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While Gotham was quieter at three in the morning, it was never a proper lull. Because like himself, the city didn't know how to sleep. Be it through the drunkards stumbling home with laughter loud enough that it could compete against the thunder that only passed an hour ago, or through the steady line of cars that raced through the rain slicked streets.
"Staring at nothing again?"
The voice came from behind, but Tim didn't startle nor turn. He didn't need to see the face to know who that voice belonged to.
"It's not nothing. It's surveillance and pattern recognition."
A soft thud followed those words as Kon-El struck his landing and moved to stand behind him. With the chill that came every night in Gotham regardless of the season, the warmth that radiated off the other hero was undeniable as he moved close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed.
"Uh-huh," Kon said. "And what's the pattern tonight?"
Tim exhaled slowly, his eyes still scanning the city below. "Three robberies in the Narrows. Same entry points and timing window. They're testing response times."
Kon tilted his head in consideration. "So…not random."
"Nothing's random."
There was a pause as Kon shifted his weight so he now leaned back, an action that would've caused any regular person to tumble backwards, but he simply held himself there with seemingly no effort at all.
"You've been up for what, thirty hours?"
"Twenty-six." Tim corrected.
"Wow. Much better."
Tim huffed something that might've been a laugh, but it didn't harbor that same warmth that gradually bled into his eyes. The silence that followed afterwards had him turning to take in Kon's expression, and while there was certainly the ever present amusement there, there was also concern that had his throat tightening in defense.
"I'm fine."
Kon raised a brow. "You say that like it's supposed to convince me."
"It's supposed to be true."
"Those are not the same thing, genius."
Tim looked away again. It was easier to avoid this unwanted confrontation this way. Here he could focus on the blur of the city and focus on what was predictable rather than the complicated, tight knot forming behind his ribs.
Kon didn't push him right away, but that was typical. For all his impulsiveness, he had a surprising instinct for when to wait and give someone their space. Especially those he had known for as long as he had known Tim. But after a minute passed in silence, then two, he broke it softly.
"What's actually going on?"
Tim hesitated, and that was more than enough for an answer.
Kon released a soft breath and moved the last distance so their shoulders bumped. But he didn't draw away afterwards. Instead he let it continue to press against him so their warmth and presence bled between them.
"You don't have to do the whole, 'I can handle it alone' thing, "Kon murmured. "I mean, you can. You're very good at that. Gold star. You and Bruce could compete for that shining crown, but you don't have to."
Tim swallowed as the words he wanted and should say sat heavy in his throat. Neither wanting to go back down to their wallowing pit, nor come out in a confession.
"It's just…" He trailed off, frustrated, then tried again. "If I stop—if I miss something—"
"You won't." Kon cut in gently.
"I could."
"Tim."
There was something in the way Kon said his name—firm but not sharp—that stole Tim's attention away from the city and back to him. Kon was watching him fully now, close enough that Tim could count each hair, with his blue eyes steady and lacking that teasing lift that seemed to be etched into his very being.
"You're allowed to not be everywhere at once," Kon continued. "You're human."
Tim released a quiet, humorless huff of laughter. "Debatable according to some of my siblings, and the team."
"Yeah, well, they're wrong," Kon nudged his shoulder again, only this time it was paired with his signature grin. "You're human, which means you get limits. And sleep. And food. And breaks occasionally, if I have anything to say about it."
Tim shook his head, but there was less resistance in it now. "There's too much going on."
"There's always too much going on," Kon replied simply. "That's kind of the gig."
"That doesn't mean I can just…step back."
"I didn't say to step back forever," Kon corrected. "I said to breathe and to get some rest before you collapse."
When Tim simply continued to stare at him without saying a word on that declaration, Kon decided to continue.
"You trust me?"
"Of course I do." Tim said immediately, lacking any of the hesitancy that had plagued him just minutes ago.
"Cool," Kon said like that settled everything. "Then trust me when I say that the city won't fall apart if you take one night to not run yourself into the ground."
Tim hesitated again, but it felt different this time. It was less defensive and more…uncertain. Tim prided himself in having a plan for everything, so uncertainty was a rare occurrence. So now that it was faced before him, he didn't know how to approach it.
Kon softened just a fraction more. "You don't have to carry all of it alone."
Tim looked down at the streetlights, where the lights stood out like beacons among the moving blurs of cars. This city was an endless, inticrate system that he had spent years trying to understand and protect.
"I know that…" he said quietly.
"Knowing and acting on it are again, not the same thing."
Tim huffed. "You're incredibly annoying."
"I've been told that's part of my effortless charm."
"I can assure you that's not what they meant."
"Were you there? No, don't think so." Kon grinned, the gesture bright enough that Tim felt he would need to shield his eyes. But ti was enough to melt away some of the tension that had been clinging to his shoulders for who knew how long.
"Come on. Just a couple of hours. We keep an ear out, maybe snag a bite to eat. I may have a couple of candy bars tucked away that I may also be persuaded to share with a dear friend of mine. Then we rest a little. If something big happens, we go and handle it. Deal?"
Tim considered it. The part of his brain that cataloged risks and contingencies immediately began to list reasons to say no. There would be gaps in coverage. Risks in civilian and team safety. Who was to say that a target wouldn't come out of hiding as soon as he lowered his guard enough to rest?
What if there was a casualty that could've been prevented had he just stayed at his post?
But through those racing thoughts was a quieter thought that was growing increasingly difficult to ignore. It was the undeniable fact that he was exhausted…and starving. Just the mention of having a bite to eat caused his stomach to rumble unintentionally.
And Kon was there, as steady and patient as ever, offering him an out he still didn't quite know how to take.
"Milky Way or Payday?"
"I think you know the answer to that already. Milky Way. Duh."
Tim was silent for a beat longer, then he spoke again.
"Two hours, and no bed."
Kon's grin spread further. "Three hours and my shoulder."
"Two and a half and I'll debate the shoulder."
"Two hours and forty-five minutes and I'll toss in a breakfast sandwich from Sheldon's tomorrow. Completely on me."
"But—"
"Tim," Kon interrupted, already laughing. "You're negotiating a nap."
"It's a strategic withdrawal."
"Sure it is."
Tim rolled his eyes behind his mask, but there was a genuine hint of a smile now.
With a grunt, Kon moved to sit on the ledge beside Tim, putting him at level with his hip. He stretched for a moment, working away kinks that were certainly only there for show, before catching Tim's wrist and guiding him down.
Tim allowed himself to be guided down beside him with no more than a slight grumble of protest, that like Kon's previous actions, it was more for show as well.
Their shoulders were pressed against one another, and not a moment later did Tim's head fall against his shoulder. An action that would certainly earn a bout of teasing the following day, but for now it had an arm snaking around his waist.
Tomorrow, they would talk. But for now, for the first time in longer than he cared to admit, Tim let himself rest.