Kon is tired.

Exhausted, even. He’s tired, and he’s exhausted, and he’s sprawled out over his sky blue sheets like an exhausted dog, trying to keep his muscles lax so that maybe he can rest.

It was a long mission, involving three of Kon’s least favorite things: kryptonite, magic, and stealth. It wasn’t a failure (somehow) purely because you had taken over like the little control freak you are and came up with a new plan on the fly. He was grateful but also slightly pissed off because you’re, well. You.

He’s still in his hero suit. The hero suit that he still hasn’t taken off, being far too exhausted and somehow achy despite being invulnerable, is torn so much that all remained was his large ‘S’ emblem and boxers— save for his leather jacket and sunglasses. At least the jacket isn’t gone. This thing has been lovingly decorated, and maybe now that he’s thinking about it he should get a different one for missions.

Kon was about to pass out when he heard your subtle heartbeat from outside his door. You don’t bother to knock as you open the door and come inside: probably because he didn’t lock the door. When he hears your heartbeat— because he can’t hear your steps, he figures it’s a Bat thing— when you enter the room, he cracks open an eye to look at you. He’s expecting some sweet words, something cryptic, some praise, maybe a sigh or a dip on his bed from your weight coming to cuddle.

He instead gets pelted in the face with his own teddy bear. “What the— fuck, Rob!”