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“Hey babe. Who’s this?”
Tim froze. Only momentarily—he was a professional, after all—but if Kon caught it this could get uncomfortable. He stayed seated, not looking away from the sheaf of papers in front of him. “Hey Kon," he said a little too cheerfully, "come on in, don’t bother knocking before entering the crime lab full of sensitive materials or anything.” What was he even doing here? Kon was supposed to be in space.
“You left the door unlocked,” his boyfriend replied breezily, “who’s this?”
Glancing over, Tim saw Kon peering in vague suspicion at the white-haired teenager perched atop a folding chair who didn’t bother looking up from the old 3DS Tim had scrounged up to keep him occupied. “That’s Respawn," he said evenly, "Damian’s brother.”
‘Don’t ask. Don’t get ideas. Don’t involve us any more than I already have.’
“Damian has brothers besides you guys?”
“Ra’s cloned him. From Talia and Deathstroke.” Both of whom were coincidentally having their respective biennial ‘Pretend to Be A Good Parent For A Handful Of Hours Before The Evildoing Urge Kicks Back In’ episodes, hence the boy’s presence in Tim’s base. "He's hiding from them for a while. You know how it is."
It had been Rose's idea to leave Respawn here, figuring, not unreasonably, that nobody would think to look for him at the Nest while she and Damian ran interference until Slade and Talia distracted themselves kicking puppies or whatever it was they did when they weren’t making life in Gotham even more miserable than normal. Tim might have reconsidered if he’d known Kon was coming by. Kon would want to get involved .
Kon winced. “Tough break there. But hey,” he brightened, “it’s always good to meet a fellow clone!” You know, except for all those times his own clone—and others—had tried to kill all of them. “My name’s Kon-El. What’s yours, kid?”
“Respawn.” Respawn was either deliberately ignoring Kon, or just too engrossed in Scribblenauts to pay him any mind. Probably both.
“Yeah, I got that, I mean what’s your real name?”
Uh-oh. Tim didn't like where this was going. They were getting dangerously close to hitting Kon’s Clone Solidarity Button. His boyfriend could go toe-to-toe with Bruce on his best day where sad genetically engineered boys were concerned.
This time, Respawn did look away. “Don’t have one,” he said quietly, with just a hint of defensiveness.
“...I see.” All the joviality was gone from Kon’s tone. There was a gust of wind as Kon sped over to the desk, and Tim silently mourned the scattering of all his paperwork. “Timothy. A word?”
Crap, Clone Solidarity Button has been pressed. Escape options?
“Look, he just needs a place to lay low for the day, this really doesn’t have anything to do with me.” Tim was just a bystander here, no more involved in the great Al Ghul/Wilson Test Tube Tragedy than, like, a hotel receptionist.
“He doesn’t have a name , Tim.”
“Yes, I heard.” That actually was pretty bad, if Tim was being honest, but, again. The kid had relatives he could turn to for that sort of thing, if he so chose. Damian. Rose. Maybe Joseph, if he was currently alive, Tim hadn’t checked.
Kon spun his chair around so Tim could get a good look at what Bart had once called his ‘Disapproving Mom Scowl’. It was eerily similar to Janet Drake’s face whenever Tim had tracked mud into the house, and just as effective when it came to making him feel like a total heel.
“ Names ,” Kon ground out, “are important , Tim.”
“I never said they weren’t.” Honestly now, how did this become his fault?
“Not having a name is the leading cause of low self-esteem among young clones,” Kon punctuated each word with a wag of his finger. “I know you remember my PowerPoint.”
“I remember.” It had debuted shortly after the third or fourth Match Debacle, and it felt endless. Hopefully if he just agreed to enough statements he could get out of this without having to sit through that presentation again.
Kon glared at him even harder, as if looking for some tell that Tim was simply saying what he wanted to hear to get out of an uncomfortable situation—which he absolutely was doing, but if he couldn’t project enough sincerity to successfully fool Conner Kent then this would be the day he hung up the costume for good.
Whatever he saw in Tim’s expression seemed to satisfy Kon, though, and his expression softened a little. “Well,” he said evenly, “luckily, this is plenty fixable.” Reaching into his jacket, he whipped out a worn blue paperback.
Tim squinted at it. “Is that a baby name book? You just carry that around with you?” He shoved the warm feeling that rose up in his chest at the thought of Conner and babies to the side, a little too weirded out by the randomness of this development to properly melt.
“Names. Are. Important. Now, kiddo,” he grabbed another chair and sat himself down next to an uncomfortable-looking Respawn, opening the book up as he did so, “how do you feel about ‘Aaron?’”
“No.”
“Joshua?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Grant?”
“It’s taken.”
“Constantine?”
“The trenchcoat guy?”
Turning back to his papers with a sigh, Tim resigned himself to blocking out this little back-and-forth for at least the next hour. If he was lucky, Kon wouldn’t ask about Respawn’s living situation. Not only would he not let the poor kid leave, but Tim would definitely have to sit through the “Necessity of Having a Reliable Legal Guardian” powerpoint again, too.
Bart had co-written that one. It was…scattered.
When the pages were once again in order, Tim chanced a look back at the two. Kon was going name by name, patiently explaining the etymology of each one with an arm slung around the younger clone’s shoulders. Respawn looked a little more relaxed, leaning over to get a better look at the book.
‘No, Timothy,’ he thought to himself as he clutched at his chest, ‘fight the cuteness. Fight it!’
It wasn’t to be, however, and as Tim accepted the fact that this might have been the most adorable thing he’d ever seen, he quietly made a note to make sure the guest room was prepared.