Work Text:
A Tease Of Invitation
They knew Robin’s name now, which should have made things easier, but totally didn’t. Kon had tried five different computers, at three different libraries, and every time he searched the Gotham City address database for ‘Tim Drake’ the computer crashed.
The last time a pop-up message box had advised him to Stop This, Superboy.
Superboy would not be so easily deterred. Robin had practically teased the team with the information he’d long held back, and Kon planned to get him back for it.
The Gotham City phonebook, as it happened, was easily accessible. Unfortunately, there were one hundred and eighteen Drakes listed.
He would have called the numbers, but he was pretty sure that whoever was keeping him from finding Robin online would be able to disconnect the one appropriate call or send him straight to the answering machine or a pizza place. So he’d have to do it the slow way.
Every Thursday – because Bespelled was in reruns, and even though it wasn’t quite as good as the Wendy: The Werewolf Stalker spin-off Cherub, it did have three very hot ladies as the main characters; but this was important enough that Kon could miss it – Kon flew over to the edge of Gotham City, changed into a Hawaiian print shirt and jeans, put on his sunglasses, and walked to the next address on his list.
Walking made it so that – even with the map he’d gotten Bart to put together so he could take the shortest route each visit, and he wouldn’t have to double back – he ended up getting no more than four or five addresses each time. In addition, once he got to the addresses, he had to look and listen for the people who lived there, and try and figure out if Tim was one of them.
He’d been at it for over a month with nothing to show for it. What Kon wouldn’t have given for super-hearing. Or better yet, X-Ray vision.
Kon sighed and flopped down on the bus stop bench across the street from the third house on that day’s list. He watched for three-quarters of an hour, seeing a blonde in her earlier thirties arrive home with groceries, then a graying middle-aged man with a briefcase.
He was just about to leave, thinking no one else lived in the house, even as big as it was, when a bus arrived, dispatching two women with shopping bags and one teenager in a long-sleeved red shirt and black jeans carrying a backpack. The guy had his head down, but said head was covered in disarrayed black hair, and the way he walked, back military straight, was at odds with his ‘normal’ appearance.
Kon perked up, forcing himself not to move closer so he could get a better look. As close as he was to the guy, if he moved, Robin would be sure to notice him, and Kon wanted this visit to be a surprise.
The maybe-Robin walked up to the house Kon had been watching, unlocked the door, and went inside. Kon didn’t know if the guy was Robin – Tim – but the possibility had him so excited he’d risen a few inches off the bench, a fact he only realized when his head suddenly whacked into a low-hanging branch of a tree overhead, one of those ones with those green pollen ‘cone’ things that covered everything with yellow dust.
Blushing at his faux pax, Kon lowered himself back to his seat, then stood up. He swiped off the bits of pollen that the tree had showered him with while he waited, mostly succeeding in smearing it on his shirt. Thankfully that day’s Hawaiian print was a similar color, and would hide the mess.
After waiting a silent count of one hundred, Kon headed across the street. He rang the bell, wiped his sweating hands on his pants, and waited. When the door opened a minute later, he saw Robin, Tim, Alvin – whoever.
Kon pasted his best shit-eating grin on his face and prepared to enjoy the show. He did not have to wait long.
Tim’s eyes bugged out, going wide as saucers, his jaw dropped to the floor, and every other cliché of surprise that the human race had ever thought of came to pass on his face.
“Hey, Tim,” Kon said, cool as a breeze, hands tucked nonchalantly in his pockets. His chest puffed out with pride at surprising the World’s Second Greatest Detective. Making Robin show so much emotion was nothing to sneeze at, either. The pollen might be, but his TTK was useful in many odd ways.
Tim blinked rapidly twice, then again, and glared at him. He sent a searching look behind him and quickly moved towards him, shutting the door partway behind him. “What are you doing here?” he hissed.
Affronted, Kon had to bite down on the urge to give his friend a TTK-wedgie. “I came to see you,” he bit out, leaving the ‘of course’ to silently hover in the air.
Tim shuffled his feet at his faux pas, cheeks going ever-so-slightly pink. “That’s great and all, but my parents are home,” he said in a hushed voice. “What am I supposed to tell them?”
Kon had prepared for this. Pulling a battered baseball cap – advertising the Metropolis Orbits – out of his back pocket, Kon slicked his hair back and put the hat on. With his green and blue Hawaiian shirt, khaki cargo shorts and sneakers, he looked absolutely nothing like Superboy.
Especially since he’d sacrificed his goatee to the cause for this. “Just tell ‘em I’m a friend of yours from school, Tim,” Kon replied with a cocky smirk.
Tim looked thoughtful, considering Kon’s disguise. “A friend, huh?”
Swallowing down his nerves, and praying he’d been right about the signals that Tim had been sending out – and that Tim actually had been sending out signals – Kon said, voice breezy as a seaside morning, “Well, you could tell him I’m your boyfriend, but I don’t know if you’re out to your ‘rents or not.”
Tim’s face went through a kaleidoscope of colors: white to red to almost purple as he obviously held back a laugh at whatever mental images Kon’s words had given him. “I…I’m not. And, um…” He took a deep, probably fortifying, breath, “…I really think we should go on a date before we decide that we’re, um, dating.” Kon shrugged, feeling the tension bleed out of his entire body. “Cool, man.” Tim smiled at him, one of those small, real smiles, and Kon felt himself smile back. Yeah, it was really cool.