#stalkersidekick

Christ. Kon is watching a dog attack and he's like – it's sort of his life's calling to prevent crime and death and stuff. Even if he isn't in uniform.

The superhero part doesn't go away just because he's not wearing the shield.

So Kon gets over there, ready to whistle for Krypto and to start pulling dogs off this person – guy, Kon thinks, the person is a guy, and his heart sounds off, but it doesn't sound like fear it sounds like laughter and wait a second -

A few seconds later, an arm emerges from the pile and flings the squeaky-toy a few yards to the left, and the pack of dogs – Krypto included – go chasing off after it. But not until Krypto gives the guy a huge lick to the face, a sweet doggy smile, and a paw to the gut as he kicks off to romp off after the other dogs.

"Woah. That one wasn't mine." The guy blinks, adjusting his glasses as he stands up.

"Erm – yeah. About that. Sorry? Uh. Dog spit." Kon pulls a handkerchief out of his back pocket – and god, Ma was right, you never do know when you'd need one – and the guy turns to him and laughs.

"Well aren't you a gentleman." He say. He looks a year or so older than Kon. Uh. Physically. Kon is technically turning four this year and by default everyone, except Bart, is older. He takes the handkerchief – bright red with white flowers, Kon notices for the first time, and oh god, Ma, why – and grins as he wipes his face. "I'm afraid there's going to be a lot more on there than just your dog's spit. Nice dog, by the way. Most other dogs don't want to play with my menagerie. I'm Tim, by the way." Tim points towards where the pack had stampeded after the squeaky toy, "And that's my. Uh. Pack of dogs. They play rough and look kind of mean, but the only one you need to worry about is the little one. He has anger issues. I say it adds character."

Kon snorts. "That's – that's a lot of dogs."

A great dane, a lab, a grayhound, two pitbulls, a saint bernard, a border collie, a terrier, and a pug.

"It's a lot of food." Tim shrugs, "But hey. I gotta do something with my money, right?" Kon blinks, Tim smiles. "Some rich people collect cars, some collect jewelry, I collect shelter dogs."

Which is ridiculously sweet and Kon did not come to the dog park to find people to hit on. If he meets a future significant other at the dog park Cassie and Rose will never let him live it down.

"That's really cool." Kon says, "Uh. I'm sorry Krypto kind of just – barged in like that. It's his first time at a dog park and there aren't many dogs back home."

"That's okay. I don't mind. I think my dogs were kind of surprised." Tim says, "Not many other owners let their dogs play with mine. They're all shelter animals from dog fighting rings and breeding programs." Tim whistles, and Kon watches with mild amusement as the hoard comes running over. The pug is in the lead, and when he gets close enough he rises onto his hind legs and smacks Tim's leg with a front paw. Tim rolls his eyes. "Champ wants a treat. Ignore him. He's greedy. So your dog is Krypto. This is Champion." Tim says, the pug barking and spinning in a little circle before flopping down. "The local attention whore. The terrier is Thor. He pretends to be dignified but she really isn't. The dane is Ace, he's half rottweiler. I was this close to naming Mabari, let me tell you – "

"Mabari's are loyal." Kon says out of reflex and Tim grins.

"The lab is named Alistair. Don't judge me." Kon holds up his hands and Tim moves on, "The pitbulls are Queen and Teddy. Total sweethearts. Thunder makes them cry. Absolutely hilarious by the way. There's a story behind that but I'm not going to take up too much of your time – the Saint Bernard is Baby. She just is. The border collie is MilkBone." Tim says, each dog barking when he calls their name.

"Wow. Ever dress'm up like in the Sound of Music?"

"The Von Trapp dogs." Tim snorts. "As if they'd stay still enough. What's Krypto, by the way? Pure lab?"

"Lab." Which is pretty close. "And I'm. Uh. I'm Conner. Conner Kent."

"Super."

"What?"

Tim raises a slow eyebrow. "Your name. I think it's cool. Kent. Like the reporter."

"You know Clark Kent?"

"He reports at like, half the things my parents used to go to. He's nice. He was the only one who ever talked to me at those things. Aside from – you know. Really old ladies with hats that look like cake." When Tim says the word cake all of his dogs surge on him and he goes down, arms flailing out. Kon grabs him on reflex, pulling – too hard, he guesses, because Tim lurches into his chest. And Kon swears to god he is not shallow, the reason why his heart kind of does that kick is just because he was surprised. Honest.

And no, he is not planning on going to grill Clark about Tim Drake. With his many dogs. And his really nice smile.

No. Conner thinks as Tim claps a hand to his shoulder and grins, No. I refuse to get a crush on a stranger at a dog park.