Disclaimers: So very much not mine.

Spoilers: Vague ones up through TT #12.

Summary: Tim pimps, Bart helps, Kon whores,
and Cassie has the best toy ever.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Note: Livia's bunny, dude. Livia's evil,
cracktastic bunny.

Title from "Freedom and Love" by T. Campbell.

Acknowledgments: To Livia and Jack for
audiencing and helpful suggestions.

*

"You want me to *what*?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Tim can see Bart
consider, reject, reconsider, and re-reject --
possibly several more times than that -- explaining
Tim's plan to Kon in smaller words.

There aren't smaller words. Tim looks at Kon,
steadily and evenly. Kon looks right back at him,
expression stuck somewhere between a glare
and disbelief.

"Distract her," Tim says. "I don't have to tell
you how, do I?"

"Dude, you're not seriously telling me to seduce
Cassie just so you can get your hands on her
lasso. You're just... you're not."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Maybe I think you
could use the... break."

"You *never* think I can use a break, man!"

Tim's cape flutters in a breeze and Bart is giving
him that faintly disconcerting look that's all
about the fact that he *is* blinking -- just too
quickly to see. "He's got a point," Bart says.
"You *could* come up with a better excuse."

"I don't *need* an excuse --"

"You do. You *so* do. You're pimping me out!
How the hell are you pimping me out?"

"I --" Tim pauses, and takes a breath. "It's not
pimping if it's your *girlfriend*, Kon."

Another breeze, and now Bart's on their other
side. "*He* has a point, Kon. I mean, it's not
like he's asking you to hook up with some
random person."

Kon glares at Bart. "Whose side are you
*on*?"

Tim gives Bart a very serious look. In the old
days, it was never a good idea to hinge the
success of any given plan on whether or not
Bart would pick up the meaning of a look like
that, but now...

Bart stares up at Kon with wide-eyed innocence.
"I'm neutral. Kind of like Switzerland. Although,
really, is Switzerland *really* neutral? There's
that whole thing with their national guards at
the Vatican and then there's the --"

Kon throws up a hand. "Fine, you're neutral.
Tim -- are you honestly telling me you don't
see how fucked up this is? She *is* my
girlfriend. What the hell is she gonna say when
she finds out I just wanted to make out so
you could play World's Second Greatest
Detective with her *lasso*?"

"Depends on how distracting you can be, Kon."

"Oh, you did *not* just go there."

Another breeze, and Bart zips between them in a
way that *could*, if you didn't have reason to
suspect Bart's motives, be read as entirely
random. "I think he totally did," Bart says from
the edge of the roof. "Hey, Tim, do you think
the Tower is high enough for bungee jumping?
Because --"

"No," Tim says, and focuses on Kon again, who
has at least stopped looking like he wants to
punch Tim *immediately*. "Look, Kon --"

"I mean, she's really *attached* to that thing."

"This is my point --"

Bart climbs Kon like a monkey. "What about
hang gliding?"

"Maybe," Tim says, "and this is my point,
Kon. We don't know anything about that
weapon save that she got it from *Ares*.
The war god?"

"I *know* which one Ares is -- quit it,
Bart --"

Bart stops beating an oddly familiar-sounding
tattoo on Kon's head and zips away again.
Entirely.

"I -- where...?"

Tim shrugs.

"Whatever. Look, I know Ares is bad news. I'm
just saying that this is really freaking *shady*,
dude, and --"

Bart comes back with an orange and gold
hang-glider.

"Jesus *Christ*, Bart. He said *maybe*, not
*yes* --"

"Kon. I don't want to hurt Cassie *or* the lasso.
I just want to get a closer look at it." He raises
his voice a little to be heard while Kon plays
tug of war with Bart over the hang glider. The
glider has maybe two minutes to live.

"Aw, man, it took me *hours* of subjective
time to build that!"

Or less. He watches Kon use the TK to crush
the glider into a ball. Bart joins him. "Is it
working?"

"Yes. Act like you're complaining."

Bart immediately goes into a surprisingly deft
pantomime of rage and complaint that makes
Tim consider -- and reject -- asking what sort
of books on theater he's been reading. He
doesn't really need a list, especially since
some part of his mind will demand that he
look the books up himself.

Kon shoves the suddenly tiny ball of glider in
his pocket and Tim makes a small shooing
gesture at Bart.

And straightens his cape.

"Man, I hope I didn't really piss him off."

Tim smiles. "If you did, he'll be over it right
around..."

"Now," Kon says, laughing. "Right, okay. You
want to poke at her lasso. *I* want to --"

"Not finish that sentence."

Kon snorts. "*You're* the damned pimp on this
team."

"I just need an hour or so, Kon. Then Bart will
put the lasso back wherever he finds it, and --"

"Heh. I can keep distracting Cassie."

Tim shrugs.

Kon sighs. "Fine. When are we --"

Tim braces himself to keep Bart's wake from
shifting him too much.

"-- doing this."

"Cassie's alone," Bart says. "I checked."

Kon narrows his eyes at Bart.

Tim subtly, carefully steps on Bart's foot and
watches Bart's eyes widen and narrow again
almost -- almost -- too quickly to be noticeable.
"I mean -- are we doing this? 'cause if not, I'm
almost done with my new glider." Bart looks at
Kon, and back at Tim, and back at Kon, and
back --

"Now?" Tim says, raising his eyebrow at Kon.

"Dude, and you make me do this on *command*?"

"Do you have performance anxiety? Can
Superman even get performance anxiety? I
mean, I know it's an emotional/intellectual thing,
but, it if you have a super-powered metabolism,
even the effects of --"

"Bart," Tim says.

"Dude, I'm pretty sure you guys owe me big for
this."

Tim smirks. "You know, Kon, *most* people
don't need this much convincing to make out
with their girlfriends." There's more than one
reason why he hasn't made much of an effort
to introduce any of them to Stephanie.

"Asshole," Kon says, and reaches over Bart's head
to smack Tim lightly on the head.

Tim takes it.

"Just give me five minutes," and Kon heads toward
the door. "And if Cassie finds out, I know *nothing*.
About *any* of this. I don't even know who you
people *are*," he calls back over his shoulder.

"Wow. That was disturbingly easy," Bart says. "And
I think I feel *dirty*."

"You get used to it."

Bart gives him a narrow-eyed look. A questioning,
speculative look.

Tim smiles ruefully. "Back when we were in YJ, I
didn't... do things like this as often as all of you
thought I did."

"We thought you did it a *lot*, Tim."

"I did it *less* than a lot." By some definitions.

*

Bart carries him to the med-lab and helps him set
up. Mostly, this involves Tim taking off his belt
and convincing Bart not to touch anything he
pulls out of the pockets.

It isn't much, not really. Batman had made him
into a heavily-armored mobile crime-lab, but Tim
isn't, actually, equipped for the study of magic
and alchemy.

It isn't the first time he's felt the lack in his
training and readiness, and Batman *is* fairly
close to Zatanna, which means that he could,
conceivably, get to know a little more about this
sort of thing, but...

There's a reason *Bruce* never did, and Tim
understands it perfectly.

Bart's boots make a patter almost fast enough to
be heard as a hum. "Come on come on come
*on*."

"I could say something about patience."

Bart zips around Tim and the table, just far enough
away that his wake doesn't disturb anything. "And
then I'd have to *look* at you funny because you
*know* me."

"Very true."

Another zip and Bart's hands are on his shoulders,
pushing a little as he peers over Tim's shoulders.
It's more habit than necessity -- Bart could be
having a growth spurt in the time it takes Tim to
tense. "So what are you going to *do* to Cassie's
lasso?"

"Mostly? Look at it closely. I'll record a few
observations, and hopefully have a better idea of
what questions I need to ask -- and *who* I'll
need to ask."

"Hm." Bart rests his chin on Tim's shoulder for a
moment, vibrates, and then takes off around the
room again. "Are you worried? I mean, *really*
worried."

Tim tracks him along the walls. "Would I be doing
this if I weren't?"

Bart zips back in front of him. "You *could*
just be bored."

"Bart. I'm a detective, not a mad scientist."

Bart snickers, and keeps snickering.

Tim narrows his eyes and looks down at his
hand... where he's spinning his scalpel over his
fingertips. "Possibly that could have been more
convincing."

"Well, it's not like I mind. I get to be your minion,
after all."

"I never knew you aspired to minion-hood, Bart."

Bart's smile is narrow and just a little sly. "I'm
subtle and mysterious and it's been five minutes
gotta go."

"Be..." Careful, Tim thinks, and sighs.

Honestly, he *could* have done this by himself.
There are all sorts of professional burglars in the
world who don't have a fraction of Tim's
experience and expertise at stealth.

Which is why they wind up in jail, and he... helps
put them there. Tim snorts to himself. It *is*
nice to have a partner in not-really-crime. And
Bart --

"Got it."

-- makes a decent enough minion. "Any trouble?"

"Well, I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that
Cassie doesn't wear a bra, but other than that,
no. She'd dropped it on the side of the bed
closest to the door." Bart hands him the coiled
lasso and stations himself behind Tim again.

"Mm. It might be less distracting if you just stood
next to me."

Bart actually *steps* to his side, slowly enough
that the individual movements are discernible --
and there's no wake. It's this new, occasional
tendency toward mindfulness and care that makes
Bart *just* trustworthy enough to be truly
dangerous.

Still, he *is* on their side. Tim's side, today.

He smiles to himself and uncoils the lasso.
Through the gauntlets, it doesn't feel especially
different from, say, an extension cord.

He frowns, and thinks very seriously about hunting
down the latex gloves, but... Tim shrugs internally
and sets the lasso down and peels off his gauntlets
before lifting them again.

It's... surprisingly smooth. The sort of thing he'd
feel more comfortable wrapping around his hand
before doing anything especially complicated.
"Hmm."

"What?"

"Not sure." Tim lifts his hand about a foot off the
table and forces himself to hold on to it no tighter
than he would a jumpline. He stares at it, and
waits, and... it doesn't slip out of his hand.

It just feels like it *should*, or that maybe it's
slipping through his grip too quickly for him to
notice.

Tim frowns and sets it down again, straightening it
out until he knows for sure that he's holding on to
the thing no more than a few inches from one end
before lifting it again. The same feeling that he
should be holding it *tighter*, the same strange,
random anxiety that he's going to lose it, but it
*isn't*, actually, sliding out of his grasp.

Tim narrows his eyes.

"What?" There's a hint of impatience in Bart's
voice, but *only* a hint.

"How clearly can you see it?"

"Um... how do you mean? It's right there."

Tim thinks about how to be more clear, but... it's
difficult. "The markings are clear?"

"Yeah, it's... it looks like any other rope, just, you
know. Really *bright*. It... hmm. It almost looks like
it has its own light."

Tim nods. "So does Wonder Woman's. It doesn't,
and neither does this one."

He can see Bart nodding back. "So...?"

"I'm tempted to have you touch it, but I'm not sure
that's a good idea. I... no." That's not it at all. He
doesn't just want to have a better grip on the thing,
he wants to hold *on* to it.

He has the sudden, powerful 'knowledge' that
someone will try to take it from him, and with it
anger and... not anger at all.

A whisper just quiet enough, just *far* enough that
he can't tell what's being said, or who's saying it.

"Robin?"

If he pays more attention (hold on, tighter, let it
touch), then he'd be able to tell if it was male or
female, and where it's *coming* from. He manages
to keep himself from looking around, from being
too *obvious*, but it feels more like he can't look
away. Bright.

It feels like it should be hurting his eyes, but it
isn't.

It's just very... warm.

"Bart, do you..." He isn't sure what he was going
to say. He isn't. Another whisper, only it isn't really
a whisper at all. Whispers only *seem* like they
should be palpable, and then only if the person
whispering is close. Behind you, pressing even
closer, and he doesn't want to get *completely*
naked, but it's so -- "Hot."

"Tim...?"

Pressure on the back of his neck. Wetness -- no.
Something that *feels* like wetness, and there's a
strangely wrong and wonderful feeling low in his
belly and there are *hands* on his chest, stroking,
pinching, making his nipples so *hard*, because --

Because Kon *really* likes Cassie's breasts, and
the lasso is... he can feel everything *she's*
feeling --

"Tim, you're freaking me --"

Tim drops the lasso.

Tim tries very, very hard to drop the lasso, and has
to bite his lip, because Kon won't stop *touching*
him. And he isn't -- he's not --

"Tim, *listen* to me --"

Hand sliding down his chest, circling his navel.
Teasing. Wanting. Give it to him, he thinks, *let*
him, and he isn't sure if they're his thoughts or
not, because --

Someone's trying to take the lasso *away*,
and --

He's not going to let that happen. He has to --

"Whoa, I -- Tim, wait --"

He hasn't trained *extensively* with rope --

"Tim, what -- oh God, I feel -- "

-- but it's still not difficult at all to loop the lasso
around Bart's arms, kick his feet out from under
him until they both fall to their knees, and hold
on tight. Both ends now, and Kon's fingers are
slipping beneath the waistband of his tights --

-- of her panties, and Kon has *big* hands,
stretching and pulling, pulling the cotton tight.
Uncomfortable if she wasn't so --

-- hard for it, chafing him, and he has to *focus*.
"Bart, I..." He can't finish. He doesn't know *how*.

Bart groans and shakes, *vibrates* against him --

"Oh God," she says --

"Oh God, don't stop --"

"*Tim* --" And Bart wriggles, fights, and vibrates
*more*, and the only bad thing about it is that it's
hard to focus on the way Kon's scraping his teeth
on the back of --

-- her neck, the way he's whispering and she
can't hear a word he's saying more, and she
doesn't *care*, because he's fingering her --

-- the head of his *dick*, and Tim yanks the lasso
tighter helplessly and moans into Bart's neck. He
smells like sweat, like all the sex that's about to
happen, happening, and he's holding on to Tim's
knees. "Bart. Bart, I can't --"

"Oh God. Oh God, Tim, I'm so hard and he won't
stop *touching* me --"

"I know. I --"

Hard little circles. It's --

-- so *good* --

-- such a *tease*, and Tim bucks for more,
shoving against Bart's ass --

-- into his hand, and she's so *wet*, he's slipping,
pushing, rocking against her ass --

-- forcing him to buck harder, rhythmic and dirty,
and Bart pushes back --

"Tim -- I -- oh fuck, it's *both* of you --"

All of us, he thinks, and the lasso is just long
enough for him to wrap it around Bart's arms one
more time --

"Tim, *please* --"

Just enough for him to pull it tight -- tighter --
around his own hands and the wave of feeling rocks
him, knocks the breath out of him, and he *has* to
press back on Bart's chest and reach between --

-- reach back and shove between them. She has
to *feel* him, with more than just her ass, feel
him so hot, so *hard* --

Tim squeezes and feels it, both hands and his
dick and his --

-- pussy, and if she could just arch up a little
more, he could push *in* --

Someone groans and someone shouts and
someone sucks so hard on his neck it *hurts*,
and Kon's fingers are so *big* so --

"Deep -- I -- Tim, he's --"

"Fucking -- "

-- me, oh God he's --

"Tim, I can't -- you have to make me come -- I
can't come -- I --"

"I know. It's Cassie. She's... she has to --"

"Oh fuck, *Kon* --"

-- pushing deep but still so *slow*, and Cassie
isn't sure whether she wants to --

"I think... I think we have to kill Kon for this --"

-- or just *scream* --

Enough warning for Tim to bury his shout in Bart's
neck, biting and *sobbing* with it, but Bart is
shouting, bucking and twisting and Tim pulls the
lasso tighter reflexively and the orgasm --

-- she's coming so hard she can't *see*, she can
feel herself --

-- shaking, needing it. More --

"Don't stop. Don't -- oh Tim --"

Heat, at first, but Bart's uniform is thin, and the
wetness...Tim groans and spills a little more, and
it's not *stopping*. His body is seizing, begging
for it --

-- she *lives* for the aftershocks --

-- and all he can do is spasm and moan, and try
to stroke Bart through it, try to stroke *himself*
through it with Bart's body, and --

-- mmm, Kon's still so *hard* --

He has to let go. While he can still... while Cassie
is still thinking more than feeling. What she's
going to do to Kon and --

-- she can almost *taste* him already --

Bart whimpers and vibrates. "Tim... I... I don't
know --"

Tim takes a deep, shuddering breath and forces
himself to uncoil the lasso from around his
hands, grabbing for his gauntlet and using it
like a potholder until he's got the lasso from
around Bart's body. And then he tosses it across
the room.

Bart makes a strange, low sound and shakes
his arms out, and then rubs at the faint -- and
already healing -- welts left by the lasso.

Tim concentrates on breathing.

"Whoa."

"Yes."

"I... did you have any *idea* that would happen?"

Tim frowns and thinks about it. "I knew the lasso
was keyed to her emotions." And possibly
anyone's...? There's definitely some question
about just how much it was affecting *him*
before... before. "It just didn't occur to me that
she wouldn't have to *touch* it first."

"I... yeah." Bart stands up and stretches, and
takes several laps around the room. The breeze
ruffles Tim's hair.

Well, the hair that isn't plastered to his scalp
with sweat. He... really needs a shower. And
he's not even *thinking* about his jock.

When Bart comes to a halt, he's just far enough
away from the lasso that he wouldn't be able
to touch it easily, even if he *did* bend over.
He's eyeing it like a snake, and Tim can't say
he blames him.

Tim scrubs a hand back through his hair. "I
think you should put on gloves before... taking
it back."

"Uh, *yeah*. Jesus *Christ*, Tim. Why did you
wrap it around *me*?"

Tim blinks and looks at the floor between his
legs. It's an excellent question. "Because I
couldn't quite find a way to explain what
was happening when Kon was playing with
my nipples."

"Aw man, I *missed* that."

"Sorry." Tim swallows *back* the laughter,
because he knows exactly how hysterical it will
be.

"I... wow. I mean." Bart zips around the room
again, re-mussing Tim's hair and --

Tim catches the scalpel before it can stab him,
and places it back in the belt for safekeeping.

"I mean, I always kind of was sort of maybe
*attracted* to Kon, but..."

You don't say. "Mm."

"We seriously just had sex with him. Or he had
sex with us. Or we all had sex. Did we all just
have sex?"

Tim thinks about it. "Depends on whether or
not *they* know about... this."

"Um."

"Mm-hm."

And Bart's crouching in front of him. Tim looks
up from the floor and Bart's eyes are wide and
bright and unnerving. "Tim... do you *want* to
keep it a secret? I mean..." *This* blink is slow
enough to be noticeable.

It's a very *definite* sort of blink.

"Wait. You were -- are -- were? You're attracted
to Kon, too."

Tim sighs internally and nods.

"So how come..." Bart narrows his eyes. "I. You
make no *sense*."

Not to *myself*... "I'm subtle and mysterious,
Bart."

"You're *insane*. And possibly evil. No offense,
man."

Tim snorts and rests his head against the leg of
the table. "None taken. Besides..."

Bart zips out of the room and back again.
"They're... um. Pretty busy."

Tim nods and tosses Bart his own gauntlets.

"Okay -- wait, I'm *wearing* gloves."

"Do you really want to take the chance?"

"Heh." Bart slips on the gloves and gives him
another one of those sly looks. "Not until..."

Tim waits for it.

"I get back *here*," Bart says, catching Tim's
shoulder when the wake makes him rock.

"Bart..."

"What were you going to say? Before. 'Besides'
what?"

Tim smiles just a little past Bart's shoulder. "If
I wasn't evil, I wouldn't get to have minions."

Bart grins at him. "But you *are*, so..."

"Bart. *I'm* not the one you're attracted to."

"And ten minutes ago you didn't know what it
felt like to have me come in your hand. Or... to
have sex as a woman. Um."

"Bart --"

"*Are you attracted to me, Tim?"

Tim bites his tongue.

"Because..."

Tim forces himself to look Bart in the eye. "You're
attracted to me?"

"I... yeah. I kind of want to try it when I'm sure
about my gender. Don't you?"

"It could be worth... further study."

Bart snickers and kisses him. Messy, wet, fast
and... Bart doesn't actually *stop* laughing.
It's a little infectious.

Tim pushes his hand into Bart's sweaty hair and
goes with it, smiling around the flicker of Bart's
tongue, snake-like, sleek as... the rest of him.

Definitely worth further study.

*

They don't really manage to get much more
time *alone* until well after dinner. Tim watches
the lights across the Bay, and the blur of Bart
around the edges of the roof and gone, and
back, and gone --

Kon bangs through the door, trying and failing
to hide the same grin he's been trying and
failing to hide for hours.

Tim nods at him.

Bart zips up from over the side of the building.

"So? What did you find out?" Kon is honestly,
openly curious.

That you apparently know exactly what to do
with your hands. Tim can feel Bart looking at
him, and he's reasonably sure the flash of red
above them is Cassie in flight. "I have a few
questions about the lasso's... conductivity."

Kon looks expectant.

Tim looks right back.

"Dude, that's *it*?"

Tim shrugs, and thinks about Bart, sleek and
moving under his hands. "There wasn't really a
lot of time before..."

Kon squints at him.

Tim bites the inside of his cheek. "Before I got
distracted."

Bart chokes and disappears over the edge of
the roof again.

Tim folds his arms under his cape. He can
*feel* Kon staring at him. "Nice night," he
says.

"Uh... huh."

Bart comes back with a brand new hang-glider.

"Hunh," Kon says. "Wonder why he put green
on this one."

Because I've apparently turned him evil.
"Excellent question," Tim says, and goes back
to staring out at the Bay.

It really *is* a nice night.

end.