Conner thought he had dreamt the whole thing. To be fair, he had woken up, in bed, under the covers, with his phone plugged in and charging instead of strewn across the floor where he left it. Upon silencing his alarm and looking around his room and the closed bedroom window, it didn't take long for him to come to the conclusion that the entire conversation he'd had with Tim the night before had been some kind of fear induced lust dream. Or something. It wouldn't have been the weirdest thing he'd ever dreamed.

So he ran his fingers through his hair and got dressed at a lethargic pace. He was not looking forward to school.

He was halfway through a bowl of oatmeal when there was a knock on the door.

Part of him flashed briefly to the previous night, to Mr. Cobb's ominous arrival at the Wayne's, but he shook it off and opened the door to find Tim dressed in a black sweatshirt and ripped jeans, waiting for him on the other side. Conner had just enough time to be angry and grateful for the Wayne's stylist, or whoever it was who dressed Tim for school, and then Tim was staring up at him looking too nervous for someone who looked so much better than Conner ever could without trying.

"Hey," he said. "I um, picked up some coffee. I wasn't sure if you were a huge coffee person though so there's also a hot chocolate in the car if you want."

"Th-thanks. I'll, um, do you want to come in? I need to finish my oatmeal." Lame, Conner's inner voice helpfully supplied. You are so lame.

He had never gotten ready for school so fast. Clark seemed unsurprised and simply gave Tim a tired smile and a polite inquiry about driving Conner to school, for which Conner was forever grateful. He packed on a hoodie, and Jason's jacket, and took the offered coffee as he waved goodbye to Clark.

Despite the weather, Tim sipped on an iced beverage.

"I wasn't really sure what the protocol was," Tim admitted as they got in the car. "I know you said you wanted to keep a low profile-"

"This is fine," Conner said, "I like it." Why lie?

It was comfortable, being with Tim, and Tim smiled when he thought Conner wasn't looking.

When they arrived at school, they encountered their next major obstacle. Tim hovered awkwardly, like he wanted to escort Conner but also like their conversation from the earlier was still very much playing on repeat in his mind. Conner had never dated anyone before in this sense. So he reached out and grabbed Tim's hand so that the other boy would stop hovering and paused when Tim stopped.

"Is this ok?"

"Sure," but it came out like a squeak.

If the school thought they were dating before, there was no hiding it now. Conner wondered what the leading theory would be at the lunch table. He doubted he'd get to find out. His friends gleefully gave them a large berth. Students stared more openly than Conner would have expected and when they didn't stare it was still hard not to notice the way no one ever seemed to approach them.

Tim walked him to his classes again and had the nerve to even look embarrassed about it.

"I wish Jason would do something stupid. That usually gets people to leave me alone."

"Now you're embarrassed?" Conner said, easily, reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair back away from Tim's face, "and I thought I flustered easily."

Something about it being real made the feeling of the world having him under a magnifying glass feel suddenly bearable. Conner didn't really have a good grasp on the dating thing, but if it was Tim, it didn't really feel like he had to.

Conner realized, of course, things were going too well. It wasn't that he expected things to go poorly, but his past experience had taught him to be awfully suspect of anything that seemed too good to be true. His time with Tim, his time with Clark, his time at school all started falling into that category.

Clark liked Tim, Conner learned that the first day. After Tim had dropped him off at home, Clark had been unrelenting. Like a bloodhound, if a bloodhound had the disposition of an overgrown golden retriever.

"It's really not a problem Mr. Kent-"

"Don't be ridiculous. You're a growing boy. I'm sure Alfred would be beside himself if I didn't at least send you away with dinner-"

"I really don't-"

"It would just be so unspeakably rude."

And like every one of Conner's friends who had tried to negotiate down Clark's hospitality, Tim found himself on the couch, wrapped in blankets, watching Buffy reruns looking around like he wasn't sure how he had wound up there in the first place. He sent wide eyed looks at Conner like he thought the other boy might save him but Conner had long given up on trying to corral Clark. Instead, he made himself comfortable. Tim made a good attempt at staying absolutely still on the couch. It didn't work, mainly because Conner stretched out, doing his best to invade Tim's personal space, becoming more daring when Tim sent him amused glares.

And Clark made the conversation easy. He pulled up a kitchen chair, letting Conner hog the couch and smirking behind his coffee mug when Tim let Conner use his lap as a foot rest.

Conner never quite relaxed the way he wanted to, but he enjoyed watching Tim talk in quiet tones to Clark about school and the news and even their Thanksgiving family plans. He wasn't exactly surprised. The two were both polite nerds who liked reading and tended to muddle their way through conversations with anyone who wasn't talking to them about their particular interests.

Almost overnight school became the highlight of Conner's day. Tim never seemed to be able to put himself out of arm's reach, and after the first awkward day full of hand holding and trying not to look too embarrassed every time they paused outside a classroom door, it got easier.

Tim slid into a seat beside Conner at the lunch table and despite Conner's concerns about his friends being dramatic or Stephanie being uncomfortable, Bart had immediately claimed the space opposite him.

Conner had watched Bart draw Tim into a conversation about his conditioning for the track team, which mainly seemed to serve the purpose of allowing Bart to sneak fries off Tim's plate. Tim pretended not to notice and Conner pretended to read his English homework while watching the two.

Tim was shy. It was painfully obvious now. He allowed Bart to steal half his plate, and humored his flailing explanation of summer sports camps and running clubs, while constantly sneaking looks at the rest of the table. Jaime seemed disgruntled at having been abandoned at the end of the table with Cassie and Cissie but really no one minded. If anything they were being extra civil.

The only thing that didn't seem to be clicking into place was Stephanie, who kept glancing over at their table from where she sat with the other Waynes. Sometimes Conner would look up and catch her looking at them with a frown, and then she'd meet his eyes, grimace, and turn back around. Jason, for his part, kept waggling eyebrows obnoxiously anytime Conner looked and so eventually Conner stopped checking on them at all.

And of course, it helped that after lunch Tim had pulled him aside to an empty hallway and kissed him before they made their way to Chemistry class. Tim being there made it very hard to worry about Stephanie.

"This is incredibly stupid," Tim huffed.

"It wouldn't be so stupid if your car wasn't so tiny."

"My car isn't tiny, you're just huge," Tim protested.

Conner leaned back with a grin from where he had been dutifully kissing a line up Tim's neck. "I'm huge, am I?"

"You know what I mean."

"I apologize then. Though you know if you're going to drive my giant ass to the middle of an abandoned parking lot in your fancy car you can't blame a guy for getting...ideas." He trailed off, running a thumb across Tim's chin, just close enough they could kiss.

Tim's phone started buzzing and Conner groaned. He tried to shuffle back, hitting the head on the roof of the tiny car and cursing while Tim had to awkwardly shuffle himself around from where he sat pinned underneath Conner's oversized frame. After some very awkward rearrangement of their hips, which did nothing for Conner's comfort, he managed to work the phone out of his back pocket.

"Hi Jason," Tim said, sounding mortified even though there was no way Jason knew where they were or what they were doing. Probably. "Yeah I know. I said I'd be there."

Tim threw a hand over his eyes and Conner chuckled. "Yes, I know. You're the one who wanted me to get out more."

Jason said something, probably horribly inappropriate, on the other end of the line and Tim hung up. He let his head fall back, pretty eyes falling shut. It was still light out, but as winter approached the afternoons hovered in a shadowy grey light. "I'm going to kill him."

Conner settled his weight back down so he was straddling Tim properly. Even with the chair reclined all the way back, the steering wheel still dug into Conner's back. It turned out, between Tim's nosy family, school, and sharing an apartment with Clark, alone time was not something they were going to get much of. He leaned down, and Tim's eyes fluttered open.

"Jason says hi."

"You're going out tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Mercy General?"

"Yeah."

"You'll call me."

Tim smiled and reached up to kiss him instead of answering.

When they did finally manage to untangle themselves, it had probably been a little longer than was appropriate for either of them. Conner grinned even as he started running through excuses to tell Clark and watched Tim frown down at his phone while checking the time.

They pulled up to Conner's apartment far too soon and as he grabbed his bag, he turned back to Tim.

"I mean it. Call me."

"I'll stop by afterwards."

"I'll leave the window open."

Conner turned back towards his apartment and frowned. The door was open.

There was a cut above Clark's right eye that had just begun to dry up. He held a ziploc bag full of ice to the back of his head, and Conner winced in sympathy as he set down a mug of coffee. It was the most comforting thing he'd been able to think of doing and it had been better than putzing around doing nothing.

"Well, I have to say, this is the first break-in I've had in a good year and a half. I suppose it was overdue," Clark said. There was a softness to his dimpled smile, and from his place on their sagging sofa he smiled at Conner and picked up his destroyed notebook from the coffee table.

The intruder had not wasted their time. They had heartlessly destroyed everything in Clark's desk. Notebooks had been gutted, leaving only tangled perforated edges and the remains of stray highlighter marks and sticky notes. Conner didn't have to look through the wreckage to be able to tell that Clark's research could not be found among the spare scraps left over. The bulk of his research was long gone.

It was enough to make Conner nauseous. He had watched Clark agonize over those notes, and to see them so savagely wrecked felt like an overt attack on Conner and Clark's safety.

From the kitchen, Tim had started quietly cleaning up the mess. Shattered plates, which looked like they'd been tossed when the burglar had thrown open the cabinets, gently clinked as he emptied a dustpan into the trash bin.

"You don't have to do that," Clark called.

"It's no problem, Mr. Kent," Tim said quietly.

The rest of the house was not in much better shape. The lock on Conner's bedroom window had been broken and the door to Clark's bedroom kicked in, leaving the frame splintered. Their other belongings had been seemingly tossed or taken without much thought. Conner's computer was gone, as was Clark's, and most of the rest of their stuff had been tossed about when the intruder apparently realized they didn't have anything of much worth.

Clark sighed. "Listen. I know this sort of thing can be a bit shaking. I don't like feeling unsafe in my own home. And I'll be honest, we need to move to a better neighborhood one of these days. But for now, I want you to try and relax. If you need to get out of the house, that's fine. I'm going to call the cops, take some pictures, and maybe think about changing the locks on everything. Ok?"

Conner nodded numbly, and Clark gave an approving hum before getting up off the couch to investigate the damage further in the house. "Least we still have the VCR, yeah?"

It was probably meant to be a joke, but Conner sat motionless on the couch. Clark ventured down the hall. Conner closed his eyes. He tried to breathe. In. Out. In…

"Conner?"

He opened his eyes to Tim and threw his arms around the other boy.

Either Tim was much better at reading Conner than Conner was at reading him, or he was more touchy feely than Conner had originally realized. He didn't shake Conner off but obligingly reached his arms up around him. Conner sank into the hug for as long as he could, feeling the sense of unease like his heart was trying to jump out of his body, start to calm with Tim right there next to him.

What he hadn't told Clark, the thing that scared him was that Conner had looked through his own room, past the broken lock and stolen laptop and realized two things.

Whoever had been there took his jacket and his copy of Heart of Darkness.

Clark handled talking to the police, and to the downstairs neighbors who apparently hadn't seen or heard anything. The story, as Clark told it, was that he had been home, having gotten back from his day at the office with a stack of extra work to cover for the upcoming holiday season, when he'd heard a knock at the door.

"And you weren't expecting anyone and you answered?" Conner asked, horrified.

Clark had just thrown him a confused look and an "Of course why wouldn't I?" which was how Conner knew Clark was certainly going to die young.

The man had asked if he could use the landline, and Clark being so very typically Clark, had obliged which was when it turned into a robbery. Conner watched Tim watch the entire exchange, expression never changing. As Clark led the officers very briefly through the house, Tim nodded his head towards the door and Conner followed him outside so they could wait on the steps for the officers to finish.

"He's going to get himself killed," Conner muttered. "I swear of all things-"

"You need to stay at the Manor tonight." Tim cut him off.

"What?"

Tim looked around and then took a seat on the steps beside Conner so he could lean in close and lower his voice. "Clark invited an agent of the Court into your house. You guys need to stay at the Manor until Bruce can work this out."

"And how am I supposed to convince him of that? How do you know it was… you know. A you thing?"

"You're not telling me you think this is a happy accident? I could ask Bruce to call. If he knows what's going on he'll do something. We were supposed to head out tonight, I won't be able to keep an eye on you if you stay here."

"Are you suggesting that you've been keeping an eye on me prior, stalker?" Conner asked. Humor and deflection came easier than admitting it made him nervous to even entertain the idea that he and Clark were in actual danger.

"Yeah. We should talk about that sometime. You and your dad both have made some terrible life choices when it comes to staying out of harm's way," Tim said, and there was a fondness in his tone.

The two of them jumped apart as they heard the cops and Clark make their way out of the apartment. The officers were not, tragically, Grayson and Bertinelli, but two unfamiliar and unremarkable faces who took notes and nodded at all the right times.

"And thank you again officers for coming out."

"We'll be sure to call if there's any sign of your things, Mr. Kent, but it would be best to call the insurance company and get these things sorted as soon as possible. I'm afraid there isn't much else we can do."

With that, the officers got into their car and pulled away.

"Lot of good that did," Conner said, watching them go.

"It's Gotham, Conner," Clark said, as if that made up for their busted locks and missing things. Clark chuckled at Conner's disgruntled huff and turned to Tim. "Why don't you both come upstairs. I've got a pizza on the way."

"Of course, Mr. Kent," Tim said softly, bowing his head quickly to avoid Clark's gaze. It was unbearably polite and shy and Conner grabbed Tim's hand and began dragging him to the apartment.

Conner didn't have to say much. A mumbled word about feeling safer at Tim's house and Clark had awkwardly offered to help him pack.

It probably helped that Conner was actually shaken. He kept glancing at the busted locks, expecting some kind of follow up. Some kind of threat. It never came. Instead, the only noise was the neighbor downstairs whose baby started wailing some time after eight. Tim helped by emphasizing how much Alfred would want them to be safe, at least until the locks were changed, a tactic that seemed to work as well on Clark as it had on Tim.

Conner cornered Tim about it as they were packing his toiletries for the night.

"And what do we do when the locks are changed? We won't stay with you forever."

"We'll figure it out."

Tim had to drive his car back. He didn't look pleased about it, but he left Conner with a quick kiss and a promise to text.

"I told Bruce I'd be at a Waynetech business dinner with him tonight to welcome some overseas directors to the states. I'll, um…"

"See you tomorrow then?" Conner tried.

"I'll be at school," Tim said before he drove off.

Clark watched him with nervous eyes. And Conner smiled. It was a knee-jerk reaction to try and reassure the other man even through the slight nauseous feeling in his stomach.

"Thanks for this, Clark. All of this," he said as they got into the car. Conner had packed his backpack with some schoolwork and a change of clothes. Clark appeared to have attempted to take half his desk and his favorite coffee cup.

"Of course," Clark said, "It's fine Conner. I know I was much more shaken up the first time…"

Clark trailed off and frowned over the steering wheel as they pulled away from their tiny two-story apartment building.

"I guess," Clark said, when they pulled up to the next stoplight. "I haven't really been fair to you."

"Don't be ridiculous-" Conner said immediately, but Clark held up a hand, looked both ways as the light turned green, and then continued.

"No. I haven't. When you called and said you were coming to live with me this year, I was thrilled. Elated, actually. I mean, I always knew you didn't like it in Gotham but I figured it would be our chance to start over. And it's been good Conner."

"But we don't live in a safe neighborhood. There's barely enough room in the house for the two of us to have our space. I know you don't sleep well, and I haven't bought you a new bed since you were twelve. I can't imagine… well Lex was right about some things, is all."

He trailed off again. Clark seemed very frustrated by the whole situation at hand and it was funny to Conner because he didn't deserve any of it. Not Clark. Not Clark's kindness or generosity or willingness to overlook every single fuck up Conner had made since moving in.

"What I'm trying to say is, you've been really good about not complaining or getting frustrated. I know it can't be easy, living with me. We can stay with the Waynes until you feel safer. And I'll work on getting us a new place."

Conner really wanted to hug the older man. Clark was taking everything so seriously. His eyes never left the road as he spoke, but his dark heavy brows were lowered like he thought he could stare their problems into submission.

And the truth was, for a split second Conner felt safer with Clark than he ever had with anyone.

"Thanks, Clark. And just so you know, Lex is wrong."

They didn't talk for the rest of the car ride.

The manor was beginning to feel like home in that strange way that places you've had to visit one too many times without a choice begin to feel safe by virtue of familiarity. Conner found the once ominous looming form of the creaking ancient house to be a lot less intimidating.

In classically Gotham style, clouds had been lurking all day, and rain began to come down on them as they rolled up to the house. Alfred stood outside with an umbrella and waiting just inside, in the sitting room, was a tray of tiny finger sandwiches with hot cups of tea.

Conner was very much considering the possibility of getting his own butler someday. Or hiring Alfred away from the Waynes. It seemed unlikely but was a welcome distraction to thinking about his real problems.

It didn't take long to realize the house was mostly empty. It was verging on nine in the evening, and the Waynes were out hunting, for lack of a better word. Alfred had explained it away as a late dinner with some of the directors at Waynetech. After all, Timothy was looking to pursue computer science and there were some intelligent and influential people on the board. Conner nearly twitched at the explanation and the thought of Tim doing the sort of rich people things Lex wished Conner would do.

But Alfred's tone carried an air of humor to it that reminded Conner that the truth wasn't something much more pleasant.

Given what he knew about the Waynes, Conner had expected all of them to be out.

And for the most part, he was right. Though the house was by no means uninviting, the halls were empty. As were the family kitchen, the dining room, the guest hallways. Lights were on wherever he went but overall it was a stark contrast to the night of their family dinner when it had felt as if there were almost too many Waynes for the house.

It was only when he went by the darkroom that he noticed Cassandra. He didn't intend to actually go into the room. Something about being in there without Tim felt undeniably wrong and he'd been enough of a liar overall for one lifetime. He didn't want to add another betrayal to the list. Still, he lingered by the door. He briefly entertained the idea of waiting for Tim there but was turning to leave when he spotted the slim shadowy form of Cassandra Wayne down the hall.

Cassandra was a lot like Tim when it came to both style and presence. She was slim, and graceful, and tended towards muted colors. She wore black leggings and a long, tunic-like black shirt that hung off her shoulders and collar in a relaxed fashion. She was holding a cat but dropped it when she saw Conner had noticed her.

Her bare feet didn't make a sound as she padded down the hall towards him.

"Hey. I didn't see you there." That much had been obvious. He knew she didn't talk, and their conversation was doomed to be brief and one sided, but he didn't want to be rude.

Cassandra smiled and moved, like Tim, with an easy grace. Unlike Tim, who moved like he was scared to accidentally touch the world around him, there was an easy openness to her movement and her smile.

She made a motion with her hands that ended with her pointing at him, and Conner found himself responding despite not really knowing what she had asked.

"I was waiting for Tim, I guess. It's stupid but, I get anxious. I really wish he would come back." He placed a hand against the door and frowned.

Cassandra mimicked him, and then said something else with her hands that he failed to comprehend.

"I'm sorry," he said, holding up his own hands. "I wish I could-"

She held up her own hands in a mockery of his own pose and grinned.

He snorted. "Fine. Make fun of me."

She grinned.

"Do you know when they'll be back?" he asked.

She shrugged and held up a three, which he took to mean likely three in the morning, but she wasn't sure.

"I take it you were left behind to watch me?"

She was gentle as she lightly tapped him on the shoulder. Her smile was kind, but her meaning was clear. Conner had spent too long lingering and it was time for him to sleep. He sighed but relented, and together they started towards the guest wing.

He wasn't sure how to bring it up. Or if he should at all, but as Cassandra firmly but gently guided him towards his room, he paused before the door.

"Have you talked to Stephanie lately?"

The way Cassandra paused was almost comical. He could see the gears turning in her head as she turned to regard him with dark eyes.

With a speed he had come to associate with the Waynes' lightning fast reflexes, Cassandra held up a phone. Conner, being tired and a bit slow generally, took a second to catch her meaning and eventually pulled out his own phone.

"She really likes you, you know," he said as he entered his information.

Cass moved her hands again and he took it to mean "I know".

"She's known you guys longer. I'm just saying. You don't have to tell her anything but, I don't know. Invite her over. Or something."

Cass was still smiling, softer now. She pushed him towards the bed.

"Right. Got it, got it. Goodnight Cass."

His phone buzzed.

Good night.

Conner knew, even as the door closed behind him that he was safe. The manor was the safest place for him. For Clark. Tim had said so, and Conner believed him. There was no reason for him to worry. No reason for him to sit up late, with the lights on, waiting to hear footsteps, or a car pulling away, or see a shadow at his window.

He stayed up anyways.

And though he didn't remember doing so, he must have fallen asleep sitting by the door because the next thing he remembered was waking up to his phone buzzing against the bedside table. He picked up blindly.

"Tim-"

"Mr. Kent. You know for a human, you have an awful lot of secrets you're keeping don't you?"