im stared in surprise at the front page the next morning.

That…was quite a picture. As a member of the creepy stalker photographer league, as Jason had once put it, Tim felt he was qualified to judge. Someone had gotten a shot just as the last of his uniform had melted away, and after he realised that Kon had managed to make it to him in time to protect the secret of his identity, and thus his family's. He was slumped almost bonelessly back against Kon's chest, arms secured behind his back, throwing his chest muscles into sharp relief.

He looked at himself in fascination. He… didn't exactly spend a lot of time looking at himself in the mirror, and to see himself like this, in a photograph? Well, photos had always been his preferred medium.

He looked…scarred. He guessed he hadn't realized he'd acquired quite so many scars over the years, but something about the light in the photo threw them all into stark relief.

They ran across his body, his arms, his legs, in jagged lines and straight, in punctures and rips, curves, burned patches. That one was from a bullet which had almost severed his femoral artery. There had been so much blood.

That one was surgical, from getting his appendix removed.

That one was a knife. He'd been too late to save the little girl, and her mother had attacked him in her grief.

Crowbar. A lucky shot by a gang member Tim had thought was down for the count. Careless mistake, and he'd paid for it with a crowbar to the head. Dick had witnessed that particular altercation, and well, it would be fair to say Nightwing had…unpleasant reactions to people taking crowbars to Robins. The man would probably never walk again, and Bruce had only yelled a little.

Flame thrower.

Tire iron.

Barrel of a recently fired gun. He didn't live up to the Boy Hostage reputation as often as Dick had, but he had his moments.

Broken bottle.

Ohh, knife again, in the hollow of his throat, the one he'd gotten from Jason.

He remembered getting them all of course, but wow, did they really add up.

Of course, this was all just distraction, to avoid looking at the real subject of the picture.

Kon.

Kon, glaring out at the audience with the fiercest look on his face Tim had ever seen. Defensive, protective, possessive.

Kon, with one huge, warm, gentle, hand cupped over Tim's most intimate parts, protecting his modesty in front of the reporters, in front of the world, where Tim was unable to do so himself. Heat shot through him, and his cheeks flushed, his groin stirring. He blessed his occasionally inconvenient mono-focus for preventing eternal embarrassment yesterday. He'd been too shaken by might-have-beens and the come down from the adrenalin to react like this yesterday. Good thing, too. If Kon had felt that, well, say goodbye to their comfortable friendship.

'God, the number of dreams I've had featuring those hands…'

Moving on.

Kon's other hand was splayed protectively over the top half of Tim's face, actually covering more than his cowl usually did; protecting something infinitely more important than any modesty; protecting his identity and thus his life, and his family's, and by doing so, ultimately protecting *Gotham* which was at the end the ultimate goal of the entire Bat Clan.

Which damn if that didn't make the whole thing sexier, somehow.

…Oh yeah, he was so avoiding Kon for the foreseeable future. Until he could get his crazy hormones back under control.

His cell phone rang, and Tim groaned to see Dick's name on the display.

"Yes, Dick?" Tim said, his brother's name coming out as more of an insult then he normally allowed it. He figured he was entitled to a little preemptive revenge.

"Hey, Timmy," Dick said, and yup, Dick had definitely seen the paper this morning. His voice was infused with all the gleeful mocking Tim had been expecting, especially since the older man knew about his crush.

Never, ever get drunk with Dick Grayson. He was an evil, secret sucking ball of adorable cuddles who clung and petted and cajoled information out of you until he knew all of your deepest held secrets. Like who you were crushing on. And then, the bastard didn't even have the decency to pretend not to remember. No, he teased at every opportunity - 'big brother prerogative.'

"What will it take for you not to tease me forever about this?" Tim sighed.

"Oh no, Timmy," Dick laughed. "You're not getting out of it that easily. You're gonna tell me *all* about it."

"Dick…" Tim growled, this time the insult plain and clear. Dick simply snickered the way he did every time people tried to make fun of him for his name. Shameless, that's what he was.

"That's my name, don't wear it out!"

"God, Dick, are you five?"

A low chuckle reached across the phone line to Tim's ear. That wasn't Dick.

"I certainly hope not, babybird." Jason's low, amused rumble made Tim shut his eyes in horror. "That would add an entirely different level of kinky and disturbing to what Big Wing and I got up to last night."

"God, Dick, what? I'm on speakerphone?!"

"Oh yeah, Babybird," No, no, no; Dick would only take his teasing so far. Jason was an entirely different thing. What had he done to deserve *two* brothers who loved to tease him? "So tell us, still-a-Virginbird, how did those big hands feel on your -"

"Dick!" Tim whined. Surely Dick wouldn't let Jason talk to him like this?

"Exactly, Virginbird." Jason's tone was low and filthy; provocative. "How did his hands feel on your dick?" Tim choked, face flushing, sputtering. That's not what he had meant!

Dick was being no help, half chuckling, half moaning in the background, voice a little hoarse. Tim was absolutely not thinking about what the two were doing, on the other side of the phone line, while teasing him mercilessly.

"Tell us, Virginbird, what did you want to do with Superclone's big -" Jason was cut off with a wet sound, as Dick took pity on Tim and kissed Jason, silencing him momentarily.

He would just hang up, but knowing them, they would call him back on his com, which also fed into the rest of his team's and Oracle. His option was relatively private humiliation, and involuntary voyeurism, or very public humiliation and airing of his crush to the rest of his team.

He would take the first option, thank you very much. He didn't need his brothers ruining his relationship with his best friend in a attempt to be helpful; to help him find happiness and love (Dick), and to get him laid (Jason).

He was never letting his brothers talk to Kon unsupervised. Ever.