?” he wondered.

“But anyway,” Tim added, regretting every word that slipped out, “you look way better. But of course, Superboy is attractive, too… He’s a superhero after all—it makes sense.”

“Uh-huh…” Bernard looked away, trying not to think too hard about it, though he did find the whole thing ironic. He couldn’t hold back a laugh for long.

“H-hey, I didn’t mean—”

“No, no,” Bernard said, taking Tim’s hands gently. “It doesn’t bother me. I’m just surprised that you analyzed him so much in just one night, he was escorting… I really thought you didn’t know him.”

“I mean, I do know him. But…”

“Let me guess,” the blond interrupted, then tenderly stroked his boyfriend’s cheek. “You’re also a fan of Superboy!”

Well, that conclusion was a good one.

“I mean… who wouldn’t be a fan of him?” Tim responded naturally.

“Do you think he’d get mad if I posted this picture on my socials?” Bernard asked, returning his gaze to the laptop in front of them. “I wouldn’t want him to get upset or anything.”

Tim thought about his boyfriend’s question. There was a protocol for these cases—he knew he should say it was better not to do it. But seeing Bernard so happy and enthusiastic while talking about his team, how much he admired Superboy…

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem if you post that photo,” he said, passing his arm around his partner’s neck. “Anyway, I’ll find a way to let him know, okay?”

“Do you have his number?” Bernard got excited at his boyfriend’s response.

“Um, no,” Tim lied. “But Bruce can help me with that—he has some contact with Lex… Besides, Superboy is a superhero; photos like this are normal for him.”

“Oh, of course. Got it,” Bernard replied enthusiastically, then returned to the laptop in front of them. “Then I’ll post it.”

Bernard uploaded a picture of himself with the superhero.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first or last time someone posted a photo with Conner. Especially after last night’s incident.

“Also, after last night, I doubt he’ll care that much. You should see Amelia’s socials…” Bernard paused, thinking about something specific. He sighed. “I never remember her last name.”

“Who?”

“Amelia,” Bernard repeated as he searched for something on the laptop. “She’s an influencer from Metropolis. Well, she lives there now, but she’s from Colombia. Since yesterday, she’s gained millions of followers from the videos she posted with Superboy.”

Tim leaned slightly toward the screen, observing the profile Bernard had opened. In every photo, the girl smiled under the flashes, surrounded by comments and virtual hearts. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest, though he wasn’t quite sure why.

“She’s pretty,” Tim murmured.

“She is,” Bernard admitted, shrugging. “A lot of people are already saying she’s seeing him.”

Tim smiled, a mix of teasing and annoyance.

“People will make up anything just to have a story,” he said.

“But the truth… I think Superboy is already seeing someone else,” Bernard added.

That made Tim’s heart beat a little faster. But it also piqued his curiosity.

“Who could he be seeing?” Tim asked, with a hint of irony.

Bernard smiled.

“That’s what I wanted to show you,” he said, typing on another page in the browser.

A few seconds passed before Tim felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on him.

“Life hates me,” was his thought as he tried to force a natural smile.

Bernard was showing him a website filled with theories claiming that Superboy was dating Red Robin.

Which… was him.

Of course, Bernard didn’t know that little big detail.

“You follow these kinds of sites?” Tim asked.

Bernard shook his head.

Before Tim could respond, his boyfriend spoke first.

“I run this site.”

Well, Tim wanted to throw himself off a bridge.

“And… what made you create it?” Tim asked, digging his nails into his palm to keep calm.

“I started it a couple of years ago, before I met you,” Bernard replied as he navigated the site. “I don’t know, I liked analyzing heroes. And these two in particular… there’s something there.”

Tim stared at the screen, trying not to frown.

“Something?”

“Yes, look at them. When they’re in battle, or during interviews… there’s something special between them. How Superboy looks at Robin, with so much care,” Bernard smiled and looked at him. “It’s just like how you look at me.”

Tim felt the air get stuck in his chest. One more second, and the universe might have laughed at him.

“I think you’re a little confused; I don’t think they have anything.”

Bernard clicked on the page and opened another window.

“Oh, sure,” Bernard clicked and opened another video. “And what about this?” He showed a kind of “review” that Tim was sure had been made by his beloved partner. The clip showed Robin and Superboy holding hands, looking at each other for several seconds, and ending in a hug that lasted longer than Tim would have wanted… No, he wouldn’t lie to himself—he had loved that hug.

“Maybe they’re just best friends…”

Bernard started laughing ironically.

“You know? That’s what historians called Patroclus and Achilles,” Bernard added.

The silence stretched for a moment.

“That’s what I wanted to show you,” the blond said, stretching in his seat. “I’m glad I finally told you—I needed you to know this little part of me. What do you think?”

“…I think you’re right,” the dark-haired boy replied, trying to seem calm. He smiled. “Would it make you happy if they were a couple?”

“I think it would just prove my point and benefit me financially.”

“Wait—do you make money from your site?”

“I have a donation section,” he replied, clicking to show the labeled area.

“What…?”

Tim blinked, genuinely surprised.

“People actually make money from superhero theories?” he wondered, shocked at what he had just discovered. Maybe not being chronically online had its disadvantages.

Bernard took his hand and kissed him on the cheek.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing weird. It’s just my way of staying busy.”

“Sure…” Tim murmured, with a half-smile.

“Making money with a superhero website, incredible,” he thought.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt anyone. It’s like a fan thing… I guess?” Tim tried to convince himself.

“Well, shall we go?” Bernard asked, standing up. “If my parents come home and see us alone in the house, they’ll punish me.”

Tim nodded with a half-smile, and both left the room, but before going, Tim gave one last look at his boyfriend’s laptop.

And the idea of being able to help his beloved boyfriend in one way or another crossed his mind.

Chapter Text

Some time ago:

Richard was exhausted. Being the leader of the second most important hero team in the world had worn him down deep inside.

Adding to that, he still had to head downtown in Blüdhaven for patrol that night.

He could send someone else, but responsibility came first.

He was getting his bike ready to leave, running a hand over his neck before tilting his head back, eyes closed.

He knew the exhaustion was going to consume him.

“Richard?” Wally’s voice echoed, making him turn to his right in surprise. The redhead was approaching him with each passing second. “Are you going out on patrol?”

“Wally, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Dick replied, setting his helmet on the motorcycle seat. “Yeah, I’m heading downtown to patrol. It’s my shift tonight…”

“And you’re still going even though you’re exhausted?” Wally cut in, looking at him with concern.

“I have to… It’s my responsibility,” the black-haired man answered, averting his gaze.

The dark circles under Richard’s eyes were obvious, and even his movements seemed slower than usual.

“Then I’m going with you,” Wally added while pulling up the hood of his suit.

“That’s not necessary, I’ll be fine,” Dick replied as he sat on the bike.

However, Wally’s hands landed on his shoulders, grabbing his attention.

“I insist. I don’t mind going with you,” Wally said with a warm smile—the kind Richard couldn’t say no to.

—🦇་༘࿐

Nightwing and Kid Flash arrived downtown. They stood atop a building, watching the city at night, lights blooming across the skyline. They had just finished fighting a group of criminals and decided to take a break. Well, it had been Wally’s idea—he insisted Richard needed to rest.

“Is the burger good?” the redhead asked after several minutes of silence where they had both been eating.

Dick quickly licked the ketchup off his thumb.

He hadn’t had time for a proper lunch that day, so he was grateful for Wally’s thoughtfulness.

“It’s delicious,” he replied once he swallowed. “How did you know I hadn’t eaten properly today?” he asked with a hint of amusement.

“You looked awful today,” Wally replied. “Bad date with Babs?”

Richard sighed and nodded.

“It’s… complicated. Our schedules aren’t lining up as we hoped. We were supposed to have lunch at her favourite restaurant today, but she couldn’t make it because Batman had an emergency in Gotham and needed her urgently.” Richard didn’t sound angry—just a bit disappointed. He let out a soft laugh. “It’s not her fault, but… I was looking forward to seeing her today.”

Wally moved closer with quiet steps, then placed a hand on Richard’s back, surprising him, before gently pulling him so that Dick’s body rested against his.

“Wally?” Richard asked, confused.

“I know how much you miss her… just like I know how hard you’ve been pushing yourself this week,” he whispered, slowly wrapping his friend in a warm, comforting embrace.

“How was I supposed to rest?” Richard asked as the thoughts crowding his mind spilt out. “We almost lost Jaime a few days ago…”

Dick’s voice broke as the horrible memory resurfaced.

He spent hours and hours by Jaime’s side, waiting for him to wake up. Since that night, he hadn’t been able to sleep properly.

And because of that… he couldn’t find peace.

“If something worse had happened to him, I…”

“Easy,” Wally’s voice was soft, hushed, as his arm wrapped around him, rising and falling against Dick’s side. Dick closed his tired eyes. “There are things you won’t always be able to fix yourself. Don’t be so hard on yourself. None of us expected Khaji Da to malfunction like that.”

“I should’ve been more alert…”

“But you can’t lose yourself in the process,” Wally replied, more serious now. “It’s okay, Richie,” he whispered, rubbing his back more slowly. “I’ve got you.”

Richard let out a small whimper as he tried to get even closer, soaking in the warmth of his friend. His breath brushed against Wally’s collarbone while the city lights washed over them on a warm night.

“We should head back so you can rest,” Wally said, sliding his hand along Dick’s back. “I’ll take care of the rest tonight.”

Richard sighed, refusing to let go.

“I’d like to stay like this a little longer,” he murmured, nestling even closer to the redhead.

Wally smiled tenderly.

“Alright, then let’s stay like this for a while.”

The night gave them both the quiet intimacy Richard needed to finally open up.

“I feel like things aren’t going as well with Barbara as I hoped,” he said suddenly. “It’s not her fault—maybe I’m being selfish. But I really miss having moments of closeness with her, the way we used to.”

Wally didn’t answer. He let his friend say everything he needed to say.

“I don’t want to break up with her. I won’t make that mistake again… but I do wish things were easier for us.”

“If it helps at all, I’m always going to be by your side,” Wally replied, his chest rising against Dick’s, their noses brushing far too close.

Too close.

“Richie… You’re trembling,” Wally said, his voice hoarse, soft, and deep.

“I’m not… I’m just tired,” he whispered back.

Wally slid his hand down his back, stroking gently and slowly. The touch made Richard shiver and release an unexpected sigh; his hand balled into a fist from the feeling—too good.

“Wally…” the black-haired man breathed, his voice barely a thread, soft yet vibrating through every part of him.

“I’m right here,” Wally answered, that same deep tone in his voice. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It wasn’t a promise—it was a fact.

They locked eyes, green and blue crashing together until it felt like they blended into turquoise.

Both of their hearts began pounding harder, their breaths just a little faster.

Richard wanted to press even closer to Wally, and Wally would be more than happy with that.

“Maybe we shouldn’t…” Dick’s traitorous voice slipped out of his lips.

Wally cupped his cheek, his thumb brushing subtly over his lips.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want,” Wally whispered, voice low.

Dick tilted his head, and their faces drifted closer; their breaths mingled. But they stopped.

“Richard,” Wally gasped, their lips only millimetres apart.

He wanted him.

Dick exhaled and closed the distance—not too fast, not too slow. Both of them gasped quietly when their lips finally met after years of avoiding a moment like this.

They deepened the kiss. Richard tugged at Wally’s hair with delicate gentleness, while Wally held Dick’s face in both hands, pulling him closer to feel him.

They were both experts at kissing, and it showed as they gave each other one of the best kisses they had ever shared.

Soft, deep, and sensual.

Their tongues searched for each other in brief, electric moments—light brushes that made them both sigh into the kiss.

After a few minutes, they pulled apart.

Their chests rose and fell, and both of their faces were faintly flushed.

“We… shouldn’t have done that…”

Wally placed both hands on his own thighs as he watched Richard lower his gaze.

“Do you regret it?” he whispered.

“…No,” Dick answered honestly. “I wouldn’t stop you if you did it again.”

Richard’s heart was pounding hard as he said it.

He lifted his gaze toward Wally again, their eyes meeting—both of their pupils dilated.

Richard leaned in toward Wally once more, seeking another kiss.

(SONG: DANDELION - ARIANA GRANDE)

Wally would adore Richard until the end of his days.

He had never met anyone like him. So unique, so capable, so kind, even when he was going through something difficult.

He had never heard anyone speak poorly of Richard in his entire life. He even knew that Richard’s exes still held him in esteem, respect, and affection, even when he was no longer as present in their lives.

Very few people could accomplish that.

Oh… Barbara Gordon was so lucky.

But. Wally realized he didn’t have much to envy her for.

He, too, could admire Richard’s deep, beautiful blue eyes every time they made eye contact.

He could also breathe in that soft vanilla scent Richard carried after showering, and feel his damp, silky hair between his fingers.

Or when he grabbed him and tangled those smooth strands between his fingers with a hint of roughness, making Richard press his flushed face into the pillow.

Yes, he didn’t have much to envy Barbara.

He could also admire Richard in his Nightwing persona—so powerful, so commanding. The very embodiment of a hero, at least to him.

Wally could definitely learn a thing or two from Nightwing.

He knew Barbara liked Richard’s hero suit. He didn’t blame her at all. On the contrary, he understood it, because he too loved seeing him in that blue-and-black suit that hugged his body just right.

Everyone liked seeing Nightwing in action—watching him fight criminals with that unforgettable grace and precision that only he had.

A perfect man.

More than once, he had seen Barbara flirt with Richard while he wore his Nightwing suit: her hand sliding down his toned abdomen from top to bottom, slowly, before running her hand across his entire torso up to his nape, pulling him into a kiss that left both of them breathless.

Wally would just watch. He didn’t feel uncomfortable, nor did he feel like he was interrupting anything.

He simply watched.

But things change, and Wally eventually did the same when he had the chance.

Only, he considered himself a bit more possessive because he liked teasing Richard with the idea of leaving marks on his neck. He never actually did, but the desire was definitely there.

Yes, he didn’t have much to envy Barbara.

Because everything she did with Richard, he could do too—just from a different perspective.

Because Wally didn’t like Richard.

No.

Wally loved him. Far more than he ever meant to.

His cheeks were slightly flushed as he smiled.

He looked at Richard with absolute reverence; he loved him too much to resist moments like this.

He slid his left hand across Richard’s chest, moving slowly upward, brushing over Dick’s faintly blushed neck before reaching his left cheek.

He could feel the way Richard sighed and shivered under his touch, his pupils dilating into an intense blue.

Wally leaned in close enough to steal a deep, wet, slow kiss from Richard. They took their time feeling each other, their bodies silently begging for more contact.

“Are you feeling okay?” Wally asked teasingly as he pulled back. His deep, soft voice resonated through the room.

Richard’s head lay on the pillow, his chest rising and falling in satisfied gasps and shaky breaths. He nodded slowly, his mind fogged by every sensation coursing through him.

A simple touch could make him let out a loud moan.

“Too good,” he replied between a breathy gasp.

Wally might have been responsible for that. He silently thanked the Titans Tower for having soundproof rooms.

The redhead leaned closer to admire Richard’s flushed face up close; after a few seconds, he smiled.

“You’re perfect,” Wally whispered into the blue-eyed man’s ear.

Richard exhaled a broken breath, as if those words pierced straight through him.

And Wally wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close again, ready to lose himself completely in him—slowly, fearlessly.

He continued with the next part, his pupils blown wide at the sight of his beloved offering himself up to him like that.

He knew Richard was like this only because of him—and for him.

Yes, he definitely didn’t have much to envy Barbara.

It was a sublime chaos.

—🦇་༘࿐

Present Day:

Damian was perched on a dark rooftop in Gotham. Spotting him wasn’t easy, but he knew that at any moment Conner would show up—and for him, finding Damian would be no problem.

Ten minutes had passed since he called Green Lantern, which meant Conner had to be nearby.

Compared to other nights, Gotham was unusually calm.

But Damian already had a solid lead: a mafia group was planning to run a smuggling operation on one of the city’s most deserted streets.

“Am I late?”
A familiar voice to Damian sounded behind him.

He smirked and turned around.

“I’m sure you already know the answer,” he replied with sarcasm. Then his expression shifted to something more serious. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

—🦇་༘࿐

“So Tim didn’t get mad at you?” Damian asked as he watched their target on a rectangular tablet. It was approaching.

“You could say he didn’t… At least not like I expected,” Conner replied, crossing his arms. “Do you think he just doesn’t care anymore?”

Damian considered the question.

“No. Of course, he cares. He’s just busy with his boyfriend right now to pay attention to you,” he answered.

Well, that made Conner see the situation from a whole new angle.

Of course—Tim had said all that just to get out of the moment without ruining his perfect day.

“That explains everything,” he thought.

“Though… what exactly did he say?” Damian asked with curiosity. “It’s obvious he didn’t just punish you and leave it at that.”

Conner sighed.

“He told me there was no need for me to see you again—because he’d always be there for me. And he made me promise I wouldn’t look for you for comfort.”

Damian frowned, then rolled his eyes.

“Tim’s insane. Don’t take him so seriously,” he answered dismissively. “There’s nothing wrong with coming to me whenever you want.”

Damian let out a small, mischievous laugh.

“Besides, you and I could make a great team.”

Conner was surprised by Damian’s words, but he had a feeling there was something else behind them.

Damian wasn’t lying—he knew Conner’s strengths and weaknesses perfectly, since they were similar to Jonathan’s.

But there were differences in attitude between the two.

“Hey, Damian,” Conner called after thinking about a rather complicated situation. The named boy looked at him. “I wanted… to talk to Tim about this,” Conner added, lowering his gaze. “But he’s… busy with something else. So I wanted to hear your opinion on something.”
Conner looked back at Damian with hopeful eyes.

Damian softened his gaze, curiosity growing.

“I’m not your shoulder to cry on, just reminding you of that,” he said.

“It’s about Lex.”

Shit, Damian thought. Please tell me Conner didn’t do something stupid again.

“He wants me to sign a contract to model for a brand.”

Damian’s eyes widened, completely stunned.

“I think I misheard,” he replied. “He wants you—you—a superhero, as a model for a brand?”

Conner nodded.

“I have to pay for… last night.”

Damian looked him up and down, judging him.

“Of course, Luthor would take advantage of that,” he said, then sighed. “What does your other father think about it?”

“I… don’t know. They kicked me out of the room before I heard Clark’s opinion.”

Damian nodded.

“So you want to accept because you owe your father money.”

“If Clark approves,” Conner corrected. “Maybe I could attend the event… or whatever it is Lex wants.”

“You want to look like a joke to the rest of the League?” Damian asked.

“You talk like I don’t know what they say about me,” Conner blurted out—more honestly than even he expected, surprising himself more than Damian.

“So Tim told you the gossip.”

Conner shook his head.

“No,” Conner denied. “It’s… obvious. Only my team actually cares about me. The rest… just tolerate the fact that I exist.”

That… broke him a little.

Damian’s silence lasted two seconds longer than usual.

“That’s not true,” he finally said with complete seriousness. “In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve seen that you’re… a decent person. Despite your origin.”

Conner parted his lips slightly. He hadn’t expected that kind of defence from a Robin—much less this Robin.

Damian took a steady breath.

“If it’s what you want, do it,” he conceded. “Just don’t bring your fans to a mission. I hate noise.”

“Relax, it’ll be temporary.”

“If you need advice on how to deal with long campaign hours, you can ask me,” Damian added. “Unfortunately, Wayne Enterprises runs some kind of campaign every three months, so I’m forced to go through that torturous process. You get used to it.”

Conner kept smiling, genuinely this time.

“Thanks for listening.”

“Mmh… Thanks for trusting me,” Damian replied. “Just be careful.”

Conner nodded.

“The target’s here,” Damian said as he prepared, aiming his grappling hook toward the next building.

Conner followed Damian’s lead, both getting ready to strike.

They moved toward the roof of the next building. There was a small window where Damian could see everything, thanks to a new enhancement Barbara had installed in the Batcomputer.

He zoomed his view in until he reached the face of the gang’s leader.

“On my signal, break through the roof so we can drop in and attack,” Damian said, stepping slightly away from the window to avoid being seen.

Conner raised a brow.

“You want me to make a hole in the roof?”

Damian nodded.

“I don’t think I’m understanding the plan you have in mind,” Conner replied, crossing his arms with a frown.

Damian rolled his eyes and exhaled sharply.

“We’re going to attack them from above, while they’re caught off guard. Got it?”

“But this is a normal dining hall,” Conner pointed out, annoyed. “I’m not breaking the roof of a normal dining hall.”

Damian rolled his eyes again.

“Conner. It can be fixed later,” he answered, patience wearing thin.

Damian noticed the Kryptonian wasn’t convinced, so he stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“There’s a charity gala at the Manor tomorrow,” he added, then his gaze briefly dropped with slight embarrassment. Conner softened as he watched Damian, who looked back up after a few seconds. “So don’t worry about the building. They were going to demolish it anyway and build a new one under the company’s name.”

Damian patted Conner’s shoulder twice and gestured for him to break the roof.

Conner nodded.

“On my signal…” Damian raised his hand again. Conner placed his left hand on the floor beneath them and lifted his right hand into a fist, ready. Damian sharpened his eyes and waited for the entire group below to be distracted. “Now.”

Conner struck the marked spot with full force, the roof collapsing almost entirely, leaving only cracked corners behind. Damian and Conner dropped down swiftly and precisely onto two of the fifteen people present.

“Shit,” one of them hissed in irritation. He turned around and grabbed a machine gun from the truck.

Only seven of them carried firearms. They didn’t wait long before they started shooting.

Robin deflected bullets with his katana, moving with agility and precision. Superboy stood unfazed as bullets rained on him; he inhaled deeply, filling his chest with air, and then blew out hard, knocking half the group backwards.

Robin advanced, weaving between bullets. Some stray shots hit a few gang members with less force, injuring them and creating the perfect distraction for an attack.

“Who do you work for?” Robin grabbed one of the criminals by the collar. He analysed his clothes and equipment—nothing that hinted at Scarecrow, Joker, or Penguin. He slammed him against the nearest wall with force. “Answer!”

Damian’s voice was deep and sharp enough to make anyone tremble. The man in front of him began to sweat cold.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Damian warned. And at that moment, the criminal realised he would’ve preferred dealing with Nightwing, or a Green Lantern—almost anyone else besides a Robin or Batman.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” the man begged. “If I talk, they’ll kill me.”

“And if you don’t talk now, the police will make sure it’s worse for you,” Robin replied, slamming him harder against the wall.

Conner stepped closer, worry creeping onto his face.

He checked the man’s pulse.

“Robin,” he called, “there’s no need to use that level of force. You’re just scaring him more.”

Damian placed his hand on the man’s neck and lifted him slightly, nearly choking him.

“Batman… doesn’t kill,” the criminal managed to say with what little strength he had left.

Robin didn’t even flinch.

“There are worse things than death,” he replied coldly.

“Robin!” Conner exclaimed, feeling the massive difference in work style between Tim and Damian. He was stunned by how little “ethical restraint” Damian showed when gathering information.

“Fifty-seventh Avenue, Third Street,” the criminal finally gasped before Damian suddenly released him.

He fell, coughing hard from lack of air.

“Superboy,” Robin called. “Contact a hospital for him.” Damian gestured toward the man with his head.

Conner looked again at the injured man and watched him collapse fully unconscious, eyes shutting. He frowned and stepped ahead of Damian, stopping him.

“That wasn’t necessary,” Conner said, annoyance in his voice.

Damian crossed his arms.

“It’s my way of working,” he answered simply. “Believe me, you wouldn’t last an hour with Jason.”

“That’s not the point,” Conner insisted, still frowning. “You could’ve killed him.”

“I know how to measure my strength. I wasn’t going to kill him… I just scared him.”

Conner was about to respond, but the arrival of several Gotham news reporters at the scene shifted his focus entirely.

“Let’s—” Conner cut himself off when he turned back to Damian, who was already firing his grappling hook to leave. “Wait! Aren’t we giving statements?”

Damian turned to look at him.

“I don’t give statements unless it’s necessary. Besides—do you want them bombarding you with questions about what you’re doing in Gotham and then have Tim see it?”

With that, he headed toward what remained of the roof and disappeared before any camera could catch him. Conner glanced at the reporters, then followed Damian immediately.

–

Both of them landed on one of Gotham’s taller rooftops. The cold wind sliced through the silence as Robin checked his monitor with absolute precision.

“So…” Conner finally broke the quiet. “Who are we going after now?”

“The criminal made something clear,” Damian replied without taking his eyes off the screen. “There’s a new mafia moving around, and we need to hit the head of the group. The attack at the dining hall was just a distraction.”

“So that means…”

“The real heist is somewhere else.” The screen stopped at a specific location. “There.” And almost at the same time, gunshots echoed in the distance. “Let’s go before it’s too late!”

—🦇་༘࿐

They landed on a lower rooftop, right in front of the target. Damian stepped forward, ready to jump into the building, but Conner grabbed him by the torso, stopping him.

“Hey!” Damian protested, angered and startled.

But before he could react, a violent explosion went off in front of them.

Conner held Damian tightly, turning their bodies so he could act as a shield, protecting him from the fire and debris.

After a few long seconds, the shock settled. Conner slowly released Damian, making sure he was unharmed. The scorch marks on the Kryptonian’s jacket showed how bad it could’ve been if he hadn’t moved in time.

Both let out a breath of relief.

“Did we get here too late?” Damian asked, worried.

“I think so,” a third voice answered.

Damian and Conner recognised it instantly. Before either could react properly, a familiar figure descended in front of them, floating in the air.

“Oh, no…” Damian closed his eyes, visibly exasperated.

“Jon…” Conner’s voice came out barely above a whisper.

Jonathan landed in his hero suit, holding one of the gang members. The man was severely injured; Damian could bet he was breathing by sheer luck.

Jon dropped him at their feet without care.

Damian pulled away from Conner and crouched beside the injured man. He touched his neck.

“He’s still breathing,” he thought, relieved.

He looked up at Jonathan, who had his brow slightly furrowed and a spark of what looked very much like irritation in his eyes.

“Seriously, Conner?” Jonathan asked as he approached. “You’re my half-brother.” He sounded offended.

“I don’t understand what—”

“Conner!” Damian cut in, placing his right hand on Conner’s chest. “Calm down. He’s just… upset.”

“I told you to call me,” Jon said.

“I didn’t want to patrol with you today.”

“But I was free!”

“And how does that change the fact that I didn’t want to patrol with you?”

“Damian, come on!” Jon exclaimed, stepping directly in front of them. Damian rolled his eyes.

“Jonathan, you’re making a scene out of nothing…” Robin sighed. “I just wanted to talk about something private with Conner, and he could help me patrol at the same time.”

“You!” Jon pointed at Conner, tone sharp with anger. “What does Tim think about this?”

Conner opened his mouth, but Damian spoke first.

“He doesn’t care,” he said bluntly. “Go, Jon. This is our case.”

Jonathan stood still, his expression softening for a moment into something almost sad. He stepped closer to Damian, who crossed his arms instantly.

“Don’t even think about touching me, Jon,” Damian warned, noticing his hand start to lift.

Jon turned his glare back to Conner.

“Tell me the truth. Why didn’t you ask me to patrol with you today?”

“Because the last few times you visited, it was only to ask me for love advice and brag about your amazing partner,” Damian replied firmly. “Look, I’m happy for you, but I really need to get this done—”

“And you had to choose Conner?!” Jonathan shouted. “You didn’t even care about meeting him a week ago!”

“That’s none of your business!” Damian snapped back with equal force.

“Enough!” Conner cut in. Both turned toward him. “Jon, there’s nothing wrong with me joining Damian.”

“Stay out of it, Conner. You’re only here because Tim pushed you aside—of course you’d go with the first person who gave you the chance.”

“Jonathan, seriously. Leave!” Damian stepped forward, defending Conner. “Stop making this worse.”

“I still need to talk to you,” Jon added, eyes hopeful.

Damian closed his eyes and exhaled.

“Another day, alright?” he replied, drained. “Not today. Not after the scene you just made.”

Conner glanced toward a nearby building and spotted a photographer in the distance.

They’d already been seen.

Jonathan kept his sad expression only long enough to turn back toward Conner with a look of anger. He left without another word.

Both Conner and Damian stayed silent for a few seconds, watching Jon disappear.

“Conner,” Damian said quietly, still looking in Jon’s direction.

“Yes?” Conner’s tone was tense, uncertain.

“Get ready. Jon is… really upset. You’d better avoid Clark for a few days, at least until Jon gets over his tantrum.” Damian sighed again, then turned back to the half-unconscious criminal at their feet. “Come on. We need to drop this scum off at the station.”

–

“The movie was incredible,” Bernard said as he wrapped his arm around Tim’s, sipping from the large special cup he’d bought. “Ariana is such a good actress.”

Bernard sighed, tilting his head back with a satisfied breath.

“I already see her holding an Oscar,” he added playfully, then looked at Tim with a bright smile. “I’m guessing you liked it too. You were very focused on the movie.”

“Too good not to pay attention,” Tim replied with a smile. Then he stopped, gently taking Bernard’s hand between his own. “I wanted to ask if… maybe you’d like to have dinner with me. There’s a beautiful restaurant nearby—I walk past it and always think of you and… I don’t know, I thought you might like it.”

Bernard smiled softly and leaned in, giving Tim a quick, tender kiss on the lips.

“I’d love to,” he answered, smiling even wider.

Tim, on the other hand, felt his thoughts short-circuit after that kiss, a clumsy smile pulling at his lips.

However, the sound of an explosion snapped them both out of their cloud and made them look toward the cinema’s main entrance.

People around them began to run in the opposite direction.

Bernard headed straight for the door.

“Bernard, wait!” Tim called, taking a few steps forward. His boyfriend paused as he opened the door. “Where are you going? We need to use the emergency exit!”

“Oh. I’m going toward the explosion,” he replied. “Where there’s chaos, there are superheroes. Maybe I’ll finally get to see Red Robin up close!”

After saying that, he grabbed Tim again and pulled him outside with excitement.

“What?!” Tim exclaimed, unable to stop him. “Bernard, no! We could get hurt!”

“Relax, I’ll protect you,” Bernard said with a wink as he kept walking.

That, admittedly, made Tim feel warm inside… enough to distract him as he imagined Bernard trying to rescue him—or at least trying to.

“Do you think if I find Red Robin, he might give me his autograph?” Bernard asked as they headed toward the explosion site. “That’d be fantastic. Imagine—Superboy’s signature next to Robin’s. Amazing photo for my website.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little much, honey?” Tim asked, trying not to sound uncomfortable.

“Nope, not at all,” Bernard answered casually.

Tim rolled his eyes quickly, and after a few more minutes, they arrived at the explosion site.

“God…” Tim murmured at the destruction in front of them.

“Stay behind me,” Bernard said while taking Tim’s hand and moving cautiously.

They looked at the remains in astonishment. At least there were no bodies or injured people around, which made Tim raise an eyebrow at the odd situation.

“No injuries. No human bodies,” Tim said.

“I noticed,” Bernard replied.

“That means someone already evacuated everyone. And judging by how precise the rescue was, we’re probably talking about a metahuman,” Tim hypothesised.

“Or maybe one of the Bats already had some kind of contingency plan,” Bernard suggested.

Tim shook his head.

“They work differently. They go straight for the ringleader and interrupt the plan at its root. Here… the plan already happened.”

“Someone fast and strong enough to survive an explosion like this…” Bernard said. Then his eyes lit up. “A super!” he exclaimed excitedly.

Tim frowned.

“Maybe Red Robin and Superboy are working together!”

Bernard moved forward more eagerly, pulling Tim with him.

“Maybe…” Tim replied, though his mind considered possibilities like Superman and Batman, or Jon and Damian.

“Look!” Bernard pointed toward a nearby building.

Tim raised his gaze toward the spot Bernard indicated and, in the distance, saw Damian as Robin—and Jon standing in front of him in full suit.

“I knew it,” he thought. “Those two are on this case.”

It wasn’t until he looked a little further that he spotted a third person—his stomach twisted with immediate dread.

He stepped past Bernard to see more clearly.

His eyes widened in recognition: Conner stood with them.

“Did I miss something?” he wondered. Then shook his head. “Maybe Jon called him over.” He tried to convince himself.

“Two supers?” Bernard asked with curiosity as he observed the same scene. He tilted his head. “So one Robin is missing…”

“Maybe we should go. They look like they’re arguing.”

“Man, I wish I could make Superboy notice me. Do you think he remembers me?” Bernard asked excitedly.

“I… couldn’t say,” Tim replied as he watched Jon attempt to approach Damian, only for Damian to stop him.

Tim narrowed his eyes, catching Jon pointing at Conner angrily.

Okay, something was happening—and he was going to find out what.

He decided right then: he would act as if he didn’t know any of this. That way, he could get information out of Conner or Damian and do something about it.

A camera click echoed from nearby, and both noticed a reporter on top of the next building.

“We have to leave now,” Tim said, grabbing Bernard’s hand. “It’s dangerous to stay.”

Bernard sighed, disappointed, but followed his boyfriend.

Tim gave one last glance at the scene, noticing Jon flying away and leaving Conner and Damian alone.

Something in his stomach tightened—a mix of irritation and unease—before he turned to go.

He squeezed Bernard’s hand harder as they walked.

“Hey, babe, that hurts,” Bernard said as Tim dragged him with that firm grip. “Are you okay?”

“I’m wonderful,” Tim muttered, face serious and voice tense with annoyance.

—🦇་༘࿐

Cassie sighed lazily as she finished getting ready to leave the Tower.

She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror; the turquoise eyeshadow and the gloss on top made her look really cute.

It was her every-two-months visit home, and her mother always insisted she should “dress up a little more” when coming over. So this time, she actually made an effort.

Her red dress looked stunning with the tall white boots.

“Alright, I’m ready,” she said, grabbing her things and heading toward the common room.

She picked up her white bag and was just about to walk toward the Zeta Tube when she noticed the TV was still on.

She exhaled and walked to the stand to grab the remote; however, the news on the screen made her freeze.

Her expression changed completely as she watched the Gotham reporter under the headline: No Dark Knight in Sight, but Two Supers and a Robin.

“Everything points to a possible new alliance between Metropolis’s two popular Supers and Batman’s partner, now working together to protect the city.”

The screen showed Jon, Conner, and Robin in the front shot.

“Huh? What is Conner doing there?” Cassie asked, turning toward her room.

She left the remote and headed straight to the hallway.

Upon reaching Conner’s door, she knocked several times in quick succession.

No answer.

She placed both hands on the metal door and pushed—using her strength.

The door snapped off its hinges.

Inside, the room was spotless. The floor was shining, and an exquisite scent drifted through the air.

Yeah, there was no way Conner had done ALL of that in one hour, especially not with the clothes folded that neatly.

She walked out and made her way to the main operations room.

A startled scream escaped her when she saw one of her superiors sitting in the main chair in front of the monitor.

“Jesus!” Hal yelled as he turned toward her voice. He stared at Cassie standing in the doorway, just as shocked as he was. “I thought everyone had left already!”

“Green Lantern?” Cassie asked as she approached cautiously. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, no…” Hal groaned with frustration, slumping back into the chair before standing up again. “Cassie, I need this to stay between us.”

“Does Tim know about this?” she asked.

“I have no idea. But right now… I need you to go back to whatever you were doing—and promise me you won’t mention anything to your leader,” Hal replied, putting his hands on his hips. “I do not want more problems with one of Batman’s brats.”

Cassie didn’t look convinced.

“And Conner?”

“I can’t say anything, Cassie,” Hal said, having his ring scan through the base’s computer. “Just pretend you didn’t see anything.”

“No one’s going to believe Conner was the one who cleaned the hallway and the rooms, Lantern,” Cassie countered.

“Oh, really? Well, not my problem. He’ll figure something out to make them believe it was him,” Hal said with a smug smile once he managed to wipe and alter the recordings.

“So this isn’t a favour, is it?”

Hal frowned at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“From the way you talk… I doubt you’re here doing him a favour.”

“Cassie, I don’t have time for this. Just promise you’ll keep quiet—done.”

Hal was clearly letting his emotions drive him, and Cassie noticed. But even if she wanted to figure out what was going on, she had direct instructions from Diana: obey your superiors.

And that included the entire League.

“Fine. Have a good night. I still need to finish the lounge and your room,” Hal said, turning to leave—but a very particular noise behind the door stopped him.

Yes. He knew that sound.

“Did you hear that?” he asked, scanning for the source.

Cassie didn’t respond—she already knew exactly who it was.

Hal’s eyes widened as the realisation hit.

He yanked the door open—no one.

His stress peaked. Green light from his ring flooded the entire building as he searched for the two culprits he already had in mind.

It didn’t take long before he pulled Bart and Jaime in, floating and restrained.

“Well, why am I not surprised?” he asked, dripping with sarcasm and irritation.

“Good evening, Lantern…” Jaime muttered, embarrassment on his face. His scarab was completely engulfed in green energy, unable to move.

“Nice job with the ‘I totally wasn’t here’ brand disinfectant,” Bart joked loudly, glancing at Hal.

He stopped when he saw Hal’s dead-serious expression.

“I want to believe Nightwing knows you’re here, Jaime,” Hal said sternly.

“Uh… something like that…”

He escaped, Hal concluded.

“Sometimes I swear you teenagers are worse than kindergarteners,” Hal grumbled as he pinned both Bart and Jaime to the wall with a construct, leaving them unable to move.

Both boys immediately began complaining about it.

“Hey! You can’t do that to them,” Cassie said, defending both boys.

“You’re right,” Hal replied—and then did the same thing to Cassie. “You can join them. That way, I can finish this torture without interruptions.”

“Hey!” Cassie shouted, trying to break free or snap the construct.

“Don’t bother, Wonder Girl. It’s useless,” Green Lantern said as he walked out of the room. “Relax, kids. I’ll let you go before I leave—under one condition.”

Hal gave a small laugh and exited through the main door.

Cassie exhaled in annoyance, then glanced at Jaime and Bart with an irritated expression.

“The dress looks nice on you, Cas,” Bart said, attempting to calm her down.

Cassie gave up. It wasn’t Bart’s or Jaime’s fault.
It was Conner’s.

“I’m going to kill Conner when he gets back,” she muttered.

—🦇་༘࿐—

Hal’s focus while cleaning the lounge and Cassie’s room nearly drained him. Mostly because the majority of his energy went into restraining Khaji-Da—though he was certain Jaime helped keep it under control.

“Alright, finally done,” he exhaled, stretching as he stepped out of the last room.

He put the cleaning supplies back in place and pressed his earpiece, contacting Damian.

“Little demon,” he said without enthusiasm. “I’ve finished my part.”

He barely paid attention to Damian’s reply—except for the part where he said the debt was paid.

“And next time, Hal,” Damian said through the mic, “try being more careful with your personal affairs.”

Hal’s urge to insult him spiked, but he held back for two reasons:
First, Damian was right—he was here because he had been careless.
Second, he had to show some maturity in front of a kid likely twenty years younger than him.

“Fine,” he replied, summoning all his willpower not to tell Damian to go to hell.

He hung up.

After a few minutes checking that everything was in order, he finally headed to the main hall to release the kids. But an unexpected call rang from his phone.

“Who the hell—?!” he snapped, until he saw who it was.

His phone nearly slipped from his hands when he saw Barry’s photo.

He immediately hit the accept button.

“Barry!” Hal said excitedly, regaining his composure.

“Hal,” the blond replied through the speaker, “am I interrupting?”

“No, not at all.” Hal leaned against the wall while talking. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“I wanted to know if… you’d like to have dinner,” Barry said, sounding a bit nervous. “I got off work early, I’m kind of hungry and… I miss you.”

Hal felt an unconscious smile spread across his face.

“Yes, of course. I’d love to,” he answered, trying to sound as calm as possible. “Send me the location—I’ll be there soon.”

“Alright,” Barry replied, a soft smile in his voice. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

The call ended.

“I’ve never seen someone so happy about going to dinner with my grandpa, you know?” Bart’s voice echoed through the room.

Hal spun around immediately.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, seeing the three young heroes standing there. “How…?!”

“Seems like your willpower vanishes when you’re excited,” Jaime laughed.

“Was that a joke?” Bart asked Jaime.

“Listen!” Hal interrupted. “Not. A. Word. Of this to anyone. That’s an order—from a League member. Understood?”

Bart, Cassie, and Jaime exchanged glances, but eventually agreed.

After all, even Hal didn’t want to be here in the first place.

“Good,” Hal added. “Maybe we’ll see each other some other time. For now, I’m leaving.”

And he exited the base.

“That was… innovative,” Jaime said with a half-smile.

“Cas, why did you let yourself get caught like that?” Bart asked, turning to his friend.

“Because I owe Lantern respect—he’s an official League member,” she answered, sighing. “I just hope Tim doesn’t notice Conner’s disappearance…”

“It’s sweet that you care about your team, Cas.”

“No,” she corrected. “I just hope he doesn’t find out so I can kill him first.”

—🦇་༘࿐

“Alright. Lantern already finished cleaning the base,” Damian said as he removed his earpiece.

“What did you find that made a League member owe you a favor?” Conner asked, genuinely curious.

“I can’t answer that. It’s something only between Hal and me,” Damian replied, completely serious.

Conner felt his phone vibrate and immediately pulled it out of his scorched pocket. Damian turned to look at him, curiosity taking over.

“It’s Lex,” Conner said, pressing the accept button. “Go ahead, Dad,” he added as he answered the call.

Damian stepped closer.

“I need an answer today,” Lex’s annoyed voice echoed through the speaker.

“Accept,” Damian said the moment he heard Lex’s voice through the phone.

Conner tensed up. After a few seconds, he covered the lower part of the device.

“What will Tim say?” he asked, worried.

“That he’ll still be seeing his boyfriend anyway. Now accept!” Damian shot back.

Conner moved his hand off the phone’s microphone and brought it back to his ear.

“Alright. I’ll be there soon,” Conner answered quickly.

“You’d better be here before eleven, boy!” Lex barked through the phone, forcing Conner to pull it away from his ear.

Then he hung up.

Damian burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Conner asked as he put his phone away.

“Your situation is amusing,” Damian replied, then looked at the Kryptonian again. “When you have time, look for me,” he added, a sly grin forming on his face. “I’m going to help you with the modeling, so you stop being such an embarrassment.”

“How kind of you,” Conner said sarcastically. “But Tim will probably kill me first.” He sighed. “I thought we weren’t friends,” he added, still sarcastic.

Damian shook his head.

“Relax. Tim will have to learn not to be so selfish,” he said. “One way or another.”

Conner looked at Damian as the night wind blew his hair in the opposite direction.

Damian was determined—fearless, even when the odds weren’t in his favor.

Conner found it admirable.

He smiled, keeping his eyes on him.

“Well, patrol is over,” Wayne said after a few seconds of silence. “You should head back to Metropolis. I’ll see you another day.”

Before Conner could reply, Robin was already gone.

A smile spread across Conner’s face.

“I’ll see you another day.”

Chapter Text

Some time earlier:

Clark was going to be late to the Daily Planet.

It was seven thirty in the morning, and his shift started at seven o’clock sharp.

“Sorry,” he said as he moved through the crowd, his suitcase in his right hand, lifting it so it wouldn’t hit anyone.

He hurried toward the entrance, looking slightly out of breath.

“Running a little late, don’t you think, Mr. Kent?”

“I’m very sorry—I had a rough morning,” he replied as he walked through the building’s main doors.

All he could do was hope the day would get better.

He let out a relieved breath as he sat down at his desk and began taking his things out of his suitcase to start working. However, the sound of two notifications on his phone made him pause.

His first thought was that it was Lois, maybe telling him Jon had forgotten something from school at home. But to his surprise, his inbox showed a saved contact: Bruce Wayne ✨.

He was surprised—then even more alarmed.

He picked up his phone and swiped the screen open.

“Clark, I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re busy, but I need to know if you’re available after five this afternoon.”

“Something unexpected came up, and I need to talk to you. Could you please confirm?”

What frightened Clark the most wasn’t the fact that Bruce had texted him despite knowing how busy he was. Nor was it that the matter was urgent enough to warrant a meeting that very same day.

No.

What frightened him the most was the “please”—because it meant whatever Bruce was going through had affected him deeply enough to leave him vulnerable.

5:00 p.m.

Clark finished work at 4:30 and immediately rushed to the Daily Planet bathrooms, his suitcase in hand.

Once inside, he headed for the sink, set his suitcase down beside him, opened it, and took out a thin brown faux-leather pouch.

A gift from Lois.

He opened it quickly and pulled out a slim comb, then began to fix his hair—fast but efficient.

He cleaned his glasses until they looked brand new, brushed the lint off his suit, and applied a bit of his favorite cologne.

He was ready to see Bruce.

After replying that he could make it, Bruce sent him the location of a café not too far from the Daily Planet. He could get there in half an hour without any trouble.

-

After half an hour, Clark stood in front of the café door marked on his map. He opened it, and the scent of pastries, vanilla, and coffee washed over him.

It smelled exquisite.

Clark scanned the room for Bruce and spotted him in a corner, far from the large windows.

“Bruce,” he called out. He stopped as he got closer, noticing that the man’s gaze was lowered.

Alright—he was more worried than he’d expected.

He immediately took a seat across from him, concern etched across his face.

“Clark, I’m glad you came,” Bruce said, then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt your day, but I didn’t… know who else to turn to.”

Clark studied the man sitting across from him. He dared to think that maybe—just maybe—Bruce Wayne had… cried.

Yes, his downcast eyes overflowed with sadness, and his usually firm, decisive posture was slightly hunched. It was almost unnoticeable—perhaps no one else would have seen it—but Clark did. He had known him for years; it was impossible for him to miss those details.

Concern flooded him completely.

“What happened?” he asked.

He watched Bruce swallow, trying to find the right words.

“Jason is alive,” Bruce said suddenly, his gaze unfocused.

Clark’s eyes widened, stunned by what he’d just heard.

“Jason…” he whispered, then looked away from Bruce for a few seconds, trying to process it. “Are you sure, Bruce?”

Bruce nodded.

“How did you find out?”

Bruce seemed to lose his words, his mouth opening before he closed it again, clasping his hands together. After a few seconds, he looked back up at Clark.

“It was Tim who ran into him.”

That was not good. Clark suddenly understood that Bruce hadn’t called him here for a small—or even a big—problem.

“I’m sorry, Bruce, it’s just… it can’t be that Jason—” He stopped, choosing his words carefully. “—came back from the dead.”

Bruce didn’t respond.

“We were at his funeral. It was two years ago…”

“I couldn’t believe it either. I didn’t want to—especially because—” Bruce stopped and inhaled. “Jason came back, and now he’s delivering his own brand of justice in Gotham.”

“How? Did he come back as Robin?”

Bruce shook his head and pulled a few photographs from one of his suit pockets, placing them on the table. Clark picked them up one by one and felt Bruce’s heart rate quicken.

The man in the photos wore a red helmet, weapons in his hands, and carried a disturbingly familiar presence. He was taller now, broader, more muscular.

“He calls himself Red Hood,” Bruce said. “He’s a nighttime vigilante in Gotham now. He delivers justice… by killing his enemies.”

Clark slowly looked up.

“So he…?”

Bruce nodded once.

“I tried to talk to him,” Bruce admitted after a few seconds of silence. “Despite his methods, I still want him to come back—to stand beside me and his brother again.”

“And what about Tim?” Clark asked. “Jason doesn’t know about him.”

“Jason already knows Tim is the new Robin,” Bruce interrupted.

Clark said nothing, both from shock and because it seemed Bruce had more to tell him.

A soft sound reached the journalist as Bruce placed both hands on the table, very close to Clark’s.

“I asked you to come because…” He paused for a few seconds, as if the words were hard to say. “Jason attacked Tim last night while he was at the Tower.”

“What?!” Clark exclaimed.

Overwhelmed by the flood of information, his thoughts went to only one person.

“But Conner didn’t tell me anything,” Clark murmured, loud enough for Bruce to hear.

“Tim asked for discretion about what happened. That’s why Kon didn’t say anything.”

Clark fell silent, thinking about everything that was happening.

“I want Jason to come back to us.” Clark’s thoughts were interrupted by Bruce’s voice. He looked up and could swear he had never imagined seeing Bruce this vulnerable. “Despite everything, I still have hope that he’ll be with us again.”

Bruce rested his face in his hands, and Clark felt his chest tighten at the sight.

“Bruce,” he said, reaching for his hand instinctively. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be alright. I promise.”

The words came out sincere—spoken from the heart.

“What should I do?” he asked, his voice breaking.

“Maybe you should give Jason some time,” Clark replied. “And talk to Tim about what happened—find out what he thinks, or how he feels about all of this.”

Clark paused and took a breath.

“Have you told Alfred what happened?”

Bruce shook his head.

“He’s already had enough to process knowing Jason is alive. I don’t want to add another worry to his shoulders.”

-

Two days earlier:

“Conner!” Tim exclaimed with a smile as he saw him arrive. He stood up from his seat and walked over to him. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Conner took off his glasses and ran a hand through his hair, then draped an arm around the back of Tim’s neck.

“I knew you’d miss me.”

“I didn’t,” Cassie replied without looking up from her phone.

“I did!” Bart exclaimed as he ran toward them. “Tell us what space is like!”

“I am curious about that,” Cassie added, walking over and placing both hands on her hips. “We were all surprised when you suddenly left a note saying you were going to space with Superman.”

“Guys, give Kon some time to rest,” Tim interjected, resting his right hand on Conner’s arm in an affectionate gesture.

“Robin, I need to talk to you first,” Conner said suddenly, his tone much more serious.

Their gazes met. Tim understood instantly—he let go of Conner’s arm and nodded.

“Give us a moment,” he asked, turning to the team.

Bart and Cassie exchanged a look; the speedster shrugged. Without another word, they headed toward the monitoring room.

“What was that message?” Conner asked quietly, his brow furrowed. “I mean… I understood it. But I’m worried. Really worried.”

“I want you to see this,” Tim replied.

He turned on the monitor and opened several recordings in different tabs. Some showed Robin patrolling alone; in others, he was alongside Batman.

Conner stepped closer, watching carefully. Everything looked normal… until he noticed it.

A shadow.

Appearing near the duo.
The same silhouette.
Over and over again, in every recording.

Conner looked at Robin. Tim’s chin trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly.

“Robin… do you think that—?” Conner began.

The question hung in the air when Tim pulled aside part of his armor. A fresh cut stretched from his collarbone down toward his chest.

“I…” Robin said, his voice nervous. “When I was patrolling with Batman, I tried to point it out to him, but he insists there’s nothing there.” He paused for a moment. “But I’m sure that… thing attacked me when I was patrolling alone.”

Conner stepped toward Robin and, without asking or warning, wrapped him in a hug.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now,” he said softly. “We’ll help you.”

Robin let out a breath, his head sinking a little deeper into Conner’s chest and neck.

“Thank you,” he murmured. After a few seconds, he pulled away from the embrace, returning to his usual tone. “Tomorrow I want you to come patrol Gotham with me. I need your help to catch it.”

Conner nodded and put his glasses back on.

“Alright. If you ever need to talk to someone, you know I’ll always be here for you,” he said, winking playfully.

Robin let out a soft laugh.

After an afternoon of playing board games, chatting, and eating fast food, everyone headed to their respective rooms.

It was raining—a perfect day to review missions, make extra contingency plans, and maybe read for a while.

However, Tim felt strangely exhausted.

His eyes felt heavier than usual.

It was odd.

An unsettling feeling lingered around him.

He wondered if, were he to cry out for help, they would think he was strange.

No. He was Robin. He could handle it.

He unfastened a pouch on his utility belt, carefully pulling out a batarang.

Footsteps.

He heard footsteps behind him. He stopped for a few seconds, then turned—just as he was about to throw the weapon.

His wrist was grabbed tightly, and his eyes flew open in surprise.

“Wow,” a familiar female voice echoed.

“Cassie?” he asked nervously.

“Yeah. I just came into your room. You weren’t answering the door, so I let myself in,” she said with a frown, then released Robin’s wrist. “Is everything okay? You were acting really strange in the common room during the games.”

Tim immediately put his weapon away, his movements shaky.

“N-no,” he stammered. “I’m fine.”

“Robin,” she said in a calm tone, taking his hand. “We’re your team. You can trust us if something is bothering you.”

Tim looked into his friend’s eyes. His body relaxed, and he thought about it.

She was right. They were his team—the team built on the trust they all shared.

If he couldn’t trust Bruce with this situation, maybe he could trust his team.

“I’ll tell you everything tomorrow,” he said firmly. “But I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Cassie smiled gently.

“Good. Get some rest. It might help clear your head,” she replied.

Robin nodded and let his friend leave.

Cassie was right. Sleeping would help him calm down.

2:00 a.m.

Tim began to gasp as he tossed and turned in his bed. The feeling that someone was attacking him while he slept clung to him—as if someone were slicing into his arm. Yes, he was sure someone was cutting his arm.

But he couldn’t open his eyes.

Why couldn’t he open his eyes?

He had to open them—somehow. His heart pounded harder, his pulse spiraling out of control. He couldn’t see anything, but he was certain someone was beside him, cutting into his forearm.

A crack of thunder rang out, and he finally let out a strangled cry as he bolted upright in bed.

“Shit,” he muttered, still gasping, his chest rising and falling. He looked up and noticed a deep gash carved into the metal of the door.

He wasn’t crazy. Someone had been there.

And they were in the Tower.

Tim jumped out of bed, pulled on his mask with trembling hands, and fastened his utility belt. He ran out, slamming into a wall from the speed, steadied himself, and kept going.

He was in the main hall.

And he was sure whoever was stalking him wanted him to know it—because they’d left scratches along the walls for him to follow.

The room was dark. He turned on the lights and saw no one around him.

“How…?” he whispered.

He didn’t finish the sentence.

A cable snapped tight around his right leg.

The yank was brutal. Tim fell onto his back, the air knocked from his lungs as he was dragged down a corridor—dark. Far too dark.

Tim grabbed his cutter and tried to slice through the cable.

He couldn’t. Whatever that person was using could withstand Bat-grade weapons.

Fear filled his eyes as he was pulled closer and closer to the darkness.

He was about to scream—until the person stopped and stepped out of the shadows.

You didn’t need to see behind Robin’s mask to know he was terrified.

The figure wore a red helmet that covered his entire face. The rest of the suit was black and crimson, a symbol emblazoned on the chest.

Tim scrambled backward, panic-stricken.

“Did you do this?” he asked, gesturing to the cuts on his arms.

There was no answer. The figure simply drew his gun, raising it toward Robin.

“So you’re the new Robin,” he said in a deep voice. “You’re nothing but a coward,” he spat. “Easy prey for me.”

He took aim.

But the moment he did, he was hurled against a wall.

“Cassie!” Tim cried, a thread of hope in his voice.

Other hands grabbed him from behind, helping him to his feet.

“Robin, sorry we’re late,” Impulse said, though Tim barely heard him.

“Who the hell is this?” Conner growled, stepping toward the figure.

The man in the red helmet stood up calmly.

“Even a Kryptonian,” he remarked. “What an interesting team.”

Superboy took another step forward.

The intruder pulled a fragment of glowing green stone from his belt. The moment he did, Kon froze—his legs gave out, and he collapsed instantly.

“No!” Tim shouted, deep fear in his voice.

Despite the pain, he threw himself toward Conner. He dropped to his knees beside him and wrapped an arm around his, shielding him without a second thought.

The man in the red helmet went completely still.

Surprised.

“Don’t hurt him,” Tim said, his voice breaking. “Please.”

“Order them to stand back,” the figure replied.

Tim looked at his team and nodded.

They obeyed.

The silence became unbearable as anxiety clawed at Tim’s chest.

The kryptonite was still in the masked man’s hand.

He stepped closer, making Conner groan.

“I need him to know about this,” the intruder said.

“Who?” Cassie demanded angrily, barely holding herself back from attacking.

“Batman,” he answered. “Tell him this is a gift from Red Hood,” he added, slipping the kryptonite away.

Conner slumped, finally able to breathe again—slowly.

“Kon, easy. I’ve got you,” Bart said, holding him steady as he helped him up.

Cassie stepped forward, furious.

“You could’ve killed him!”

Red Hood turned his head slightly toward her.

“But I didn’t.”

His attention returned to Tim.

“That’s part of the message too.”

Tim swallowed hard.

“Good luck, Robin,” he added. Then he grabbed Tim’s face roughly, forcing him closer as he hauled him up. Tim tried to pull his hand away, but he couldn’t—the strength he wielded was nearly on par with a metahuman’s. “Tell Bruce to choose his new partners more carefully.”

Tim’s blood ran cold.

And Red Hood shoved him away, letting him crash to the floor, his elbows and lower back slamming hard.

Conner tore free from Cassie’s grip and charged forward, furious.

But before he could reach him, Red Hood triggered a detonator, and smoke flooded the room.

Tim coughed, frustration and fear burning in his chest.

So much fear.

-

“This can’t be…” Clark said after hearing Bruce’s full account. “Did Tim tell you all of that?”

“He only told me the message Jason wanted to send. He didn’t want to tell me what Jason did to him, so I had to check the Tower’s cameras.”

Bruce paused for a few seconds, looking away.

“I’m supposed to meet Jason tonight,” he added. “But I have too many conflicting thoughts. That’s why I wanted to see you. I can’t tell Alfred about this—he’s just recovered from Ivy’s attack. For now, it’s better that he doesn’t know what’s going on.”

Clark nodded, listening closely as his friend spoke.

“How am I supposed to explain this to Tim?” Bruce asked.

“You’re going to have to tell him the truth,” Clark said gently. “He knows about Jason, right?”

“I never told him about Jason directly. I only mentioned that I failed as a mentor to the previous Robin,” Bruce replied. “But I’m sure he knows everything about Jason. I’m sure he researched it himself—he just never brought it up because he knows it’s a sensitive subject for me.”

“Of course. It’s Tim, after all.”

Bruce nodded.

“I don’t want to lose either of them. I’d never forgive myself.”

“Try talking to Jason tonight. If you truly want him to come back, make that clear,” Clark replied. “And talk to him as his father—not as his mentor.”

Bruce met Clark’s gaze. His eyes were just as blue as Clark’s.

And he felt better—as if looking into Clark’s eyes comforted him in one way or another.

“Thank you,” he said, offering a small smile.

Nothing went the way Bruce had expected.

On the ride back to the Batcave in the early hours of the morning, he let a few tears fall.

Of course it hurt. The entire situation did.

It was Jason. His son.

But he wouldn’t let anyone else see him like this.

He stepped out of the Batmobile in silence, his expression impenetrable—something only he could manage.

Tim was sitting in front of the Batcomputer, still wearing his mask, scrolling through files without really paying attention to them.

He was just killing time, waiting for Batman to arrive.

He turned when he heard footsteps behind him.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said, trying to break the awkward silence.

“I spoke to him,” Batman replied, still keeping his suit in place.

“You talked?” Tim asked.

Batman stopped. He seemed about to say something—Tim noticed it—but he closed his mouth for a few seconds, then opened it again.

“He won’t show up at the Tower again. He won’t bother you anymore,” Batman said. “But he asked me not to chase him while he does what he believes is justice.”

Tim noticed the anger in Batman’s voice when he said the last part—he noticed because his fist clenched as he struggled to contain it.

“Who was he? How does he know who we are?” Tim asked.

Tim didn’t really need an explanation. He already suspected the truth. He just couldn’t fully believe it.

“He’s… Jason,” Bruce replied. “The second Robin. My son…”

-

Tim went out to patrol alone.

It was a cold night in Gotham. Batman was supposed to accompany him, but he decided to go ahead on his own.

Why?

Because he was going to meet Red Hood face to face for the first time since the Tower incident.

Batman didn’t know it, but Tim had spent a week setting up signals for Jason, leaving them in specific places where he had struck.

He knew Jason wasn’t stupid—he would find them sooner or later.

And he received an indirect response.

They were going to meet on one of Gotham’s abandoned streets.

Sure, crime was high there, but it wouldn’t be a problem for either of them.

When Red Hood arrived, he didn’t say a word, but Tim felt his heart pounding with fear.

“What do you want?” he asked bluntly.

“I wanted to—” Tim hesitated. He didn’t know how to say that he just wanted to see him. To confirm he was real. “—to talk.”

“Don’t lie,” Jason replied flatly. “Tell me why you were looking for me.”

Tim clenched his teeth.

“I think things can still be fixed…”

“No,” Jason interrupted, taking a step forward. “They can’t. You don’t know what it’s like to be me. And I’m not going to understand you.”

“I’m not asking you to understand me,” Tim replied, not lowering his voice. “I think I deserve an explanation. You stalked me for almost a week, broke into my Tower, attacked someone on my team… and then you disappeared.”

Jason didn’t answer right away.

He removed his helmet.

He let Tim see part of his face—just enough.

“I didn’t want to kill you,” he finally said. “I wanted to scare you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re Robin,” Jason replied, and Tim could swear that behind his mask, Jason was raking him with his gaze. “How long after my death did it take for you to show up and become the new Robin?”

“Batman didn’t want a partner.”

“Didn’t he?” Jason asked as he moved closer to Tim. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be here, wearing that suit.”

“I insisted. It’s different.”

“Then tell me what you want before I lose my patience,” Jason snapped, his voice rising.

“There’s someone at the Manor who wants to see you.”

Jason tensed slightly.

“Bruce? I already made that clear. I don’t want or need to see him again.”

Tim shook his head.

It took Jason a second to realize which name was missing.

“Alfred.”

The effect was immediate. Jason’s body went rigid, as if the name had struck him square in the chest.

And Tim noticed.

“Don’t bring him into this.”

“How do you think I managed to come without Batman finding out?” Tim replied.

Jason fell silent.

“Alfred knows you’re alive. He wants to see you… or at least he’s hoping for a message from you.”

Jason stayed quiet, weighing whether he should go or not.

Things with Batman hadn’t ended well, but Bruce had never told him to stay away from the Manor.

Alfred’s name echoed in his chest. If it had been Bruce, he would have refused outright. But the truth was, at the very least, he could tell this new Robin to let Alfred know he was okay.

For all his resentment—justified resentment—there were still people in Jason’s heart who could draw out the part of him he thought he’d buried.

“Why did you come and not Richard?” Jason asked.

“Richard lives in Blüdhaven,” Robin replied. “He’s been on a mission for two weeks. But he said he’d come looking for you as soon as he’s done.”

Jason rolled his eyes, then glanced down a dark street.

“Come with me.”

Tim took a step back when he realized where Jason was headed.

“I’m not going to attack you,” Jason added without turning around. He was about to say something else, but then he vanished into the darkness.

Three minutes later, the roar of a motorcycle shattered the silence.

Jason appeared in front of him.

“Get on.”

Tim stood frozen.

“Or were you planning on getting to the Manor by jumping across rooftops?” Jason added irritably.

Tim looked around.

Then he stepped forward.

-

The ride back to the Manor was a little awkward, but Tim immediately understood that it was Jason’s way of saying I’m sorry for attacking you and your team—in Jason’s own language.

So he accepted the “help.”

“All set,” Jason said as he got off his bike, then removed his helmet.

“Don’t you think it’d be better to go to the Batcave?” Tim asked.

“And let Bruce know I’m here? No,” Jason replied.

They walked through the small stretch of woods surrounding the Manor.

Tim took the opportunity to let Alfred know they had arrived.

After a few minutes, Tim guided Jason through a hidden entrance inside the Manor.

They went straight into the Manor’s main hall.

Jason removed his helmet and mask, taking in his surroundings with an expression Tim hadn’t expected to see.

Nostalgia.

Tim figured a flood of memories had come rushing back.

“Wow,” Jason murmured. Then he looked toward a table against the wall, ran his hand over it, and lifted his gaze. “The family photos are gone.”

“There were never any family photos when I arrived,” Tim replied.

Jason’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I only ever saw framed pictures of Bruce’s parents—in his room.”

Jason was left speechless.

“Young Master Jason?” a third voice spoke.

Jason turned toward the source of the voice and let out a soft breath, emotions colliding in his chest.

“Alfred,” he said as he walked toward the butler.

Alfred looked the young man up and down—the boy who had once been shorter than him.

“You always arrived late for dinner,” Alfred said. “Some things never change. I’m glad you still do.”

Jason stepped forward and pulled him into a hug, careful and gentle.

For a few seconds, he felt protected again.

Alfred rested a steady hand on his back.

-

Days had passed since Jason had set foot in the Manor.

Tim didn’t miss him—after all, he still saw him occasionally during patrols.

But Jason had kept his word. He hadn’t come near Tim’s team again.

“So you forgave him?” Cassie asked, a hint of indignation in her voice.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Robin replied. “He was Robin too. I owe him respect.”

“Respect, not forgiveness,” she shot back, crossing her arms.

“I think you did the right thing,” Bart chimed in. “Why carry bad memories about someone you know you’re going to see again?”

Kon looked at his team, then sat down beside Robin.

“I think you did the right thing forgiving him,” he said sincerely, a smile on his face.

Robin lifted his gaze from his tablet and looked at the Kryptonian beside him.

He returned the smile.

“Thanks,” he said.

Conner rested a hand on his forearm, fingers sliding gently, almost afraid of hurting him.

“How are your injuries?”

“Much better,” Tim replied. “They healed fast.”

Suddenly, arms wrapped around him.

“It breaks my heart to see you like this, Robin,” Cassie said heavily. “We should’ve been more careful that day.”

“Cass, really,” he replied softly. “I’m fine.”

She pulled back slightly, but kept her hands on his shoulders.

“Promise me that if something like that happens again, you’ll tell one of us.”

Tim looked around at his team.

“I promise.”

“Good,” Cassie said, nodding. “I’ll be in my room.”

When she left, silence returned—though it didn’t last long.

A notification sound echoed through the room.

Bart looked at his phone and grinned like he’d just won the lottery.

“Yes!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, making Kon and Tim turn toward him with curiosity.

Bart looked up and pocketed his phone.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said—and within seconds, he was already in his suit.

“Where to?” Robin asked.

“Garth texted me. They finally accepted the kid with the scarab on his back as a new Titan,” Bart replied.

“The kid who attacked us a few weeks ago?” Conner asked, frowning. “Looks like they couldn’t remove the robotic bug.”

“Exactly,” Bart said. “So I’m going to welcome him.”

There was a special note of excitement in Bart’s voice as he spoke.

Tim wasn’t surprised. After all, Impulse had been the only one able to get close to the kid without being—too—attacked by the scarab.

“Maybe we should all go as a team,” Robin added.

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Bart said, shaking his head. “Might be better if you stay here… You know what happened when you—” he pointed at Tim, “—attacked the kid.”

“Oh, come on,” Tim snapped, irritated. “That thing was out of control. If I hadn’t electrocuted it, it could’ve seriously hurt one of us—or one of the Titans.”

“Yeah, but give him time,” Bart replied with a smile. “Maybe it’s better to introduce the team little by little. Alright, I’m out.”

And before Conner or Tim could respond, Impulse was already gone.

Robin turned his attention back to his tablet, pretending to review some files, though in reality his mind lingered on what Bart had said.

“Hey… Kon,” he called.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I was too harsh when I attacked Jaime?” he asked, scrolling through the files more slowly.

Conner took a few seconds, replaying the moment of the attack in his mind, then shook his head.

“I think you were being cautious,” he replied. “Do you feel guilty about what Bart said?”

“A little…” Robin set the tablet aside and sighed. “Maybe he has a point. Maybe my methods are a bit too… cold?” he wondered. “I don’t know. I acted thinking about protecting you all before protecting the victim.”

Conner watched Robin closely.

He could tell Bart’s words had hurt him.

“Nobody’s perfect, Rob,” Conner said softly. “But you do a great job as a leader. Really.”

Tim looked up.

“And believe me,” Conner continued, “I understand you more than you think. If that bug had attacked you like that… I would’ve done exactly what you did.”

Robin let out a small, tired but genuine smile.

“Thanks,” Tim whispered, returning Conner’s gaze with a gentle smile.

Conner kept smiling as he looked at him.

After a few minutes, they both went back to their own things. Conner focused intently on his phone, while Tim tried to concentrate on his tablet.

But there was something new in the air. Tim kept glancing at Conner every now and then, waiting for… something.

He didn’t know exactly what. He was confused.

He curled up a little more on the couch, slightly annoyed, then looked at his teammate.

Conner wasn’t paying attention; he was completely absorbed in his own world with his phone.

Tim returned his gaze to his tablet and shook his head slightly.

No… it couldn’t be that.

Was he annoyed that Conner wasn’t looking at him like before?

He shook his head again.

And looked back at Conner.

Maybe he was a little far from him.

He began to feel a bit cold.

Slowly, subtly, he started inching closer to Conner.

“It’s just so I don’t feel this uncomfortable cold,” he thought.

His thigh accidentally brushed against Conner’s leg, making him pull back slightly.

He looked up at him.

And it annoyed him a little that even then, Conner didn’t look his way.

He frowned and let out a small indignant whine.

“Huh?” Conner finally said, looking up from his phone and removing his headphones. “Is something wrong?”

“Since when did he even put those on?” Tim thought, irritated.

“N-no,” he stammered, trying to hide his mood.

Conner’s expression stayed serious… until a smile slowly appeared on his face.

“Since I guess you finished the report, I want you to listen to this,” Conner said excitedly.

Tim’s curiosity was instantly piqued. He set his tablet aside and felt his mood lift immediately.

Oh. He realized he liked Conner’s attention.

“Is this going to be bad?” he wondered.

While Conner searched his phone carefully, a few seconds later, he turned on his headphones.

“Put these on,” he said, handing them to Tim with a smile.

Tim took them and obeyed.

“You’re going to give me your opinion on this,” Conner added enthusiastically. “Ready?”

Robin nodded.

Conner tapped something on his screen, and Tim began to hear a tropical-style melody—soft, but not exactly relaxing.

Then, suddenly, a rap in English by a popular Jamaican artist came in.

It sounded… really good.

After a few bars, it switched to a typical tropical melody with a soft male voice.

Tim started bobbing his head, moving slightly with the rhythm of the music.

That is, until his eyes widened in surprise when he actually caught some of the lyrics.

Passion whine, gimme the passion whine, gyal
Sex it good and make we bubble pon time, gyal

“Oh… wow…” he whispered, glancing at Conner, not sure how to read his own expression.

“If the lyrics in English are like this, I don’t even want to know what the Spanish translation says,” he thought.

After some minutes, Conner stopped the music, grinning.

“So… what do you think?”

“Innovative,” Tim replied, still a little stunned, not exactly sure how to respond.

“I picked this song because it reminded me of you,” Conner said casually.

Tim froze.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“I wanted to show you this song because it reminded me of you,” Conner repeated.

Tim opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, unsure what to say.

“I don’t… think I get your point,” he said, trying not to sound nervous. “How does a song about someone seducing someone else remind you of me?”

“Ah, no,” Conner replied, waving it off. “It’s not about the lyrics. You told me you liked English rap and tropical rhythms, so when I heard this one, I thought, ‘Hey… maybe Robin would like this.’”

“Oh…” Tim nervously laughed, “oh, yeah, yeah. Makes sense.”

What an idiot, he thought, feeling his cheeks warm a little from embarrassment.

Conner just laughed.

“Did you like the song?” he asked.

“Ah, yeah, yeah. It’s good,” Robin replied, coughing slightly to cover his nerves. “What’s it called?”

“Ah…” Conner glanced back at his phone for a few seconds. “Passion Whine.”

Tim nodded.

“Cool.”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to show you,” Conner said, stretching. “I’m going to grab something to eat. Want me to bring you anything?”

Robin shook his head.

“No, thanks. I’m good,” he smiled.

“All right.”

Conner left the room, and Tim waited until he was gone before biting down on the couch cushion to stifle a scream of embarrassment.

“What an idiot,” he whispered, muffled. “So embarrassing!”

He exhaled, letting all the tension leave his body. He rested his right hand on the couch and leaned back.

A few seconds passed before he noticed a faint, exquisite scent lingering where the Kryptonian had been.

He sat up again, glanced to make sure he was alone, and leaned toward the fragrance.

He recognized it immediately: perfume—but not just any perfume.

An expensive, yet exquisite perfume.

“Superboy wears perfume?” he murmured in amazement.

It smelled incredible.

And he wondered if his shirts smelled just as good.

-

Jason had made a deal with Tim.

He would help him sneak into the Manor whenever Jason needed. Of course, Bruce couldn’t find out.

“Damn it,” he muttered, slightly frustrated, holding the phone to his ear, waiting for a response. “Why isn’t he picking up?”

Jason gave up after the phone went to voicemail for the eighth time that night.

He had no other choice. He was going to enter the Manor through Tim’s room.

-

Getting into the Manor wasn’t that difficult, as long as you knew the architecture well—which, admittedly, worried Jason a little.

He began climbing onto the roof that led to Tim’s room. At least Tim’s room wasn’t on the top floor like Richard’s.

When he reached the balcony, he peered inside.

Everything was dark.

“Did I get the day wrong?” he wondered. “Was Tim staying with his team at the Tower tonight?”

He was about to leave when he noticed a faint light inside the dark room.

He focused and realized Tim was lying next to his phone, sprawled on the desk.

“This little bastard fell asleep,” Jason muttered in frustration.

Using careful technique, he opened the window and slipped inside the room.

“Tim,” he whispered.

His brother was peacefully asleep on the desk, but Jason noticed something peculiar.

Was that… sheets? supporting his face?

Jason frowned. He knew he couldn’t turn on the light at this hour, so he pulled out a flashlight, placed his hand over Tim’s head to reveal part of his face, aimed, and turned it on.

The light made the younger boy stir, letting out a muffled groan into the fabric.

“What?” he mumbled, complaining about the sudden brightness.

“I’ve been calling you, genius,” Jason replied, then noticed how the light fell on the “sheets” and grabbed them when he saw something strange.

“Hey, that’s…”

“T-shirts,” Jason said, picking one up with curiosity.

But Tim’s nervousness didn’t go unnoticed.

Jason examined the black shirt more closely, reaching the center, where the red “S” symbol was.

He looked up at his brother and positioned the flashlight in a way that lit both of them just enough.

Tim swallowed nervously.

“That’s not yours,” he said.

“It is. It’s old,” Jason replied.

“No way, it’s way too big for you.”

Tim looked away, then back at his brother.

“I like wearing oversized stuff.”

“Sleeping with a Superman logo?” Jason asked with a smirk, then looked closer at the emblem. “No, this isn’t Superman’s logo.”

“Give it here,” Tim shot back.

“This is from your Kryptonian teammate, right?”

Tim didn’t answer.

Jason caught a scent coming from the shirt—it smelled like perfume.

“Your teammate gave you his shirt… with perfume?” he teased.

He quickly realized it wasn’t true—the shirt was almost brand new. The scent of perfume was still fresh, and it was remarkably clean.

“You stole it,” Jason said, serious. Neither spoke for a few seconds. Then he broke the silence. “Why?”

He looked down and noticed Tim was wearing a similar shirt while he slept.

“What?” he whispered, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Tim avoided looking at Jason, his face burning with embarrassment and shame.

Jason stepped closer to his brother, taking a deep breath.

The same perfume.

“Hey… back off,” Tim said, uncomfortable.

Jason backed up, but immediately moved toward Tim’s closet. He opened the door and found three more shirts just like it.

“Hey, Jason!” Tim exclaimed nervously.

“You steal your teammate’s shirts?” Jason stated, holding up the shirts.

“There’s an explanation…”

Jason crossed his arms, waiting for something… logical.

“Conner smells good,” Tim admitted. “His perfume… it’s unique, I like it… and it helps me sleep.”

“Perfume helps you sleep?” Jason asked. “That’s impossible—unless… the scent makes you feel like the person is near you.”

Bingo. There it was.

Tim missed his teammate.

“Oh…”

“Interesting,” Jason thought with a smirk.

And in his mind, he prepared himself, realizing that soon… something was going to happen between the two of them.

-

Present Day:

The sound of a motorcycle echoed near Wayne Manor.

Jason had returned.

Alfred received the message from Tim about Jason’s arrival. Tim had broken the usual protocol and told Alfred, since he was going out with Bernard that night.

A sigh escaped Jason’s lips as he removed his helmet. He looked over the manor from outside before stepping inside.

“Master Todd,” the butler greeted him.

“Hello, Alfred,” Jason replied, approaching him. “Why couldn’t Tim help me tonight?” he asked.

“He has a date with his new partner.”

“Mh,” Jason replied, without much enthusiasm. “Who’s the unlucky one?”

“He’s not a girl, Master Jason,” Alfred answered.

The taller boy froze, surprised by the response.

“Don’t tell me…” Jason paused, placing his right hand over his mouth. “He’s finally dating the Kryptonian?!”

Jason tried to hide his excitement, but Alfred noticed immediately.

He smiled with a touch of melancholy.

“No, his new partner is Bernard, a boy he met while studying.”

“WHAT?!” Jason exclaimed, astonished. “You’ve got to be kidding me! This is unbelievable! Tim didn’t even hide his crush on that Kryptonian in front of us… just to go out with someone else?!”

Alfred didn’t respond. After all, everyone in the Manor was thinking the same thing as Jason.

No one understood why… or how.

“Damn Tim,” he muttered.

“Well, Master Todd,” Alfred said calmly, “at least his discovery wasn’t like Master Richard’s.”

“True, if there’s anyone who went through worse than anyone else, it was Richard,” Jason thought.

“But he’s right about one thing,” Alfred continued. “Even though we like young Bernard, it was strange that Master Tim didn’t end up going out with Conner Kent.”

Chapter Text

Conner had made his decision.

He was going to accept Lex’s proposal.

He was already at LexCorp, high above Metropolis.

The view from up there was breathtaking—the night, with its illuminated streets, looked like something straight out of a photograph.

He entered his room through the tall window.

Feeling a bit hungry, he headed toward his personal refrigerator.

He opened it and smiled when he found a fresh hamburger and ice cream inside.

Maybe the day wouldn’t end as badly as he had expected.

After eating a little, he left his room to go see his father.

When he reached the office door, he knocked twice.

"Who is it?" his father’s voice asked from the other side.

"Lex, it’s me" he replied.

A few seconds later, the elegant black wooden doors with golden frames and handles opened.

"Hi…" he said quietly as he stepped inside.

"Son, come in" Lex replied with a smile, waiting for Conner to take a seat across from him. "I suppose you already have an answer."

Conner nodded.

Lex handed him a pen. Kon took it and signed.

Lex’s smile did not go unnoticed.

"You’ll see, son. You’re going to enjoy it." he said.

Kon wasn’t entirely convinced, but there was no turning back now.

"Alright, I should go" he said as he stood up. "My team is waiting for me…"

"I wanted to talk to you about your team" Lex interrupted.

"Could it be another day? I’m really in a hurry."

Lex clenched his jaw, then stood in front of his son, one hand in his pocket.

"Fine, but before you go" he said, pulling out a familiar folded paper. Conner’s eyes widened in surprise when he recognized it. "You forgot this this morning."

Kon took it and unfolded it.

The drawing of Red Robin was still there.

He gently traced it with his thumb, a mix of affection and melancholy washing over him as he remembered how he’d gotten the gift.

"A piece of advice, son" Lex said, placing both hands on Conner’s shoulders with care. The dark-haired boy looked up at his father. "Stay away from your partner. It’s better for you to put some distance between you, clear your mind, and stop thinking about him."

"I’ll… keep that in mind" he replied.

"Good" Lex said, softly hugging Conner. "If you need anything, you can always come to me."

Conner nodded and headed back to his tower.

—

A sigh escaped Tim’s lips as he tried to push the theories swirling in his mind away.

Damn it, Conner. Why didn’t you just listen to me? he thought.

"Tim" Bernard’s voice echoed, interrupting his thoughts. Tim’s blue eyes met Bernard’s, and he placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay? You’ve been off since we left the crime scene."

Bernard was worried—it showed in his voice and tense body language.

"Yeah, I’m fine" Tim replied, clearing his throat. "I just remembered a project I have to turn in next week."

Bernard tilted his head for a few seconds, then pulled Tim into a hug.

"It’s okay" he said after a moment, holding him close. "You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I don’t want you to feel pressured. Just know that I’ll always be here when you need me."

Tim felt his heart start to race. He buried his head in the crook of Bernard’s neck and shoulder, letting his body relax.

"Thank you" he murmured.

"You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart" Bernard replied.

They stayed like that until Tim rested his chin instead of his head and let out another sigh.

"Better?"

Tim nodded with his eyes closed.

"Sorry." he said "I’m a bit stressed."

"It’s okay, I get it. Tough week, right?"

Tim nodded again.

They pulled apart, and Bernard placed both hands on Tim’s face, holding him gently as he smiled.

"I’m proud of you" he said softly.

Tim felt his cheeks turn pink.

"I can walk you home if you want" Bernard added.

Tim nodded and let his boyfriend guide him by the arm.

-

Tim was going to kill Kon.

Obviously, metaphorically.

But he was going to do it.

A sigh escaped his lips after he said goodbye to Bernard and turned toward the Manor.

He passed through the door without paying much attention to his surroundings.

He needed to talk to Conner about what had happened.

But how?

His mind created and discarded ideas. He wanted to sound natural—Conner knew him far too well for him to fake anything.

“You!”

A familiar male voice shouted at him.

Tim startled and turned his head to the right.

Jason.

“Jay…” he said, forcing a small smile. “Hey.”

His brother approached, and Tim noticed he looked… stressed.

He cursed internally. He already had an idea why.

“You little shit, where the hell were you?” Jason asked, irritation clear in his voice.

“I went out for a bit,” Tim replied, looking away.

“Oh yeah? And with who?”

Damn it, Tim thought. Jason still doesn’t know about my relationship with Bernard… or that I’ve come out.

Tim cleared his throat and straightened his posture.

“Uh… can we sit down and talk?” he asked.

—

Jason agreed, but only because Tim offered to make him a cup of classic tea.

The taller man sat with one leg crossed, his ankle resting on his knee, one arm draped over the armrest and the other along the back of the couch, his fingers pressing lightly against his temple.

A few minutes later, Tim returned with Jason’s tea, set the cup on the round table, and took a seat.

“All right… some things happened while you were gone,” Tim began. Jason gave him a look that clearly said go on. “I… realized that I also feel—”
Tim wondered why he felt just as nervous as the first time. He let out a short, sharp breath. “Attraction toward guys.”

He said it.

The weight lifted from his chest. Now almost his entire family knew.

Almost.

Jason didn’t even blink.

“That it?” Jason asked calmly, taking a sip of his tea.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Tim asked, surprised.

“Tim, what exactly do you want me to say?” Jason replied before taking another sip. “I’m not surprised.”

“What?”

“You’ve always had certain behaviors I’d never associate with a straight person.”

Tim ignored the faint sting of offense.

“I went on a date with my boyfriend,” he said. “That’s why I couldn’t help you today. I’m sorry, Jay.”

“So who’s the poor bastard?” Jason asked with a faint smirk.

Tim rolled his eyes.

“His name is Bernard.”

“Hm.”

“He’s a good guy,” Tim added, smiling.

“Uh-huh.”

“And I hope you meet him someday.”

Jason sighed and finished his tea, setting the cup down on the table.

His posture shifted. Both feet were now on the floor, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together.

“If he makes you happy, that’s enough for me,” he said, then raised a hand before Tim could reply. “But no gang members.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You’re introverted. It makes sense you’d be attracted to someone who’s the opposite of you.”

“Oh, please. That’s a stereotype,” Tim scoffed.

“Yeah, yeah. Still, I’m glad you’re happy. I hope I get to meet your boyfriend soon.”

He fell silent.

And Conner Kent?

The question stuck in his throat. He didn’t ask it. Something must have happened for Tim to be with someone else now.

Another thought crossed his mind: Does he still keep the shirts?

“You okay, Jay?” Tim asked, noticing his brother had drifted off.

Jason shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he said as he stood up, ruffling Tim’s hair with a fond smile.

Tim swatted his hand away, half-annoyed, half-amused.

“Hey, Jason—Richard’s not here, and I was wondering if you could help me with my project—”

A third voice entered the room.

A third voice that made Tim turn, staring at the newcomer with surprise and anger.

“Shit,” Damian muttered when he saw Jason wasn’t alone.

“You—” Tim stood up abruptly, the word coming out sharper than he intended.

Jason immediately felt the tension shift.

What happened between these two?

“Tim,” Damian complained, rolling his eyes. “I don’t have time for this.”

Tim moved quickly, stopping right in front of his younger brother, his expression tight with anger.

“What did I tell you after your little leader stunt with my team?”

Damian sighed, bored.

“Answer me, Damian.”

“You should be thanking me,” Damian replied with a proud smile. “I managed to stop him in time.”

“I told you not to interfere in my team’s affairs!”

“Well, he thinks I’m great, you know.”

“Hey,” Jason interrupted. “Who the hell are you talking about?”

“Conner Kent and his nighttime outing,” Damian replied, shooting Tim a glance. “One Tim failed to control.”

Something in Tim’s chest tightened dangerously.

“Tim’s angry because I stopped Conner before he did something worse,” Damian continued, savoring every word. “And now Conner is my friend too.”

Tim’s fist clenched.

“Damian,” he warned, stepping closer. “Stay away from Conner.”

Jason stayed silent. The pieces were starting to fit together.

“Watch yourself, Drake,” Damian replied coldly. “You don’t get to tell me who I can or can’t associate with.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and left the room.

“Damian, come back!” Tim shouted.

Jason tried to stop him by grabbing his shoulder, but Tim was already gone.

Damian’s bedroom door slammed shut. The lock clicked into place.

“Damn it…” Tim muttered, frustration—and something darker—pounding in his chest.

Jason said nothing. Tim needed time to cool off before they could talk.

They were all family in the manor, but Jason wasn’t close enough to Damian to question him about what had happened.

Richard, however, was.

Maybe later, Jason could ask him for details.

-

“Recognizing… Welcome, Superboy!”

Conner slipped his glasses into his pocket, barely paying attention to his surroundings.

That was, until a wooden suitcase slammed straight into his face with superhuman force.

“What?” he asked, trying to process what had just happened. He turned to his right and saw shattered pieces of wood, half of a broken chair seat, and scattered dust.

“Conner Kent, I’m going to kill you!” a female voice exclaimed.

“Cassie?!” the dark-haired boy replied, stepping back with a nervous smile. “D-did something happen?”

“Where were you?!”

“W-with Lex. He called me about something—”

“Don’t lie to me, Conner!” she warned in a lower, serious tone as she pointed at him. Then she grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. “What the hell were you doing in Gotham?!”

“At least learn how to lie better, dude!” another familiar voice chimed in.

Conner turned farther toward the main room and noticed Jaime playing a board game with Bart.

“And what are you doing here?” Conner asked. “Don’t you already have a team waiting for you?”

“Nah,” Jaime replied. “I already texted that I’ll show up in the morning. Nightwing’s in a good mood!”

Bart and Jaime laughed quietly at that.

Must be nice, Conner thought.

“Hey, Kent,” Cassie called again, snapping his attention back to her. “This time, Tim is going to kill you.”

Conner groaned and rolled his eyes as he walked past her.

“Don’t you think he’s too busy with other things to care about what I do or don’t do?” he asked sarcastically as he headed toward his room.

Cassie’s eyes widened in surprise.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, irritation creeping into her voice.

“I mean I’m not important enough to him right now. He won’t even find out about my little outing,” Kon replied bitterly. He turned to open his door, only to find it destroyed. He decided not to comment. “Whatever. I’m going to sleep.”

Cassie was about to say something else, but Conner shut his door—as best as he could—and shut everyone else out.

Jaime and Bart exchanged a knowing smile.

“You noticed it too, right?” Bart asked with a quiet laugh as he placed a card on the table.

“This is better than I expected,” Jaime replied, dropping a “+4” card. “Red.”

“Was he… upset?” Cassie asked, still standing in the same spot.

“I do not believe ‘upset’ is the correct term,” a robotic voice replied.

“I thought you were asleep,” Bart said, glancing at Khaji Da.

“I suppose the situation is too interesting to ignore,” Jaime replied as he stretched in his seat.

“Correct,” the voice responded as it lit up.

—

Tim stared at his phone, hovering over his team’s group chat.

It was far too late to go back to the Tower.

He had spent more time than planned with Bernard.

What should I even say? he thought as he looked at the chat.

He paced in circles around his room, the question looping in his head.

Then he lifted his gaze and looked at the photos pinned to his board.

There were professional newspaper photos of his entire team, others of just him with each individual member—three with Cassie, three with Bart, two with Cissie, and four with Kon. But one photo was different.

It was a picture of him in civilian clothes with Conner as Superboy, taken the day he visited the Kent farm.

He stepped closer and stopped in front of that photo.

A smile tugged at his lips as he remembered that day. He crouched down and gently brushed his fingers over the printed image, careful and tender.

“What’s wrong with me when it comes to you?” he whispered, leaning closer. “Could I really… lose you, Kon?”

He studied the photo, the captured joy frozen in time.

Tim sighed and rested his forehead against it, his lips close to Conner’s face.

That was when he realized how much he missed him.

How many days has it been since we last met? he wondered. Two weeks?

He thought a little longer.

Yeah. We’ve both been busy.

Tim stepped away from the board and glanced at his closet.

He hesitated before approaching.

Then he opened the doors and pulled open a drawer, finding only two of Conner’s shirts.

He picked one up and pressed his face into the fabric carefully.

The scent was still there.

“I’ll just wear it to sleep,” he murmured, already starting to undress.

A few minutes later, he grabbed his phone again, finally decided.

Hey guys, I’ve got some personal stuff going on. I’ll be there in the morning!

He sent the message and waited.

Bart replied first.

No worries, Rob! Jaime’s crashing in my room, by the way ✨
Since it’s actually clean now! 👀👍

Tim had to read the message twice to make sure he wasn’t half-asleep.

It didn’t surprise him—but he hadn’t expected it either.

Great. Now he’d have to deal with Khaji Da, and probably some pointed comments from that robot.

He rolled his eyes and was about to respond when he noticed Conner typing—his icon appearing next to a speech bubble.

It stopped.

Tim frowned in irritation.

Then a thumbs-up emoji appeared.

“That’s it?” he muttered, offended, staring at his phone.

He groaned, tossed the phone onto his desk, and collapsed onto his bed.

The scent surrounded him completely. Tim closed his eyes and curled into his sheets.

Damn it… he smells so good, he thought. I really should sleep.

Reluctantly, he got up and turned off the light.

Only then did he finally relax after returning to the Manor.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he murmured, drifting off to sleep.

—

The alarm went off at 5:40 a.m.

Tim opened his eyes sluggishly, blinking slowly as he rubbed his face and let out a long, exhausted groan.

It was Saturday, and he was awake far too early.

Still, he knew the day would be more fun than usual—two weeks ago, he and his team had planned an activity together.

He got ready and headed to Mount Justice.

A sigh escaped his lips when he saw how far he’d have to climb to reach his room.

Sometimes I really wish I were a little less responsible, he thought, firing his grappling hook and starting the climb.

Once he reached his window, he slipped inside with some difficulty—but nothing out of the ordinary.

“Maybe I can sleep a little longer,” he muttered, eyeing his neatly made bed.

Smiling, he lay down, closed his eyes, and drifted off again.

Less than half an hour later, someone knocked on his door.

Tim exhaled and went to open it.

“What—?” he started, his vision sharpening as he recognized Bart, still in his pajamas.

“Robin!” Bart exclaimed cheerfully. “Khaji Da felt you arrive and woke Jaime and me up. We wanted something to eat, but we couldn’t find the peanut butter. We’re not interrupting, right? Do you know where it is?”

Tim shot Bart an unamused look, but Bart knew him well enough not to expect anything different.

“Third cabinet above the microwave,” Tim said flatly.

“Awesome!” Bart replied. “Thanks, Tim.”

There was no turning back now—he had to wake up the team.

He lightly bumped his shoulder against the doorframe as he stepped out of his room.

Cassie first.

He walked down the hallway until he reached an empty doorway. He stopped there, staring at it as he remembered who that room belonged to.

I hope he’s okay, he thought, a hint of melancholy settling in.

He kept walking until he reached his friend’s room.

He knocked three times.

“Cassie, everyone’s already in the common room!” he called out loudly. “And by everyone, I mean Bart and Jaime!”

That was enough for the door to open.

Cassie appeared wearing pink satin pajamas with white stripes—the top cropped, the shorts just as short.

“I’ll go check on them,” she replied as she walked past Tim, yawning.

That left only Conner.

Tim clenched his jaw and headed toward the next door.

Why am I nervous? he wondered as he approached. He noticed the door was broken and decided he really didn’t want to know why.

Then he stopped.

He heard a voice that wasn’t Conner’s.

A female voice.

Tim’s blood went cold for a second. He stood frozen for a few more before frowning and knocking sharply.

He didn’t say anything. He crossed his arms and waited for Conner to open the door.

His eyes widened—so did his mouth—as he found his teammate standing there wearing nothing but loose pajama shorts hanging low on his hips.

Conner’s hair was messy, his gaze soft, his body relaxed.

Shit. Since when does he sleep without a shirt? Tim thought. He swallowed hard and took a small step back, his mouth still open.

Conner leaned against the doorframe.

“Oh. Tim, you’re back already,” he said, his voice uninterested.

Tim was about to glance past him into the room when Conner lifted his arm and blocked the doorway, making it impossible to see inside.

“Did you enjoy your date?” Conner asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“How are you so sure I went on a date?” Tim replied.

Kon smiled.

“Because you wouldn’t ditch your team unless it was for someone more important,” he shot back.

“What are you saying, Conner?” Tim asked, the tension in the air thickening.

Kon was about to answer when Cassie called out to them.

Breakfast was ready.

—

The atmosphere in the Tower was tense.

Jaime and Bart stayed quiet, afraid that saying anything would spark a fight—because Conner and Tim were one word away from arguing.

Breakfast passed without much fanfare.

Tim felt frustrated, glancing at Conner from the corner of his eye, hoping—at the very least—for a look.

That alone would’ve been enough to start a casual conversation.

But no.

Conner Kent didn’t look at him even once during breakfast.

That irritated Tim more than he expected.

“I have to go,” Kon said suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Where are you going?” Tim asked seriously, setting his bread aside.

“I have personal matters to deal with,” Kon replied, uninterested.

“Hey, you didn’t even check—”

“I have a personal life too, you know, Robin,” Conner interrupted firmly.

Tim froze, unsure how to respond. The rest of the team felt their skin prickle at the exchange.

Kon didn’t wait for an answer. He simply turned and headed back to his room.

No one commented on what had happened as long as Robin remained in the kitchen.

—

“I need to look into something,” Tim said, breaking the silence in the common room. “I’m heading out.”

Only Cassie responded, nodding.

“That was painfully awkward,” Bart said first. “I can still feel the chills.”

“Tell me about it,” Jaime replied. “I swear Robin was seconds away from attacking Conner…”

He shuddered at the thought of an angry Bat.

“Conner wasn’t wearing a shirt,” Cassie said quietly, staring into her coffee.

Her expression wasn’t decisive—it was… nervous.

Bart and Jaime turned to look at her, brows furrowed at the sudden comment. Of all the things Cassie could have said, that wasn’t what they expected.

“And that’s relevant because…?” Jaime asked.

“Conner’s been training a lot lately,” Cassie replied without meeting either of their eyes. She lifted her cup and took a sip.

“Cassie was staring at Superboy’s abdominal muscles,” Khaji Da’s voice chimed in, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Hey!” Cassie snapped, her cheeks flushing.

“Her heart rate increased, and throughout breakfast she did not take her eyes off her teammate,” Khaji Da continued, making Cassie wish the floor would swallow her whole.

Bart burst out laughing.

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Cassie,” Jaime said, amused.

“Oh, come on! You can’t blame me,” she protested, trying to justify herself. “Sometimes you just… appreciate what’s in front of you.”

Jaime and Bart were left speechless, staring at her in disbelief as silence filled the room.

“That sounded worse,” Khaji Da added after a few seconds.

Cassie sighed and set her coffee aside.

“Forget it,” she said, exhaling. “I’m worried about those two,” she added more seriously.

“I think they’ll be fine later, like always,” Bart said. “I mean, it’s not the first time they’ve fought.”

“Yeah,” Cassie replied quietly, “but there’s something strange about this. It feels like more than just a simple argument.”

-

Tim took a seat on the couch in front of the main large monitor.

He locked the door and began scrolling through the security cameras.

“If Conner brought a girl into the Tower, that means she has to show up on the cameras,” he thought.

Finding nothing forced him to reconsider Conner’s tactics.

“Maybe it was a video call,” he concluded.

“But who was the girl? He must have met her recently, since he’s never mentioned any… friend or anything like that before,” he thought, trying to find a reasonable explanation.

Strange as it might seem, Tim knew that Superboy wasn’t really a “womanizer.”

Well—at least he had calmed down once he met Tim and the rest of the team.

Before that, Conner used to appear on magazine covers, kissing girls and getting involved in similar situations.

—

“You need to change that,” Robin said, tossing the newspaper aside, nearly slamming it onto the table.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with it,” Conner replied with mild indifference as he sprawled out on the couch in the common room.

“We’re still a team on probation,” Cassie’s voice joined in. “You can’t go around kissing every girl you save, Kon!”

“Nightwing kisses villains whenever he gets the chance,” the Kryptonian shot back.

“That’s different,” Robin replied, frowning, clearly a little fed up with Kon’s rebellious attitude. He took a breath. “Kon, please—we need to prove to the League that we’re up to the task.”

“That’s your problem, Rob,” Conner interrupted. “You worry too much about what the League thinks about your personal life.”

“That’s not a personal life, Superboy!” Cassie snapped, frowning. “A personal life is having a partner—not kissing every girl you find cute like it’s nothing.”

“That’s actually a public life,” Robin said, looking at Conner with mild concern.

Superboy crossed his arms.

“Fine. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“It’s not like I have a choice anyway,” he thought bitterly.

Tim immediately noticed that Conner didn’t agree.

Deep down, he understood. The superhero had barely been recognized by the League two weeks ago, then placed into a team of strangers simply because Superman and Batman planned it that way. And to top it all off… Lex had been sent back to prison, and unfortunately for Kon, he had helped capture him.

Tim used to think his own life was complicated—until he dug deeper into Conner’s.

“It must be torture knowing your parents are legitimate enemies,” he thought, feeling a spark of empathy as he noticed the Kryptonian’s frustration at being scolded. “But it’s necessary,” he concluded.

Most of the team returned to their personal matters. Only he and Superboy remained.

“Conner,” he called. The hero looked at him with little interest. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

Tim didn’t really know what he was doing, but he wanted to cheer his teammate up—even just a little.

Kon frowned, confused as to why Robin was asking him out, but he accepted.

“At least it’s better than being cooped up,” he thought.

—

“Here. It’s my favorite,” Robin said, handing his teammate a drink from a popular café.

They were standing on the rooftop of a tall building in Metropolis.

“You ordered from a popular café while dressed as Robin?” Conner asked, half amused, half intrigued.

“I changed,” Robin replied casually.

“How is that even possible?! No—you’re lying.”

“Do you see any reporters down there? Or a crowd gathering?”

The smile on Conner’s face faded as he realized it was true.

“How did you do it?”

“I was trained by Batman.”

That was the only explanation he gave.

Conner nodded. Somehow, that made perfect sense.

“What is this?” he asked, holding the drink.

“Try it and guess.”

Robin smiled.

Conner brought the cup to his lips and took a sip.

The drink had the perfect balance between coffee and chocolate.

His eyes widened in surprise at the taste.

“This is incredible,” he murmured, taking another sip.

Robin laughed at his reaction.

“You’ve never tried chocolate with coffee before?” he asked.

Superboy shook his head quickly.

“Lex said I was already hyper enough without coffee or energy drinks,” he replied. “And as for chocolate… I was never really interested in it.”

Tim found something endearing in that answer.

“Superboy,” he said after a few seconds of silence. “I know it must be frustrating for you to adjust to a new team.”

Conner raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the shift in conversation as he continued drinking.

“But I want you to know that none of the warnings are meant to annoy you or make your life harder. It’s just that… you have to know how to manage your professional life and your private one. I don’t have a problem with you having a romance—just that it’s better to keep some distance. Not just for our image, but for the other person’s safety as well.”

Conner looked out over the city, reflecting on Robin’s words.

He realized his leader was right.

He turned back to him and smiled.

“I’m not involved with anyone, actually,” he said. “But if I ever were… could I count on your help?”

“For what?”

“To handle it the right way,” he replied, taking another sip of coffee. “You seem like someone I can trust.”

Robin smiled.

“You can count on me.”

“Do you have a type?” Superboy asked teasingly. “You give off vibes that you like calm girls—like you.”

Robin rolled his eyes but found the conversation amusing.

“I like extroverted girls,” he replied. “I like adventure.”

Conner whistled at the answer.

“Who would’ve thought? I figured you liked peace in your life.”

“Sometimes a little chaos is fun,” Robin said. “What about you?”

Conner looked up at the sky, thinking.

“I don’t really have a type,” he replied. “If I think she’s pretty, that’s enough for me to want to get to know her.”

“Fair,” Robin said.

They watched the Metropolis sunset together, talking about bits and pieces of their personal lives.

—

Tim slammed his fist against the desk, frustrated.

All the footage showed Conner cleaning the Tower.

Fake—obviously.

“If Conner didn’t clean because he was with Damian and Jon… then who was responsible for last night?” Tim muttered.

The stress was starting to get to him, but soon enough, he would find the girl Conner had been talking to.

It was only a matter of time.

-

“It worked better than I expected,” Conner laughed as he finished packing his backpack with a few things. He had already changed the moment he stepped into his room—only packing was left. “You’re a genius, Damian.”

“I told you he was going to get annoyed,” replied the youngest Wayne from the screen of Kon’s phone. “Now keep it up. Don’t slip if he tries to get information out of you.”

“Relax. I managed not to see him throughout the entire breakfast,” Conner said with a smile. “I can handle his interference.”

Damian watched Conner through the screen, resting his face on his right arm. A satisfied smile curved his lips.

“Good. Good luck on your first day as a model,” he said. “If anything happens, you can text me—but not before six p.m. There’s a charity gala today.”

“Thanks a lot, Damian,” Conner replied, ending the video call.

He stepped out of his room and headed toward the kitchen.

The entire group turned their attention to the Kryptonian.

“I’ve got a personal matter involving Lex,” he said. “If anything important happens, call me.”

“Does Robin know you’re leaving?” Bart asked.

Conner stopped in front of the Zeta Tube. After a few seconds, he turned back to look at them.

“You can tell him I’m handling something personal.”

Without waiting for a response, he left the Tower.

“I should get going too,” Jaime’s voice spoke up once Superboy was gone. “Nightwing’s going to get mad if I’m late.”

Bart let out a bored groan, his face falling in disappointment.

“Come on, Bart. I’ll probably see you in a week.”

“Don’t you think that’s too long?”

“Then tell Nightwing to let me out more often.”

Bart laughed sarcastically.

“That’s not happening,” he replied.

Both of them exited the Tower into the courtyard.

“Do you think Conner and Robin will be okay again?” Bart asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.

Jaime noticed the concern in his friend.

“Hey, relax,” he said, placing a hand on Bart’s shoulder. “Arguments are normal in any kind of relationship—friendship, romantic, or family.”

“But we’ve never fought, Blue.”

“That’s because we’re too awesome for that.”

Both of them felt oddly proud of it.

“You’re right,” Bart replied with a brighter smile. “Say hi to Wally for me. Tell him I miss him.”

“No problem. I’ll see you next week—assuming there isn’t another mission outside the Tower,” Jaime said, winking at his friend.

They said their goodbyes. Jaime’s superhero suit formed around him, and moments later he took off, flying away as Bart watched.

The speedster was about to head back inside the Tower when he noticed, in the distance, his teammate Superboy flying off with a suitcase strapped to his back.

A faint sense of unease settled in Bart’s chest.

“Something’s not going to go well,” he muttered.

—

Lex Luthor felt anxiety and nerves crawl up his spine. He checked his phone every ten seconds, his leg bouncing against the floor.

His secretary watched him silently.

“Where is that boy?” Lex muttered irritably.

“Is everything all right, Mr. Luthor?” the man across from him asked.

Lex laughed softly, trying to mask his nerves.

“Conner is a busy young man, but he’ll be here soon,” he assured him.

Suddenly, the door to the venue opened. When everyone turned to see who it was, they spotted the young superhero.

Lex felt the tension leave his body. He exhaled and walked toward his son.

“You’re late,” he murmured sharply, just loud enough for Conner to hear.

“Sorry. I mixed up the location.”

“Superboy!” Lex exclaimed proudly. “This is Dave, the representative of your coworker.”

“Right… and who is—” Conner’s question died on his lips when he saw the girl in front of him. “Amelia?”

“So you do remember me,” the girl replied as she removed her sunglasses.

Her light honey-colored eyes stood out even more in the daylight.

“Did you dye your hair?” Conner asked curiously, noticing the platinum-blonde shade.

“Do you like it?” she asked, stepping closer to the superhero. “I dyed it yesterday.”

Conner nodded, gently taking a strand between his fingers.

“It looks amazing on you. It really brings out your eyes,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, right,” the girl said, as if remembering something. “I broke up with my boyfriend.”

That was definitely unexpected.

“Did something happen for it to end like that?” Conner asked, his gaze softening.

“He started treating me badly,” she replied with a sigh. “At that party, he got upset because I talked to you too much—or so he said. Then he knocked my drink to the floor while yelling at me about it.”

“I’m really sorry,” Conner said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry if I caused you trouble.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she replied, resting her hand on his arm. “He was an idiot anyway. It was better to stop things sooner rather than later.”

Amelia smiled, making it clear she held no resentment toward Conner.

“Guys, we need you in the dressing rooms now,” a voice interrupted them. Both headed off to their respective rooms.

—

The studio room was bathed in soft, white—almost milky—light. There was no music, just a low rhythm marking the precise movements of the crew: stylists, photographers, assistants adjusting lights.

Conner stepped out of his dressing room, feeling… different.

The outfit reminded him slightly of what he had worn during the mission at Wayne Manor.

The difference now was the concealer on parts of his face, his styled hair, lightly tinted lips, and a subtle natural glow across his chest.

“This isn’t my style,” he thought as he looked at himself in the mirror. “But it looks incredible on me,” he added, smiling at his reflection.

“Son…” His father’s voice made him turn, meeting Lex’s surprised expression. “You look incredible, Conner.”

“Thanks,” he replied with a small smile.

“We’re heading to the studio,” Lex said as he exited the dressing room. “You’ll be impressed when you see Amelia.”

Conner frowned slightly at that last comment but followed him.

Upon entering the studio, Conner took in the atmosphere—minimalistic yet chaotic. The contrast between the main stage and the hurried crew preparing everything was striking.

“Good morning, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” a girl’s voice spoke up. Conner and Lex turned to see a red-haired woman with freckles, wearing a black T-shirt and jogger-style pants. “My name’s Darling. I’ll be the photographer and director for this segment.”

“The pleasure is ours,” Lex said, shaking her hand formally.

“Alright, I think we can start the shoot,” she said, turning her attention to Conner. “Young man, I need you to stand in the center of the stage.”

“And my partner?” Conner asked as he moved into position.

“We’ll be filming a commercial as well, so I need to start with you,” she replied.

Immediately, three crew members approached—two carrying boxes. Conner watched as they adjusted his clothes, added a bit more makeup in certain areas, and opened the boxes, revealing fine gold jewelry—a thin chain—and a pair of sunglasses with a gold insignia of the brand’s name on the temples.

“I need you to lower the sunglasses and act flirtatiously toward the camera. One of my assistants will cue you,” Darling said as she positioned her camera, ready to film.

Conner nodded as the countdown began.

He waited five seconds. He heard a quiet “Now.”

With his left hand, he lowered the sunglasses slightly, looked straight into the camera, and winked with his left eye.

“Cut! That was great,” Darling said. “Let’s do it again.”

They repeated the shot two more times—then Amelia arrived.

“There you are,” Conner heard the director’s voice fade as he turned toward his partner.

He couldn’t help feeling curious about what his partner was wearing. He cast a discreet glance to the right and noticed she was dressed in a black satin dress with thin straps, a subtle neckline, and an open back crossed with delicate straps. The dress fell straight, hugging her silhouette, contrasting beautifully with her black pointed heels adorned with small gold details.

And the final touch: a gold necklace and matching bracelets that complemented her loose, platinum-blonde hair perfectly.

After chatting briefly with the director, she approached her partner with a smile.

“Hi again,” Amelia said, smiling warmly. “You look good.”

“Thanks. You do too.”

They were called by the director, and filming resumed once more.

During the process, Conner noticed Lex discreetly taking photos from different angles of the shoot, then texting on his phone.

He assumed Lex was putting together a modeling portfolio for him.

The idea irritated him.

—

“By the way, Conner looks spectacular.”

Lex typed the words into his phone in a chat with an unsaved number, then sent one of the photos he had taken.

“He got that elegance from me.”

He slipped the phone back into his pocket.

“He’s very handsome,” one of the photographers commented. “He has a bright future in this industry.”

“I know,” was Lex’s only response.

“Alright, I need you two to get a little closer,” Darling’s voice rang out again. “Amelia, slowly slide the arm with the ring along the young man’s left arm.”

Both nodded. Conner exhaled slowly, letting the open shirt fall naturally over his chest. He wasn’t posing like a hero—there was no tension in his body. He looked calm, elegant, almost distracted.

Amelia took a step toward him.

The black dress moved softly against her legs as she positioned herself in front of Conner, close enough for the camera to capture the intimacy required for the shot.

“Look at the jewelry, not at him,” the photographer whispered.

Amelia obeyed. Her fingers carefully rose to the necklace Conner was wearing, barely touching it, as if testing its weight. The contact was minimal, but Conner reacted anyway—lowering his head slightly to make it easier for her.

Click.

“That’s it,” someone from the crew said. “Hold that.”

The cameras captured the exact moment: Amelia’s concentration, Conner’s calm, the closeness that needed no explanation.

Perfect for the lens.

“Conner, turn your face slightly toward her,” the photographer instructed. “Amelia, now look at him.”

Amelia slid her hand down Conner’s forearm to adjust the bracelet, pausing just a second longer than necessary. He didn’t move. The camera caught everything.

“Last shot,” the photographer announced. “Amelia, one step forward. Conner, stay behind. Protect—don’t invade.”

She stepped forward. He remained just behind her, his presence firm without touching. The jewelry gleamed under the lights. Amelia lifted her chin. Conner lowered his gaze slightly.

Click.

Silence.

Then the sound of someone exhaling.

“We got it.”

Amelia stepped away first, smiling—relaxed, casual.

“Not bad for paying off a debt, huh?” she commented softly.

Conner let out a small laugh.

“It definitely could’ve been worse,” he replied, laughing again, making both of them laugh for a moment.

Filming lasted all afternoon, but eventually Conner was “free” of his debt to Lex—or at least most of it.

“How do you feel, son?” Lex asked as he approached him.

“Tired,” Conner replied, irony lacing his voice.

“Tomorrow at six, Superman will pick you up,” Lex said, immediately catching Conner’s attention. “I think he’s taking you out for breakfast or something.”

Lex crossed his arms and scoffed.

“If you think the food is unpleasant, you’re welcome to eat whatever you want at the company. You did a great job today,” Lex added, smiling. “I’m proud of you.”

Conner’s eyes widened, lighting up slightly.

“T-thanks, Dad,” he replied, a bit shy.

Lex nodded, and they were called back by the director once more.

—

“For the final scene, I need Conner to lie back so part of his trapezius and shoulders rest against the furniture,” Darling explained. “Then Amelia will slightly bend her leg, lifting it and placing her heel on his chest. Finally, the young man will display the chain on his wrist while sliding his hand along the lower part of her leg.”

Lex swallowed, wondering if that pose was really a good idea. He slipped his hands into his pockets and exhaled.

“Darling, I think this might be too much,” he said, frowning. “I wouldn’t want to make Conner uncomfortable…”

“I don’t mind,” Conner replied, surprising Lex. “As long as Amelia feels comfortable too.”

“Are you sure? If you don’t want to, that’s completely fine.”

“Work is work,” Conner said with a smile, already walking toward the stage.

An hour later, all the material was finished.

Only the editing of the commercial and the advertising campaign remained.

“It was a pleasure working with you,” Amelia said cheerfully after hugging Conner.

“The pleasure was mine. You’re a great coworker,” he replied. “Hey, before you go—did you put on perfume before coming?”

Amelia tilted her head, intrigued, but amused by the question.

She smiled and opened her designer bag, pulling out an oval-shaped white bottle.

“Yes, it’s my favorite singer’s perfume,” she replied.

“I noticed a really fresh scent on you—that’s why I asked.”

“Want some?” the blonde asked, bringing the bottle closer.

“Sure!” he replied. She lightly sprayed the perfume onto his wrist.

“Are you planning on opening a social media account?” she asked casually after a few seconds of silence.

“Uh… I don’t think so, honestly. I don’t really see the need,” Conner replied as he stepped back slightly, smelling the fragrance on his wrist.

“It smells really good,” he thought.

“Kid, we already opened your new social media account,” Lex interrupted, walking over to them. “Your manager will handle it. That way I avoid you posting stupid things.”

Conner rolled his eyes, barely holding back a groan.

“Great. Let me know how that goes,” Amelia said, just as her phone rang. “I have to go—they’ve arrived to pick me up,” she added after checking the screen.

Both Lex and Conner said goodbye as she walked away.

“Are you serious, Lex?!”

“Yes, young man!” Lex snapped back, straightening his jacket.

Kon only rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in frustration.

Lex’s words weren’t a suggestion—they were a decision already made.

“I have to head back to the company,” his father said suddenly, making Conner look at him. “I’ll see you another day, son. I’ll text you.”

Conner nodded, watching his father leave.

Once he was far enough away, Conner pulled out his phone and called his first contact:

Damian.

He pressed the call button, waiting with a proud smile on his face.

“Damian,” he said smoothly and confidently. His smile widened as he heard the response. “It went better than planned.”

The plan was just beginning—and everything was going perfectly.

In Conner’s mind, his luck and Damian’s plans for their future…
Everything pointed to things going just fine.

Chapter Text

Some time ago:

Richard let out a sigh as he looked over the city, safe at last.

Thanks to the Titans.

A laugh behind him pulled him out of his thoughts.

And of course, he recognized whose laugh it was.

“Roy…” he said, sounding as if his patience were running thin.

“I still can’t get over your suit, okay? You get way too serious when you wear it.”

“Oh, come on. This suit is amazing,” Richard replied, slightly offended.

“You look like an eighties singer,” Roy burst out laughing after saying that.

“You’re just jealous because I can actually pull off suits like this.”

“Buddy, you wouldn’t intimidate a thief on his first day.”

“I’m not trying to intimidate,” Richard said as he stepped closer to his teammate. “I’m trying to create familiarity.”

“Sure. So intimidation is Wally’s job and mine, right?”

“Uh-huh…”

Roy rolled his eyes sarcastically, still unable to get over his friend’s flashy outfit.

He looked him up and down, his gaze lingering at his neckline. The smirk he’d been wearing stiffened, and he swallowed.

Does this bastard have any idea what he’s doing? he wondered.

And immediately blamed his own mind for such a stupid thought.

Still, with a bit of strategy, he could answer his personal question.

What he hadn’t accounted for was the fact that he was terrible at hiding where he was looking.

“Hey, Roy,” a third voice cut in. “I think Dick’s eyes are somewhere else.”

The tone wasn’t pleasant—quite the opposite. It was clearly annoyed.

“Wally West…” Roy muttered when he realized who it was.

“Hey, Wals!” Richard chimed in cheerfully, ignoring the uncomfortable moment. “Everything good on patrol?”

Roy noticed how Wally shifted his posture and smiled with genuine ease.

“All good. Donna handled her part perfectly. She’s definitely one of the best teammates.”

“She really is incredible,” Richard murmured admiringly. “So, what’ve you got there?”

“You noticed, huh?” Wally’s demeanor changed completely—more relaxed, a playful glint in his eyes. He then fully revealed what he was holding. “A keychain from Brazil. I bought it while they were celebrating Carnival. I thought of you when I saw it,” he said with a grin.

Richard took the keychain in his hands, smiling brightly, clearly touched.

“It’s sweet that you think of me while you’re traveling the world,” he said, dripping with sarcasm.

Roy stepped closer, sensing the tension quietly building between them.

“Didn’t think of me, Wals?”

“When I passed through the rough parts of a dangerous neighborhood, yeah—I thought of you.”

Roy’s smile vanished, replaced by a sharp, serious stare.

Wally was provoking him on purpose.

“Hey, Wally,” Richard cut in, his irritation unmistakable.

“Relax,” the speedster replied casually, then slung an arm around Roy’s neck in a loose, almost friendly hold. “That’s how we joke sometimes, right, Roy?”

Roy stared at him, completely unamused. Then he glanced at the black-haired man beside them and let out a very quiet breath.

“Yeah. That’s right,” he answered, trying not to start a problem.

They were a team, after all.

But the warning was clear. It always had been.

Wally didn’t like Roy—at least, not nearly enough.

-

Nightwing’s ragged breathing became evident after the battle.

A brutal one.

They had almost lost their leader because of a single mistake.

A mistake made by a Titan.

From a distance, Speedy saw him lying on the ground and forced himself to stand, determined to go help him.

But a yellow-and-red blur appeared at his side, stopping him while gripping his left arm.

“I think you’ve done enough already,” Wally’s voice snapped, sharp with anger.

“It was a damn accident,” Roy shot back, yanking his arm free.

“An accident? If Donna hadn’t covered Richard, he’d be dead right now!” the speedster fired back furiously, then grabbed the archer by both forearms. “I don’t trust you!”

“We’ve been a damn team for years, Wally! There’s no point in spitting bullshit at me!”

“Hey!” Donna’s voice cut in.

And Roy felt his heart crack when he saw her—blood running down her face from wounds caused by his failure.

“Stop fighting,” she said quietly, her gaze lowered. “You sound like teenagers.”

She was hurt—physically and emotionally.

Wally didn’t say another word. He moved to help Donna steady herself and then helped Richard back onto his feet.

Roy stayed where he was, drowning in regret.

Maybe if he hadn’t thought that just one drink wouldn’t hurt.

Maybe if he hadn’t woken up with a heavy head and slower reflexes than he wanted to admit.

Maybe… he would have fired clearly, and the accident in front of him would never have happened.

He couldn’t blame Wally for the things he’d said.

Roy lowered his gaze, his eyes burning. It didn’t take long before tears hit the ground.

Then—through the silence—a different sound broke through.

A thin, fragile cry.

Roy froze.

There was nothing around but his team struggling to recover. He looked around, searching for the source of the sound.

“Roy!” Richard shouted in alarm as he saw his teammate start running toward the nearby forest.

He tried to follow immediately, but someone stopped him.

“Wait,” Wally said, stepping in front of their leader. “You’re still hurt. I’ll go after—”

“No,” Nightwing interrupted. “I’m his leader. And his friend. I’ll go.”

“I’ll get you there,” Donna said, wrapping an arm around Richard’s waist. She steadied herself with effort, and together they headed toward the forest.

Wally let out an irritated sigh and followed them.

—

The tall branches barely let the moonlight through, and the damp ground softened Roy’s clumsy steps. He moved forward, focused on finding the source of the crying.

He forced himself to pay closer attention, despite the haze clouding his senses.

“Hello…?” he murmured, his voice rough.

The crying answered—louder now, more insistent.

He pushed aside branches carefully until he saw her.

Among exposed roots and dry leaves, wrapped in a blanket far too thin for the night, lay a baby. Her face was red from crying, tiny fists clenched tight, her small body trembling slightly from the cold.

Roy stopped cold.

The world came to a sudden halt.

And without thinking twice, he picked the baby up in his arms.

“Roy Harper,” a third voice spoke.

A woman’s voice.

Roy looked up toward the trees, pulling the baby closer to his chest, shielding her.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“You don’t remember me?” she said, sounding offended as she tilted her head and smiled. “Let me introduce you to our daughter.”

Roy’s eyes widened in shock, his brow trembling as it furrowed.

“No—I don’t know you,” he said, stepping back, still holding the baby.

“You don’t remember me,” she corrected calmly. “That’s different. Maybe you were too out of it to—”

The word she emphasized made his blood run cold.

His chin began to shake.

“Just look at her. She has your eyes.”

Roy nervously pulled the baby slightly away. She stopped crying and opened her eyes.

It was true.

The baby had his eyes.

“I can’t take care of her,” the woman continued. “And I don’t want her growing up in my world. So it’s better if I leave her with you—let her grow up in a world of heroes.”

Roy looked up.

The girl was gone.

And the baby was still there.

“Roy?” a familiar voice called out.

It sounded broken.

Roy turned and found his team standing in front of him.

Donna looked at the baby, then at him, her eyes filling with tears.

“Donna, I—”

He couldn’t finish what he wanted to say.

I didn’t know.

“Don’t,” Wally said, his voice heavy with disappointment as he judged Roy with his eyes.

“Richard…” Roy said, clinging to his last shred of hope.

But the distant look in his leader’s eyes said more than words ever could.

Richard stepped closer, carefully, and tried to force a smile.

“It’s okay,” he said, trying to sound like himself—though Wally and Roy could both hear the weight in his heart. He gently took the baby into his arms and rocked her softly. “We’re going to help you.”

-

“He’s irresponsible,” Wally’s voice echoed through the training room as he looked at his leader with clear annoyance. “How are we supposed to raise a baby? She’s not even six months old!”

“Wally, please—shut up for a moment,” Richard snapped, his patience wearing thin. “We’re all shocked by this, but the baby is not to blame for anything.”

“Of course she’s not. Her father got involved with who knows who, and now the poor thing has to deal with an irresponsible father and an absent mother.”

“I’m going to raise her with Roy,” Richard replied, slamming his hand against the table as he vented his frustration.

Wally’s world seemed to stop for a second.

“What?”

“I’ll help raise the baby. I’ll help Roy give her a proper upbringing, a home of her own, and everything she needs. He won’t be alone in this.”

“Of course he won’t be.”

Both Wally and Richard turned toward the door, finding Donna standing there, her expression firm as she walked toward them.

“I’m going to help Roy with the baby too,” she said, crossing her arms with a sigh. “I think I’ll go get the proper food for her later.”

“I thought you were mad at Roy,” Wally said, looking her up and down.

“I’m disappointed. That’s different.”

“Right. Roy respected your almost relationship so well.”

“Wally West,” Donna said sharply, her brow furrowing. “First, what I do with my life is none of your business. Second, the baby is not at fault for anything. And third—how do my personal decisions affect you?”

Silence settled heavily in the room.

“Are you going to help us?” she added. “I doubt it.”

Wally looked down and took a small step back.

“Anything else, Dick,” the Amazon said again, her tone calmer now, “let me know if something happens. I’m going to check on Roy and the baby.”

With that, she left the room.

Richard and Wally stood there in absolute silence.

“I’ll go check on—”

“Wait,” the speedster interrupted, holding his friend’s hand. “Listen. I know you hate the way I talk about Roy.”

Dick looked at Wally from head to toe, expression unreadable.

“But try to understand me,” Wally continued, his voice desperate. “I’m scared that you or Donna will end up getting hurt. I know you both care about him—a lot. I care about him too. But I couldn’t stand seeing you destroyed because of some stupid mistake he might make…”

Richard was about to respond, but Wally’s hands firmly holding his face, so close to his own, stopped him.

“I love you,” Wally said, feeling his breath against Richard’s. “Please. Be careful.”

They were inches apart—just moments away from crossing a line.

Richard felt overwhelmed, unable to find the right words, his voice faltering into a quiet stammer.

They moved a little closer, and just as their world was about to shift in a new direction, a third voice broke in.

“Richard…?”

Roy stood in front of them, frozen by what he was seeing.

Richard immediately pulled away from the speedster and turned toward the archer.

“Roy—are you okay?” he asked.

Roy didn’t answer right away. He looked Wally straight in the eyes and suddenly understood.

Everything made sense now: Wally’s comments, the way he overprotected Richard, the way he always tried to keep him at a distance.

Roy didn’t belong there.

He lowered his gaze, his chest tightening, his throat unable to form a single word.

“I wanted to…” he started, then fell silent for several seconds. “I wanted to ask if I could use one of the spare rooms to make a closet for Lian.”

Richard’s expression softened, sensing the sadness in his friend.

Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around him.

“Of course. Use whatever you need,” he replied quietly through the embrace. Then he pulled back and gently touched Roy’s face.

Roy stepped away almost instinctively.

“Thank you,” he said. He glanced at Wally for a few seconds, noticing his irritation, and then left.

-

Weeks later:

“Roy…” Donna’s voice filled the room as she stepped inside.

Roy lifted his gaze from the crib and met the Amazon’s eyes.

“Donna, you’re back,” he said with a small smile.

“How’s Lian?” she asked as she set the bags down by the door.

“She’s sleeping. It took me a while to get her to fall asleep this time…”

Donna smiled.

“She has your temperament.”

“Don’t even say it,” Roy replied, and they both laughed.

“Hey, Roy.”

“Yeah?”

“You haven’t been sleeping well lately,” Donna said, concern clear in her voice.

“Lian’s a bit stubborn at night…”

“It’s not just her,” she interrupted gently. “What’s going on?”

Roy tensed completely. He didn’t know how to explain to the woman he was in an almost relationship with the strange feelings he had toward Richard.

He couldn’t tell her.

He had already failed her once. He couldn’t do it again.

“I’ve been thinking about my past.”

“Because of Wally’s comments?” she asked. “You don’t have to worry about him. He’s just—”

“He’s right,” Roy cut in, pacing the room. “I’m scared of falling again. I… I wouldn’t know what to do if that happened.”

Donna crossed the room quickly and took his hands.

“Hey. It’s okay. I’ll always support you. No matter what happens.”

“I love you, Donna,” Roy said after a few seconds, tightening his grip on her hands. “Thank you for staying by my side.”

Donna leaned in and pressed a soft, tender kiss to his lips.

“I’ll always be on your side,” she said quietly afterward.

They stayed there, looking at each other with love, surrounded by silence and a beautiful sunset beyond the window.

And neither of them noticed their leader watching from a distance—saying nothing, doing nothing. He only felt something strange stir in his chest.

It wasn’t pain.

But it wasn’t happiness either.

And he left without a word.

—

“Speedy, please. We need you on this mission,” Nightwing said in the main hall, fear threading his voice.

“I… I don’t know,” Roy replied. “I haven’t been on a mission in weeks. Last time I went out—”

“Love,” Donna said, stepping in and drawing everyone’s attention. “Everything will be fine,” she added with a reassuring smile.

“Roy, please—we really need your help right now,” Wally said. “I truly believe you’ll do well this time. You’ve been solid these past weeks. Responsible with Lian, with schedules… It shows you’re not going to—” he hesitated, “—relapse.”

“Wally,” Donna snapped, annoyed.

“It’s okay,” Roy said. “I’ll go with you.”

—

The warehouse lights flickered with a constant buzz. The air felt heavy, saturated with a metallic scent that was hard to place.

“Speedy, cover the right flank,” Nightwing ordered from the center.

“Copy,” Roy replied, drawing his bow.

He felt… good.

Too good.

That unsettled him.

They moved between crates and rusted structures. The enemy was nowhere in sight, but Roy knew they were being watched. His senses were sharp—maybe sharper than usual.

Then he heard it.

Something almost imperceptible.

Roy frowned just as a thin, barely visible cloud was released from one of the walls. It wasn’t ordinary smoke—it was denser, iridescent, as if light fractured inside it.

“Gas!” Kid Flash shouted. “Cover up!”

Roy inhaled before he could react.

The smell hit first.

It wasn’t alcohol.

Not exactly.

But it was close enough.

His stomach twisted. The world seemed to tilt a few degrees to the left.

No… not now, he thought.

He blinked hard, forcing himself to focus. His vision faltered for just a second—the lights stretched, the edges softened, unreal.

And then… memories.

A half-empty bottle.
Laughter he didn’t remember feeling.
That false calm before disaster.

“Speedy,” Nightwing’s voice sounded distant. “Do you have it?”

Yes. Yes, I’ve got it.

He drew the bow.

Locked onto the target.

Fired.

The arrow flew too close.

The enemy moved just in time, and the shot struck a metal structure instead. The ricochet was instant.

“Wonder Girl!” someone shouted.

Roy turned just in time to see Donna raise her arm to shield Kid Flash. The impact sent her crashing to the ground with a dull sound that tore through his chest.

“No!” Roy staggered forward, dizzy.

The gas still hung around him, thicker now. His breathing turned uneven.

One second.

He missed by one second.

But that was enough.

“Fall back!” Nightwing ordered. “Now!”

Wally vanished in a red-and-yellow blur, pulling Donna out of the area. Roy remained frozen, staring at his own hands.

They were shaking.

Not because he was dizzy.

But because his body remembered.

And that was enough.

“Roy,” Nightwing said, standing in front of him now. “Look at me.”

Roy lifted his gaze slowly.

“I—” he tried to speak, but his throat closed. “It was the gas. I was fine, I swear. I—”

Nightwing said nothing. He simply held Roy by the shoulder for a second longer than necessary.

And that hurt more than any scream.

Roy could have ended Wally’s life.

The Wally Richard loved so deeply.

And that alone was enough to make Roy doubt everything—even himself.

Could he really move forward in this world?

Back at the Tower, no one said anything to Roy.

He assumed they were all thinking the same thing: what a disappointment.

He entered Lian’s room, yanked off his mask in anger, then threw his bow to the floor and leaned against the wall, shattered.

He looked at his daughter, sleeping peacefully.

He wondered how long that peace would last with a father like him.

He hadn’t relapsed.

But he could.

And that was reason enough to make a decision.

-

“Has he still not come down for breakfast?” Richard asked, his voice tinged with concern as he glanced at his untouched plate. “Maybe I was too hard on him yesterday…” he murmured, guilt creeping in.

“Hey,” Wally said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Relax. Maybe he’s just checking on Lian before coming down.”

“I’ll go get him,” Donna said.

Richard took a bite of his sandwich.

“Last night I designed a special training program for Roy,” he added. “It’ll help him with his problem—and make him feel more confident in the field.”

“Don’t you think you worry about him a lot?” Wally asked, mild curiosity in his tone.

“Of course I worry about him. I care about him—he’s part of this team,” Richard replied. “I’d do the same for you, for Donna, for everyone.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Wally asked, his gaze unreadable.

“What do you mean?”

Wally hesitated. He looked Richard up and down, then shook his head.

“Nothing. Just my thoughts.”

Dick frowned but chose not to press it.

“They’re not there!” Donna’s desperate voice froze them both in place.

“What?” Wally whispered, breaking the silence first.

“Lian and Roy are gone,” Donna said, her body beginning to tremble as her eyes filled with tears.

Richard didn’t hesitate for a second. He ran out of the room toward the baby’s nursery.

Donna was right.

The baby’s belongings were gone. The crib was empty. The room was silent.

No Lian.

No Roy.

Richard staggered backward, barely keeping his balance.

“No…” he said shakily. “No—he didn’t leave us…”

“Roy…” Wally whispered, his face flushing as tears welled up in his eyes.

Donna began to gasp for air as more tears spilled down her face. Her legs finally gave out, and she collapsed to the floor, shattered.

Richard leaned against the crib to keep from falling, trying to process what had just happened.

Roy Harper.

His Roy Harper.

Had just left.

Dick looked around the room, dizziness washing over him—

until his eyes landed on a folded sheet of paper.

His heart clenched as he stepped closer.

He unfolded it and began to read.

“Dear Titans,

I want to apologize. For all the bad moments I put you through, for burdening you with a baby who was never your responsibility. For the relapses you had to endure simply because I couldn’t find a definitive way out of this problem.

But I also want to thank you—for your unconditional care, for being there when I had no one, for trying to understand me even when I couldn’t understand myself, for the laughter you gave me, and for being the team I never deserved.

I love you all, and I always will.

Richard, I didn’t know how to say this to you, but I want you to know that you are the best person I have ever known. You are everything a hero dreams of being, and the finest human being I have ever met. I will never have enough words to explain how I feel about you—about your warmth, your presence. Simply standing by your side was enough to make my day brighter and help me forget my mistakes.

Please let Donna know that she will always be in my thoughts—just like you. I will never forget either of you, no matter how hard I try.

I can never repay you for accepting me and Lian, even when everyone knew I could become a problem.

I carry Wally with great affection as well. We fought sometimes, but I always knew his fear for me matched my own fear of myself. That’s why I will never judge him. Truthfully, if someone like me had been a threat to you, I would have done exactly what he did—stay alert, stay cautious. He was brave. I admire and respect him for that. The affection I feel for him doesn’t come from deep friendship, but from gratitude—for protecting you.

I will be fine. Lian will be too.

I need a better place to raise her. A place where I know I will never fail her.

Far away from the capes and the city.

I love you, Titans.

Together with Lian, you are the best thing that ever happened to me.

I will come back. I promise.

—Roy Harper, Speedy.”**

As Richard finished reading the letter, his world collapsed.

He couldn’t stand anymore.

He fell to his knees, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

“Richard!” Wally’s broken voice reached him—distant, blurred, as the room began to spin. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Wally didn’t hesitate to pull him into an embrace.

And Richard didn’t hesitate to fall apart in his arms, tears finally spilling free.

-

Present day:

"Roy…" Richard Grayson thought as he stared at a photograph of himself standing beside his friend. I hope you’re doing well.

He pulled the framed photo to his chest, holding it there with quiet longing and affection.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

"What would Roy think of me now?" He wondered as his gaze drifted to the rumpled sheets on the bed, then toward the bathroom, where the shower was still running.

He looked back at the photograph and let out another sad breath.

“Are you okay?” Wally asked as he stepped out of the bathroom, already dressed.

“Hm? Oh—yeah. I’m fine,” Richard replied quickly, setting the photo down on the nightstand.

“You were thinking about Roy, weren’t you?” Wally asked as he approached, towel-drying his hair.

“I was wondering where he might be now,” Richard answered, then let out a dry, sarcastic laugh. “He said he’d come back, and I still haven’t heard a thing.”

“Maybe when Cissie comes back, we’ll find out something,” Wally said as he sat down beside him.

“I hope so…” Richard replied, his eyes heavy with sadness.

He felt Wally’s arms wrap around him.

He let himself sink into the embrace, resting his head against the redhead’s chest.

“I miss him too,” Wally said softly. “I just hope everything’s okay for him.”

Richard glanced sideways at the photograph and sighed.

—

Gotham:

Jason was tailing a drug-running mob—alone, on his own terms.

There was something he needed to work off.

Richard wasn’t answering his calls.

What could possibly be more interesting to Richard than spending time with him?

His first thought was of Barbara.

But no—when he’d called her, she’d been in a meeting with the city police.

Richard was hiding something. Of that, Jason was certain.

“How complicated can you people be?” he muttered irritably, remembering the unfinished conversation he’d had with Tim.

“Trouble with your little brothers, Jay?”

Jason froze at the familiar voice.

He smiled beneath the helmet, then removed it, revealing part of his face.

“Well, this is interesting,” Jason said with a grin. “Roy Harper.”

Roy stood in front of him—his hair longer now, messy, a bit of stubble on his chin. His suit wasn’t the same as before: no sleeves, long red leather gloves, black boots, a red belt. He removed his cap.

That same rebellious essence still clung to him.

“Care to shout it through a megaphone instead?” Roy teased.

“You know my brother still cries over you leaving, right?” Jason’s tone shifted, growing more serious.

“It’s not time for him to know I’m back yet,” Roy said, stepping closer and leaning against the wall. “I’m not ready.”

“You’ve been saying that for a damn month,” Jason shot back. “It hurts not being able to tell Richard anything.”

“I know. It hurts me too,” Roy admitted. “But it’s still not the moment.”

“You’re just as complicated as my brothers. Just so you know.”

Roy smirked faintly. “So—what happened with Richard?”

Jason sighed.

“He’s not answering,” he said. Roy listened closely. “I thought it was because he was with his new partner—Barbara. But it’s not that. I already called her.”

Roy crossed his arms, thinking it through.

It wasn’t a mission—Jason would’ve mentioned it.

Not an interview either—Jason would know.

And not Barbara…

“Have you tried calling Wally?” Roy asked.

“Wally West?”

Roy nodded.

“No. He’s annoying as hell to listen to.”

Roy laughed.

“Yeah, speedsters do talk fast.”

“That’s not all,” Jason grumbled. “He’s just… a pain. Always hovering around my brother. And he always has this look—weird. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Like he’s protecting him from a distance,” Roy said quietly.

“Yeah—something like that…” Jason paused, then looked at Roy more closely. “How did you find the exact words for what I meant?”

Roy took his time answering.

“I think I know what’s going on,” Roy said.

-

Hours earlier:

Jon Kent didn’t make it back early to his apartment in Metropolis.

First, he needed to talk to someone about what had happened with Damian.

And he knew exactly who.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked as he opened a brown-framed window, his voice softer than usual.

A little unsure. A little hurt, too.

“Huh? Oh—hey, you’re back already!” exclaimed a very familiar voice.

A tender smile instantly appeared on the Kryptonian’s face.

“Jay…” he said softly. He stepped into the room and threw himself forward, arms open, straight into his boyfriend’s embrace.

Jon was genuinely happy to see him.

“So, how did it go with Damian?” Jay asked.

“You won’t believe who I ran into while he was on patrol.”

Jay raised an eyebrow.

“He was with Conner.”

“My brother, right?” Jay asked.

Jon nodded, still curled up against him.

“It’s weird. From what you told me, Damian couldn’t stand Conner.”

“I know—it’s stupid,” Jon said, frustrated.

“Hey, easy,” Jay said, gently running his fingers through Jon’s hair. “Maybe they teamed up out of convenience.”

“What do you mean?”

“Damian hates me,” Jay said calmly. “He doesn’t like me as your partner. And Conner’s upset too—about his brother’s new relationship. Or at least, I think he is.”

Jon listened closely.

“Maybe they thought that if they stuck together, you wouldn’t leave them behind.”

“But I’m not leaving Damian behind,” Jon replied, his voice low. “He’s the one pushing me away…”

Jay fell silent, thinking.

“I have an idea,” he said after a few seconds. He gently pulled away and walked over to his computer. “I’ve been… doing some digging, and I found out that Damian’s favorite dessert is apple pie. Am I wrong?”

“How did you—?”

“Exactly. I’m not wrong,” Jay interrupted with a grin. “So, next week there’s a charity gala at Damian’s school. I’m thinking of bringing him a little surprise. What do you think?”

Jay looked at Jon with bright, excited eyes.

Jon felt like he was melting at the sight of him like that.

“Yeah… I think it’s a great idea, love,” he said softly, pressing a kiss into his boyfriend’s pink hair.

—

“It can’t take this long,” Tim said under his breath, stress seeping into his voice as he paced around the Tower.

“I knew I should’ve gone with Jaime,” Bart replied lazily, leaning against the furniture.

“Bart,” Cassie scolded softly, shaking her head to stop him from saying something he’d regret later.

Tim exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back.

He’s mad at me, he concluded. Maybe Damian said something about me that didn’t sit well with him… Did I hide something from him these past few months? he wondered.

“Are you okay, Tim?” Bart asked, concern slipping into his voice. “You’re really worried. Conner will be back soon—Lex called him.”

“He went to see Lex?” Tim asked quickly, turning toward Bart.

“Yeah, he just texted me,” the brunette replied.

Tim practically rushed toward him.

“What else did he say?” Cassie asked, frowning.

Bart checked his phone again, scrolling through the chat with his best friend.

“Well, tomorrow he’s heading out early with Superman. Oh—and that he’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Tim looked down at the floor, his gaze unfocused.

“He didn’t tell me anything,” Tim murmured. “He’s mad at me.”

Neither Bart nor Cassie answered. They’d both noticed it too.

Conner was upset with Tim.

“Did I do something to annoy him these past weeks?” Tim asked.

“Well, the only thing I remember is when you accessed the LexCorp files without telling him,” Cassie said, crossing her arms. “That really affected him. He argued with Lex, and then Superman grounded him for not saying anything.”

Tim’s eyes lit up.

“Of course!” he exclaimed, as he’d finally finished a puzzle. “Damian knew about that too. So when he ran into him, he must’ve brought it up—made him feel worse…”

An image flashed through his mind: Conner crying against Damian’s shoulder.

If that’s why he’s upset… then Damian just took advantage of his vulnerability, he thought.

Now I get it. Conner’s completely broken inside. And all because I failed to understand the signs he was giving me.

Before he could say anything else, the zeta-tube’s voice echoed through the room:

“Recognizing: Welcome, Superboy.”

It felt like life was giving Tim another chance. He ran toward the zeta-tube.

“Conner!” he called out eagerly as he arrived.

“Hey, Tim,” Conner replied without much energy, walking right past him. “Sorry I took so long. It was an exhausting day.”

Tim stood there, frozen, trying not to overthink how bad it felt to be brushed aside.

But something about Conner stood out.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” the Kryptonian added to the team. “Today was hectic.”

“Well, you made it just in time for the show before the game,” Bart said. “This year’s gonna be interesting.”

“Great,” Conner replied with a faint smile.

He was about to move on, but there was one small thing—something that quietly tortured him.

Ignoring Tim felt awful.

Maybe… he didn’t have to ignore him that much.

“Tim,” he called out. When Tim turned around, the sadness in his eyes hit him hard. It made Conner feel guilty. “Hey, come watch the show with us…”

Tim hesitated.

Conner was acting strangely.

But he really didn’t want to argue.

He sighed and moved to take a seat with the team.

Still, he ended up sitting far from Conner.

And Conner was right in the middle of everyone else.

“Hey… don’t sit so far away,” the kryptonian blurted out without thinking. “I mean—yeah, I’m mad at you,” he admitted, turning to look at him.

Tim was surprised by his bluntness.

“But it’s the show before the game. Come a little closer.”

The truth was, Conner wanted to watch the show with Tim. No matter what.

Maybe Damian would scold him later—but it’d be worth it.

Tim smiled and moved a bit closer.

“Alright, I’m ready!” Bart shouted, pulling out a straw hat and placing it on his head.

“Where did you even get that?” Cassie asked.

“I went on a trip last week,” he replied, then sprinted off to his room. Seconds later, he returned carrying a big basket. “I brought more.”

“Awesome!” Conner said, grabbing one and putting it on.

Cassie did the same.

Tim was about to take the last one, but Conner grabbed it first. Before Tim could say anything, Conner’s serious look made him pause.

For a moment, Conner didn’t say a word. Then he smiled faintly and gently placed the hat on Tim’s head.

“I think it’s a little big on you,” he said.

“Maybe,” Tim replied quietly, confused.

“Come on. You can be yourself again,” Conner said, looking straight into his eyes. “Just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you. Do you get it?”

Tim felt his heart start to beat warmer.

“Yeah… I do.”

The show began, and both Bart and Conner looked completely fascinated by what was playing on the large TV screen.

Tim, on the other hand, wished he could enjoy it more—but the need to understand why Conner was upset with him kept gnawing at him.

“The girls are pretty,” Cassie commented as she took a sip of her drink. “What perfume do you think they’re wearing?”

“Probably something from their favorite singers,” Conner replied confidently.

Cassie raised an eyebrow.
“How are you so sure?”

Only then did Conner realize he’d given himself away.

He shifted on the couch, taking a sip of his soda.

“I guess,” he said casually.

Tim frowned, his gaze drifting back to the screen—landing on a girl who reminded him of the influencer Bernard had shown him before.

The scent on Conner… the girl’s voice that morning… and now he’s guessing the perfume the girls at the show are wearing…

Everything clicked.

“Did you meet up with Adelia this afternoon?”

The entire team turned to look at their leader, who didn’t hesitate or take back the question.

“Excuse me?” Conner asked, a bit nervously.

“You’re wearing a perfume that isn’t yours,” Tim replied.

“And how do you know whether it’s mine or not?” Conner shot back defensively.

“Because I know which perfume you usually wear,” Tim said firmly—without realizing he was giving himself away.

“And?”

“You smell like a girl,” Tim continued, eyes fixed on the screen. “And you said they probably smell like their favorite singer. The Latina girl you were with at the party… Anelia, Ardelia… Amelia!” he exclaimed as the name came back to him. “You saw her today. That’s why you smell like that.”

“Um—no. It’s my perfume.”

“Liar,” Tim said flatly.

“How do you know whether it is or isn’t my perfume?!”

“Because you actually smell good!” Tim blurted out, finally reaching his limit.

The room fell completely silent.

“Hey, Cas—do I smell good?” Bart asked. “Like, I don’t even wear perfume.”

“Bart,” Cassie whispered sharply.

Conner leaned back against the couch and smiled.

“So… you already know her,” he said with a teasing edge. “Yeah. I saw her this afternoon.”

Cassie and Bart stared at him, mouths wide open.

Tim froze, unsure of what to say.

“Is she your girlfriend?” he asked nervously.

“Mmh, no,” Conner replied. “She’s just a friend.”

Tim scanned Conner from head to toe, searching for any sign of a lie.

There was none.

Conner wasn’t lying.

And for some strange reason… that made him feel better.

“Okay,” Tim said quietly, leaning back into the couch.

“Hey, the show’s about to end,” Bart said sadly.

“Do you guys want to watch the game?” Cassie asked.

“No,” they all answered at the same time.

“This is going to be awkward,” Cassie murmured to herself.