Chapter Text
Kon expected to feel some great, overwhelming surge of emotion. Like the soundtrack of his life would crescendo into a thundering leitmotif that tied in a lifetime’s worth of significant but small moments.
It seemed like there should be a boiling anger at the injustice of the world, at the cruelty of being left in the dark for so long. Or surprise, maybe. Bone-deep shock at the revelation that his soulmate had been under his nose the whole time. He waited to run head first into a brick wall of fairy tale infatuation. It felt like a good time to start crying.
But the processing of his hunk-of-junk brain wasn’t sudden at all, or even all that intense. No, it all just made too much sense for that. It wasn’t surprising and he wasn’t angry and there wasn’t a fantastical notion of love-at-first-name.
Instead, Kon felt real. He was more aware than he’d ever been of the pores in his skin and the rubber of his boot soles and the lazy absurdity of life. Kon had always been a character, a hero, a figurehead, the personification of what a bunch of random people and he himself thought he should be. He was something less than natural, and certainly distant from normal, but standing there, wrist to wrist, during what was perhaps the most pivotal event of the rest of his life, Kon felt human in the most safe, satisfying way.
It was a little offensive to his more dramatic tendencies that his reaction was so subdued, but his more dramatic tendencies had done jackshit for his quality of life, so they could shut up.
He managed to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth to ask, “How long have you known?” His voice didn’t even have the decency to reflect the tension of the moment by being hoarse or shaky or anything.
“Pretty much since you came out of the tube,” Robin answered. Tim, actually. Robin-Tim. Tim-Robin. Timbin.
At some point, Robin-who-was-Tim-but-Kon-couldn’t-quite-wrap-his-head-around-that had gone back to cradling Kon’s wrist, but in his now-bare hand. The cold touch of his exposed fingertips was like a little butterfly beating its wings into a soft landing on his forearm.
“Why-” He stopped before the rest of the question could come out like an accusation. A dozen reasons why Robin would keep him in the dark came to mind, not the least of which was his own notable assholery.
“Why didn’t I tell you sooner?” Robin Tim followed anyway. Tim Tim Tim. Kon didn’t respond, so he kept going. “At first, it was a liability thing. You know how we are around here about our identities.”
That was one way to put it. The average nuclear bomb had less security than a Bat’s civilian identity.
“Then…” Tim’s face did something weird. “I don’t know. There always seemed to be a reason not to. You were with Tana, and all the way over in Hawaii, and there was the team to think about, and… you said that thing about not having a soulmate.”
Kon could’ve smacked himself. Tana’s memory was a still-tender bruise he mostly just tried not to poke at, but the fury and hopelessness he’d felt during her death was distant. He couldn’t remember half the things he’d said and done in his grief. That didn’t mean other people couldn’t, though. What had it been like in that moment, when Tim listened to his supposed other half announce that he didn’t have a soulmate at all?
“I didn’t mean that,” Kon said, then realized it was redundant. “I mean, I did, but I was wrong. For a long time, I just thought that my mark was put there by Cadmus. Then, a little while ago, I found out the truth, and that’s when I started looking for my- for you.”
"Oh." Tim's cheeks turned pink and it made something swoop in Kon's chest, like his heart was leaping out of the nest to take flight. "I wish I'd- if I'd known sooner, that you were looking for me, I'd've told you. Screw Batman."
A startled, breathless laugh jumped out of Kon's throat. "I can't believe Batman finally got us together. Oh my god, I can't believe Batman is my father-in-law." Holidays were gonna be weird.
Tim turned redder. "Okay, first of all, we're not married yet, so you don't have in laws."
Not yet, Kon thought to himself.
"Second of all," his soulmate continued, "Batman isn't my father?"
"Oh." Kon's brow furrowed. "I always kind of assumed he adopted you or something after your parents died."
"What?" Tim looked at him like he was crazy. Like the Bat Clan wasn't known for having the weirdest, most inexplicable family dynamics on the planet. And that was coming from a guy whose "parents" were a deranged scientist and Superman, both of whom mostly refused to acknowledge his existence. "I'm not an orphan," Tim went on, bewildered. "Actually, the people you saw earlier tonight, at the Drake Estate? That was my dad and stepmom."
Stepmom? Odd. Kon would've guessed Tim was related to the woman with the similar raven hair, athletic build, and Awooga Factor.
"So you have, like, a real family then." For some reason, that put a lump in Kon's throat. He really didn't have any family to introduce his soulmate to. He had his team, and Roxy and Dubbilex. Kara, maybe. No real family.
The corner of Tim's mouth twitched up. "Something like that." His thumb was swiping hypnotically back and forth over his own name on Kon's wrist. "My actual mom died a couple years ago. I wish you could've met her," he said, sad and soft. "And I don't have any grandparents or aunts and uncles or anything. I have Nightwing. He's basically my brother."
That's gonna be a freaky shovel talk, Kon mused.
And then it hit him. His soulmate. His best friend. The guy he laughed with and argued with and had been all over the galaxy with. It was kind of perfect. Maybe the universe knew what it was doing after all.
"Woah," he said, in awe of that. "I just realized you're my soulmate."
There was no mask in the way that time to hide the quirk of Tim's brow and the amused twinkle in his eye. "Took you a minute to figure that out?"
"No, I mean- like, my soulmate is Robin. That's so cool." Talk about bragging rights.
Tim gave him a wide, beautiful grin. "Oh yeah? Well, my soulmate has superpowers. Beat that."
"My soulmate is the prettiest guy I've ever seen," Kon shot back without thinking about it.
Tim went beet-red. He chewed on his lip, and that time, Kon understood exactly why it captured so much of his attention. "Is it too soon to ask if I can kiss you?" Tim ventured.
Kon's winged heart flapped enthusiastically around the inside of his chest, ready to burst from his body entirely. "'Too soon?'" he echoed, almost scoffing. "I'd say we have a lot of time to make up for."
And so they did.
"Woah! Slow down, champ! Somethin' chasing you?"
Tim stumbled to a slower pace, trying to effect an air of belated casualty as he crossed the living room. "Just, ah, wanna get my homework done, dad. So I can chill for the rest of the night."
Fortunately, his father didn't question his flimsy excuse, too absorbed by the model plane he was polishing at the coffee table. Dana, stretching on the floor, had a knowing look in her eye, but she was cool enough not to say anything about it. Not in front of his dad anyway.
"Just don't sprain another wrist, alright, bud?" his dad said, referencing the brace that had only recently come off after one of his 'skateboarding accidents.'
"You got it, boss!" Tim tossed over his shoulder, already wheeling up the staircase.
He kicked his bedroom door shut behind him, threw his schoolbag in the corner, and toed off his shoes before flopping onto his mattress, already hitting the starred contact in his phone.
His heart thudded at four times the speed of the ringing, anxious to get to the best part of his day. After several rings, a familiar click echoed from his phone's speaker, followed by an even more familiar friendly greeting.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Mrs. Kent," Tim said, tapping his toes against the duvet.
"Oh, Tim! How are you, dear?"
"I'm good, how are you?"
"Can't complain. I assume you're calling for Kon again?"
Tim was glad she couldn't see his blush through the phone. "Yeah."
"Wait just a minute, I'll fetch him for you."
Several long seconds of silence stretched over the receiver. Tim chewed at the inside of his cheek, turning onto his side so he could press his phone between his ear and pillow, freeing his hands to peel off his forearm wrap. Maybe, with the latest development, he wouldn't need it much longer. Not outside of the cape, anyway.
"Hey," a breathless voice came from the other end of the line.
Tim's cheeks stretched with a wide smile at the sound of his soulmate's voice. "Hey."
"What's up, buttercup?"
Tim fought back a giggle. He could just picture Kon leaning against the kitchen wall, twirling the landline cord around his finger, rebellious edges softened by a hand-me-down flannel and some Midwestern slang. "You tell me," Tim teased. "Anything you wanna share with the class, Mr. Kent?"
The new name shimmered on his wrist in the afternoon light bleeding through the curtains. Kon's Kryptonian name was still the dominant next, but the fainter Conner Kent seemed to hover over it. Almost like a holographic bookmark that showed different images depending on how it was angled. He hadn't shown it to anyone else yet, too nervous to share his changed mark, but he had a sneaking suspicion that only one of the names would be visible to another viewer at a time. Maybe his wrist would show Conner Kent while he was at school and Kon-El during patrols. Only time and research would tell.
"How'd you hear about that?" Kon asked. "Smallville High doesn't have a computer system for you to hack."
"Ha-ha," Tim drawled. "I didn't have to hear about it, goofus, it's on my arm."
"Oh!" Kon sounded surprised considering it was his name. "I didn't realize it was- I mean, yeah, I started school here last week and obviously I couldn't give them my real name, so Ma said Kon could be short for Conner and, like, of course I had to have the same last name as them. Well, I guess I didn't have to, but it just made the most sense. I didn't think it would- I mean, my name is still Kon-El."
"Oh, yeah, my mark still says Kon-El, it just also says Conner Kent now. It's weird. But in a good way! I'll show you next time you're here."
"Oh." Kon sounded relieved.
"Also," Tim said, "When did Mrs. Kent become Ma?"
"She keeps giving me this look, Rob. She threatened to revoke cookie rights if I didn't start calling her Ma."
Tim couldn't stifle his laughter at that. It was gratifying to know there was finally someone in his soulmate's life looking out for him. It had taken a lot longer than it should have, and Tim was sort of holding a grudge against Clark for that, but hearing about his soulmate getting some long overdue mothering was nice. It lessened the tightness in his chest that had lingered ever since Kon left Metropolis for amber pastures.
The move had been good for him, and sorely needed after Kon's apartment got totaled, but it sucked not being close enough to take the train to him anymore. Two hours by super-flight was enough for weekend visits, but not much more.
"So you're settling in alright then?" he couldn't help but ask.
"You don't have to worry about me, Rob," came Kon's fond response. "Kansas is boring, but the Kents are really nice and I've got plenty of big open skies to run around in. Plus, the food is a heck of a lot better than whatever I could scrounge up on my own."
Heck, Tim silently parroted to himself. All that parenting was really making a difference.
"And it's kinda nice," Kon went on, "You know, sharing a last name with real people. Ones who are alive."
He was joking, but Tim could tell it meant a lot to him; his whole entire soulmark wouldn't have changed if it didn't. He'd read all the way to the end of the singular web forum on dual mark names. There was a part of Kon, however deeply hidden, that had latched onto his new family and made it a part of his very being.
Tim traced the shimmering letters on his arm. With any luck, it would hold out a while longer without anymore heart-attack inducing changes. Not until they were older, at least. Then maybe it could say Conner Drake. Or Kent-Drake. Tim wasn't picky.
And maybe, in that distant future, Kon would get to see what it was like to have his mark turn into something else for a change, if he started going by Tim Drake-Kent. Or something like that.
"I'm glad," Tim said at last. "It's a good name. It suits you."