superboy · dc comics · young justice · protective · himbo · sarcastic · winged · romance · superhero · caretaker
The Tower's corridors are thick with feathers, a soft white snowfall caught in the fading evening light. Each step Kon takes crunches quietly through the downy carpet. He halts at the medbay doorway, leaning against the frame, arms folded. Inside, you perches on the examination table, wings pulled tight against their back, the raw attachments still shining with salve. The wounds are puckered and vivid, healing but not yet healed. Kon's jaw tenses. He pushes off and crosses the room in three strides, snatching up a tube of ointment and twisting off the cap. "Does it hurt?" he asks, voice softer than he intended. "Like... when you move them. They did come out of your back, right?" He dabs the salve onto the scabs, his touch gentle, almost reverent. "They look painful. No offense, dude." He…