#konbernard

Now imagine it with kon whenever he thinks abt Robin/Tim. When he sees Greta chasing after Tim's approval. When he sees Stephanie and Tim interact.

Imagine Kon holding back chest-shaking coughs as red orchids threaten to choke his lungs, the vibrant crimson petals catching in his throat as he watches Tim work from afar. One day, he just couldn't hold it back, and his entire body shakes with the force. Tim rushing to Kon's side, trying to help him breathe, but the both of them freezing as gentle scarlet petals land onto the ground one after another.

And now imagine it getting worse when Tim starts dating Bernard. The red orchids fall in dense curtains, joined by golden dahlias and salty tears as Kon wheezes and chokes on the floor of his room. Gagging as the petals refuse to cease. He doesn't need to breathe, but it still hurts.

And now, imagine Tim and Bernard noticing that they were the cause of the flowers pouring from Kon's lips, and so Tim asks around, only to find out that the reason is because of unrequited love.

So, imagine Tim and Bernard working together to try and ease Kon's suffering, and the two slowly falling in love with Kon in turn. Now, think of them learning to love each other before one day, there were no petals at all. The entire day goes by with no petals, and they celebrate because without petals, that means Kon finally feels loved.

[Podfic Link] | Length: 1 hour, 12 minutes, & 34 seconds

Original Work: are you there, god? it’s me, the gotham/metropolis rpf side of tumblr by hoebiwan

DC (Comics): Tim/Kon/Bernard | Rating: Teen & Up Audiences

Summary: 

In which Bernard is an avid member of the Superman and Batman RPF side of tumblr, Kon thinks convincing his favorite RPF writer and video essayist to post weird stories about Superman is the only way to avoid murdering him, and Tim is definitely not alvin-and-the-chipmen, a popular fanart blog for Batman and co.

"Are you sure about this, Kon?" Tim asks evenly. 

"As sure as I am that you two should come the fuck down here and let me get my hands on you already," Kon replies in a purr, grinning at them both again as he tips his sunglasses back into his hair. "I mean, I can reach you with my TTK, but that never feels quite as . . . personal, you know?" 

They can always talk later, really. 

"Fuck," Tim says, very carefully and very clearly. Then he stalks down the stairs like he's in a cape and Bernard shuts the door and re-rigs the security system and follows after him, and Kon doesn't even get the chance to lean forward before Tim's grabbing his hips and yanking him there. 

Kon is perfectly happy to go. 

"Safeword first, if you have one," Tim says. "Or we can just use traffic lights. Red means stop, yellow means proceed with caution, green means go. Is there anything we definitely shouldn't do or say?" 

Kon leans down and kisses him. 

Like, the other stuff is important and he'll get to it in a second–but getting to kiss Tim of all people is way more important than anything else. 

Tim clearly agrees, since he kisses back. Kon winds his arms around his neck and resists the urge to completely envelope him in his TTK, since that's probably one of those boundary things that they're gonna need to discuss. 

Kon's never actually kissed another guy before, but it doesn't feel as weird as he might've expected it to and frankly he's already finding himself to be pretty impressed with Tim as a first contender. Like, Tim is apparently very good at kissing. He is careful and he is thorough and he is fucking dedicated to the fucking process. He knows exactly how to move his lips and exactly how much to use his tongue and exactly when to bring in his teeth and exactly how to make Kon's entire useless excuse for a brain melt out his goddamn ears with just the tiniest little well-timed nip to his lower lip. It's seriously all Kon can do just to keep up with the bastard. 

Nice, he thinks with a great deal of slightly dizzying feeling, digging his fingers in against Tim's back as they press their bodies closer together and try to eat each other alive. 

Very nice. 

"Okay, wow," Bernard says, watching them intently and sounding a bit impressed himself. "So you two have done this before? Tim, babe, I am hurt that you never previously mentioned making time with Super-boytoy and I demand all the dirty details." 

"We haven't," Tim rasps, pulling back just enough to speak and staring at Kon's mouth as he does. Kon has a weirdly hard time trying to look away from his eyes, so doesn't actually bother to try all that hard to. "Done this before, I mean." 

"Well I very definitely can't tell," Bernard says. "Like, holy shit, you guys." 

Kon is vaguely aware that it's talking time right now, but he just really wants to kiss Tim some more, so he leans forward just a little bit and–

"Tell me your safeword," Tim orders lowly, tightening his grip on Kon's hips. 

"Thirteen," Kon replies reflexively, because he can't ignore that tone of voice from Robin. He doesn't usually do all that much stuff that requires a safeword but, well . . . yeah. Sometimes he does, so he has one. 

Honestly he'd do that kind of stuff a lot more, probably, just . . . 

He just doesn't like doing it with people he doesn't know very well, he guesses. Although that's obviously not gonna be a problem right now. 

There are very, very few people that Kon knows as well as he knows Tim. 

"If you can't speak for some reason but you need to safeword, just tap one of us three times," Tim says. "Got it?" 

"Yeah," Kon says. "What's, uh, your word?" 

"We use 'clique'," Tim says. "Or traffic lights, whichever. And the taps, if we're nonverbal." 

"Okay," Kon says with a careful nod as he files the information away and represses the urge to either lick his lips or just kiss Tim again after all. "Hard no's?" 

"No serious injuries," Tim says. "No humiliation or degradation, no scat or watersports." 

"No choking," Bernard puts in. "And no age play or blindfolds." 

"What about you?" Tim asks while Kon's still processing how quick and matter-of-fact they both just answered that and how weirdly fucking hot it was. Just . . . really weirdly hot, yeah. 

"No, uh . . . no medical shit," he says carefully, not quite flexing his fingers against Tim's back. "Nothing like a lab. Not gonna call anyone any variant of 'Daddy', and don't call me 'kid' or 'pup'." 

"Okay," Tim agrees. "Anything you especially like or want to do?" 

"I dunno," Kon says, then attempts to say "just tell me when I'm doing okay at something" but can't even slightly get the words out. That . . . well. Maybe later he can say that, he thinks to himself. Just–eventually, maybe. "I'm not that fancy, I just want us all to get off and have a good time." 

"Is oral on the table?" Tim asks. 

"Sure?" Kon replies with a shrug. "Although I haven't actually gone down on anyone with a cock before, I don't really know how good at it I'll be. So like . . . yeah, might need a couple tips there when it's my turn." 

"Oh shit, you're like half a virgin, aren't you," Bernard says like it's a realization, and Kon blinks at him in bemusement. 

"Uh, no?" he says, more than a little confused by where the guy got that idea from. "Definitely not a virgin, man, I popped my cherry the first chance I got." 

"No, like–sorry, I just meant you've never sucked cock and you've probably never bottomed before," Bernard clarifies, waving a hand between them. "Although maybe I'm making some assumptions about the kind of girls you've known or what you do in the privacy of your own bedroom, so have you?" 

"Oh, that," Kon realizes himself. "Yeah, no, never gotten pegged or anything like that. Or used any toys that way by myself either." 

"Ngh," Tim says. 

"I now very, very desperately want to change that fact," Bernard says. "Or to watch Tim change that fact. Or both of those things, either subsequently or simultaneously." 

"Would that be okay, Kon?" Tim asks carefully. Kon . . . pauses, and just sort of . . . processes that idea, a bit. Somehow the idea of getting fucked that way hadn't really occurred to him as an option that might be on the table here, even with the way the conversation was just going and also the fact that it should've been an obvious possibility anyway, considering. 

Well, he is kind of stupid sometimes. 

"Uh," Kon says, feeling weirdly hot under the collar as he tries to picture Tim getting up between his thighs like that and not sure if his immediate internal reaction is just him being a fucking horndog and a half or something to blame on the existence of pink kryptonite. "Actually, uh. Yeah. Yes. Please?" 

"Ngh," Tim says, and immediately surges in and yanks him down into another kiss. Kon has absolutely no problems with this turn of events and no desire to do anything but kiss him back. 

"Your fucking suit is too fucking tight," Bernard mutters with absolutely no trace of a complaint in his voice. Kon thinks irrationally of that fond tone the guy had used with Tim before and really wants to hear it again. "I think if we actually get you hard enough to play with your presumably invulnerable dick is gonna tear right through it." 

"You look pretty like this," the fox sparrow says, a soft smile across his face as Kon nods vigorously, "Don't you agree, Kon?"

"He's right, y'know. You should just let us do this for you, Tim."

The falcon sighs, but allows himself to relax into his partners' hold.

"Where is Timothy?" he hears Damian's voice ask distantly.

"Frankly, that's none of your business," he hears Bernard snark, "He doesn't want to see you right now."

An annoyed growl rumbled through the air, but his dear yet dense boyfriend reciprocated with his own flimsy, sing-song-y growl characteristic of songbirds.

"Bear?" Tim mumbled sleepily, lifting his head as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

"He's handling it, Tim," Kon tried to assure him, stroking his hand over just the right spot to render Tim into a thoughtless puddle, "Roa knows you need the sleep, Jesus."

He grumbled, swatting at the purple martin's face before slumping into Kon's hold.

"Does this happen every year?"

"Yeah, just about. Tim usually lets everyone in except Damian and Bruce."

A soft hum, and Tim was out like a light.

When he wakes up, the apartment was dark.

Tim pushes himself upright to peer blearily into Kon's ever-shifting, slightly glowing too-blue eyes, "...Where did Bear go?"

"The kitchen," Kon smiled in amusement before hoisting Tim to his feet, accidentally knocking off the matching flower crown he was wearing. Nevertheless, the kryptonian picks it up, places it back on Tim's head, and they continue onwards.

Tim yawns, but when they resch the kitchen, he blinks in surprise at the two-layer rainbow cake.

"Happy gay month!" Bernard grinned with a smear of blue icing across his cheek and a proud expression upon his face.

Tim smiled, reaching forward to kiss his boyfriend's cheek while Kon shook his head and grabbed a rag to help clean the sparrow's face.

As Kon helped cut into the colorful cake, the sound of him and Bernard bickering good naturedly filling the air between them, Tim couldn't help but feel like this was an amazing start to the rest of summer.

-----

Kon flies into Gotham as surreptitiously as possible, meaning "as thoroughly concealed by the smog and cloud cover as possible", which given the amount of smog and cloud cover usually works out pretty well for him. Today's definitely no less cloudy than usual, and he's landing in the marina in no time. Well–specifically, he's landing in a subtle little out-of-the-way corner of the marina that Tim's previously pointed out to him where his neighbors probably won't notice either a Superboy or a Wonder Girl coming down.

Probably.

Eh, it's whatever. If they notice, Kon'll handle it. Not like he's not used to lying to Gothamites about what the fuck he's doing in their city and why they shouldn't flip the Batsignal over it, after all.

Not that said lies always keep the Batsignal from getting flipped, but still. It's been like fifty-fifty.

Well, sixty-forty . . . ?

Maybe seventy-thirty.

Kon waits 'til nobody's immediately around and super-speeds his ass across the dock to Tim's houseboat. There's an unnecessary amount of security on the thing because Tim is a paranoid little freak and a half and every single Bat alive is literally made of trust issues, but he already knows there's nothing that'll clock him on the deck. Well, nothing aggressive, anyway.

This ain't his first Bat-rodeo, and all that.

He punches in the code for the lock on the door, and the code for the other lock on the door, and the code that'll keep the needles covered in neurotoxin from spraying into his face when he opens said door. They wouldn't actually hurt him, obviously, but Tim would get annoyed if he wasted them.

He seriously wonders how the guy was ever under the impression that Bernard didn't know he was a superhero, but he guesses it's possible Tim assumed his boytoy thought he was, like, somebody's evil henchman or a merc or something.

Or just literally insane. Whichever.

And it is Gotham.

The door swings open, Kon very carefully steps on the correct floorboard, and then he slips inside and heads down into the bowels of the boat, or whatever the inside of a houseboat is called. It's a little cluttered down here but not quite a mess, and Kon's been here as many times as Tim's been willing to let him come but still not nearly often enough.

He has an odd, random thought of just staying, for once, and isn't quite sure where it came from. Which–well, he's staying for the weekend at least, right? Assuming the world doesn't try to end again, anyway.

So maybe not so random.

Sometimes Kon really does want to just hang in Gotham with Tim until Batman runs him out of town, but he never pushes it that far. He doesn't want to deal with that fallout or with Tim coming up to him to tell him he's being too much or too needy or just fucking weird or . . .

Yeah. Well.

Kon cracks into Tim's fridge and steals a can of Zesti. He's a little more of a Soder guy, at least lately, but it tastes better coming out of Tim's fridge anyway. It makes him feel kind of like a normal guy who just goes over to his normal buddies' places to do normal things–whatever those are–and has normal permission to just rifle through their normal food and take whatever.

Technically Kon has permission, in the sense that Tim's never rigged the Zesti to explode in his face, but he's never actually explicitly asked. He wasn't really sure if that was one of those things that normal people ask or one of those things that normal people just do, and now it's a little late to check, so . . .

Kon's life experience has been fucking weird and wildly varied and stupidly fragmented and generally speaking he just begs forgiveness rather than ever ask permission. He's a grown-ass clone, he can do that.

Okay, he's technically only physiologically a grown-ass clone but also he's arguably over a thousand years old, or maybe more like four or five, so whatever. Being a superclone is weird and confusing and his point stands.

Kon sips his stolen Zesti and wanders around the boat, idly avoiding assorted traps and tripwires. He doesn't go into the bedroom, although it's kinda tempting to just go wait in there, possibly without the company of any of his clothes.

He wants to talk to Tim at least a bit before they go full long weekend on this situation, though, and also like . . . meet Bernard as an actual person and not just a voice over the phone or that one random disgustingly cute couple-selfie that Tim had very dorkily and shyly and grudgingly shared in the group chat the last time Bart had actually won a bet against him.

That stupid selfie was adorable. Kon had absolutely saved it and is not a weirdo who just randomly looks at it sometimes. There's a lot of stuff like that on his phone, alright, he's got a whole folder of "shit to look at when the world sucks". Most of it's Krypto being dumb and sweet or the team messing around and being silly together or stuff like that. The one disgustingly cute Tim and Bernard selfie is a mere footnote in that folder.

But it is in that folder.

Like . . . of course it is.

Kon thinks about pulling out his phone and looking at that picture again. He's aware it's a weird thought to be having right now, though, so he doesn't act on it. Kon operates on instinct a lot but he doesn't necessarily trust all his instincts, given his thoroughly fucked up socialization experience and random mind control triggers and the biological influence of a certain gene donor who shall not be named.

Kon hears a pair of accelerated heartbeats approach the boat and feels two people step onto and hurry across the deck above, one's footsteps significantly louder than the other's. He hears a lot of buttons get pushed. Then the door at the top of the stairs yanks open and he glances towards it. Either Tim or a very convincing evil doppelganger of Tim is standing framed in the doorway, looking very slightly flustered and just barely winded. Bernard is clustered up behind him and laughing, and much more winded himself.

Well, that's flattering.

"Hey there," Kon says, and grins up at them.

"We need to establish boundaries, hard no's, and safewords," Tim says immediately, absolute freak that he is. Kon is not even slightly surprised.

"God, you really do just look like that, huh," Bernard marvels, his eyebrows shooting up. He's even cuter when he's not being a cell phone pic, and especially cuter when Kon's being gay. Unsurprisingly, Kon figures. "I always assumed a whole lot of really skilled Photoshop was involved in you. Or at least a whole lot of real good makeup and real precise angles."

"He's annoyingly photogenic, actually, you don't even have to try to make him look good," Tim informs him resignedly. "So you can imagine how he looks when you do try."

"That's a terrifying thought, actually," Bernard says approvingly.

"Safewords, huh?" Kon says as he sets aside his mostly-empty Zesti, not even pretending not to be preening under the compliments. So he's easy; at least he's self-aware. "That sounds promising."

"You were talking about some guy putting you in a collar and keeping you as a pet," Tim says flatly. "We definitely need safewords, I might get carried away."

"Promises, promises," Kon hums, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets and sauntering towards the bottom of the stairs with a wolfish grin that he may or may not have learned from an actual wolf. Like, just speaking of certain beast-men that he's known and all. "I told you, I was feral then. You know I'll be a good boy for you, Rob."

"Ohhhhh we've sure gotten ourselves into something here, huh, babe," Bernard says with a delighted grin as Tim puts a hand over his face and just sort of . . . exhales in that one specific way that he does when it's all going to shit in a fight or on a mission and he just needs to steady himself for that one second before the doors blow in.

Kon likes that, he thinks.

"You're a brat and a bastard," Tim growls. Kon bites his lip and presses in closer to him, and Bernard steps around his back and presses up close to him, covering Tim's hands with his own where they're gripping Kon's hips. 

Kon is perfectly aware that he likes to be sandwiched between attractive people, that fact about himself is in no way new knowledge, but fuck, he really likes that. 

A lot.

"Uh–one more thing, real quick. Can I use my TTK for this or should I like . . . keep a lid on that kinda thing?" he asks quickly before his fucking useless brain can actually melt out his ears, trying not to make the question sound as vulnerable as it feels. It's not that he minds not using his TTK, just . . . it's a little weird, sometimes. Makes him feel like he's not all there and not fully safe. Makes it hard to . . . relax. 

To let go. 

"The TTK's fine by me, yeah," Tim says, and Kon relaxes a little. Okay. That'll help, even if Bernard's not cool with it touching him. 

"TTK? What's that involve?" Bernard asks curiously. His fingers lace through Tim's and brush Kon's hips. They are incredibly, incredibly distracting fingers. 

"Oh, uh, it's tactile telekinesis," Kon says. "So it's like . . . a contact-based telekinetic field that I can manipulate with my mind, basically. People usually tell me it feels like there's a real heavy coat around them. So it can get a little suffocating, I guess?" 

". . . like how heavy a coat are we talking here?" Bernard asks, frowning consideringly. 

"Uh," Kon says. "Honestly, I have no idea, my concept of 'heavy' is seriously not universal. I could show you?" 

"Yeah, okay," Bernard says. 

"Okay," Kon says, and very carefully wraps him up in it. Bernard . . . blinks. 

Tilts his head. 

Blinks again. 

"Too weird?" Kon asks, repressing a reflexive wince, and Bernard just makes a strange little noise and then absolutely fucking melts against his back. 

"Just follow me around and do this for the literal rest of my fucking life, please," he groans feelingly, and Tim laughs. 

"Bernard has a bit of a thing for weighted blankets," he says with barely repressed amusement. "A big thing. So you're probably good to go, Kon." 

"I think this is actually heavier than my good blanket," Bernard says, squeezing Tim's hands and by default Kon's hips in an impressively flustering way. "Like way heavier, oh my god. Man, you and your TTK thing had better be cuddlers once it's afterglow time or I'm gonna fucking sulk." 

"We could possibly be persuaded," Kon gets out just a touch hoarsely, feeling a little weird and heated over the idea that Bernard is not only cool with the TTK but actually, like, likes it. Bernard trails his impressively flustering fingers down over the backs of Tim's knuckles; down lower over Kon's hips. Kon tries not to press into the point of contact quite that easily, but absolutely does. 

Bernard pauses, then tilts his head again. 

"Wait," he says, pressing his fingers in a little tighter against Kon's hips. "Is this like a sexy invitation thing or do you seriously just not wear underwear under your superhero suit?" 

"No?" Kon says, glancing back over his shoulder at him. "Panty lines are a thing, dude." 

". . . Kon, have you literally never worn underwear in the entire time I've known you, aside from during the jeans phase?" Tim asks in a weird voice. 

"I mean . . . pretty much, yeah?" Kon says, flicking his eyes back to him. He'd kinda assumed that was a thing Tim had already noticed. World's second-greatest detective and all. "Usually didn't even then, I didn't really have any and I just kept forgetting to buy it. And like, I'm invulnerable, so chafing isn't really a thing, you know?" 

"Don't you even wear a cup, though?" Bernard asks incredulously. 

"Invulnerable," Kon reminds him. 

"NGH," Tim says. 

"You keep making that noise," Kon observes. 

"Bed," Tim grits out tightly. 

"Bed," Bernard agrees fervently.