He had read about sexual health and attended lectures by adolescent physiological health experts. Dreams are a normal physiological phenomenon for teenagers, a sign of the maturation of the male reproductive system; when seminal fluid accumulates in the body to a certain extent, it will be naturally discharged even without stimulation, which represents good health.
Being healthy is a good thing, the problem is, why did it have to happen right after he had a dream about getting close to someone! It made that goodnight kiss feel so much less pure!
Colt cleared the evidence and thoroughly cleansed himself, but the strange feeling in the depths of his heart could not be washed away by the flowing water.
What did Timothy dream about last night?
Colt gazed at the shimmering treasure chests in the Dream Station, wanting to open them yet afraid to do so.
He had made a promise to Timothy that they would open the treasure chest together, he was a man of his word.
Colt changed his clothes and went downstairs. Birdie had just returned from exercising outside; he braked with his head on the table and skillfully extended his claws to press the remote control, turning on the television.
There was still more than half of the bird food left in Birdie's special dish, the water container was also eight-tenths full.
Colt felt the bulging crop under the bird's neck. "I warned you not to eat food from outside and not to drink water from outside. The trace elements in Gotham's rainwater are so high they could refine Fear Gas, the nearby plants have all been through Poison Ivy; insects that grow up eating mutated plants aren't healthy.."
Birdie buried its head into the birdseed, taking a few symbolic pecks of the unpalatable but healthy feed.
Colt lowered his head to nuzzle the bird: "I'm going away with Dad, so I won't be back for a while. I'll drop you off at Tim's place later."
Birdie tilted its head, staring at Colt with its small, black-bean-like eyes.
It's the home of the boy who often comes to play with you and teaches you math, the home of the person who is also called Little Red Bird just like you, the home of the old man who makes the bird food you love so much.
Birdie stepped on the remote control.
Colt nodded: "You can watch TV, but you can't watch it all day. When we get there, you have to be well-behaved, okay?"
Birdie flew onto the travel bag containing the bird's luggage, flapping its wings and urging Colt to set off.
“You already knew? Dad told you, didn't he?” Colt lifted the thermal cover from the dining table, revealing eggs, milk, reheated stew inside, along with a note. “Dad is taking some things to the office and will be back before one. I forgot to set a time with Tim; he should have already left for school by now. I'll take you over at noon.”
Colt subconsciously glanced at his tracking watch, only to find that Timothy was only 300 meters away from him. Was Timothy not wearing a watch? No, the direction the arrow was pointing.. was right at his own front gate?
The location hasn't moved.
Why hasn't he come in, why hasn't he sent a message? Did he drop his watch at the entrance?
Colt thought to himself, having the Quantum Terminal connect to the surveillance cameras at the entrance, where a matte black car was parked and Timothy was sitting inside, typing on a laptop.
Was there some urgent work that had to be finished this morning? Or had Timothy had some impure dreams last night, making him hesitate about whether to come inside?
Colt stopped in front of the wall closest to Timothy, hesitated for a few seconds, then quietly poked his head out, peering through the lush Little Red Bird to look at the person in the car.
The car window was open, Timothy suddenly turned his head.
Before colliding with Timothy's gaze, Colt pulled his head back, hesitated for a second, then opened the door and walked out.
"Why don't you come in?" Colt asked.
"I didn't want to disturb your sweet dreams." Timothy stepped out of the car, stretching and cracking his neck.
Speaking of sweet dreams, Colt immediately thought of a dream that was clearly pure, yet had become somewhat impure due to certain circumstances, he couldn't help but feel his face flush.
My dad went to the company.
Timothy knew. Joseph had parked his car at his doorstep half an hour ago, intentionally triggering the surveillance alarm. He thought Joseph wanted to talk to him, but Joseph simply tossed him a bag of breakfast through the car window and reminded him, "The home's Intelligent Protection System is set to its highest defense level; you might be caught in the crossfire if you get too close. Be careful when you pass by."
Undoubtedly, his behavior last night angered Joseph, thus he received a warning from Colt's father.
Timothy stood at the door, watching the monitor as it turned to look at him, smiled, "I've come to pick up the bird."
His tone was gentle and his attitude was upright, looking just like someone facing an elder.
Colt followed Timothy's gaze toward the still-moving surveillance camera, his heart skipping a beat, hurriedly checked Timothy's permissions within the Intelligent Protection System.
Yellow!
Joseph activated the highest defense level of the Intelligent Protection System. Since no one was home, it was normal for the defenses to be strengthened. However, he kicked Timothy out of the Level 1 family list. What he gave Timothy wasn't Level 2 family and friend access, nor was it Level 3 guest access; instead, he placed Timothy at the level of a stranger requiring vigilance!
The basement requires administrator privileges to enter, Level 1 access only allows movement on the ground level, which doesn't involve any issues of leaking classified information. Why did Joseph kick Timothy out?
Colt restored Timothy's access and left an instruction to notify him immediately if any changes to Timothy's permissions occurred.
"It might be because the Intelligent Protection System's defense level changed, causing the permissions to reset. I've added you back in, so the doors won't refuse to open for you anymore." Colt moved all the surveillance feeds focused on Timothy aside, a silent protest directed at Joseph.
"Colt." Timothy's tone held a hint of a smile, tinged with a touch of intimacy. It was heartwarming, the kind of sound that made one's lips curl upward involuntarily.
Colt turned around and found that the distance between him and Timothy was so close it had to be measured in centimeters, their noses almost colliding.
He lowered his gaze in a slight panic, seeing Timothy's lips—moist, full, brightly colored, reminding him of the impure dream he had last night.
He hurriedly lifted his eyes again, meeting Timothy's eyes once more, which were so close.
In Colt's icy blue eyes, he saw his own face, looking flushed with vitality, his eyes seemingly shrouded in a layer of mist, appearing, appearing as if he were anticipating something.
Chapter 42
Timothy grabbed Colt's hand.
Colt's Spiritual Power did not receive any "settle down" command, instead swarmed uncontrollably, pulling Timothy into the Ghost field.
Without the help of a hearing aid, Colt could hear the sound of breathing and heartbeats. Some were his own, some were Timothy's; at first, they were chaotic and independent, but their frequencies gradually synchronized. The warm breath brushed against his face, the air within the entire Ghost field was filled with Timothy's scent.
Timothy's face was still drawing closer.
“Good morning.”
Colt closed his eyes and heard a whisper, but it wasn't his ears that received the sound, but his lips.
Timothy was kissing him, just like in the dream, not a fleeting touch like a dragonfly skimming the water, but as if he intended to stay pressed against him for a lifetime. Colt felt the softness and warmth on his lips; the hand Timothy held was now interlaced with his own, while his other hand gripped Timothy's clothes.
It felt wonderful.
A good morning kiss couldn't last all day or all year, Timothy's lips were pulling away.
Colt's eyelashes trembled slightly as he opened his eyes, watching the eyes drift further and further away, his hand clutching Timothy's clothes tightly. He bravely chased after him, his gaze resolute, pressed his lips firmly against the spot Timothy had just left.
Good morning kisses are meant to be reciprocal!
His teeth bumped against his lower lip, causing a slight sting, Colt instinctively went to lick it, only to find himself licking lips that did not belong to him.
Timothy's eyes darkened. Colt felt a hand press against the back of his head, then pull slightly away from his lips, only to press back against them the next second, this time capturing his lower lip as a soft, flexible tongue licked the spot where he had bitten himself.
Colt's heart felt as if it were going to leap out of his throat, longing to make contact and exchange with Timothy's tongue.
But Timothy only gave a few light licks, like a doctor finishing a disinfection, withdrawing quickly without any lingering attachment. The hand pressing against the back of Colt's head also released suddenly after applying a slight amount of pressure; if it weren't for the fact that Colt was holding his hands tightly, he might have even pulled his hand away.
"Good morning, Tim," Colt said in the communication channel.
Timothy closed his eyes and exhaled, "Sorry."
Why apologize? It wasn't bullying or harassment; we were just greeting each other, we had both rinsed and brushed our teeth, so the minty taste was very refreshing.. Am I the only one who thinks kissing feels wonderful?
“Thank you for helping me disinfect.” Colt released Timothy and turned to walk into the house. “I've already packed Red Robin's luggage; I was originally planning to send it over to him at noon. We have to hurry, otherwise we won't make it to biology class.”
Timothy lowered his gaze and pursed his lips, following behind Colt, his voice devoid of emotion: "The Biology Teacher took a leave of absence and called a self-study session; perhaps we will get a new Biology Teacher."
"This teacher has only been teaching us for a month, he's being replaced already?" Colt lost his urgency and sat down to eat breakfast.
Timothy brewed himself some coffee. "He is very likely the killer from the serial murder cases and has already been detained by the GCPD, but key evidence is still needed before he can be sent to Blackgate Prison."
The last Biology Teacher went to Blackgate Prison for manufacturing drugs for Black Mask, but this teacher, a recent biology master's graduate from Gotham, only lasted a single month.
I thought only the Ph Ds from Gotham were dangerous, but it turns out the Masters are just as bad." Colt chewed his boiled egg seriously. "I should pull a table of Gotham graduates from recent years and calculate their incarceration rate in Blackgate Prison.
“40% for Ph Ds, 30% for masters, 18% for bachelors,” Timothy reported the data.
“The doctorate rate is 50%.” Colt raised an objection. He had calculated it many times, each time he was so shocked by the 50% incarceration rate that he would patrol the laboratory, worried that he might have to visit Joseph in prison one day.
"Only 40% are in Blackgate Prison; the other 10% of the doctors are in Arkham," Timothy said, pointing toward the direction of Arkham.
Colt nodded.
Timothy walked to the dining table carrying a coffee, resting one hand on the back of Colt's chair. His hanging fingers brushed against the hair by Colt's ear as he asked softly, "Have you opened the gift blind box yet?"
Colt shook his head. "We'll open them together."
Timothy gently pinched the edge of the ear that brushed against his fingertips, brushed past the Hearing Aid, came to rest on the earlobe, rubbing it while watching that beautiful face turn increasingly red.
Colt did not dodge, eating his breakfast seriously, while seemingly inconspicuously offering his ear to Timothy's hand. He loved being touched; regardless of why Timothy was touching him, every extra second was a second gained.
Timothy leaned down with a smile, whispering into Colt's ear, "Today, it's my turn to receive a gift."
The skin's color has become even more beautiful.
Today's gift indeed belonged to Timothy. An envelope was opened from the treasure chest, containing clues to a serial murder case, including murder weapons covered in fingerprints, bloodstains, soil. Of course, the weapons replicated from the dream could not be handed directly to the GCPD, but based on the soil on the weapons, the killer's burial location could be analyzed to find the real evidence.
Timothy returned to Wayne with the gift and Birdie. Alfred raised no objection to his absence from school, instead bringing out a prepared bird's nest as a gift for Birdie.
Birdie truly lived up to its name, Robin Bird; it spread its wings to embrace Alfred and then rubbed its fluffy little head against Alfred's face, successfully conquering the highest level of the Wayne manor food chain's butler.
"Hello, Birdie, what a wonderful name." Alfred cradled Birdie to prepare its bird food, while Timothy put Birdie's sleeping nest in his room, then took out two printed photos of the Dream Station.
Them at eight years old, them at eighteen.
"Tim, we need to talk." Bruce leaned against Timothy's doorway, still wearing his pajamas.
To be able to make him leave his warm bed at this hour, he must really want to talk.
Timothy shoved the photo into the company files that no one at home would ever bother to open, then stood up. "Now?"
Bruce nodded. "Now."
Only at this time, with the children at home either at work or at school, would no one press their ears against the doors or windows to interrupt their conversation.
Bruce locked the door and turned on the information jamming device, shielding against all monitoring and surveillance. Without probing or pleasantries, Bruce got straight to the point: "The person you want to marry is Colt."
Timothy was silent for two seconds before answering truthfully, "Yes, I have a Spiritual Connection with Colt. I can see him, I can touch him, I think I love him."
Bruce frowned. "You've fallen in love with a Quantum Ghost."
You know he isn't," Timothy said, leaning forward with both hands resting on the desk, looking at Bruce earnestly. "I am certain he is a living being, a real human being! He is just trapped in the cracks between dimensions! I will definitely pull him back to my world!
Get a hold of yourself, Tim." Bruce looked at him with calm eyes, his voice carrying a power that could steady a mind. "Sit down, don't let hormones control your brain.
Timothy took a deep breath and sat opposite Bruce. He had lost his former composure and determination, his voice tinged with vulnerability: "Bruce, I'm scared. Colt's eyes are always watching me in my mind, silently crying out for help, hoping I'll pull him back. I'm afraid I won't be able to do it, afraid the result won't be perfect. He turns Red Robin's detective brain into mush, making me doubt myself.. But, even with all this fear, I don't want to let go; I want to get closer to him. Bruce, you'll help me, won't you?"
Yes, Tim, I will help you." Bruce's voice was always so reliable. "Then, I have a question. Your magical friend is very tight-lipped; I still don't know what kind of connection exists between you and Colt. This connection, which makes you recall memories erased by rules and allows you to contact him directly, must involve the spiritual level.
It's a blessing, related to the Dream Sovereign, so my sleep has been excellent lately." Having received Bruce's assurance of help, Timothy's fear seemed to vanish, his voice no longer trembled. "The Batcomputer has a file on the Dream Sovereign, originating from the Endless Family; it is the personification of 'Dream,' one of the seven fundamental powers of supreme cosmic concepts. I am analyzing it and gaining further control over it.
I believe you, just as you believe me. So, until you agree, I won't call in a soul expert to examine you." Bruce clasped his hands together in a steeple, looking Timothy in the eyes. "Now, answer me: when love rises in your heart, do you question its authenticity and perform psychological tests on yourself to rule out external causes like toxins or mental interference?