[Never had a... Ha-- that would be funny, if the entire situation wasn't so borderline tragic for the poor guy.]
Yeah you're saying you've never had a hangover and then proceed to describe a scene that makes that hard to believe.
[Kryptonian. Yadda, yadda, yadda-- did this... Kon, have a team? Were the Teen Titans a thing-- a good thing, where he came from?] But I believe you. Sometimes these things just happen? You're minding your own business and then the multiverse comes crashing down around you.
For what it's worth all current readings say that the fabric of space isn't actually going to come crashing down. So maybe tell whoever did that party trick to tone it down next time?
Regrets happen in the morning. Hangovers don't discriminate. Or so I've been told.
[Aaaand --there it is.
Welcome to the multiverse. Grab a towel. Don't panic. He debates the... intelligence of what he's about to do. Surveys his freakin' living room to make sure there's no damning evidence and of course there isn't. The background shows his aquarium. Very scandalous. And besides, Tim has all the tech and communications secured. As in, secured-secured.
Then Tim, in his pajamas (which happen to consist of a Superboy shirt, approximately two sizes too large, and uh, shorts?) at four in the freakin' afternoon, makes the video call.
When Kon picks up the call
because of course he will pick up the call, come on
he'll be greeted by the very tired, but thoroughly amused, and partly guarded (complicated, huh?) face of... this guy. Not his universe's Robin, that's for sure.
Hi?]
Miss Martian, huh? Now I'm curious about who's number you thought you were texting this whole time. You kind of crashed into an alternate dimension last night, literally. Speaking of regrets, rights? Like I said, the channel is totally secure, so don't freak?
What? [having a stupid moment] Look, I don’t have a hangover. I’m a Kryptonian; I can’t get drunk.
[So he thinks at least. Wants to think. But he knows he’s also part human, so… maybe?
He pauses when the suddenly blink inviting a video call patches through onto his screen. Ugh, Tiiim. Does he really need to do a video call when he’s feeling crummy? Conner glares at it ruefully for a few seconds before grumbling to himself and—after a few more seconds—finally rolls onto his side and props his phone up in his hand to face himself.
Then accepts.]
What?
[But what he gets isn’t what he expects. That’s… Tim. Or someone who definitely looks like Tim. But at the same time, he instantly realizes it’s not Tim. Not… the Tim he knows. Not Robin. The revelation’s not helped either by the Superboy shirt the guy’s wearing. Is that one of his? No, it can’t be. Unless.. no… wait, what the heck?
Conner’s eyes narrow at the screen. Tim’s getting basically a full shot of Superboy’s face and maybe a inch of neck below his chin. He looks like he’s got his head on a pillow, lying on his side in bed. Which he is. But his expression’s a little angry and guarded as well.]
What the… [He pushes himself up, or tries to, and ends up flopping back down, exhausted. That’s even more disconcerting. Feels like his entire body weighs a planet.] Alternate dimension? I called your number. Tim. Tim’s…
[Alternate dimension… so… that means…]
You’re a different Tim?
[He’s lucky Kon’s energy is so sapped. He’d be raging right now otherwise. At the moment, the best he can do is look fierce. Like an angry guy stuck in his bed.]
["Press X to doubt". How did other-world half-Kryptonian genes differ, anyway? There's not enough time to tell himself to stop being a jerk; Kon looks absolutely wasted.]
Tim hums his... appreciation?.. for the data, and wonders how much worse this, uh, introduction, can possibly go.] I can give you a very serious pinky promise that I'm not from a shared, evil, future where we all turn to a life of tyranny. Even then, I still have an urge to force some Emergen-C and alka-seltzer down your throat and make sure you thank me for it later.
[Should he change his phone number? What's the long-term benefit of knowing he's totally jiving with Different!Kon and, apparently, Different!Tim? (*definition of "jiving" held to loose standards, currently)
...] Uh. Look, I don't know what you do or don't know about Different Tim, so if he's anything like I am, you'll understand why I can't just leave you alone here. You can let me know where you are, if you know, or I'll go find you. It's no biggie.
[He’s just weirdly really tired and it’s starting to tick him off. It feels like all he can do is lie here and look at the phone though. Which is even worse.]
Just give me a few moments and I’ll be up and fine.
[Grumbling and petulant because there’s no way he’d be stuck like this. He’s a living weapon, a Kryptonian, a member of the Team!
Superboy gives the screen a flat face when Tim offers him that kind of promise.]
That’s oddly specific, Tim.
[The Tim-not-Tim, Tim. Mentions of forcing medicine down his throat earn a small growl.]
I bite. [Ferocious wolf.] I’ll be fine. I’m… [Actually, where… is he? Managing to look around, he finds out he’s definitely not in his room at Mount Justice. Which just unnerves him more.] Hey! Where am I?
[More yelling into the room than yelling at Tim, but sorry for the volume going from growling to shouting in no seconds flat.]
[Tim holds up his hands in some parody of surrender. He really shouldn't be antagonizing the guy, but who knew having an exact replica of your best friend (cause of both much joy and grief) chatting with you would rattle your head a little?
He has the good grace to look somewhat chastised before continuing his one-man show.] A few moments, huh? So you know exactly why you're knocked on your butt like that? Could have fooled me, Kon.
[Okay, so Tim doesn't know the Different!Kon's real name but a good guess is a good guess, and a bluff is never to go to waste. And now Kon's shouting, and Tim feels bad (really) but he keeps his act.]
As far as I remember you didn't know who you were talking to a few minutes ago. And you literally just admitted you don't even know where you are. Gotham, by the way. The smog will tip you off in a few moments when you'll be, uh, 'up and fine' and on your own two feet.
So yeah, I'll see you soon? I need to chan-- [He peers down at himself. Sees that he's wearing
he's wearing
oh...] That's awkward. [...]
Try not to bite me. I'll get you some blue Gatorade? Your apartment doors are locked so when you hear the jingling, that's me. [It sounds like he kidnapped the poor dude, cheese and rice.] Sound good?
[He’s just going to glare at the familiar-but-not-familiar face on the screen. It’s not that he wants to be rude to Tim, but even though he’s a lot better than he used to be, Conner’s still got anger issues. And pride. So getting—as Tim puts it—knocked on his butt, gets him right in the sore spot.
Have some more growling mutters and a scowl for the record books.]
I already told you, I. Don’t. Know.
[But he’s not going to let an unknown keep him down! He’s going to just lie here for a little bit longer… and then put his hands to the mattress and push himself up, letting the phone flop onto its back and thus get a great view of the Boy of Steel getting himself stiff-armed into a push up position.
And promptly fall on his face as his elbows buckled. Cue small groan off screen. How mortifying. He gets to lie there and listen to Tim-not-Tim chatter in his ear.]
Gotham? Great. Always wanted to visit.
[His muffled voice doesn’t mask his sarcasm one bit. This guy’s lived most of his 6-month life in Happy Harbor, Rhode Island. On (in) a mountain beside the beach. No wonder it smells really bad here. Smog smell. Not something he wants to get used to inhaling. Ugh…]
Why’re you wearing one of my shirts?
[Because he remembers that at least, from the few moments he looked at the phone. Right now, he’s just going to lie on his face and be glad Tim can’t see him. Wait… the apartment?]
[Pride is something Tim can jot down as a shared trait between Kon and the counterpart Tim's better acquainted with. He wisely keeps his mouth shut in favor of sporting a sympathetic wince
or two
at Kon's antics. He'll spare him and not point out the obvious; pretend the faceplant never happened. It'll be a housewarming gift, of sorts.] Ah-- it's comfortable?
[Which is the truth, and Tim is under no obligation to elaborate on the why he thinks Kon's shirts are comfortable enough to sleep and lounge in, and he's patting himself on the back for not spinning a lie to save his his hide. The streak of red splashing across his face is hopefully going to be faded once the Teen of Steel musters the energy to turn his head. Besides, there's more pressing matters to tend to.
His expression turns that old, practiced blank.]
I did put you in one of my safehouses. Because I found you in a very similar, very flattering pose last night in a ditch. I had to make sure you weren't going to wake up in a ditch in Gotham City, Kon. Then I had to stay up and monitor the fabric of space to make sure nothing was on the verge of collapse-- and see to it that the League didn't catch wind of you until you said you'd want them to. I'm still convinced we can get you back to your-- universe, without their help. It'll just take a while. Not to mention that your condition is, actually, concerning. Hangover or otherwise. Can any other questions be put on hold? I'm making my way to you.
[He’s lucky this guy’s being so understanding with him right now… Kon’s never been much for patience, much less accepting embarrassment with an easy head. Fumbling around, he gets the phone again and rests his head on its side, cheek on the pillow as he brings the screen back to bear with his face.]
Fine, whatever. Buncha people think that’s, uh… the rage.
[It was really popular at his school and around town. Still irritates him, but he’s come to accept it. Humans just do that… hero worship thing. At least the Kryptonian doesn’t sound as volatile as he had a moment ago. He doesn’t feel like someone put Kryptonite near him? The pain part at least. But the energy suction? It’s definitely similar.
But fading now.
Lucky for Tim, Conner doesn’t notice the fading flush. He does notice that practiced blank gaze though. Dick and Tim both did that plenty. Hell, Conner was a blank slate for a while himself early on. He’s fine with it, just listens to the explanation. It’s starting to make sense now. Somehow he got throw into another dimension at a party he and the Team went to. Which… makes him wonder if this is some kind of trick that witch boy used… The guy split the world into two dimensions before: one for adults and one for children.
This might be something like that? Or Dr. Fate’s stuff. Ugh, who knows!]
Uh… thanks. [Softer this time.] Really. [Tim did all that for him… He sighs and nods.] Yeah. I’ll be here.
[Practicing sitting up. Which he manages to do soon enough.]
[It's most definitely Tim's turn to shoot Kon A Look. There's been no terrible pick-up lines between them and it's almost a shame. Not to mention the heat of Kon's growls had actually been aggressive, instead of simply hot-headed. So as nice as it is to not be facing down a clone of his clone-boy, it's another layer of uncertainty to unravel.
Tim does soften up at the thanks, though, because that had been unexpected.] Sure. Electrolytes and cold Chinese takeout, coming right up.
[--and he shuts off the call.
A handful of minutes later, and still utterly disheveled and now wearing pants!! and a bad band shirt he is turning the door to the apartment Kon is currently (somewhat) being held hostage in. True to his word, he carries in a plastic bag of club soda, medicines, Gatorade, and other Young Adult Post Party Must Haves. Another hand carries lukewarm takeout. Success? He maneuvers to the bedroom, purposeful in broadcasting his steps. There's a cautious edge to him as he knocks, and enters.]
I'm unarmed.
[Something, something, reckless actions. The bags are dropped on a night stand. Tim unpacks. He pretends he's not keeping sight of Kon out of his peripheral.] That includes anything that may count as defensive- in this case, for a Kryptonian, that would mean Kryptonite. You could search me if you want. But I do have ample forms of communication, and contingencies to act on if I see fit. So take that as you will.
[Promise he's just trying to help, tho.
And he does, seriously, feel like an ass. But what can ya do.
Tim chucks a drink at Kon. Tries to be more open.] Feeling any better?
[Well, earlier on he wouldn’t have offered any thanks, but since he’d been doing a lot of maturing over those first six months with the Team, Kon’s picked up some more social graces. Tim’s got Kaldur and M’gann to thank for that, with Dick and Wally doing some good pitching in. The following years definitely helped as well as more recruits added to the Team. Including Tim. Well… hisTim. Despite the differences between the face on the screen and the face in his head, there’s enough similarities that he recognized Tim as Tim. Regardless of dimension or whatever was going on.]
Cold Chinese. Great.
[Tim doesn’t here that, thankfully, and Conner’s going to just flop on his back and lie there for a few moments. Stare at the ceiling and wonder what the hell’s happening. The obvious was sitting in his face. Something happened and now he was in another dimension, another alternate reality, in Gotham City, sapped and getting help from Robin. If that isn’t a fun time to be had, he’s not sure what is. But only a few seconds of brooding before he forces himself to move. Finally finding some energy helps.
At least he manages to sit up by the time the door opens, looking up towards it with a neutral case of RBF. Which is normal for him. The attempt to make sure he’s heard is amusing, considering Conner can (most of the time) hear the Robins of his world. He heaves a sigh when the knock at the door precedes that “don’t hit me” disguised as an introduction.]
I’m still here. [He offers a quiet “Hi” when Tim enters, blue eyes flicking to the bags on the night stand. His vision narrows in on the items as they’re removed. If Tim’s being cautious, he’ll follow suite and do the same.] Uh… are you trying to make me feel more comfortable or more cautious? [No Kryptonite is good. The comment about communication and contingencies, while very Batman-family, earn a wry face. He’s not going to attack him.
A drink flies at his face and Kon catches it out of the air.] Yeah. Whatever happened really took it out of me. [He uncaps the bottle and drains half of it before pulling it off his mouth with a wet “gu-hah” breath. And now he knows how Kaldur feels when he jumps back in the water. A lot better.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
some serious leading into fun?? leading into option d) all of the above?? look i'm winging it
Yeah you're saying you've never had a hangover and then proceed to describe a scene that makes that hard to believe.
[Kryptonian. Yadda, yadda, yadda-- did this... Kon, have a team? Were the Teen Titans a thing-- a good thing, where he came from?] But I believe you. Sometimes these things just happen? You're minding your own business and then the multiverse comes crashing down around you.
For what it's worth all current readings say that the fabric of space isn't actually going to come crashing down. So maybe tell whoever did that party trick to tone it down next time?
And to pour less vodka.
wing like a bird gone mad!
I thought hangovers only happened in the mornings...
[Wait, what?]
Multiverse? The hell are you talking about?
[When did "watch this" turn into multiverse crashing?!]
I'm not sue who was doing party tricks. I just... remember it was some party they dragged me to. Miss Martian wanted to go.
like a bat outta hell
[Aaaand --there it is.
Welcome to the multiverse. Grab a towel. Don't panic. He debates the... intelligence of what he's about to do. Surveys his freakin' living room to make sure there's no damning evidence and of course there isn't. The background shows his aquarium. Very scandalous. And besides, Tim has all the tech and communications secured. As in, secured-secured.
Then Tim, in his pajamas (which happen to consist of a Superboy shirt, approximately two sizes too large, and uh, shorts?) at four in the freakin' afternoon, makes the video call.
When Kon picks up the call
because of course he will pick up the call, come on
he'll be greeted by the very tired, but thoroughly amused, and partly guarded (complicated, huh?) face of... this guy. Not his universe's Robin, that's for sure.
Hi?]
Miss Martian, huh? Now I'm curious about who's number you thought you were texting this whole time. You kind of crashed into an alternate dimension last night, literally. Speaking of regrets, rights? Like I said, the channel is totally secure, so don't freak?
on fire!
[So he thinks at least. Wants to think. But he knows he’s also part human, so… maybe?
He pauses when the suddenly blink inviting a video call patches through onto his screen. Ugh, Tiiim. Does he really need to do a video call when he’s feeling crummy? Conner glares at it ruefully for a few seconds before grumbling to himself and—after a few more seconds—finally rolls onto his side and props his phone up in his hand to face himself.
Then accepts.]
What?
[But what he gets isn’t what he expects. That’s… Tim. Or someone who definitely looks like Tim. But at the same time, he instantly realizes it’s not Tim. Not… the Tim he knows. Not Robin. The revelation’s not helped either by the Superboy shirt the guy’s wearing. Is that one of his? No, it can’t be. Unless.. no… wait, what the heck?
Conner’s eyes narrow at the screen. Tim’s getting basically a full shot of Superboy’s face and maybe a inch of neck below his chin. He looks like he’s got his head on a pillow, lying on his side in bed. Which he is. But his expression’s a little angry and guarded as well.]
What the… [He pushes himself up, or tries to, and ends up flopping back down, exhausted. That’s even more disconcerting. Feels like his entire body weighs a planet.] Alternate dimension? I called your number. Tim. Tim’s…
[Alternate dimension… so… that means…]
You’re a different Tim?
[He’s lucky Kon’s energy is so sapped. He’d be raging right now otherwise. At the moment, the best he can do is look fierce. Like an angry guy stuck in his bed.]
no subject
Okay, you look absolutely wasted.
[The infamous Bat-brain-to-mouth-filter, everyone.
Tim hums his... appreciation?.. for the data, and wonders how much worse this, uh, introduction, can possibly go.] I can give you a very serious pinky promise that I'm not from a shared, evil, future where we all turn to a life of tyranny. Even then, I still have an urge to force some Emergen-C and alka-seltzer down your throat and make sure you thank me for it later.
[Should he change his phone number? What's the long-term benefit of knowing he's totally jiving with Different!Kon and, apparently, Different!Tim? (*definition of "jiving" held to loose standards, currently)
...] Uh. Look, I don't know what you do or don't know about Different Tim, so if he's anything like I am, you'll understand why I can't just leave you alone here. You can let me know where you are, if you know, or I'll go find you. It's no biggie.
no subject
[He’s just weirdly really tired and it’s starting to tick him off. It feels like all he can do is lie here and look at the phone though. Which is even worse.]
Just give me a few moments and I’ll be up and fine.
[Grumbling and petulant because there’s no way he’d be stuck like this. He’s a living weapon, a Kryptonian, a member of the Team!
Superboy gives the screen a flat face when Tim offers him that kind of promise.]
That’s oddly specific, Tim.
[The Tim-not-Tim, Tim. Mentions of forcing medicine down his throat earn a small growl.]
I bite. [Ferocious wolf.] I’ll be fine. I’m… [Actually, where… is he? Managing to look around, he finds out he’s definitely not in his room at Mount Justice. Which just unnerves him more.] Hey! Where am I?
[More yelling into the room than yelling at Tim, but sorry for the volume going from growling to shouting in no seconds flat.]
no subject
He has the good grace to look somewhat chastised before continuing his one-man show.] A few moments, huh? So you know exactly why you're knocked on your butt like that? Could have fooled me, Kon.
[Okay, so Tim doesn't know the Different!Kon's real name but a good guess is a good guess, and a bluff is never to go to waste. And now Kon's shouting, and Tim feels bad (really) but he keeps his act.]
As far as I remember you didn't know who you were talking to a few minutes ago. And you literally just admitted you don't even know where you are. Gotham, by the way. The smog will tip you off in a few moments when you'll be, uh, 'up and fine' and on your own two feet.
So yeah, I'll see you soon? I need to chan-- [He peers down at himself. Sees that he's wearing
he's wearing
oh...] That's awkward. [...]
Try not to bite me. I'll get you some blue Gatorade? Your apartment doors are locked so when you hear the jingling, that's me. [It sounds like he kidnapped the poor dude, cheese and rice.] Sound good?
no subject
Have some more growling mutters and a scowl for the record books.]
I already told you, I. Don’t. Know.
[But he’s not going to let an unknown keep him down! He’s going to just lie here for a little bit longer… and then put his hands to the mattress and push himself up, letting the phone flop onto its back and thus get a great view of the Boy of Steel getting himself stiff-armed into a push up position.
And promptly fall on his face as his elbows buckled. Cue small groan off screen. How mortifying. He gets to lie there and listen to Tim-not-Tim chatter in his ear.]
Gotham? Great. Always wanted to visit.
[His muffled voice doesn’t mask his sarcasm one bit. This guy’s lived most of his 6-month life in Happy Harbor, Rhode Island. On (in) a mountain beside the beach. No wonder it smells really bad here. Smog smell. Not something he wants to get used to inhaling. Ugh…]
Why’re you wearing one of my shirts?
[Because he remembers that at least, from the few moments he looked at the phone. Right now, he’s just going to lie on his face and be glad Tim can’t see him. Wait… the apartment?]
You put me here?
no subject
or two
at Kon's antics. He'll spare him and not point out the obvious; pretend the faceplant never happened. It'll be a housewarming gift, of sorts.] Ah-- it's comfortable?
[Which is the truth, and Tim is under no obligation to elaborate on the why he thinks Kon's shirts are comfortable enough to sleep and lounge in, and he's patting himself on the back for not spinning a lie to save his his hide. The streak of red splashing across his face is hopefully going to be faded once the Teen of Steel musters the energy to turn his head. Besides, there's more pressing matters to tend to.
His expression turns that old, practiced blank.]
I did put you in one of my safehouses. Because I found you in a very similar, very flattering pose last night in a ditch. I had to make sure you weren't going to wake up in a ditch in Gotham City, Kon. Then I had to stay up and monitor the fabric of space to make sure nothing was on the verge of collapse-- and see to it that the League didn't catch wind of you until you said you'd want them to. I'm still convinced we can get you back to your-- universe, without their help. It'll just take a while. Not to mention that your condition is, actually, concerning. Hangover or otherwise. Can any other questions be put on hold? I'm making my way to you.
no subject
Fine, whatever. Buncha people think that’s, uh… the rage.
[It was really popular at his school and around town. Still irritates him, but he’s come to accept it. Humans just do that… hero worship thing. At least the Kryptonian doesn’t sound as volatile as he had a moment ago. He doesn’t feel like someone put Kryptonite near him? The pain part at least. But the energy suction? It’s definitely similar.
But fading now.
Lucky for Tim, Conner doesn’t notice the fading flush. He does notice that practiced blank gaze though. Dick and Tim both did that plenty. Hell, Conner was a blank slate for a while himself early on. He’s fine with it, just listens to the explanation. It’s starting to make sense now. Somehow he got throw into another dimension at a party he and the Team went to. Which… makes him wonder if this is some kind of trick that witch boy used… The guy split the world into two dimensions before: one for adults and one for children.
This might be something like that? Or Dr. Fate’s stuff. Ugh, who knows!]
Uh… thanks. [Softer this time.] Really. [Tim did all that for him… He sighs and nods.] Yeah. I’ll be here.
[Practicing sitting up. Which he manages to do soon enough.]
no subject
Tim does soften up at the thanks, though, because that had been unexpected.] Sure. Electrolytes and cold Chinese takeout, coming right up.
[--and he shuts off the call.
A handful of minutes later, and still utterly disheveled and now wearing pants!! and a bad band shirt he is turning the door to the apartment Kon is currently (somewhat) being held hostage in. True to his word, he carries in a plastic bag of club soda, medicines, Gatorade, and other Young Adult Post Party Must Haves. Another hand carries lukewarm takeout. Success? He maneuvers to the bedroom, purposeful in broadcasting his steps. There's a cautious edge to him as he knocks, and enters.]
I'm unarmed.
[Something, something, reckless actions. The bags are dropped on a night stand. Tim unpacks. He pretends he's not keeping sight of Kon out of his peripheral.] That includes anything that may count as defensive- in this case, for a Kryptonian, that would mean Kryptonite. You could search me if you want. But I do have ample forms of communication, and contingencies to act on if I see fit. So take that as you will.
[Promise he's just trying to help, tho.
And he does, seriously, feel like an ass. But what can ya do.
Tim chucks a drink at Kon. Tries to be more open.] Feeling any better?
no subject
Cold Chinese. Great.
[Tim doesn’t here that, thankfully, and Conner’s going to just flop on his back and lie there for a few moments. Stare at the ceiling and wonder what the hell’s happening. The obvious was sitting in his face. Something happened and now he was in another dimension, another alternate reality, in Gotham City, sapped and getting help from Robin. If that isn’t a fun time to be had, he’s not sure what is. But only a few seconds of brooding before he forces himself to move. Finally finding some energy helps.
At least he manages to sit up by the time the door opens, looking up towards it with a neutral case of RBF. Which is normal for him. The attempt to make sure he’s heard is amusing, considering Conner can (most of the time) hear the Robins of his world. He heaves a sigh when the knock at the door precedes that “don’t hit me” disguised as an introduction.]
I’m still here. [He offers a quiet “Hi” when Tim enters, blue eyes flicking to the bags on the night stand. His vision narrows in on the items as they’re removed. If Tim’s being cautious, he’ll follow suite and do the same.] Uh… are you trying to make me feel more comfortable or more cautious? [No Kryptonite is good. The comment about communication and contingencies, while very Batman-family, earn a wry face. He’s not going to attack him.
A drink flies at his face and Kon catches it out of the air.] Yeah. Whatever happened really took it out of me. [He uncaps the bottle and drains half of it before pulling it off his mouth with a wet “gu-hah” breath. And now he knows how Kaldur feels when he jumps back in the water. A lot better.]