[identity profile] finkpishnets.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] ivoryandgoldd
yet another chapter by [livejournal.com profile] finkpishnets
young justice | pre-conner/tim | pg | ~1,075
coda to satisfaction. because someone had to remember.

a/n: for the cottoncandy_bingo prompt "balloons". thanks to [livejournal.com profile] misprinting for reading this over for me.

Wendy insists on taking him out to lunch, chatting the whole time about classes and Mal and the reasons they should all roadtrip to California next summer, and Conner nods along and tries not to think about Artemis and M’gann and the fact that even Wally hasn’t taken two seconds to drop by and wish him a happy birthday. It’s completely selfish but it still hurts more than he’d known it could.

The waitress puts a candle in a slice of pie and sings off-key, and it’s the sort of thing that would normally make Conner want to die of embarrassment but it’s also the nicest thing to happen to him in months so he smiles and lets Wendy put the stupid hat on him again, and he doesn’t take it off until she’s kissed his cheek goodbye and run to get her bus, already late for work.

It’s not what he’s used to but he supposes that’s part of growing up.


He checks in at base before going home but the only ones there are Jaime and Bart, sprawled on the couch in the den and eating their way through junk food like it’s going out of style.

Conner’s not sure why he’d thought Dick would be around; he’s been more and more elusive lately and Conner could pretend he doesn’t know it’s an Artemis thing but Dick’s feelings for his best friend’s girlfriend have been the worst kept secret between these walls since they were teenagers. Still, Conner would bet money on Wally and Dick being together right now, grieving in private for a lover they did or didn’t have, and he can’t begrudge them that, not without feeling like a jerk.

At least M’gann’s not there either.

He supposes he should be thankful for small favors.


Ma Kent leaves him a voicemail reminding him about Sunday Brunch and letting him know that Lois will be in Hong Kong so could he make sure Clark doesn’t forget, please, sweetheart.

He thinks about just flying out to Kansas, letting Ma coo over him until he feels better, but he’s supposed-to-be-twenty-two now, living in Metropolis and not running back to the safety of the farm every time he feels down.

He knows Ma would be thrilled, but that’s not the point.

The point is he’s supposed-to-be-twenty-two and maybe he needs to start acting like it.


There’s someone in his apartment, and Conner’s just about ready to blast a hole through the wall when there’s a crash followed by Tim cursing under his breath. Conner’s pretty impressed the kid even knows those kind of words, and he opens the door to say so but stops short, blinking.

There are balloons tied to the chairs around the dining table – red, blue, and black like the rest of Conner’s life – and a lopsided cake, three tiers high, sitting on the counter, Tim frozen with a lighter in hand, half of the candles already beginning to melt.

“Uh,” Tim says. “Surprise?”

“Yeah,” Conner says, stunned. “Yeah, it’s definitely that.”


The cake tastes much better than it looks (“Alfred offered to make it but I figured it was the sort of thing you were supposed to do yourself? So, yeah, sorry about that.”) and Tim looks nervous up until the point Conner passes him a fork.

“How’d you know it was my birthday?” Conner asks after a while, trying not to think too hard about the knot in his stomach and how comfortable Tim looks in his apartment, surrounded by red and blue and black.

“I’m Robin,” Tim says, quirking an eyebrow in a way that reminds him of Dick and yet doesn’t, not at all. “If I couldn’t find out when you were born then I’d be really, really bad at my job.”

When Conner smiles it’s the first time all day it’s felt real.


Tim grabs the towel when Connor gets up to wash their plates, and Conner would tell him not to worry about it but it’s been ages since he’s done anything as simple as the dishes with someone. It’s the sort of content domesticity he tries to pretend he doesn’t miss, and when Tim grins at him he wonders if maybe he’s not the only one to sometimes crave something so mundane.

“So,” Tim says, “get any cool presents?”

“No,” Conner says. “I mean, I’m not seeing the family until the weekend, so, you know, not yet.”

Tim nods. “I would have got you something but I wasn’t sure what you’d want, and—“

“It’s fine,” Conner says, quickly. “Seriously. This-- the cake, it was great.”

Tim ducks his head as he grabs the next plate but Connor could swear he’s smiling.


They watch a movie on Conner’s tiny TV, both of them on the old couch Jimmy Olsen has passed down to him, and it should be uncomfortable but Tim’s lithe next to Conner’s bulk so there’s still room to breathe. They’ve never really hung out before, not without the rest of the team nearby, and Conner’s not the most socially capable guy, he knows, so the ease of the whole situation surprises him.

“What?” Tim says when he catches Conner watching him.

“Nothing,” Conner says and wonders if that stopped being the case the minute he came home to balloons and the newest Robin taking up his kitchen.


Tim’s com beeps around eleven, and Conner lets him change in the bedroom, telling him to leave his clothes in the closet, if he wants, and pick them up some other time. Tim’s cheeks darken slightly but he nods, and when he comes back he’s fully the part.

“Happy Birthday,” Tim says, opening the window and getting ready to fly in his own way.

Conner’s about to say good luck or something equally inane when Tim leans forward and kisses the corner of his mouth. It happens so quickly that Conner half thinks he’s imagining it, but then Tim’s pulling back and disappearing into the night and Conner’s left blinking and wondering how the hell this kid keeps managing to surprise him.


He needs to get out on patrol, should really check that Clark’s not running himself into the ground without Lois around, but first he unties the balloons and carefully moves them into his room where they’ll be safe.

It’s stupid but it’s his birthday and he’ll be sentimental if he wants to, supposed-to-be-twenty-two be damned.

Date: 2012-10-01 05:10 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] traincat.livejournal.com
This is adorable! It gave me the warm fuzzies.


ivoryandgoldd: (Default)
finkpishnets fic archive

August 2016

 1 23456

Style Credit

Page generated Oct. 19th, 2017 04:04 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags