Chapter Text
Tim tried not to remember the summers before Bruce adopted him. Back then, summer meant three empty months without school to break up the monotony. His parents were traveling, his nanny was old, and his life felt over before it could even begin. He walked through his empty house talking to himself, he played Minecraft, he read books far above his grade level, and he fell down YouTube rabbit holes that would inevitably lead to his favorite clips of the Flying Graysons.
When Tim was ten years old, his parents died in a car accident. It was his first experience with death. He didn’t really understand it, just like he didn’t really understand the anxiety clawing at his insides. He couldn’t sleep, not when closing his eyes meant imagining their bodies rotting slowly in the damp dirt or being eaten to the bone by bugs. Then his house was being packed up and sold by lawyers in grey suits who talked circles around him about trust funds and estate plans and Bruce Wayne, Tim’s Godfather, who was going to be his new legal guardian.
Everything Tim knew was turned upside down. It felt like overnight he had been cast in a movie, one where he had a father who he talked to everyday, a butler who he loved, and two older brothers who he thought were the coolest people in the world.
Dick Grayson-Wayne was thirteen and excited to have another sibling. Tim asked him a million questions about growing up in the circus, which would always devolve into Tim obnoxiously rambling about his favorite memory of seeing the Flying Graysons perform live. Tim followed him around everywhere and begged him to teach him gymnastics and in retrospect probably annoyed the shit out of him but Dick rarely let it show.
Jason Todd-Wayne was eleven and absolutely hated him.
Around Bruce, Alfred, and Dick he pretended to be nice, but when they were alone he called Tim names, pushed him around, and found creative ways to explain that they didn’t need him and never would.
Tim was happy, even still, the happiest he’d ever been. It didn’t matter if he struggled to adapt to Jason’s bullying, Alfred’s enforced bedtime, Bruce’s awkward attempts at grief counseling, and Dick’s occasional embarrassment when Tim tried to talk to him in front of his friends at school. None of that mattered, especially once June rolled around.
Bruce met his best friends, Clark and Lois, their freshman year of college, and since then they spent every summer together at the Wayne Beach House.
It was a stunning three story home nestled on a grassy hill. It had a sparkling view of the ocean, a stone’s throw from the sand. Wayne Manor, back in Gotham, was dark and vaguely haunted, which Tim appreciated in its own way. But the beach house was idyllic. Windows that stretched to the ceiling and welcomed the sunshine and salty air. The exterior was impressive, white and perfect as a postcard. The interior had been decorated by Bruce’s parents, and was thus perfectly preserved. It was a classic, elegant style, most rooms pulled together by a color, from sea foam green to navy blue. The kitchen had lots of plants, green cabinets, and an ocean view.
Tim spent every summer, since he was ten years old, at that house with his family and the Kents. He loved the Kents: Clark, Lois, Conner, and Jon. Conner was technically two years older than him, but his birthday was in December and Tim’s was in June so for six months they were only one year apart. Even still, by the time Tim joined the family, Conner had known Dick and Jason for years. He was already Dick’s best friend, even though Dick had a lot of best friends.
The summer Tim turned eighteen, Kon traded his glasses for contacts. It was like he was an entirely new person, or maybe it was coincidental timing that Tim finally saw Kon as his own person instead of just Dick’s best friend. It was the summer that changed everything, at least for Tim. At the end of August, he vowed to make next summer the one that changed everything, for both of them.
The first thing Dick did was jump in the pool. Damian joined him, followed immediately by Titus who was happy to doggy paddle around in circles. Jason left like five minutes after they got there, and Tim couldn’t help but speculate where he went. Maybe he matched with a local on Tinder during the drive.
Bruce was flying in tonight, some last minute work thing in Texas of all places. Alfred, as always, would be joining them in July.
This meant Tim was free to pace in the front parlor without anyone asking why he looked so damn nervous. He wanted to bite his nails so bad, but that would destroy the six months of hard work forcing himself to break his habit. Instead he twisted his hands together and paced toward the full length mirror in the entry way.
Hair check: middle part, every piece falling exactly where he wanted it to, looking shiny and silky, like a damn shampoo commercial. Fit check: Harry Styles inspired, a short sleeve silky button up, mainly black with a repeating red pattern (if you looked closely you could tell were strawberries) left unbuttoned over a tank top. The tank top was skin tight, hopefully showing off how much broader and toned he’d gotten the past year.
Tim moved closer to the mirror, examining his face. No pimples. No acne scars. His eyebrows were threaded, still thick and dark, but well maintained. He turned so he could study his side profile. His jawline had improved with his newfound devotion to fitness. His nose was a problem, and for the hundredth time he considered a nose job. The only thing holding him back was the relentless teasing he’d have to endure from his siblings. Another, quieter, part of him liked it because it looked just like his dad’s. He wasn’t sure he wanted to surgically remove one of the only reminders he had of his biological parents. He met his own eyes in the mirror, the same shade of blue they always were. They looked bright and clear, as they should since he’d gotten his sleep schedule sorted. He stuck out his tongue, pink and clean, and then heard a car door slam. Tim’s head snapped toward the door, and his heart rate skyrocketed.
The Kents were here.
He hurried to the backyard. Dick was floating on a rainbow raft, sunglasses on and white claw in hand. Damian was sitting on one of the ledges with Titus, who panted happily and wagged his tail under the surface.
“Jump in, Timbo,” Dick said, one hand behind his head, “The water’s perfect.”
“I don’t want to get my hair wet,” Tim said, because he was too distracted to invent a fake excuse. His mind was a constant loop of the Kents are here the Kents are here. He tried not to stare too obviously at the gate.
“Tt,” Damian narrowed his eyes, “Who are you trying to impress?”
“No one,” Tim said, meeting Damian’s gaze and trying to sound casual. The gate creaked, and Tim turned just in time to see Conner Kent walk into the backyard. Tim’s vision went white around the edges and Conner seemed to move in slow motion. His black tank top showed off his sculpted arms, which glowed golden in the sunlight. Daydreaming by Harry Styles started playing.
His hotness wasn’t only due to his symmetrical face, tan skin, or body that looked like it was designed in a lab by a team of horny scientists. It was more than his wind-swept wavy hair and square jaw. The hottest things about him weren’t obvious right away. It was the corners of his perfect mouth, always threatening to pull up in a smirk. It was the way his hands looked, strong and capable, wrapped around a drink or the handle of his motorcycle. It was the way he always made Tim feel included, pulling him into the conversation with questions or sharing a knowing look. When they made eye contact, Tim finally understood the phrase cult of personality. He would do anything to keep those eyes on him.
Give me all of your love, give me something to dream about, Harry Styles blasted through the speakers. Tim held his breath and waited for their eyes to meet. He’d been anticipating his reaction for weeks. Would he be surprised, shocked even? Would he grab him by the hand and drag him upstairs, alone, so he could whisper, when did you get so hot? Before trailing kisses down his neck.
Kon looked from Damian, to Tim, to Dick.
“What’s up, Waynes?” he asked with a blinding smile.
Tim was devastated.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” Dick said, “How was the drive?”
“It was alright. It would’ve been better with you in my sidecar.”
Kon shot him a finger gun.
Dick grinned and hopped off the float. They kept talking, but Tim stopped listening. He could only watch as Kon pulled off his tank top, revealing his glistening abs. For a moment, Tim had no thoughts, just one of his favorite daydreams of dropping to his knees and licking Kon’s abs until his head dropped back, and he begged him to pull off his swim trunks in a breathless, needy voice.
“Tim?”
Tim blinked and Kon was in front of him. He must’ve asked him something, but he had absolutely no idea what it could’ve been.
“He said he doesn’t want to get his hair wet,” Dick said to Kon.
“Clearly, this is about his pathetic crush on Stephanie Brown,” Damian explained.
“Shut up,” Tim glared at him.
“Dude, you have to make a move this summer,” Kon said, smiling at him in a way that made Tim want to dive to the bottom of the pool, hair be damned.
“Really?”
Kon looked at him like it was obvious.
“Yeah. She’d be crazy to turn you down.”
“Why?”
Tim knew he was pushing it. Dick and Damian were right there. If they suspected his feelings, he’d never hear the end of it. Damian already made fun of him relentlessly for the crush he had on Stephanie when he was fifteen. Dick would be “worried about him” but actually annoyed because Kon was his friend first and one of his biggest flaws was the way he twisted everything into a popularity contest.
But Kon walked into backyard and didn’t give his new and improved look a second glance. Tim wanted to push.
Kon looked away, but he was smiling. He looked back.
“Like you don’t know.”
“I don’t,” Tim said. He stepped closer, hoping Dick and Damian had stopped paying attention. Kon’s eyes were glued to his.
“You look different.”
“Different how?”
Kon huffed out a laugh and Tim wasn’t an adrenaline junkie but he could get addicted to this feeling. His heart was racing and heat spread low in his stomach. It was like tightrope walking over a volcano.
“I’m sure you heard all about it from freshmen girls,” Kon said, with a knowing smirk.
“I didn’t really talk to freshmen girls.”
Something shifted in Kon’s expression, but Tim couldn’t be sure what he was thinking. He would normally never say something so risky, but it could be interrupted in lots of ways. Maybe he was tongue tied around girls his age. Maybe he had a thing for older women. Tim studied him closely, for any sign he suspected he’d done most of his talking to freshmen boys.
Jason ran into the backyard, grabbed Tim, and started pushing him toward the pool. Kon jumped back, looking amused. Damian cheered him on, not because he was pro-Jason but because he was anti-Tim, and Titus seemed to perk up with all the noise. Tim tried to break free, and when that didn’t work, tried to become deadweight.
“Hey, Jason, knock it off,” Dick said, with a serious tone, as he walked through the water toward them.
“It’s fine, you can sunscreen him later,” Jason said, mockingly, pushing Tim even harder, just a few inches from the edge
“You’re such a jerk,” Tim kicked him in the knee and finally broke free.
“Conner, assist him,” Damian ordered.
Before any team-ups could happen, Tim hurried to the steps and calmly walked into the pool like a normal person. He waded in to his waist, keeping his hair a safe distance from the water. Damian rolled his eyes like Tim was the one being immature.
“Happy?” Tim snapped at Jason.
“Almost never,” Jason said. Kon looked concerned when he heard that, but then Jason turned to him, saying hi like his mental stability was totally fine. They started chatting. Dick swam toward Tim, who was standing on the steps with his arms crossed.
“If you don’t want to swim, you don’t have to,” Dick said, so only Tim could hear him.
Tim tensed. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about childhood trauma. This had nothing to do with the night Dick was referencing anyway, and the fact that he thought it did was embarrassing. He’d had gotten over that years ago.
“Obviously,” Tim said, and he hated how defensive he sounded.
“Just sayin’,” Dick said, switching to a light-hearted tone. He was changing the topic, being nice, but it still made his skin crawl. Maybe he was the one being unreasonable. Dick was too nice, Jason wasn’t nice enough, Damian was the worst in every conceivable way. Maybe his expectations were too high.
But also, he’d been having an interesting conversation with Kon until Jason ruined the vibes, Dick made him feel like a whiny kid, and Damian was just vaguely terrible. This was all their fault. He glanced toward Kon, who was standing alone, and already looking at him. Tim glanced away quickly, back to Dick who was floating on his back.
“What’s the plan for tonight?” Tim blurted the first question he could think of, worried that otherwise he’d start dissecting the degree of intensity in Kon’s gaze.
“Same old same old,” Dick said, like it was something to look forward to. “As soon as everyone’s here, we’ll have dinner at Dockside.”
“Great,” Tim said, thinking of the outfit he had ready for tonight. Dockside wasn’t a black tie place, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He might not have time to shower, but as long as his hair stayed dry that shouldn’t be a problem.
Jason cannon-balled into the pool, right between Tim and Dick. Dick ducked under the surface. Water hit Tim like a firehose, drenching his hair and shirt all the way through.
Jason popped up, with a sharp grin.
“Sorry,” Jason said, not sorry at all.
Tim’s hair dripped onto his shoulders and he blinked the salt water out of his eyes.
“You’re such a fucking asshole,” Tim said, so angry he splashed Jason hard. Jason just laughed, which was even more infuriating. Dick popped up next to him.
“Kon, can you pass a towel,” Dick said.
“I don’t need a towel,” Tim snapped, somehow even more annoyed. Dick really had a gift.
“Your hair looked stupid anyway,” Damian said, bored, and Tim swam to the bottom of the pool and pretended he was an only child.