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What a Hunk (Of Rock)

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Tim was sat at his desk, digging through case file after case file with his dual monitors glowing in front of him.  He’d been up for hours, downing coffee after coffee.  Tim needed to flesh out these leads for Dick and Jason, the case had been stalled for days when their last lead kamikazed himself.  Dick and Jason were counting on him.  He needed—

He startled at the tap on his balcony door.  Mostly because he was ten stories up and his balcony was the only one on this side of the building.  And because it might have been a hallucination given that he hadn’t slept in a while.  But no, when Tim pushed off his desk, he found Kon swaying on his balcony.   Brows furrowed, Tim slid his balcony door open, squinting in the city lights darkness.

“Conner?” Tim said, voice raspy from disuse.  “What are you—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish when Kon stumbled, and nearly planted face first on the concrete.  Luckily, Tim was quick enough to catch him, straining beneath the heavy, packed muscle lining his friend’s body.  Where he’d stood, a pool of blood had congregated, and whatever wound he’d sustained now leaked onto Tim’s clothes.

“Shit,” he breathed, dragging Kon’s limp body inside.  “Conner.  Kon, can you hear me?”

Tim got a sustained groan as a reply as he dumped Kon onto his large coffee table.  With nothing much else to go on, Tim began to strip off Kon’s leather jacket, his T-shirt.  Tim swallowed at the cut lines of muscle along Kon’s arms, chest.  There was no wound, nothing actively bleeding, not even a blood trail.  Kon’s eyes were closed, brows furrowed as his head fell from side to side.

“Kon, can you hear me?” Tim repeated, palpating to feel any broken bones, damaged tissue.  But it followed that an impervious meta human wouldn’t have any wounds, any breaks.  So then why was he non-responsive?  And what the fuck was that pool of blood on his porch?  Kon still did not reply, groaning some more when Tim peeled back his eyelids.  He found wide blown pupils, no flinch response.  Well, shit.

Tim moved to strip off the rest of Kon’s clothes, unbuckled his belt, tore off his boots and jeans.  There.  A huge chunk of luminescent kryptonite stick out the side of Kon’s thigh.  Ouch.  Tim rushed to his bathroom, pulling out the med kit he had stashed.  He snapped on gloves on his way back to Kon.  On his knees next to the coffee table, eyes level with the hunk of rock, Tim grimaced.

“This is going to hurt.”

Bracing a hand on Kon’s thigh, Tim yanked the kryptonite out of his skin.  Kon jolted, screaming in a voice so deep and loud it rattled Tim’s bones.  Horror dawned as the rock kept coming and coming, a sick sucking sound grating his ears as the accelerated healing pulled at the rock.  Kon kept screaming, thrashing on the table, all reflex.  Tim had to set his weight in his haunches, and use his body weight to keep pulling the thing out.  It took a full thirty seconds to dislodge the rock, almost the entire length of Tim’s forearm by the time he managed to pry it out of Kon’s thigh.  With a pop, the kryptonite finally came out and Tim fell back on his ass, sweating just a little.

Kon went limp with a moan.

Tim laid there for a second, staring at his ceiling as he regained his breath.  He peeled off the glove, the kryptonite sitting harmlessly on his floor.

“Tim,” Kon moaned, yanking Tim straight off the floor and back onto his knees.  Tim’s hands were on Kon’s face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw.

“I’m here,” Tim replied, watching as Kon’s eyes slowly opened, glittering turquoise eyes staring up at him.

Kon chuckled, but his focus re-centered on the hole in Kon’s thigh.

His wound wasn’t closing very quickly, leaving a massive hole almost the size of Kon’s entire thigh.  Actively pouring blood onto Tim’s tile floor.  Raw tissue and muscle and even bone were exposed.  Panic jolted through Tim’s body as he threw open the medical kit beside him.  Tim watched the wound from the corner of his eye, pulling out new gloves, supplies for sterilization, packing, stitching, and dressing.  But the wound was so huge, he didn’t know how much he could do.  The very corners of it were slowly knitting back together, the exposed bone once again covered with tissue.

Fuck.

“Kon.  Conner, can you hear me?”  Tim’s voice was tight as he wrapped fabric around the top of Kon’s thigh, stuck a small pipe in it and turned.  Turned and turned until the tourniquet was tight and the bleeding was minimal.  Lessening every moment as Kon continued to heal extremely slow.

“Yeah,” he groaned.

“Keep talking to me.  Do this hurt?  Describe it.”

Tim went to work sterilizing the edges of the massive wound, a wound that would have killed a human in seconds.  Flushed the inside with saline and antiseptic.

“It really hurts.”

The wound was healing quickly enough that if Tim packed the wound, any packing gauze he used might get resorbed into Kon’s body.  And who knew what that would do.  So, he set his sights on cleaning, stitching, and dressing.  Even with his heart in his throat.  Kon clearly wasn’t going to die, not with the blood supply cut off and the wound healing on its own.

“Keep going,” Tim demanded, pulling out sterile suture, a pile of growing bloody rags beside him.

“It feels like somenone ripped out my bone,” Kon slurred.  His head fell to the side, blue eyes narrowing on Tim and his needle and his needle driver.  “What is that?

Tim didn’t look at him, focusing on drawing together what edges of skin he could.  He needed to close the wound, seal it from infection and debris while it healed on its own.  Why was it iso fucking slow?

“Stay still,” Tim demanded before threading the needle and suture line through the edges of Kon’s skin, going for a continuous surgeon’s stitch.  Nothing fancy since the wound would close on its own in a few hours by Tim’s estimations.

Kon hissed, leg twitching but he didn’t pull away.  Stayed frozen for the approximately fifteen minutes it took for Tim to close the gaping wound completely.  He went through three packs of sutures to do it, but it was done.  Wiping the sweat from his brow, Tim set aside his needle drivers, pulled up another rag to dab at the blood and dirt around Kon’s thigh.  When Tim was satisfied with his work, he peeled off his gloves and leaned against Kon’s hip, trying to even out his breathing, settle his heartbeat.

“Tim,” Kon moaned.  Tim lifted his head, eyes heavy, but he found Kon’s face.  It was drained, pale but there was still some life in his eyes.

“I’m still here,” Tim sighed, and noticed Kon’s pupils were still wide as saucers.  Tim rose onto his knees, assessing.

It didn’t stop Kon’s strong hands from running up Tim’s arm, inhumanly strong fingers gripping, tugging him down on top of Kon’s warm body.

“You got me,” he lilted, grin plastered on his face.

Tim tried to ignore the shiver from Kon’s breath against his throat, the feeling of Kon’s bare chest on his shoulders, exposed by his tank top.  Tim was tired, drained for wound triage and the scare that Kon could have very easily died.  And Kon was warm, safe.  Holding him like he was the best thing in Kon’s world.

“I knew you’d shlave me.”  Kon inhaled deeply, nose grazing the column of Tim’s throat.  And he couldn’t move if he wanted to, pinned beneath one meta arm.  Tim closed his eyes for a moment, relishing Kon’s arms around him.

“Kon,” Tim said, hands planted on either side of him on the table.  “What happened?”

Kon frowned against Tim’s neck, tongue flicking out to taste his skin.  “Some upstart,” Kon slurred, his other arm circling around Tim’s waist to haul him onto the table with him.  Tim flushed as it put his thighs straddling Kon’s hips, with nothing but two pairs of briefs between them.  “Krypth—thrypkon—kyrp— that green rock needle.  Shot me up with smomthing.”

“Wow,” Tim breathed against Kon’s shoulder, trying really hard to keep his hormones in check.  Any other day, he’d let Kon jump him, but having just pulled out a kryptonite rock the size of his head and sewing up the wound, there were more important things to attend to.  “Okay, do you know what—Kon!”

Kon had managed to wriggle a hand between them, palmed Tim’s crotch teasingly.

“You smell so good,” Kon groaned.  A powerful roll of Kon’s hips had Tim growing hard, heat rising to his cheeks.  He tried pulling at Kon’s arms, but they might as well have been steel beams.  No moving.  Kon’s teeth nipped his throat.  “Want you so bad.”

“That’s nice, babe, but I need to run some tests first,” Tim choked, blinking back tears when Kon’s hand slipped from over his briefs into them.  He really wanted to just let it happen.  It would help him unwind.  But his clothes were stained with Kon’s blood, there were multiple pools of blood in his apartment.  “Conner,” Tim said sternly, even as his own hips jerked in response.  “You need to let me up.”

“Mmm, don’t wanna,” he slurred, dragging his tongue from neck to ear, slow enough that it had Tim’s breath stuttering.

“We can—we can do whatever you want in a minute, but you have to let me up first,” Tim coaxed, eyes squeezing shut as Kon’s fist stroked him once.

Kon groaned, bratty.  “But you’re al-leady here now.”  Kon bucked his hips, grinding his own surprising hard-on against Tim’s.

“Babe,” Tim breathed.  “You’re drugged.”  He pressed his forehead against Kon’s shoulder, really wanting to continue.  Kon always knew how to play him like a fiddle, catch all the right spots, but Tim needed to test his blood.  Make sure whatever was in Kon’s blood wasn’t going to kill him.  Loathe as he was to say it, Tim did.  “Kon, stop.”

Kon immediately withdrew his hands, grip falling away until Tim could sit up.  Panting down at Kon’s veritable pout, Tim tucked himself back into his briefs.  He tunneled his fingers through his disheveled hair, blowing out a slow breath.

“Stay,” Tim ordered, sliding off of Kon’s prone form, trying his best to ignore the straining tent in his and Kon’s underwear.

Dating a Kryptonian for an extended period of time led one to keep more Kryptonian oriented tech.  Or, at least it drove Tim to.  He pulled out the set of kryptonite lined needles from his secure lock box, getting a new pair of gloves on his hands.

“Tim,” Kon shouted, spurring Tim to bolt back into the living room with his needles and syringes and gloves.

“What?  What happened?  Are you okay?”  Tim rushed over to where Kon was still prone on his coffee table, no longer leaking blood.  A grin plastered on his face.

“Missed you, sexy,” Kon purred, wrapping a hand around Tim’s calf to pull him closer.

Tim scoffed, satisfied that Kon was just a horny, drugged idiot and wasn’t dying.  “Dumbass,” Tim said fondly, kneeling back down.

“Mmm, your dumbass,” Kon giggled, leaning onto his side but Tim gave him a sideways look.  Kon obediently returned to lying on his back.  Meticulously, Tim swabbed the crook of Kon’s elbow with alcohol before uncapping a kryptonite needle and inserting it into Kon’s vein with a little resistance.

“Ow,” Kon chuckled, his smile still wide.

“Hush,” Tim ordered, more playful than anything.  Tim drew out two vials of blood to walk over to his computer set up.  He had to rummage around a bit to find the blood analyzer to plug in, but he found it, inserted the samples and set the program to run.  Returning to the coffee table and his drugged boyfriend with a glass of water, Tim shoved it into Kon’s hands.

“Drink.”

The glass was empty in five seconds, Tim returned with a second glass which Kon downed too.  Tim crossed his arms, assessing Kon’s state.

“Do you think you can tell me more about what happened?  Who attacked you?”

Kon giggled, swiping at Tim’s leg.  “They were wearing br—black.”

“Very helpful.  Anything else?”

Kon sat up just enough to pull his shoulders from the table, frowning.  “They shot me with kryptonite,” he said, like a child who’d been hit for no reason.  “It hurt.”

“I’m sure it did.”  Tim still needed to do something with that huge chunk of rock.  Should probably call Bruce or Clark to do something with it.  One of the Leaguers.  Right now, though, he needed to make sure Kon wasn’t going to die.  But judging from the drunk giddiness and Kon’s own guess that what’s in his blood is liquidized kryptonite doesn’t put death at the top of the list for side effects.

The symptoms to hold those spots right now were horniness and reduced inhibitions.

“How do you feel?  Light-headed, nauseous, achy, anything?”

Kon laid back down with a smack.  “I’m hot,” he stated.  “Everything keeps moving.”  His wandering blue gaze centered on Tim’s scrutinizing face.  “I want you.”

Feeling generous, Tim traced his fingers along Kon’s cheekbone, heart fluttering as Kon’s eyes closed and he leaned into the touch.

“In a little bit,” Tim promised, hearing the beep of the analyzer finishing.  Reluctantly, Tim left Kon once more with a whine chasing after him to read the results.  It was two in the morning, so his best bet was going to be Bruce.  While he skimmed through the results, he called Bruce on his secure line, guessing the Bat was probably out on patrol.

The line clicked after two rings.

“Yes?”

“I currently have a drugged Kryptonian on my coffee table with a considerable amount of liquidized kryptonite, narcotics, SSRI’s, and a few other unidentified compounds running through his blood.  And a hunk of kryptonite the size of my head that he had lodged in his leg,” Tim replied, frowning at the results.  Why the fuck would someone dose a meta like Kon with antidepressants?

“Which one?”  Bruce sounded more exhausted than anything.

“Conner.”

“Judging by the tone in your voice I’m guessing he’s not in any immediate danger?”

“No, the kryptonite’s potency was significantly compromised by mixing it with the other compounds.  He’s really out of it.  Lost a high volume of blood too.”  Tim glanced back at Kon, who was now waving his arms straight above him like he was shooing butterflies.  “Really out of it.”

“Antidote?”

“From what I can tell, time.”

Bruce sighed on the other line.  “I’ll send Robin over to pick up the Kryptonite.  Take it back to the Cave.”

Tim closed out the results on his screen, saving them in a file titled ‘Sunshine.’

“Tell him to bring a UV light too.”

“Copy.  Do you know what happened to him?”

“Honestly,” Tim said, leaning back on his desk, communicator against his ear, “I have absolutely no idea.  I could only get out that they were wearing black and dosed him.  Shot him with the kryptonite chunk.  Like I said, Bat, there’s not much I can get out of him.”

“All right, Robin will be there shortly.  Are you all right?” Bruce asked after a brief pause.

“Yeah, just got blood on my clothes.”

“Good, good.  I’ll speak with you tomorrow then.”

“Speak with you tomorrow.”

Tim cut the line, setting his communicator down.  He stayed pressed against his desk for a long moment, watching Kon flail his arms before letting them thunk back down.  Tim was lucky his coffee table was substantial.

“Kon,” Tim called, pushing off his desk to stand at his boyfriend’s feet.  At attention, Kon pushed up on his elbows, blown eyes fixated on Tim’s lean form.  “Do you think you can stand?”

Kon lurched onto his feet the instant the words left Tim’s mouth, leaving him towering over Tim, weight heavily leaning on his left.  Kon swayed on his feet, having to move one foot or another to catch himself, but he stood well enough.

“We’re going to go wash up, okay?” Tim prodded, reaching out an arm for Kon to latch on to.

Kon’s face lit up, fingers tightening on Tim’s arm.  “Are you coming?”

Tim snorted.  “Yeah, I’m showering too.  Come on.”

It was a slow, stumbling affair but Tim managed to get Kon into his shower after wrapping the bandaged in plastic.  The man was very handsy as Tim stripped as well, removing the blood crusted fabric.

“Ah, ah.  Wash first.  Then fun, okay?”  Kon went back to pouting after that, letting Tim inspect the wound site.  No redness or overt heat to indicate infection, at least around the edges of the bandages.  The bleeding out had probably done him some good to flush out the drugs.  Crouched in front of Kon, examining his leg for any remnant debris, infection, or anything, Tim didn’t notice Kon getting fidgety.  Not until he whined.

Tim.”  Tim looked up, wiping away the spray of warm water careening over Kon’s shoulders.  He couldn’t miss the very plain erection between Kon’s legs.

“Oh hush,” Tim said, standing to grab his wash rag and soap.  As he scrubbed Kon down, not trusting his balance enough to let Kon do it on his own. He looked for any other clues as to what happened. But there was only some rubble and dirt, draining brown with the water.  All the blood was scrubbed from both of them, turning the water crimson before Tim shut off the shower.

By the time Tim had dried himself and wrapped a towel around his waist, Kon was significantly less of a bubbly drunk.

“I don’t feel good,” Kon whispered, sitting on the edge of the counter as Tim dried him off.

“I know,” Tim said, bracketed between Kon’s thighs.  Laying the towel out on Kon’s lap, Tim leaned forward to press a kiss against his cheek, letting the meta press his head into the crook of Tim’s shoulder.  “It’ll be over soon.  Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

A low rumble started in Kon’s chest at the mention of bed, nose grazing Tim’s throat, but Tim urged Kon onto his feet and helped him limp to Tim’s ill-used bed.  Still made up nice and neat from the last time he’d used it.  Kon tumbled down onto the bed, damp head of hair buried in Tim’s pillows.  While Kon settled, Tim dressed in compression shorts and a loose t-shirt.  Tim didn’t particularly want to put any clothes on Kon just in case his wound reopened and spurted more blood.

He groaned—there were still two massive pools of Kryptonian blood that he needed to clean. 

“Kon,” Tim called, watching Kon’s breathing as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove the plastic wrap and duct tape.  Kon hummed, back arching when Tim’s hands brushed under his towel to peel back the wrappings.  “Give me a status report, how are you feeling?”

Tim felt Kon’s fingers play over the skin of his arm, but Tim’s attention was on the bandages, the light bleeding staining the white fabric.

“Feels m’ head’s gonna fall off,” he mumbled.

“What else?” Tim asked, palpating the edges of the wound from memory.  Just a tad more solid skin and muscle now.  Kon whined.

“Leg burns.”

“Can you flex your thigh?” Tim questioned, aware of the supplicating fingers running along his arm, trying to draw him up.  But Kon’s muscles contracted beneath Tim’s palm, weakly but solid.  “Good.”  Kon moaned quietly.  “I’m going to get you some water and clean up.”

As soon as Tim tried to stand, Kon’s hand clamped down on Tim’s arm, drawing him back.

“What is it?” Tim’s quiet, searching Kon’s scrunched face.  It’s flush with color now at least, a good sign of blood restoration.  His dark brows were knit together.  “Is something getting worse, Kon?  Are you okay?”

“Stay,” Kon whined.

Tim’s shoulders relaxed, having been scared that something had taken a turn for the worse.  But Kon was always tactile, sober and chipper, he loved touching, holding, pressing.  It made sense that drunk and drugged and sick and injured he would want contact.

“I have to go take care of a few things first.  I’ll be back, I promise, okay?  Try to take a nap.”

Kon frowned but he let Tim go this time after he stuffed a pillow beneath Kon’s knee, pulling a throw from his closet to wrap around his chest. With the massive amount of blood loss, Tim was surprised that Kon was still running as warm as he was.

Damian arrived just as Tim had finished mopping up the second pool of blood on his balcony.  He’d cleaned up his coffee table and living room, thrown away all the rags into a biohazard container that Tim would take back to the Cave later for further analysis.  Perched on the edge of Tim’s balcony, Damian was in his Robin costume and looked quite unhappy to have been called off patrol.

“Drake,” he said, swinging onto his feet.

“Damian.”  Tim turned, not bothering to check if his little brother followed to where the hunk of rock sat on his coffee table.

“Where’s your boy toy?” Damian questioned, circling the rock.  He manifested a case for the rock, lead lined no doubt, from somewhere.

“He’s not my toy, Damian,” Tim snapped, watching Damian drop the rock into his case.  “He’s resting.”

“I am guessing he is not dying.”  Damian snapped the lid shut.

“He’s stable, but the wound is slow healing and he has kryptonite compound in his blood.”

“And the kryptonite was embedded in his leg?”

“Yes, major blood loss.  Huge wound.”

Damian sniffed.  “Obviously, I can still smell the copper in the air.”

Tim scowled.  “Did you bring the light?”

Damian produced a long bar with a switch on the end.  Gave it to Tim. “Goodnight, Drake.”

Tim rolled his eyes as Damian disappeared back off his balcony.  “Whatever.”  Tim locked his balcony doors and pulled the curtains, back and knees hurting as he grabbed his laptop and shuffled back to his bedroom.

Kon seemed to be unconscious, sprawled on Tim’s bed with his hair sprayed across his forehead.  Tim set his laptop and the light down, climbing on the bed.  He kneeled beside Kon, leaning over to take his pulse, check his breathing, but arms of steel lashed out and yanked Tim down on top of him.  It’s not in Tim to resist this time.

He lets Kon lay him out on top of him, squirming until the throw is covering Tim’s back.

“Hi,” Tim groaned, shifting to flatten his cheek against Kon’s chest.  “How are you feeling?”

Kon’s hands ran up the length of Tim’s back, pushing up his shirt.  “Just wanna hold you.”

Tim smiled.  “I still have work to do.”

“Mm-mn,” Kon hummed, arms tightening.  Yeah there was no getting out of a Kryptonian’s hold.  Tim was tired enough that he wasn’t going to fight it.  Not when Kon was warm and gentle and his large hands were tracing circles on his skin.  It felt really nice.  Kon breathed against Tim’s throat, shivering Tim’s nerves.  His legs were stretched out between Kon’s, long and muscled.  “You smell good.”

“You smell good too,” Tim whispered, sighing as his body settled in.  He hadn’t seen Kon for weeks, had been sorely missing the super’s touch.  A lot more than his touch.

“What’s the verdict, Dr. Tim?”  Kon was pronouncing more clearly now.  A good sign.

“It’d be better if you let me use the UV light on you.”

Kon breathed in deeply, fingernails scraping along the nape of Tim’s neck.  “Do you have to go anywhere?”

Tim chuckled.  “Is my staying really worth your health?”  Kon didn’t answer and Tim rolled his eyes.  “No, I don’t have to go anywhere.  But you need to let me up.”

Exasperated, Kon sighed, but his arms fell away.  The drowsiness now settling over Tim made leaning over to grab the UV light extra hard.  Exchanging his knees over Kon’s waist so he was straddled over his hips, facing Kon’s bare feet was even harder.  His eyes closed when Kon’s hands planted on his ass, massaged the sore muscles.

“You’re not helping,” Tim grumbled but made no move to stop him.  With a breath, Tim gently pulled away the bandaging around Kon’s thigh, noting the slight twitches and flexes as he did.  The wound was pink, but more solid than it had been an hour ago.  Indicating the flesh and tissue were filling in beneath.  “At least drink some more water while I’m doing this.”

Tim switched on the light, listening for the clink of glass from the nightstand.  Scolded Kon when he didn’t, and then heard the sullen picking up of a glass.  Tim ran the light up and down Kon’s thigh for about ten minutes, appreciating the long touches Kon left along his back.

“Feeling better?” Tim asked, flicking off the light and setting it on the bedside table.  The moment he re-wrapped the bandages, Tim was bodily pulled onto his back, flush with Kon’s chest from hip to shoulder.

“Much,” Kon rumbled, dragging his tongue the shell of Tim’s ear.  Kon’s large hands swept up Tim’s stomach, rumpling his shirt further until it was pushed up to his shoulders.  His palms splayed over Tim’s chest, idly squeezing.  Tim stretched like a cat, feeling the tiredness set back in.  He still wanted to finish fleshing out those leads but…

Tim had missed Kon more, missed the hard muscles, the endless touching, the massaging, the kisses and the deep timbre of his voice.  He rolled off Kon, only to tuck himself into his side, pulling the throw back over them, this time fully extending it down to his super’s toes.  Kon’s arm curled around him as Tim tucked his nose into Kon’s shoulder.

“If I’m going to sleep instead of work, you have to promise not to die,” Tim jibbed. 

Kon nosed the top of Tim’s head, inhaling deeply as though to take Tim’s scent deep into his body.  “Deal.”

Tim hummed, eyes closing as he curled up against Kon’s warm side.  “I missed you,” he murmured.

“Missed you too.”  Kon’s muscles were settling around Tim, energy draining away, hopefully with the drugs in his system.

“Thanks for not dying.”

“Anything for you, babe,” Kon whispered.

Tim fell asleep surrounded by the scent of his not dead boyfriend.