|The D.C Collection | Imagines, One-Shots, Preferences, and More |

The First Few | Conner Kent x Reader

Description: Conner Kent stares a lot. You notice.

Words: 1590

Notes: I tell one of my friends (who has seen YJ) that I want to write but don't know who for. Immediately, they go, KON KON KON KON. Also, I felt like YJ!Superboy was missing something pretty iconic from his persona...

_

When presented with both you and the object you are holding, all Conner can do is stare. You've noticed that he does that a lot lately. At the plant life outside the mountain, the water as it spills out of the spout in the kitchen sink, the sunlight as it escapes through the windows of your car. Most notably, he stares at you. You caught him the morning, eyes dazed as he looked at your face and then focussing when he discovered he was caught. But he was never one to back down and immediately accepted your surprised peering as a contest. Whoever looked away first was the chicken, but after what felt like a full minute of staring, Canary called everyone down for training and you were pulled away from each other's gazes.

Now, it is the same thing. Except he has an eyebrow raised and his head is inclined to the side, and you're not blushing and staring at him like an idiot, as this time you are smiling—even if his lingering gaze is making it slope awkwardly.

Conner finally looked away from your face, and you grinned at the subtle victory. But then his eyes fell on your arm and you knew that he noticed. Any person with supervision and hearing would notice. He nodded to your shoulder as you subconsciously held it,"I um, I heard it dislocate when you and M'Gann were training..." He coughed,"I don't have x-ray vision, but I still think I can... help. If you want me too." Conner said gruffly.

You could still hear M'gann's rapid apologies flying through your mind. But of course you used that kindness and worry against her, surprising her through your not-so-faked pain by swiping at her stomach and sending her flying backward just as she had done to you. You could also remember the way you glanced at Conner during this sparring session, and then brushed it off by sweeping your eyes over M'Gann and helping her up,"There. Now we're even."

Conner had ventured into your room after he saw the way M'Gann through you during training. Even if you didn't show it on your face and were a master at hiding it, his supervision gave him access to your microexpressions, and he could hear the way your bones ground uncomfortably against one another. You invitingly waved him forward, rubbing your reddening arm painfully,"If you could Kon, that would be so sweet of you. Do you know how to?"

"Canary taught me a while back." Conner said, a proud smile easing onto his face. You must have been through this procedure too many times to count, as sat down and attempted to relax before he could instruct you too. He felt the embarrassed sensitivity flutter and decline from the air as you both hesitantly exhaled comfort.

He began by gradually raising your arm from his place in your desk chair, so light in his powerful hands. He had you plant your hand against the wall and swept your hair off of your shoulder in order to get access,"So. What's in the box?"

You gave a brief glance to the slim, rectangular box lying behind you on the bed. The side with Conner written in neat letters was face-down, but that didn't stop you from informing him that it was his, and that he was going to open it as a gift for repairing your shoulder. You explained it's origins—you picked a few things up while you and Artemis went to the mall a while back, and then put something together for him—and tried not to focus on just how close he was, how strong whatever cologne he was wearing was. You had to withhold the urge to breathe it in as deeply as you wanted to.

"Well, I'm gonna guess and say that you didn't get it for the next time that I helped with your shoulder." Conner smirked. You laughed into your free palm, settling into a safety that you almost didn't expect. Conner could easily damage your arm more than it already was. And yet when his hand gently rests upon your injury, you feel safe and most definitely in the right hands.

"No... I made it for—" You looked down to avoid his expectant eyes,"—I-I'll explain once you open it."

"Can't wait." Conner said. Your blush traveled from your cheeks to your neck and ears; he gently cupped your neck for some leverage, but then realized that wasn't a good position and almost cheekily extended his hand. When you looked down at it in confusion, he just chimed,"You're gonna need it."

Conner's hand loosely encased your own, and the memories of having a dislocated shoulder repaired surfaced, accompanied by a faint phantom pain in your already throbbing arm. This was going to hurt, and Conner's hand was the perfect stress ball.

He did that odd thing again where he just stared, and since he was so close you hoped that he would kiss you. So when Conner does, like the graze of a butterfly's wings, your eyes go wide and your body tenses excitedly. But then you're forced to break away from his kiss with the harsh snap of your relocated bone, loudly completed with your exclamation of pain,"Ah!"

"You asshole!" You whispered harshly, and Conner grins when you smack his arm with your newly healed limb. You turn your blazing face away from his and try to push down your own smile,"... What if someone saw you?"

"I didn't hear anyone coming." Conner excused innocently, your other hand still knotted with his, which he rests on his thigh."Even if I did, my distraction worked." He said. It made you wanna kiss the smug expression off his face. But that had been your second kiss ever—and as it was one of his first kisses too, there was no way he could blame you for being so embarrassed. First kisses were supposed to be shared under the protection of solitude.

You looked at him with a pout. He returned the look with a cuter parody and a squeeze of your hand. The action makes your heart race and your legs shake with nerves, the way it has and probably always will. That's what made his angry, growly reputation so hard to take seriously, especially if he was so soft when he smiled. Maybe your gift would help with that...

"Well, thank you, Kon." You reached behind you and retrieved the box, rubbing the dying wisps of pain from your arm as an ache began to flare beneath your skin. Conner took it and admired your handwriting with that tender smile on his face. You liked this Kon more than anything, with his gentle fingers and even gentler eyes.

"When you... When you said that you wanted something to add to your costume, I saw this and immediately thought of you." You admitted, gently kneading the stinging from your muscles. It was a wonderful excuse to not get caught in those eyes. Why must they always be so blue? You asked yourself."And I know we've been together for only two weeks... but, I thought it would be nice to get you something."

Conner felt it first, a strong, all-black material. And then tightly-woven threads, bound together in the shape of a shield on the back of the item. He pulled it from the box to reveal a cropped leather jacket, the backside emblazoned with the House of El's crest. Conner immediately leaped from his chair, pulling it around his strong shoulders as he strode over to the mirror. It was even cuter, to watch him twist and turn and try and get a good look at it on him from every angle. You joined his side to watch his reflection, and then you laughed and blushed into your hands when he began to flex.

It looked good on him. Right. Rebellious and powerful all at once, hugging his strong arms and broad shoulders like it was made for him. It was so new you could almost see your reflection where the light bounced off of the sleeves, and it carried that new leather smell you knew would cling to him for days. Finally, he set his hands on his hips and became instantly sassier with the punk jacket on. He nodded in approval of himself."I like it."

"Good." You brought your face from your hands and swept your hair out of your eyes, grinning, so hard your cheeks were beginning to ache too. Conner caught your reflection in the mirror, turning to face you with a bubbly air around him.

"You're amazing." He breathed.

"You're sweet." You murmured.

This time, when he stares, it's not as uncomfortable nor as long. He then offers his hand again and smirks,"Go on a bike ride with me?"

You slip your hand into his and step forward when he pulls you into him, smirking into his neck and breathing in the combined scent of him and leather,"This jacket isn't going to turn you into a bad boy, is it?"

He turns his cheek so his lips ghost against your ear, teasing,"What if I already was?"

You giggle and snicker as you push yourself away from him, your fingers still knotted as they always seem to be. Looking up at him through your height difference, you carefully plant your hand on your hip to mirror him,"Then I think I might have a type... "