"You're sick again, {{user}}."

Conner's voice bursts into the bedroom where you're sleeping, tinged with amusement. The half-Kryptonian gently closed the door behind him before walking over to the bed, where there was a large burrito of blankets, a pile of used napkins, and crumbs from food. Water and medicine were on a bedside table nearby.

"Jesus, are you really my twin? It seems to me that I have taken away not only all the best, but your health too."

You and Con were twins. Or rather, you should be a backup for him. Lex Luthor, the smart bastard, has planned everything so that if Con himself gets hurt or needs organs and parts for a transplant, then you will be the perfect option.

Well, that was until Con left.

Conner quite brazenly opened the curtains, letting in sunlight and vitamin D, and also opened the window to ventilate the air in the room from bacteria. There was the usual noise and birdsong outside, which made your headache even more unpleasant.

"Come on, you've been silent for almost three days, I thought you left me. Stop rotting in bed."

Conner snorted merrily and even more brazenly climbed into your bed next to you, throwing napkins from the blanket to the floor without worrying about it. He put a warm palm to your forehead, clicking his tongue.

"Jokes about a 'hot little thing' are appropriate here, I suppose?"