I own nothing. Thank you for your time!

*edited (sorry, my dad was complaining about wanting to leave for dinner, and I posted this before I'd made all the changes I wanted to)*

"I am the best there has ever been," Kon smirked as he pinned Tim to the mats yet again. They were both out of uniform and dressed down in t-shirts and shorts to train in, but Tim's mask was still firmly in place over his eyes, as always. "Nobody can beat me anymore. I am completely invincible!"

"You want to test that theory?" Tim asked through gritted teeth.

The whole point of the exercise they were working through was teaching Kon how to safely fight and overpower average humans—fighting crime wasn't all about duking it out with venom-high arms dealers and super strong meta-humans and most back robbers and carjackers couldn't take a two hundred pound force hit with out break a few bones; Kon would be a lot more versatile (and therefor more valuable to the Team and the League) if he could stop said bank robbers and carjackers without having to worry about having a lawsuit thrown his way (or towards the team) a week later; the second half of that whole average thugs couldn't take a two-hundred pound force hit was that most of them had no idea how to execute a proper scissor kick either, so Tim was holding himself back to his most obvious and basic moves to make the whole thing more realistic for Kon—and Tim was getting tired of dealing with Kon's resulting Kryptonian-sized ego.

"Kryptonite doesn't count," Kon rolled his eyes before tightening his grip on Tim's wrists to the point that it was almost painful (and that was by Tim's standards, not a normal human's). "Besides, I've pinned you ten times already. Clearly, I'm the stronger and superior fighter."

"Yes, because pinning a guy six inches shorter and 100 pounds lighter than you is the greatest testament to strength there has ever been."

"Obviously," Kon nodded his head, and Tim knew Kon didn't really mean it…but that didn't mean he wasn't still fantasizing about kicking him in his stupidly beautiful face, either. "I can't help it that you're tiny and helpless against all of my height and muscle and—oomph."

That's it.

The next thing Kon knew, two of Tim's fingers were jabbed into his upper arm, causing Kon more pain than he had ever thought possible, and he was being thrown across the room harder than he ever had been before.

Dick whistled to himself as he made his way through the tower. He wasn't sure why he was doing it (other than the tower was oddly quiet, and that upbeat song that had been playing in the diner that he and Jason had breakfast in that morning was stuck in his head), but it felt right and seemed to put the rest of the team at ease as they slowly fell in to place behind him and headed toward the training room.

If he was surprised when the door opened to reveal Superboy laying facedown on the floor, groaning in pain every couple of seconds with Tim perched crisscross applesauce on his back, typing away at a computer on his lap, Dick didn't let on.

"Hey, Rob," he called as he made his way over to the stereo system, ignoring the various states of shock radiating from the young heroes behind him. Superboy didn't give any indication that he noticed the newcomers, and neither did Tim, other than to raise one hand from his keyboard at Dick in a small, lazy wave. "What happened?"

"He called me tiny and helpless," Tim answered him with a coolness in his voice most of the team had never heard, not bothering to look up from his laptop screen.

"Idiot," Dick snorted and shook his head as he scrolled through the music on his phone, picking the playlist he wanted before setting it down and walking back towards Tim and Kon. "He does realize you've had more training than the rest of us combined and frequently take down villains with twice his experience on a daily basis, right?"

"He does now," the corners of Tim's mouth pulled up into the smallest of smirks, and this time he did look up as Dick extended a fist down to him and the two of them touched knuckles.

"Way to go, kid," Dick's eyes and smile said it all.

"Thanks, Wing," Tim smiled back up at him before letting his hand and attention fall back to his laptop as Dick's hand found it's way up into his hair.

"Alright, Team—Robin and Superboy won't be joining us today, but that doesn't mean the rest of you get to slack off!" There was a round of groans and protests from the rest of the team as Dick's fingers scratched at the base of Tim's skull, by his ear, and Tim's eyes fluttered closed and he arched up into the feeling ("What?" "Ugh, why?" "How come they get off easy?" "Bart, you idiot! Does it look like Superboy got off easy?"), but Dick ignored them. "Yeah, yeah, I know! I'm horrible. You guys wanted to be superheroes, though. This is what superheroes do; they train. Let's go! Before I get any older!"

There were more protests as the team started making their way over to the equipment—or…what was left of it. Several of the giant machines and contraptions now had Kon-sized dents in them, or their parts were missing or strewn about the room in places they had no right to be. Dick's fingers trailed out of Tim's hair as he followed them and Tim had just a fraction of a second to miss it before his attention was pulled to the young man below him, shifting and mumbling more than he had been before.

"What was that?" Tim asked, leaning down and to the side over Kon's shoulder blades so he could hear Kon better.

"Hurts," Kon groaned more clearly in response, eyes flicking open to look at Tim. "Pain…everywhere. What—what'd you…do to me, man?"

"Oh, nothing much," Tim shrugged. "With your advanced healing you should be fine in an hour or two."

"But...how?" Kon looked up at him imploringly. "You didn't…use kryp-kryptonite?"

"I have my ways," Tim reached up idly to brush some of Kon's bangs behind his ear.

"Mmm," Kon groaned again, annoyed at the lack of a better explanation but clearly recognizing and understanding Tim's 'I'm not going to tell you, so stop trying voice' even through his pain induced haze, and shifted as much as he could to bury his face back in the mats. "Hurts."

"Yeah, I'm sure it does," Tim feigned a sympathetic nod as he sat back up and patted Kon's shoulder with another smirk. "But don't worry, I'm sure all of that muscle and height will help make you feel better faster."