timkon; kon returns to their apartment after a long day.
The front door slamming shut startles Tim out of his typing. He cracks his knuckles, tilts his head right and left, wincing as his neck reminds him he's been bent over his laptop for hours.
"Yeah," he hears from the kitchen.
He doesn't hear a response, so turns back to the screen. Kon had class today, and sometimes dealing with all that sensory overload can put him in a mood. Or hangry. Most of the time, he heats up some leftovers and is back to his usual self in no time.
It's ten lines of code later that Tim feels a familiar, gentle pressure wrap around him. He glances up in time to see Kon shuffle into the bedroom, shucking off his hoodie.
His boyfriend stands there for a moment, rubbing at the space between his eyes. The pressure around Tim increases slightly, like a hug. Tim watches as Kon trudges his way over to the bed and flops facedown onto it. His TTK remains snug around Tim's body.
An arm hooks around Tim's middle, tugging him over slightly. Kon keeps his face buried even as he's curling in.
Tim rubs along Kon's shoulder. "Too loud?"
"Mnrgh," Kon says. "You can keep typing, it's okay. I've got... your heartbeat."
Tim squeezes Kon's shoulder once, then turns back to the laptop.
Sometimes Kon shuts down like this, too. It's tough being Super---Tim admits he gets jealous sometimes, watching his team zip around or bounce back from being tossed into a wall, when it takes Tim six to eight months recovery from a broken limb. But he's watched Kon throw himself in front of too many bullets and missiles and alien weapons because his Kryptonian DNA has a higher chance of surviving the hit. And he's seen Kon suffering from migraines where no man-made medicine could help.
Kon told him once, that he can pick out Tim's heartbeat from among a crowd, from cities away. That sometimes, when the world starts to get overwhelming, he closes his eyes and listens.
Tim still hasn't recovered from that one.
"Hm?" Tim jumps back to correct a typo. "I'm writing a bot to wreak some havoc into Luthercorp's offshore accounts."
"Ha! True." Kon slips his hand under Tim's sweater. His TTK has been kneading Tim's shoulders for the past few minutes.
Tim hits enter, and then closes the laptop. He runs a hand through Kon's hair. The TTK runs over his body in return, and Kon hugs him closer. Tossing the laptop to the side, Tim slides until he's also horizontal. He wraps both arms around his boyfriend, pressing his ear against his chest.
"Okay." Tim tucks his head under Kon's chin, smiling when he feels the invisible force smooth over his hair. He closes his eyes, and listens.
