Teen Titans
Saturday Night Movies

I'm not sure when it started, really. It's almost a tradition now. All right, I'm not sure if you can have a tradition this short, but if you can, it's tradition.

Wait. I lied. I *do* know how it started. It started with Alcatraz, and Cassie sitting on the floor in front of the couch, trying to give herself a neck massage even though everyone knows that doesn't work. So, dutiful (and mightily handsome, if I do say so myself) boyfriend that I am, I tried to help out. It didn't work so well. I mean, I'm not used to giving neck massages. Or any kind of massages. Frankly, people don't ask the guy who can bend steel if he'll work the kinks out of their muscles. I think it has something to do with being afraid I'll turn them to mush.

Not that I would, of course. TTK doesn't work that way.

But I'm getting off topic. Cassie batted my hands away finally and said I couldn't do it. There's Tim, sitting on the couch next to me, so he reaches over with one hand and absently starts rubbing.

I'll never forget the look on his face. I mean, Cassie. Wonder Girl. *Super-strength.* Also means super-dense muscles. Next thing we know, she's flat on her stomach on the floor, and Tim's *walking* on her. He didn't have the arm-strength to get the knots out, so he used his weight and heels to hit pressure points that I'm sure Batman's drilled into him. Cassie looked like she was in seventh heaven.

That's how it started.

Everyone thinks there's this set of rules about the Bat-clan. One of the rules everyone seems to accept as truth is "Thou Shall Not Touch." There are rules, actually. But that's not one of them. Really, the rule is "Thou Shall Not Touch Unless The Bat-person Touches First."

Now, when applied to Batman, that means you'd just better not get within a ten foot radius. But have you *watched* the rest of them? Honestly? Nightwing is one of the touchy-feeliest (touchiest-feeliest? Touchiest-feely? Whatever) people I think I've ever seen. And, okay, Tim's not like that. But he certainly touches. He just does it sorta absently.

So Saturday night movies became tradition, and shortly thereafter the Saturday night massage session. I'm not sure Tim's even aware of it, to be honest. He never seems to notice who he's working knots out of, or even that he's doing it. He just keeps watching the movie while we all (yeah, me too) line up at his feet like puppies waiting to get petted. Even Gar. Sometimes as a puppy. Once, Tim just spent like, ten minutes rubbing puppy-Gar's belly. That was pretty funny.

Sam Drabble

Sam didn't have a normal life. He knew this. He knew this the way he knew he had five toes on each foot, and the way he knew that his mother would call him every Sunday to ask him if he'd gone to church, and then say "well, next week" when he told her he hadn't. He had accepted this. Embraced it, even. Nothing really could surprise him anymore (aside from Logan coming roaring out of his room with bright pink hair, but Sam was pretty sure that was Bobby's doing anyway. More sure when he found Bobby in ice-form, afraid to change back because he'd have a scent, but unable to stop giggling.). Sam was proud of his ability to remain unfazed in the face of danger. In fact, he could even be eloquent. (He'd even managed a, "New hairdo?" to Logan that day, though Logan had only growled and snikted.)

But when Shatterstar walked up to him in his mother's house, surrounded by six of his nine siblings, sat on the couch and said solemnly, "Sam? I wish to have homosexual relations with you." Sam could only manage a solemn blink and a choked, "Huh?"

Damn Cable for re-uniting X-Force, anyway.

The little ones, thankfully, were mostly too little to get what Shatterstar had said. Either that, or they didn't care. It was hard to tell.

After a while, Sam did manage to say, "Shatty, Ah appreciate your interest, but Ah ain't homosexual."

"Ah. I can see how that might be a problem."

Sam nodded and went back to reading.

"But didn't you have homosexual relations with Boomer?"

He managed to keep the 'huh?' inside, this time. He looked at Shatterstar. "No. Ah had sexual relations with Tab. But she's a girl."

In the corner, one of his siblings started wailing, "SA-AAAAM HAD SEEE-EEEX!" and The Twins chimed in with, "EEEWWW!!"

"I do not see how that applies."

Sam set down his book. He could tell, through his highly developed Weird Alien sense, that this was going to be one of Those Talks. "Okay. Shatterstar. Do you know what homosexual means?"

"Homo. Of the species human. A type of primate. Sexual. Of relating to or involving sex or sexual organs."

Someone really needed to give him an award, he thought. Xavier never had to deal with stuff like this. Neither did Scott. Or Warren. Or Cable. Or Alex. Or--he was running out of names. Storm. He took a deep breath and said, "Homosexual means sex with another man. Sex means sex with another person." Maybe he'd make himself an award.

Shatterstar thought. The Twins had made a banner reading "SAM HAD SEX" and were dancing around the living room. He made a mental note to kill them later. Before his mother got home.

"Ah," Shatterstar said at last.

Sam nodded and picked up his book.

The front door opened. The babble of children ran toward it, screaming. "Mom! Mom! Guess what! Sam had homosexual rela--"

He bolted for his siblings.

Saturday Night, Titan's Tower

"To the left."

These are Saturdays at the tower, now. Kon doesn't know what they were like with the old team. Luckily, he doesn't really care, either.

"No, dude, farther left."

A heel hits that knot of muscle, a pressure point, and the whole thing releases. His hand tingles. "Ohhhhh, yeah."

Someone snorts. When he speaks, Kon recognizes Gar. "You guys sound like you're doing something naughty in here. Are you doing something naughty in here?"

"You know we'd invite you if we were, Gar," Kon says into the carpet. He hears Tim breathe a laugh.

"Aw. You're so sweet."

"How'd the audition go?"

Leave it to Tim to know about Gar's personal life.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That bad?" Kon asks. He doesn't really care about that. At that moment, Cassie could come in naked screaming, "Take me, I'm yours!" and he wouldn't care.

Okay, maybe *that* would get his attention.

"Dude, stop talking and walk s'more," Kon mutters when Tim stops moving. Tim starts moving again.

"What the heck did you do to your back? I thought the force field--"

"Keeps me from getting hurt. But, fuck, I lifted the plow and wasn't paying attention, and next thing I know I'm trying to use muscles instead of the TK, and--" he stops talking when he hears Tim laugh. It isn't funny. It's annoying.

"Hey. My turn."

And speaking of Cassie... okay, he wasn't, but still.

"It's still my turn," Kon says into the carpet.

"You wish. My turn." She sprawls on the floor beside him.

"Go 'way." He doesn't care if she *is* his sorta-girlfriend. Tim's feet are his. At least for the moment. And he'll fight for them. He's underhanded and sneaky enough to win, too. Okay, no he's not, but he's strong enough to make it happen.

"You need to learn to share," Cassie says to him, and sticks out her tongue.

"I don't share well," Kon grumbles. But Tim's got one foot on her and one foot on Kon, and it's not as good as it was, but it's close enough.

"You guys both look like you're about to orgasm," Gar says.

"Yeah, well, let's just say it's a good thing I don't have to get up right now." Kon grins.

"You're awful," Cassie snorts. "Oooh, there..."

"I think we need to keep Tim."

"We are keeping Tim," Cassie reminds him.

"No, I mean locked in the basement."

"Try," Tim says, and he's only partly kidding. Kon's learning to tell these things.

"Oh, man. I bet Mom would let me keep him. He can sleep on the foot of my bed..." Cassie groans.

Kon peers at her. "I'm not so sure *I* like that idea..."

Cassie smiles without opening her eyes. "You don't have to. I'd throw you over for these feet."

"I'd throw you over, first," Kon answers.

"I'd rather go with Cassie," Tim interjects. "She's cuter."

"You don't get a vote," Kon mutters.

"What are we talking about?" The speed means it's Bart.

"Keeping Tim."

"I'd make a special bat-proof room so he couldn't escape, and then I'd feed him cake!" Bart announces. The room falls silent. Kon twists to peer at the young speedster. "Why are we keeping him?" Bart asks. "You're really random sometimes," Kon says, and lets his head fall back to the floor when Tim starts walking again.

"I'd go with him," Tim says thoughtfully. "I mean, cake."

"I wouldn't let you," Kon mutters.

The feet stop moving. Kon feels weight shift, and opens an eye to see Tim's face near his. "He's the one with the bat-proof room," Tim says. "You don't have one of those. You couldn't keep me."

Kon snorts a laugh and closes his eyes. "Okay. Well. Keep doing that foot thing, and I'll feed you cake, too."

"Deal."

The feet start to move again.

These are Saturdays in the Tower, now. Kon loves Saturdays.

Sunday Mornings, Titan's Tower

He really doesn't remember Sunday mornings at the Tower being like this. There was no cake, for one thing.

Dick leans against the kitchen table and peers at Tim, who's currently eating cake and reading Oracle's notes about one of the prisoners at Alcatraz. "Are you eating cake for breakfast?" Dick asks, just to clarify.

"Uh huh," Tim says without looking up.

He's going to say something about health. Really. But-- "What kind of cake is that?"

"German chocolate."

"Looks good."

"Mine." Tim still hasn't looked up from the computer screen.

"What did you do to earn a whole cake on your own? Wait, tell me you didn't do--" he stops when Tim finally looks up at glares at him. Dick smiles. "The football team?"

"No football team here," Tim says.

"I was thinking Kon was the football team."

Tim looks vaguely annoyed. As annoyed as he gets, anyway. Dick loves flustering him. "Look, you wanna do Kon, do Kon. I'm sure he'd say yes. But stop trying to live vicariously through me. Pervert."

"What would I say yes to? And why's Dick a pervert?"

"Dick's a pervert because he's trying to live through me, and you'd say yes to doing him." Tim still hasn't looked up.

Dick puts on his bland face to keep from cringing, and glances up at Kon.

Who looks hopeful.

Dick laughs. "No. Kid, you're like, sixteen."

Kon sighs and rolls his eyes. "But I've been sixteen for like, two years! I mean, I'm growing *now*, but shouldn't that make me eighteen or something?"

"Or two," Dick points out.

Kon glares at him. "Spoilsport."

"Have you ever done a guy?" Dick asks Tim. "I mean, you shouldn't knock it if--"

"No," Tim mutters, and taps a series of keys.

"Have you ever done a girl?" Kon asks slowly, leaning on Tim's other side.

Tim sighs and blushes, but is obviously trying to pretend like he's NOT blushing. "No."

"Have you ever done a dog?"

The room falls silent. Everyone looks at Bart, standing in the doorway.

"Wait--what are we talking about?" Bart asks.

Dick shakes his head. On second thought, Sunday mornings in the Tower used to be *just* like this.

To the X-Mansion
To the Batcave
To the living room