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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

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Conner Kent Week 2021, Day Three: TTK Shenanigans

the thing is, sometimes his ttk wasn’t enough.

kon used to go on and on about his tactile telekinesis. he’ll admit it too, with less shame than a poppy seed. superman didn’t have tactile telekinesis, superman couldn’t lift and shape and break things with his mind, superman could piece together things that were irreversibly broken. kon could.

he used it often, and couldn’t count the number of times it had come in use.

bart, thrashing his body violently, that cheerful expression even in the toughest times wiped clean and covered by sheer desperation. there was a metal collar around his neck, thicker than kon’s wrist and looping in a hopeless, unbreakable circle. it was digging into bart’s skin, thin red lines the same colour as the stripe on bart’s suit being rubbed repeatedly until they widened, until blood was dripping from bart’s throat, until muscle memory had the speedster slamming against the restraints in an attempt to vibrate through, but his powers were gone. kon barged into the holding cell, and his ttk was able to reach bart before kon could. he spread it wide and strong, concentrating on dismantling the inhibitor collar into tiny, tiny pieces in less than a second; then he used his ttk to cradle bart’s limp body gently as he flew to young justice headquarters.

cassie hunched over in pain, long since haven given up keeping her usual, gentle smile plastered on her face. she was curled up on the couch, a veritable mountain of blankets covering her. kon heard the repetitive sounds of dramatic conversation coming from the television as a failed attempt at distraction. cassie had sent tim on a grocery run using his shiny black credit card linked to wayne’s bank account for essentials, which consisted of gummy worms, overly chunky banana smoothies, and lots of chocolate. bart was busy writing up all of the reports that tim and cassie were required to do, tim for batman and cassie for the league as young justice’s leader, for the sake of easing some of the stress on cassie’s shoulders. none of that helped her now, though, as she bit back another groan at what kon could only assume was a horrible cramp. so he blanketed her in his ttk, heating up the air near her stomach, and felt a flutter of usefulness and pride when cassie sighed in relief and voiced a thousand thank-yous.

tim, falling through the air, not making a move to fight against it. watching his best friend get thrown from a helicopter had been petrifying enough, especially since tim didn’t have any backup, because kon technically wasn’t supposed to be here. his heart stopped in his chest as red robin plummeted downward, wind whipping his hair wild, cape billowing around his body in a useless parody of a parachute. it took kon entirely too long to realize that tim wasn’t going to do anything. he made no move to reach for his grapple, no secret parachutes being revealed, not even a thought to call for help. that spurred kon into action. he shot forward faster than a bullet, but his ttk was already there, stopping tim’s fall abruptly and wrapping around him in an invisible embrace while tim gasped, eyes flying open. kon’s ttk held tim until kon was able to gather up the smaller boy in his own arms, squeezing him tight to counter the trembles wracking from tim’s body.

so yes, kon was eternally grateful for this particular superpower. his control over it was more impeccable than he led people to believe, in a large part due to knockout’s training. it was a well-honed tool, the most used in his arsenal, and kon utilized it to the best of his ability.

but sometimes, it just wasn’t enough.

kon could use his ttk to create a light show of the most epic proportions, simulating firecrackers and miniature exploding stars and every other wild thing he could think of into the blank expanse of the night sky. if he was devoted enough, he could draw a giggle out of bart, a whoop and a cheer at an explosion of colour. but no amount of brief, fleeting laughter could bring back bart’s hope. his joy and happiness in the little things, his lightheartedness and jokes in the face of things that would break a grown man. now, life just wasn’t fun for bart anymore, and a light show wouldn’t change that.

kon could use his ttk to hold cassie in as many hugs as she wanted, desperately trying to pretend that his life and his relationship hadn’t changed at all. but no amount of unseen embraces could take away from the fact that he had been gone, he had been dead. cassie shuddered, trying to keep herself from letting a tear slip loose as she told him how desperately she’d kissed and fucked tim, how furiously he responded as the two of them tried to look for kon in any places he may have lingered. kon’s heart broke for the both of them, but no matter how much his ttk could fix, it couldn’t put cassie back together again.

kon could use his ttk to be as useful as he could, trying to give tim a reason to keep him around, trying to prove to him that not everyone would abandon him, that kon would stay if tim just asked him to. he fixed broken equipment without touching it and organized haphazard notes without looking at them and made a meal without stepping foot in the kitchen of tim’s penthouse. it wasn’t enough. tim had withdrawn, pulled back into the hard shell of red robin. glimpses of emotion that tim let slip were all kon was able to catch, only because he’d known tim for so long. though, tim seemed to forget that, pushing him away with a shaking hand and a desperate voice that sounded like it was trying to convince tim instead of kon. and no amount of tactile telekinesis would pry tim open just a little, just enough for kon to slip inside.

what was the point of having superpowers, kon thought, if he couldn’t use them to help his friends when they needed his help most.

i know the prompt said “shenanigans.” but. i got angsty. have some sad core four.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump

#scribbles from the swamp #kon-el week #kon el week #conner kent week #superboy week #kon-el headcanon #kon-el fic #superboy headcanon #superboy fic #conner kent headcanon #conner kent fic #core four headcanon #core four fic #young justice headcanon #young justice fic #dc headcanon #dc fic

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letgraysonsheart · 5 years

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Stab Wound

Tim doesn’t understand where all these freaking ninjas are coming from. It’s like they’re crawling out of every open space, every broken board, every hole in the old warehouse floor. They don’t seem to be stopping either. He’s got both Robin and Red Hood fighting with him, in an odd turn of events, and they’re still only barely keeping the upper hand.

Dodging the quick arms, the knives and the punches coming for him, he tries to move closer to the center of the room. He shoots a quick look over at Hood and Robin because they should be doing the same. It’s their game plan after all. They seem to be doing.. okay, he guesses. Further into the room than before, at least, and he can't ask for more.

Why did it have to be ninjas? They’re so sly and moving so fast, it’s tiring keeping up with them. Their little stabby knives more annoying than useful, he figures. They have yet to hurt any of them more than a few superficial scrapes, or so he assumes; he can’t spot any major bleeding wounds on any of his current teammates. Damian, a little ninja assassin himself, probably thinks this is fun. It for sure looks like it, the way the youngest of them is flipping around, wielding his katana.

While he's busy checking on Damian, one of the ninjas gets in a kick to his stomach which, ow, is not nice at all. Now he has to both focus on blocking and trying to get some air back into his poor abused lungs. That’s for sure going to bruise, it may have done some damage to his ribs too. Alfred will for sure give him a frown, maybe even a sarcastic unimpressed comment. He has to bite back a hiss as he straightens up to continue on.

A yelp to his right grabs his attention because ninjas don’t yelp - but baby demon brats do. He shoots a quick look over at Damian. It seems like in an unexpected turn of events, a ninja has managed to sneak up on the brat and got him with a sword. The wound doesn't seem too serious, Tim sees and releases a sigh of relief, even if it's bleeding. Damian himself looks even angrier than before.

Still, the younger is now fighting off multiple ninjas by himself. It looks like he's starting to get stressed too, Tim notes and frowns. Damian has got his tongue poking out, only the tip of it showing, smushed between his lips. He's concentrating, hard enough to let a small tell like that slip out.

Tim sighs, and hits a ninja with his bo staff, knocking them down. The ninja stays down, which he isn't mad about at all, as he starts making his way towards the younger.

He’s almost there, preparing to help Damian tackle the flow of ninjas when there’s a sharp pinch in his side. He reacts on instinct, lashing out with his staff and letting the tip of it connect with full force in the offending ninja’s stomach. The ninja doubles over and falls to the side, gasping for air. Serves him right, Tim figures, as he knocks him unconscious with another hit. Without looking he lets one hand move down to where it’s still throbbing a little from where the ninja got him. There's a growing hurt spreading through his stomach, and yep - that’s a stab wound.

Stabby ninjas are the worst kind of ninjas.

It doesn’t seem too serious, it’s not an unbelievable pain, and it’s not hurting too much.

No need to call it a night yet.

He continues his track towards the demon brat because even if the Robin would never admit to it, it sure looks like he could use a hand.

Tim knows Damian could take on all the ninjas and win. Hell, he's probably winning as it is, but Tim would rather see it happening with minimal damage, then well, the opposite. And that.. ain’t what's happening right now. He can see that the younger has a growing redness on his cheek where a ninja must have gotten a hit in. There’s a small knife wound on his arm, adding to the one from before, too.

A hurt, benched Robin is the worst kind of Robin, and to be frank, Tim would like not to deal with that. That, and the massive illogical guilt he'd be consumed by if anything real serious were to happen. Another great perk he's gotten from being a bat. Or he could have had it from before.

Whatever.

Damian doesn’t bite out anything as Tim comes up on his side. Tim hopes it means the younger has realized that he could use a little help. It’s nice, that Damian is actually showing some signs of aging, of becoming more mature. Or that his training is going through his thick skull at least.

The younger boy, he's .. not as insufferable any more, and it’s making working with both the Bat himself and Robin a whole lot easier.

Together they manage to force the ninjas further back, into the middle of the room. There’s a hole in the floor that some of the ninjas actually came crawling up out of when the fight first started. Jason joins their side too, at some point, watching their backs. So continuing as a little unexpected but united trio, they push the ninjas backward and down. Some of them even scramble back into the hell hole they came from.

They’re winning now, actually a more clear win than in a long time. Which means Tim's tired body gets a new shot of energy and motivation, enough to keep him pushing on. His side is still itching, more and more actually, but it’s not enough to stop him from fighting.

He's had worse.

After what seems like forever, the sound of Damian’s katana going back into its sheath fills the room. The top of Tim’s bo staff has at one point gotten sliced clean off when he’d dodged an attack from a jumping ninja (and really? It wasn’t enough coming at him from the ground?)

Jason is zip-tying the ninjas who hadn’t fled, both their hands and feet, in a methodical order. Tim steps towards the hole in the ground, where the last of the ninjas, when realizing their defeat, had disappeared into. It’s always annoying when they end up with loose ends, but there was no stopping them. They’re already long gone, he assumes, having sacrificed their weakest to get away themselves. Tim suspects they must have had some kind of hierarchy. It was clear who fled and who had to stay behind and fight to keep him and the two others busy.

As he takes another step, he feels a wave of dizziness hit him, which is usually not good. He puts his staff into the ground, steadying himself, leaning onto it.

“You alright there Tim?” Jason is by his side now, only a meter away, and when did he move over? Tim didn't hear his steps as he came towards him.

His knees feel weak and shaky. Pain shoots up his body when Jason hits his shoulder in what's supposed to be a friendly pat. Crap. He knows what this is, what happens now.

He’s coming down. The fight is over, and his body is taking in all the damage it has sustained. The adrenaline leaving behind a drained shell.

His fingers go to his stomach, his gloves get soaked in seconds.

“Tim?” Jason says again, as Tim’s vision tunnels, the darkness creeping into the edges.

“Tim!” Jason yells again, moving closer, but looking more like an unfocused blob made of red and grey.

Huh, that's weird.

Tim’s knees hit the hard floor of the warehouse as his vision tunnels. Though he doesn't feel any pain at the unexpected meeting between his boney knee and the cement flooring. Huh. That's weird.

He barely feels himself slipping, falling, and doesn’t even know if he hits the ground or not.

When he comes too again, he’s laying down, reclined, on something cushy and comfortable. He’s belted fast, but the straps don’t hurt. They’re not too tight like they would be if someone had kidnapped him, not cutting off his blood flow or gnawing at his skin.

There’s a familiar rumbling sound that his brain is still too muddled from blood-loss to understand what is. Whatever he’s laying on, or in? slows down a little. He hadn’t even realized he was moving at all, before.

His head is throbbing, but so is his side which - right, there was a stab wound. He wills his fingers, which takes a worrying amount of effort, to move towards his side. Is he still bleeding out? It doesn't feel like it. He would for sure not be alive right now if that was the case.

“You awake over there?” A gruff voice, lower than Dick’s but still lighter than Bruce’s, asks out of nowhere. Jason, his brain finally supplies. That’s Jason. Who he had been fighting with, plus the demon brat. Who’s either not there or being unusually quiet.

He can’t quite get himself to make his voice work, but he does manage to pry his own eyes open. It's relieving that he isn’t met by a blinding light. At least he isn't in some bed in the med-bay at the cave, or worse - the hospital. In fact, it’s dark, and there’s a window, he can see the outside rushing past.

Oh. That explains it. The rumbling, the movement. They’re in the batmobile. It makes sense he’s strapped in then. It's the seatbelts, costume made for the batmobile and its makeshift emergency med-bed passenger seat. He looks down his torso and sees that parts of his uniform have disappeared and been replaced by a white gauze. His fingers had never quite managed to reach the wound.

“Damian?” he croaks because there is no way the kid is in the car. He knows for a fact this exact car only has two seats, and not much more space to sit in. He was once crammed in the passenger seat with Dick, while Bruce drove them home. It's not an experience he wants to relive, not with Dick, and not with Damian. There is no way two over-average muscle built guys should fit in the seat, and they don't.

“The brat?” Jason asks with a huff, though Tim can spy a hint of a smile ghosting over the older's lips through the windshield. “He went to help B clean up once we figured you weren’t going to die,” the older continues. Tim notices there's a little bit more anger in his voice now.

He stays silent and leans his head on the rest while closing his eyes.

“Why didn’t you say you were hurt?” Jason asks, apparently unable to deal with the quiet only interrupted by the steady hum of the motor. “I know that the bat likes to be dramatic and shit, but passing out like that? Not nice against your fellow teammates, dude.”

Tim knows Jason is trying to sound casual, like he doesn’t care, but instead it's so absolutely obvious that he does. That his older brother was in fact worried. Tim can actually feel how it warms his heart, brings some heat to his cheeks, even if he wants to chalk it up to the blood loss. It's not exactly a regular thing that happens, Jason Todd showing that he cares. Then again, Bruce isn't there with his deafening silence and judging eyes. Perhaps that makes it easier.

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Tim answers when he realizes that he's let the silence drag on a little too long while he was lost in thought. He can’t be bothered to open his eyes again, so he’ll just assume Jason is glaring at him. It for sure feels like it, his skin is prickling.

“You were stabbed. In the gut. You didn’t think that was bad?” Jason barks out, sentenced chopped and hard. Tim can feel the car swinging in a turn. He hopes they’re going to be home soon. Then Alfred can patch him up and he can climb into his big comfy bed and sleep for like, ten hours at least.

He should probably answer Jason too, at some point.

“I don’t know, I didn’t feel it until the fight was over,” Tim argues back, and can’t keep the slight irritation out of his voice. He’s tired god damn it, and lost too much blood to have this fight right now. So what if he smooths the details out a little? The wound had been an irritating pulse in the back of his head after he got it, yes, but nothing.. nothing that seemed dangerous.

Plus, Bruce will do the same exact dance with him when they discuss the case later. The less worrying he makes it sound to Jason, the less serious it will sound to Bruce. Keeping the story consistent and all that.

Jason takes a deep breath and breathes it out with a sigh, “I'm still mad at you, but, I guess that’s sound reasoning, adrenaline, and all. We've all been there.”

Was that Jason agreeing with him? Letting the matter go? What?

Tim cracks an eye open, looks at Jason’s face through the mirror. The older is biting his lip, staring at the road ahead, though his mind looks to be elsewhere. He wonders if he should be worried about Jason’s driving. Then again, he’s seen the Robin turned crimelord turn vigilante driving much more reckless, while distracted, before.

“You okay?” Tim hears himself asking, his voice sounding too soft. Then again, he can and will blame that on the blood loss too.

“Yeah, a few lacerations, one of the ninjas got in a good kick to my ribs too. Figured it was better I drove you to the manor. Let Robin join Batman,” Jason says before quickly adding, “not that I wanted to do that, even if I were in perfect health. Join Batman, I mean.”

Tim laughs a little at Jason's ramble. It sounds more like a croak, but it makes Jason look at him through the mirror with hardened eyes. It only makes him want to laugh more.

They drive in silence for a little while longer, and Tim lets his eyes slip closed again. In the darkness, he tries to feel the turns the car takes and guess where they’re at, but it's impossible. Usually, he could drive these streets blindfolded, or, he assumes he could. He hasn’t tried, if being so sleep deprived you’re seeing triple doesn’t count.

“Thanks,” he mutters, feeling sleep creep upon him. They’re going to be home soon, but a little nap won’t hurt. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t got any head injuries. Jason hasn’t mentioned anything and he knows the older has been watching him. That’s what they do.

“No need to thank me. When you faint right in front of me like a bigger drama queen then B, I can’t exactly leave you there to bleed out,” Jason answers. There's laughter in his voice, even though his words tells so much about his growth.

“You could've,” Tim says, letting the following silence hang in the air for a few seconds before continuing. “You could’ve left me. Or let Damian deal with it alone, or called Batman, but you didn’t. So thanks,” he finishes and stares up in the dark roof of the car. There's a small light there he hasn't noticed before, though it's turned off now.

He takes a deep breath, feeling the itching of his wound, it hurts - but not too bad. Maybe there's a numbing agent on the gauze, they use that sometimes if they have it on hand. His side is throbbing, but the sticking pain he remembers from before is almost gone.

Jason is being worryingly silent after the little proclamation Tim just finished.

“It’s the blood loss talking,” Tim reassures as he realizes there's a real chance he's hit some dark emotional spot in his older brother. He opens his eyes in time to see Jason’s shoulders sinking. The fingers cradling the wheel like a lifeline eases up, letting blood flow into them again.

“Yeah," Jason says, after a while, after too long. He's not looking in the mirror at all, keeping his eyes steady on the road, avoiding Tim’s eyes. Another defused emotional bomb added to Tim's belt.

"Do you really think-," Jason's voice stops midway through the sentence. He's still staring right head, eyes hard and guarded.

"Do I think what, Jason?" Tim is too exhausted for word games right now, and for any kind of emotions really. Maybe he hadn't defused the bomb, just deactivated the timer so now it could explode at any time by a single wrong move.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Tim states then, instead of commenting on anything more, and it doesn't seem like Jason is going to answer. He's too tired, so with a sigh, he tries to relax his tense muscles while shutting his eyes. As he breathes in deep it pulls at his wound again, and it makes it sting all the way through his chest. He forces his face to be natural, hoping Jason doesn't notice.

Anyway, it's kind of nice too, the pain, a screwed up part of his brain says. It means he's alive, that he's not dying yet. That's nice.

“We’re going to be home in like, five minutes,” Jason answers like Tim is being ridiculous thinking about taking a nap. Tim doesn’t dare comment on how Jason called the manor home, nop, not at all, not touching that with a ten-foot pole. Especially not after all the other emotions he's stirred up since waking up. He has some tact, even with a blood loss brain.

“It’ll be a short nap,” he argues back, voice already more groggy. A more comfortable than before darkness creeps into his mind, slowly taking over.

He’s asleep before he hears if Jason answers or not.

This was originally written for the “stab wound” prompt in whumptober, but all my plans failed, so the only thing i got around to writing was filing this prompt for my friend @marianne-in-wonderland

#in an unexpected turn of events i write jason & tim hurt/comfort #jason being tims big bro and im emotional #wheres my boy dick? i dont know this is unusual for me #but it was fun to write so!#ill post this to ao3 too #tw stab wound #tw blood #tw talk about death #tw fainting #my writing #elie writes #jason todd #tim drake #batboys fanfiction #im desperate for those notes #long post

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