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Cradle Of Love	By : Amarin Category: DC Verse Comics > Teen Titans Views: 2376 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Friends Are Family, Too

I’ll have a bluuuue Christmas, without you…
Hearing the Muzak blaring over the department store’s intercom, Kon had to admit that the music fit his mood. He was a bit surprised by how fast it seemed to be happening, but he was really falling fast for Timothea Drake. He’d thought that sharing their big ‘secrets’ would have brought him and Timmie closer, but she still seemed to hold him at arm’s length.
That Timmie hadn’t pushed him any further away was a miracle. And he and Robin seemed to be almost as close as father and daughter. Well…maybe not quite that close, but he was definitely closer to Robin than he’d ever been to his own father, if not as close as he was with his mother.
Kon smiled smugly as he exited Macy’s department store. The mention of miracles brought to mind the fact that he’d finished his Christmas shopping, and with over a week before Christmas, besides.
Now all he needed to do was find a quiet moment to give Timmie and Robin their gifts. And maybe…just maybe…Tim would finally accept him as more than a friend.

***
That moment came sooner than expected. That very afternoon, in fact.
Kon was in Tim’s office, ‘assisting’ her with a conference call to their office in California. After it was over, Tim sighed and slumped back in her chair, rubbing her forehead, futilely trying to stave off a headache. “Every year I swear that I’m going to get a head start on the Christmas rush, and every year the rush gets bigger,” she groaned.
Striving for diplomacy – since he was her assistant, he was also dealing with the rush, Kon said, “The holidays can be a stressful time.”
Tim crossed her arms on her desk and buried her face in her hands. “It wouldn’t be so bad if all the vice presidents didn’t keep turning to me with their problems,” she mumbled into her desk. “It’s like Christmas rolls around and all of a sudden they forget how to do their jobs.”
Sympathizing with his boss’ plight, since it was similar to his own, Kon suggested, “Maybe you should take some time off. Get away from the office and they’ll have to deal with the problems themselves.”
Sitting up, Tim smiled at him tiredly. “Then they’d start calling me at home.”
“Then get out of a town. Go on vacation over Christmas.” Kon started calculating how such a trip would factor into his plans to give Tim and Robin their Christmas presents, and wondered if he should give them their gifts that afternoon, or maybe the next morning, when he picked them up for work.
Tim looked at him, bewildered. “Where?”
At a loss for why Tim seemed to have a problem with the concept, Kon said, “Anywhere.” Tahiti, Cancun, or maybe someplace more family-oriented like Galveston or Martha’s Vineyard. Not a theme-park; they were terrible over the holidays.
“I meant, where could I go that work couldn’t reach me?” Tim clarified. “I have to leave a contact number, so most people would call there; where could I go that would be out of the way enough that no one would bother me?”
It hit Kon, suddenly, how he could give Timmie and Robin their Christmas presents – and a joint one, thus solving Tim’s problem. “Come with me to Kansas,” Kon said impulsively.
Tim blinked at him owlishly. “What?” she asked, disbelief dripping from the word, one eyebrow twitching upward.
Abashed, Kon, scrubbed a hand through his hair and tried to explain. “I go to visit my grandparents every year.” The more he thought about it, the more the idea of having Timmie and Robin with him for the holidays appealed to him.
Tim frowned. “But what about…” Tim seemed caught between confusion and consternation as she strove for diplomacy. “I mean, um, I know you don’t…get along with your father…”
Kon shrugged. “Yeah, but Clark and Lois alternate holidays with their families,” he told her. “Ma and Pa got Thanksgiving this year, so they’re spending Christmas with Lois’ parents.” Generally he did the reverse with his mother’s family, so he didn’t have to deal with Clark and Lois during any of the holidays.
“Oh.” Tim seemed to consider his proposition for a minute, then said, “I…I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Sensing that she only needed a reason to give in, Kon was thankful that he already had several at hand. “Ma and Pa are of the opinion that ‘the more the merrier.’ They’d be glad to have you, honest.” In the past, he’d taken college friends and colleagues to visit them, and they’d all been welcomed with open arms.
“I don’t know…” Timmie said slowly. The idea obviously appealed to her, but it was equally as clear that she was reluctant to accept.
“C’mon,” Kon cajoled with a grin. “Haven’t you always wanted to have a real country Christmas, complete with snow?”
Timmie wavered; she had wanted that very same thing as a child. Something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, or, considering her childhood, the Charlie Brown Christmas special.
“We chop down our own tree, and decorate it with popcorn strings and cranberry chains,” Kon continued, voice taking on a singsong tone. “We have homemade apple cider and gingerbread after we build snowmen and a snow fort and have snowball fights.”
“You do all that every year?” Tim asked, slightly in awe.
“Well, the snowball fights and forts are saved for occasions with kids,” Kon admitted, scrubbing a hand through his hair bashfully, because he loved those, “but I just know that Robin’ll love them.” She appeared to be more tempted by that, the thought of the vacation being for Robin instead of herself. “There’s also ice skating down at the lake, with hot chocolate and chestnuts, and sleigh rides through town.” He’d yet to meet a little girl that wasn’t fascinated by horses.
Well, except for the ones that were allergic.
Timmie nibbled on her lower lip, stealing a glance now and then at Kon’s wide grin. “Sleigh rides, huh?” She and Bernard had gone to see Cats once, in New York City. They’d spent the whole day before the play wandering around the city, and had ended their afternoon with a carriage ride through Central Park.
It had been one of the most magical nights of her life.
“With a real sleigh, pulled by real horses,” Kon confirmed.
Sending Kon a sideways look, Timmie raised an eyebrow. “Homemade apple cider and gingerbread men?” she asked speculatively.
“Ma has us make the gingerbread in the morning before we go out to build snowmen. By the time we’re all half-frozen, the gingerbread is just coming out of the oven. Piping hot and fresh…” Kon said, coaxing her with mental images.
Finding herself practically salivating over the thought of fresh, hot gingerbread – and knowing that Robin would love a chance to play in the snow, never mind herself – Timmie felt her resolve falter, and finally give out. “Okay,” she caved. “You’ve convinced me.”

***
The weeks before Christmas were a whirlwind of activity, as Tim and Kon finalized over half a dozen contracts, drew up twice as many more, and packed for two weeks in Smallville, Kansas.
On their last day at work, Kon’s friend and ex-roommate Bart dropped by for a little while, bringing presents with him.
“Hey, Kon,” Bart greeted, the bell on the end of his Santa stocking cap jingling merrily as he tromped down the hall in his dusty engineer boots. He looked nothing so much like an elf who worked construction. Which, well…he kind of was. Bart loved nothing better than a good party, and spreading Christmas cheer was kind of his gig.
He even played Santa for the orphans at the New Hope Home.
“Bart, good to see you, man,” Kon said, grinning and pulling him in for a long hug, before giving him a sound clap on the back. They hadn’t had much of a chance to see each other since he’d moved out of Bart’s Metropolis apartment and into his own in Gotham.
“Good to see you too,” Bart returned.
“What brings you by?” Kon, leaning back against his desk.
Bart shrugged. “Since you’re headed out of town tomorrow, like usual, I thought I’d drop by and give you your presents.” He held out a plastic grocery bag with a few messily-wrapped (in the Sunday comics) items inside.
“And finally see my office, huh?” Kon kidded, gesturing around the small half-enclosed ‘cubicle’ he called his home away from home.
A bland expression of mild astonishment pasted on his face, Bart asked, “What office? All I see’s a desk, Mr. Nanny.”
Punching Bart on the arm, Kon said, “You only wish you worked in such a cool place.” He had a desk with a computer, a lamp, and a printer/fax/copier combo, plus several file cabinets and a bulletin board covered with meeting notes, Dilbert cartoons, and Robin’s artwork.
“I got no problem finding ‘cool’ places – not with my line of work.” Bart shivered theatrically. “I’ve had to wear every single scarf and sweater your grandmother ever knitted me just to keep from getting frostbite up on those steel girders.” Despite his complaining, Bart loved his job. Except when he didn’t.
“Uh-huh. I feel for you, Bart.” Rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, Kon said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “This is the world’s smallest violin playing My Heart Bleeds For You.” At his answering snort, he turned around to fish out Bart’s present from his desk. “Merry Christmas, bud.” He then traded his red package for the green one in Bart’s hands.
Rolling his eyes, Bart said, “Merry Christmas, Kon.”
Before either of them could even start peeling the tape away, a small voice interrupted them. “Who’s that?” Robin asked, tugging on Kon’s suit jacket.
Kon blinked down at his charge. Robin was supposed to be downstairs in the daycare; apparently, her mother had gone to get her early. “Uh…this is my friend Bart, pumpkin.”
Bart snickered at the nickname, even as Robin turned to him. “Hi, Mister Bart,” she said, offering him a sweet smile.
Sobering at this show of innocence and manners, Bart knelt down and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, pumpkin.”
Robin shook his hand, but sniffed in disdain. “My name is Robin Bernadette Drake; you may call me Robin,” she stated imperiously. “Only Kon gets ta call me pumpkin.”
Kon felt a perverse sort of a pleasure rush through him as he heard that.
Nodding solemnly, Bart said, struggling to hold back a laugh, “I’ll remember that.”
“You do that,” Robin said with the same air of arrogance that her mother employed in board meetings. Then her sharp green eyes narrowed. “Why’re you here, anyway?”
“Bart dropped by to give me my Christmas present,” Kon told her.
Robin perked up at that information. “Is there anything for me?” she asked with the cheeky avarice that only the very young could employ without seeming (overly) selfish.
Luckily, Kon had learned how to deal with her. “I’m going to give you your present on Christmas, pumpkin.” He leaned down and tapped her on the nose. “Just like your mother and Santa Claus.”
Robin let out a gusty sigh worthy of a typhoon. “Aw, poo. I don’t wanna haveta wait. Christmas is ev’rywhere, ‘cept there are no presents for me.”
“I know you don’t want to, but you have to,” Kon said firmly. It was best that Robin learned early on that she couldn’t always get her way. It would cut down on temper tantrums later.
At least, that’s what his mother had done with him.
Robin made a show of sulking for a few minutes, until her attention was diverted by the elevator lights blinking on. When the doers opened, her eyes lit up like the lights, and she grinned. “Auntie Darla!” Robin crowed, rushing towards the elevator where the woman was just disembarking. The singer had a giant sparkly gift bag overflowing with presents that she set down on the floor just before she leaned down to catch Robin as the little girl threw herself into her arms.
“Hey there, chica; Merry Christmas,” Darla said, squeezing her goddaughter tight. Pulling back, she released Robin from her arms and, tucking a stray curl of blonde hair behind Robin’s ear, asked, “You been a good girl this year?”
Robin nodded emphatically. “Uh-huh. I didn’t not even put a frog in Miss Greta’s desk on her birfday.”
Biting her lip to hold back her laughter, Darla turned mirthful eyes towards Kon as she rose to her feet. “And has Kon’s desk remained amphibian-free?” she asked, picking up her sack of gifts and taking Robin’s hand with the other.
Confused, Robin asked as they walked back towards the two men, “What’s a anfibiam?”
“An amphibian is an animal that can live on both water and land,” Bart told her as the two females came to a stop before them. “Like frogs. And toads, and newts, and salamanders.”
Robin blinked up at them. “Oh.” She tilted her head to the side as if considering and finally said, “No, I didn’t put any anfibiams in Kon’s desk.”
Kon cleared his throat, crossing his arms sternly over his chest. He remembered a certain incident with one of the plastic toys she’d received on her trick-or-treating trip.
Robin ducked her head bashfully. “The spider was only rubber! An’ they aren’t anfibiams…are they?” She peaked out from behind her blonde bangs woefully.
Bart snickered.
“No, spiders are arachnids,” Kon told her, giving in to The Pout. “That means they have eight legs, unlike insects, which have six.”
Robin’s lips turned down in a frown. “What about caterpillars?”
“Uh…” Kon knew they were insects, but they had so many legs… “They turn into butterflies, which have six legs.”
“Oh. Okay,” Robin said, accepting that with the ease of a child. She then turned back to Darla. “So, since I’ve been so good, c’n I please please please have one of my presents earlier? Pleeeeease?”
“She’s clearly learned the value of the ‘magic word,’ hasn’t she?” Bart whispered to him.
“Shh,” Kon scolded him. “She’ll hear you. Robin has ears like a bat.”
“Sorry, sweetpea,” Darla said to her goddaughter. “You’ve been real good this year, but I’m giving these to your mother.”
“They’re all for her?” Robin asked, appearing more surprised than disappointed – though the disappointment was there. She was a good kid, though, and loved her mother enough to be happy with the idea of her getting so many presents.
Kon told himself it wasn’t his place to be so proud of her, but that didn’t keep him from feeling it.
Darla chuckled. “No, sweetpea, they aren’t; but I’m giving them to her so she can take them down to Kansas with you.”
“So I c’n open ‘em on Christmas morning, right?” Robin asked, sounding a bit exasperated with the familiar restriction, but also pleased with her future bounty.
“That’s right,” Darla agreed, and their conversation descended into more of Robin’s pleading (with outlandish offers of hoarded Halloween candy, fridge art, and, of all things, foot rubs) and Darla’s denials.
Bart blinked in confusion at the exchange, and then dragged Kon away from the two conversing females. “They’re going with you to the farm?” he hissed, once they were out of hearing range.
“Uh…yeah?” Kon asked, confused as to why Bart seemed to upset.
Waving his arms in the air like he just didn’t care that he could communicate more effectively than words, Bart finally managed to sputter out, “And you don’t think that’s something you should’ve mentioned?”
Kon eyed his friend, wondering about how prolonged exposure to blowtorches could affect one’s sanity. “Bart, I’ve taken you home for the holidays before. You, Roxy, your grandparents, your cousin Wally and his wife, that girl you dated for a while, what’s-er-name, Cissie, and her friend Anita…”
“But never any of your girlfriends!” Bart said in a hushed whisper.
Kon flushed. No, he hadn’t taken any of his girlfriends ‘home to meet the (grand)parents.’ He hadn’t had a chance with Tana, and he hadn’t gotten serious enough with any of the others. “Timmie isn’t my girlfriend,” he said reflexively.
“Not for lack of trying on your part, I’m sure,” Bart said, shooting his verbal barb with uncanny accuracy. He’d also noticed Kon’s use of a nickname – a diminutive and cutesy nickname – for his boss.
Shrugging diffidently, Kon breathed a sigh of relief when Robin ended her near-monologue with Darla and ran up to him. “Kon, c’n I ask you somethin’?”
“Sure, pumpkin,” Kon said, kneeling down to be on eye-level with her.
“Did Mister Bart come by ta give you your Christmas present?”
Kon smiled at her. “Yes, he did.”
“An’ you’re gonna open it now?” Robin asked sharply, little nose wiggling in vexation as he nodded.
“Uh…yeah,” Kon confirmed, fumbling for an excuse that she would buy. “But only ‘cause we’re not gonna be together over Christmas. He’s opening my gift to him, as well.”
“Well, I think I should get ta open somethin’, too.” Robin punctuated her statement with a firm nod of her head. “It’s only faaaair,” she said, drawing the last word out.
“I don’t get to open anything,” Darla pointed out, exchanging an amused smile with Bart.
Robin pouted, then brightened. “Kon could give you his present!”
Kon blinked. “Er…yeah… I suppose I could,” he admitted. He hadn’t intended to get Darla anything, since she was more of an acquaintance, but he had gotten her a little something. Well, not an actual present, per se, it was more of a…trinket.
Actually, it was a gift-with-purchase.
Though why they gave him a free sample of lady’s perfume with his usual cologne – even if they were both made by the same company – Kon was still puzzled over. Still, it was in a nice little red and gold box, already ‘wrapped’ for Christmas, and he did currently have it in his desk.
The three adults all exchanged looks, and finally Darla sighed, a mischievous twinkle in her. “Only if the present you open isn’t from me – or Kon.” At Bart’s frozen look of shock, she continued, “We already promised your mother not to spoil you before Christmas.”
Robin turned expectantly to Bart, who swallowed and pulled at his scarf, as if it was tightening around his throat. “Um…yeah…” He stilled again, his panicked eyes clearly giving away his frantic thoughts of, ‘Why me? Oh, God, why, oh, why me?’
After a moment, however, he grinned, and Kon could practically see the light bulb go off over his head. “Sure!” Bart chirped to Robin. “You can, uh, open my gift…to you,” he tacked on in an obvious afterthought.
Thankfully, Robin didn’t notice.
Kon was intrigued, and watched closely as Bart fished a square box wrapped in Garfield comic strips out of the bag he’d brought. He handed it with great reverence to Robin, who squealed excitedly, and gave Bart a great big hug.
Robin made an abortive move towards the tape, then paused, turned her eyes towards her adult audience. “Everybody has ta have a present before I – we – c’n open ‘em,” she said. She was practically vibrating the curiosity to see what was inside ‘her’ package, but Timmie had clearly taught her manners.
That surge of pride welled up inside Kon again, and he quickly squished it down, instead turning his attention to fishing out Darla’s present and handing it to her, before picking up Bart’s present to him. Bart retrieved his own gift, and the adults all looked at each other before Kon turned to Robin. “Uh…who goes first?”
Robin sighed. “Either alfabetikal by first name, or youngest ta oldest.” It was clear which one she would prefer.
It was also clear to Kon that either way would have normally started with Robin, ‘normally’ being when it was only her and her mother.
“You go first,” Bart said magnanimously, and once Robin tore into her gift, the others started slowly removing the packaging from theirs.
What there was of it. Darla only needed to open the box. She pulled the top off and sniffed at the Tommy Girl, nodding judiciously. “Nice,” she decided.
Kon smiled weakly at her, mumbled a, “You’re welcome,” and opened his box from Bart. He’d gotten a…well, he didn’t know quite what it was supposed to be, but Bart really liked his blowtorch, and made lots of art deco sculpture out of pieces of metal he found lying around the construction sights he worked. This one was about the size of a melon, sort of roundish, and pewter in color, with bits of blue and gray glass melted in interesting patterns around it.
Kon thought he’d use it as a paperweight, since it didn’t seem to have any sharp edges.
Bart had gotten a book from Kon; the collector’s edition of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, his favorite series. “Cool…” Bart enthused.
Kon quirked a grin at his friend. “Yeah, same here, man,” he replied, holding up his ‘paper weight.’
Bart’s smile was almost blinding, but not bright enough to distract Kon from Timmie’s entrance, or rather, exit, from her office. She took one look at the group of people surrounding by bits and pieces of wrapping paper, tilted one eyebrow up like Mr. Spock, and said, “Someone forget to tell me about the party?”
“Mama!” Robin squealed, running over to hug her mother. “Look what Mister Bart gave me!” She held out her ‘gift’ from Bart; it actuality had been purchased as a toy for Kon’s cats. It was a blue plastic ball with a striped tail attached to it. When batteries were put inside, it would roll around on the floor by itself, making a great plaything for small animals.
Or young children, perhaps.
Tim obviously knew what it was, and gave Bart an amused look. “It’s very nice, sweetpea,” she said. “We’ll have to get some batteries so you can play with it.”
“Batt’ries?” Robin asked, frowning.
“It moves, pumpkin,” Kon told her. “Vibrates across the floor.”
Eyes going round with pleased surprise, Robin said, “Wow…”
Tim went back into her office to fish some batteries out of her desk. Kon went with her, ostensibly for no reason at all, but really because he wanted to give her a present, since she’d missed out.
Even when he pressed her back against the wall so the molding dug into her back, the moans Timmie made into his mouth were more of arousal than discomfort.
Luckily, no one noticed how long they were gone, since Bart and Darla had gotten into some sort of argument/flirting conversation that Robin was watching with wide-eyed wonder, laughing at them behind her hand.

***
Darla and Bart finally stopped fighting long enough to hug their respective friends goodbye – Robin got hugged by both, and Darla gave out cheek-kisses all around – and leave. Then it was only a matter of locking up, heading to Tim’s house (swinging by Kon’s apartment on the way) and driving to the airport. They left Tim’s Jeep in long-term parking and headed down the miles and miles of corridor towards their gate.
Robin was as excited about their trip to Kansas as she’d ever been. Most of the Drake duo’s vacations had been to various theme parks, and the idea of spending Christmas on a farm, with the added bonus of snow, was a novel change.
She was so hyper the day they flew to Kansas, that Timmie breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief when her daughter dropped off to sleep after a half hour of oohing and aahing over seeing the world from the air. They’d flown before, but Robin had been too young to really remember it.
Kon chuckled quietly from his aisle seat. “Glad the flight’s only four hours, aren’t you?” He knew as well as she did that Robin rarely napped for more than two and a half hours at a time.
Tim’s mouth quirked up in a little half-grin. “You know it,” she agreed.

***
Robin was just rousing when they landed in Kansas City, and once they’d disembarked and gathered their luggage, Kon led them out front to the parking lots.
Timmie’s eyes widened theatrically as they passed the long-term parking. “Don’t tell me you leave a car here?”
Kon choked on a chuckle. “Not hardly. But Ma said she’d be waiting for us right about…here!” A smile broke over his face once he saw the beat up blue pick-up truck idling in the ‘road’ between the long-term and short-term parking lots.
Introductions were quickly made, and the chilly New Yorkers bundled into the cab of the truck. Kon situated their luggage in the cab of the truck, before squeezing into the front seat. With Robin on Timmie’s lap, there was just enough room for the four of them.
“Sorry you two don’t get to meet Jonathan yet, but I didn’t think there’d be room for all of us in this old thing,” Martha Kent said with a friendly chuckle as she pulled the truck out onto the road. It was an ‘old thing’ but it was in good condition.
And, thankfully, the heater worked like new. Kansas was over five hundred miles south-west of Gotham and the rest of the Eastern seaboard; Timmie had no idea why it was so much colder in Smallville.
“That’s quite all right, Mrs. Kent,” Timmie said politely. “I appreciate you coming to pick us up.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all, dear. And Martha, you call Martha,” she chided, giving her a wink. “Or ‘Ma.’ Some days, it seems like I’m everybody’s mother.”
Smiling down at the wide-eyed bundle of joy in her lap, craning her neck to look out at the window at passing wheat fields, Timmie said, “Oh, believe me, I know the feeling.”
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Cradle Of Love