A/N: Finally had time to sit down and post. I have a few chapters of this pre-written. I'm expecting the final story to be between 20 and 30 chapters.

Chapter 1 - Jon L

Jon stood in his room at the cabin, really looking at himself in the mirror for the first time since he'd arrived on his planet. He looked like himself. At least, he looked like way he'd looked in the mirror back home.

For the first time, he'd put on the clothes Sam had bought for him. Red pants, black shirt, both fitted and a good bit tighter than the baggy hand-me-downs he'd been wearing since he'd gotten here. He put on the black leather jacket, but took it off right away—it was just a little too warm for that today. Jon had gelled up his hair the way he did it on his home planet, but he'd decided against eyeliner. Jonathan didn't wear it, and neither did Jordan or Clark.

Jon looked like himself. He wasn't sure who that was. But there was something about recognizing who he saw in the mirror, something that made his muscles relax, his breathing steady.

Hesitantly, he walked out into the kitchen, where Sam stood beside the counter with a cup of coffee.

"Looks good," Sam said. "How does it feel?"

"It's alright," he said, then he remembered that the clothes had been a gift. "Really good. Thanks, Sam."

Sam smiled. "Jonathan's on his way. I, ah, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Jon's heart sank to his stomach. It had been three weeks since Sam had accepted him back into his home, and it was still hard not to wake up worrying each day would be his last here. He knew Sam was sorry for what he'd done, and he didn't really think it was going to happen again, but whenever Sam said there was something to talk about . . .

Sam seemed to read his mind. "Relax, Jon. I'd just like to ask you the same question you asked me."

Jon frowned.

"What do you want me to call you when Jonathan is here?"

"Oh." He had a point—Jon didn't think it was fair for Jonathan to have to go by his full name while Jon went by his preferred name, but Jon-El didn't exactly fit anymore. He and Sam hadn't exactly talked about Jon taking Sam's last name, though the chain around his ankle said all he needed to know.

At least, he hoped. There was always the chance that the tag marked him not as a Lane, but as the property of one. He didn't exactly have the guts to ask.

"I don't know," he said finally.

"We can talk about it with Jonathan, too. See if there's another name he prefers. It doesn't have to be all on you."

Jon looked down, thinking. Since he'd hit high school, no one had really cared about more than one person having the same name. In elementary school, they'd differentiated. There had been two Ryans in his class in fifth grade. They went by first name and last initial, Ryan M and Ryan Y. That would make them Jon K, and . . .

Oh.

"Jon L," he said without thinking.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You're sure?"

"Not E-L. Just L. Like . . . Uh. First name and last initial." His cheeks burned, and he perked up at Sam to see how he would respond.

Sam's brow furrowed for a moment, then he smiled. "Ah."

"If . . . if that's okay. I mean, I don't want to—"

"It's perfect, my boy."

Warmth filled Jon's chest.

Jonathan arrived at the cabin a few minutes later. His eyes scanned Jon's clothes, and he grinned, but he didn't say anything. Then he looked over at Sam. "So, what are we doing this weekend?"

"I was thinking of taking you over to that diner you like so much. You boys hungry?"

"Starved," Jonathan said. "I skipped breakfast."

"I could eat." Jon had had breakfast—Sam didn't let him skip it—but he hadn't been out to eat since he'd been on this planet.

"But . . . how are you gonna explain . . ."

"Explain what?" Sam asked.

"Won't it be weird for there to be two of us?"

"That's not anyone's business."

Jon looked over at Jonathan, who shrugged. "Okay," Jon said, and he went to grab his jacket. It was warm in the house, but he didn't know what it would be like in the restaurant.

Jonathan followed him into his room and stood in the doorway. "Everything's okay, right?"

"Yeah," Jon said.

"He's not, like, threatening to kick you out or anything, right?"

"He's been great."

Jonathan frowned. "You know you don't have to forgive him right away. He said some really awful stuff. I mean, I kinda had to learn that, cuz my dad—"

"I already forgave him," Jon said, but then immediately regretted cutting Jonathan off, because he was curious what he was going to say about his dad.

Jonathan gave him a look, then he nodded. "Okay. Well, let me know. My parents can help."

"Thanks," Jon said, and he meant what he said. He felt a lot better now about how things were going with Sam, but it was still good to know he had someplace to go in case of an emergency.

Jon followed Jonathan out to the truck. He sat in the front with Sam, like always, but today he hesitated, wondering if he should be sitting in the back. He was pretty sure Sam had originally had Jon up front to prevent fighting. Now, Jon almost felt like he was just getting special treatment.

Well, maybe he was. Jon couldn't exactly name the relationship he shared with Sam; it was even harder to put a label on how he was related to Jonathan. More than that, he really wasn't sure where he stood with Jonathan. It wasn't the kind of thing he could ask outright—even if he was talking to a copy of himself, he knew they probably didn't have much in common.

He wanted to be friends with Jonathan, if he could. God knew it had been long enough since he'd had a real friend. He didn't let himself think about his twin often; even if Jon could go home, he knew those bridges were burned.

But while Jon had ideas of how to earn Sam's trust—though it shouldn't have been possible—he had no idea how to even begin building a friendship with Jonathan.

He hadn't come up with any ideas by the time they were pulling up outside an old-timey diner that looked more like something out of a movie than like anywhere Jon had ever been allowed to eat in his life. He had vague memories of his own granddad taking him someplace like this when he was little, but he wasn't sure whether it had really happened or if he was just imagining it now, seeing the place.

They stepped inside, and Jon almost stepped back out immediately as several people cheered, and Sam came to life. Jonathan didn't seem to be fazed—he smiled and waved to a waiter and a couple of guests.

Sam approached the hostess, who gave him a big smile. "Table for three?"

"That's right." She looked past Jonathan to Jon, and she did a double take. "Oh! Uh. Jordan alright?"

"Jordan's fine, couldn't join us this weekend. Cher, you've met my grandson, Jonathan. Like you to meet my boy, Jon L."

"Your . . . ah, are they brothers?"

"My grandson. My boy." Sam gestured to each of them in turn, then he gave the hostess a look, like he was daring her to ask any questions.

The hostess took the cue. She smiled and picked up three menus. "Handsome boys," she said. "You've got a good-looking family, Sam."

"I know it," Sam said, and he winked at Jon.