Disclaimer: I still don't own Young Justice
Xxx
There's an extremely tense moment when Kaldur touches Conner's face. It's nothing long-lasting, but it's enough to leave an impression because when Kaldur pulls his fingers away, his fingertips glisten with foundation.
(No! I thought I washed it all off!)
Kaldur had walked into the bathroom where Conner was just about ready to step into the shower, and just before he had dropped his towel, (Conner hadn't been paying attention to how tiny the towel was; rather, he was trying to not stare at Kaldur's rippling muscles and bronze skin) he had tilted his head a fraction of an inch and had walked over to Conner. Without saying a word or twitching a muscle, face as serene (and beautiful and soft and lovely and oh god those eyes those pale green eyes) as ever, he had touched Conner's face with the softest of touches, and now the evidence of Conner Kent was smeared on Kaldur's fingers.
The Mountain is quiet except for Conner's heavy breathing. Somewhere Artemis and M'gann were training; Wally was probably stuffing his face in the kitchen, and Robin had gone with Batman on patrol.
"What is this?" Kaldur's voice isn't mocking or bitter. Rather, it's full of genuine curiosity, like a child that had seen a caterpillar crawling across a leaf.
"Foundation." Conner told the truth because he couldn't think of a lie.
Kaldur made a soft humming noise and rubbed his fingertips together. "What is it for?"
"You mean you don't know?"
"No. Such a product does not exist in Shayeris or Atlantis."
"People use it cover their faces when they have blemishes." Conner had swallowed when the word women had threatened to spill out.
"But you have no blemishes."
". . . I know."
"Then why do you use it?"
No mockery or disgust, just genuine curiosity.
"Because it makes me feel like me."
"But you are who you are, Conner."
"No, I'm not."
He had left before Kaldur could speak again.
Xxx
Conner tries not to think about Kaldur's fingers as he pulls a shirt down over his head. He tries not think about how the cool fabric had felt like Kaldur's fingertips—the phantom sensation of wetness running down his cheeks, chest and arms; tries not to think about how Kaldur had stared at him with such soft eyes as he pulls on his boots and trails his fingers up his legs; tries to not think about Kaldur kissing his neck and touching the exposed flesh as he dabs the faintest traces of flowery perfume on his skin; tries not to think about Kaldur kissing his lips and tasting his lipstick as the red paint glistens on his full lips; tries not to think about Kaldur whispering in his ear lines of poetry that talked about beauty.
And yet, Conner finds he can't help himself.
Xxx
Conner is an angry person, and this he has acknowledged many a-time, but he didn't think he was a jealous person. Over-protective yes; headstrong, of course; angry, a given, but not jealous.
And yet, Conner finds his heart racing as a girl gingerly touches Kaldur's exposed arms, traces the tattoo with a light finger, sidles up against him and rests her head on his shoulder. The girl isn't unattractive either. She has model legs, perfect-sized breasts, a gorgeous smile, hair the color of roses and deep blue eyes that were much softer than Conner's.
She whispered something in Kaldur's ear, and he blushed around his gills.
Conner had turned away.
Xxx
Conner stares at his eyes and suddenly hates them.
They're too bright, too blue, too narrow. He looks angry (even when he didn't feel angry, he looked angry). He has eyes the color of ice, of cold, of resentment, and Conner has to close his eyes because for a second, he saw Superman.
Xxx
"Is there something wrong, Conner?"
Kaldur had been silent for the most part, but Conner could hear his gentle breathing and smell him (the smell of oceans and wet sand and sun and happy things).
"Is something wrong?"
Conner shakes his head and continues to stare at the static on the television.
(Hello? Are you in there, Conner Kent?)
"I see."
Kaldur sits beside him, and Conner can feel the heat radiating off his skin.
There is a quiet moment. Conner can feel Kaldur's eyes on his skin—searching his face for something. (Foundation residue?)
"In Atlantis, natural beauty is appreciated. There really are no such products as makeup. Women are held in high regards for the beauty on the outside and inside."
"If you're trying to make me feel better, it's not working." Conner hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but he knew he wasn't beautiful or soft or pretty. He was handsome, masculine, sharp.
"My apologies," Kaldur's voice is soft, "but I do believe you are wrong about yourself, Conner."
"How so?"
"You think you are not attractive-"
(No, I know I'm attractive. I'm just not the attractive that I want to be.)
"-but you must push such thoughts out of your head. You are quite an attractive person."
Conner doesn't know whether to blush or walk away angry or confess his secret like a sinner in a confessional box. Instead, he looks at Kaldur, eyes wide and obviously startled.
"You think I'm attractive?" The disbelief is evident in his voice, and Kaldur smiles.
"You are."
And for a moment they just stare at each other, and Conner can't help but think how Kaldur's eyes look like a soft piece of sea glass.
Xxx
Conner still puts on makeup, but not he's not so careful when he washes it off.
Faint traces of lipstick, the soft shadow of left over eyeshadow, the gentle smell of perfume, the faint stain of blush on his cheeks—nothing anyone else on the team would notice, unless you were Robin or Kaldur.
Robin notices; there's no way he can't. He's been trained by the Batman—he's supposed to see the invisible and make note of stares at Conner longer than usual, and he'll sometimes open his mouth to ask a question, but then will shut it and walk away.
Kaldur notices and gingerly touches each stain with deft fingers while Conner explains the function of each in the humid showers.
(It's all for you, can't you see? This is the real me, and he wants you to see him. Can you?)
Xxx
Conner wants to buy a dress—something loose with a bare back, something not red or blue or black, but something softer. Cream would look good, maybe green; he knows red would look good, but it seems too much like him (too much like Superman's cape, minus the gold "S").
None of the stores carry anything he wants, and he finds himself envious of the women in their tight dresses in heels with long legs and slender frames because those kinds of dresses would look awful on him—like a bulky mountain draped in silk.
Xxx
In his dreams, Conner sheds his flesh and bones and emerges much like a butterfly (a girlie synonym but accurate). His skin is red, and everything hurts, but he feels real and alive for the first time, and he rushes through the skies, arms spread as he embraces the sun and clouds.
Kaldur appears—stepping out of the misty landscape—and his eyes are completely honest. He pulls Conner close and whispers in his ear:
"So beautiful."
Xxx
When Conner wakes up, there's an emptiness settles in the space where his heart should be—hot, aching and burning.
It's during these times that Conner feels the tears burning his eyes, but he never cries. Instead, he pushes Conner Kent away, dons his shirt and greets his teammates with a slight acknowledgement.
(He finds Kaldur staring into his eyes, and he wonders if he can see that they are stained red.)
