#also nudging my dick & kon agenda forward again ever so slightly. but its mostly kon fussing <3 love kon getting to be a mom friend <3

[mamawasatesttube]

“I know, I know, I’m stuck with you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” please!

"Thanks for coming on such short notice." Dick both looks and sounds harried, Bat-comm in hand as he ushers Kon in from the balcony. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can, but you never know with Arkham breakouts—also, there's some leftover chicken soup in the fridge, if he can keep that down it'll be great, and—yes, B, I'm on my way, I heard you the first seventeen times—sorry, Conner, it's a bit hectic, but—"

"Hey, man." Kon gives him a reassuring thumbs-up. "I got this. You go do your thing and let me wrangle the poor sickly scrunkle, yeah?"

Dick pauses on one leg, one shoe on, the other in hand. "The scrunkle?"

"Tim," Kon clarifies. "You know, 'cuz he's scrunkly."

"...I see," Dick says, not sounding like he particularly sees at all. But there's no time to explain; he flashes a quick grin, fires off a two-fingered salute, and calls one more "Thanks again!", and then he's gone.

Kon cocks his head and waits.

After seventeen seconds, the jingle bell he stuck to the outside of Dick's bedroom windowframe on his way in chimes, and he snorts to himself as he superspeeds right on over to the fire escape outside.

"Predictable, Rob," he says, lounging midair. Tim, staring at the bell in his hand with great prejudice, scowls; the effect is rather ruined by his adorable hot pink bird-printed pajamas. "You definitely have a fever if you fell for that one."

Tim folds his arms over his chest and glares at him. Coughs. Glares some more. "I don't need a"—cough, cough—"babysitter. I'm not that sick. Dick's just fussing."

Kon eases himself back in through the window, closes it against the night air, and presses his lips to Tim's forehead, ignoring the way Tim splutters. He's cute when he gets grumpy. "Mmm, well, that certainly feels like a high fever to me!"

"It's only a hundred and one," Tim mutters. And coughs again. Christ on a bike, he really sounds like death warmed over. The red flush to ohis face really isn't helping things, either.

Also. Christ on a bike? Really? Sheesh, Kon's spending too much time with Ma's friends on Bingo Sundays.

"Mm, yeah, so we're getting you back in bed," Kon informs him, and plucks him off the ground, sets him on his hip like the world's most disgruntled toddler, and carries him back over to Dick's bed, where he's clearly been being fussed over already, if the box of tissues, empty mugs, and cough drops are anything to go by.

"I'm not that sick!" Tim protests. Kon sees right through him, though; his wiggles of dissent are weaker than usual. "I can help. You heard Dick earlier, it's all hands on deck—"

"Which is why, if things get particularly dire, Dick already said he'll call me in," Kon says, and draws the blankets up over Tim's chest. "Seriously, Rob. The others have it in hand. And I," he grins, cupping Tim's face in his palms, "have you in hand."

Tim favors him with a very flat look, followed by a very pathetic sniffle. Oh, jeez, Kon wants to bundle him up and feed him soup and fuss over him forever. "Ha ha."

"I know, I'm hilarious." Kon squishes his cheeks before letting go. "Now, I'm gonna go get you some soup and your next dose of meds, and you're gonna stay right here in bed and not try any more escape attempts because you know I'm gonna catch you and bring you right back. And we are gonna watch your choice of 'Wendy', 'Star Trek', 'Star Wars', or 'Lord of the Rings', until you inevitably knock the fuck out because you are sick as hell, dude, and I do not mean in the Tony Hawk way. Got it?"

Tim heaves a weary, put-upon sigh that just sends him into another coughing fit; it sounds rough and scratchy and painful just to hear, and Kon winces in sympathy, leaning over to rub his back. Aw, Tim...

"I guess I can live with that," Tim rasps, his eyes watering. Kon is seized by the urge to kiss his forehead again, properly this time; he wants to take care of him so bad.

"Good! 'Cuz you don't get a choice." Kon gently ruffles his hair, eases him back against his pillows, and then tuts softly to himself and strokes the hair back from Tim's sweaty forehead. His poor Rob...

"Yeah, I know, I know. I'm stuck with you." Tim sighs again, closing his eyes. After a moment, though, he smiles ever-so-slightly, his eyelashes dark against his pale cheeks. "...I wouldn't have it any other way."

That's gotta be the fever talking—it's true, and Kon knows it's true, but Tim wouldn't just say it like that—but it makes Kon's heart flutter all the same.

He leans down and kisses Tim's forehead before he can lose his resolve. "Right back at'cha, Rob," he says, smiling. "Now lemme go get you your soup."

"Good luck," Tim mumbles, opening his eyes just slightly. "Don't fall in, have fun, et cetera..."

Kon laughs. "Will do," he says, and stands to leave.

(It's not until he's waiting in front of the microwave that he realizes: since the moment he left Tim's side, he's been—quite literally—walking on air.)

50 Prompts About Devotion

#timkon #tim #kon #rimi writes #huilannie #tim: is sick. dick: Come Here I Will Make You Soup. tim: oh you dont have to thats ok-- / dick: I Was Not Asking. #also nudging my dick & kon agenda forward again ever so slightly. but its mostly kon fussing <3 love kon getting to be a mom friend <3 #and also them both being stupid and pining a little. but mostly its about the mom friending