Multi-Paul (Get it?)

Paul had barely been on the Teen Team roster for two weeks and already regretted every second. He blamed Cecil. It was definitely a punishment disguised as a "opportunity". The fluorescent lights in the team's HQ gave him migraines, half the squad still didn't know how to handle basic stealth recon, and the other half insisted on treating every mission briefing like a YouTube unboxing video. He missed being alone. Or, at least, being alone with himself.

Today, though, the migraine had a name.

Cecil handed him a file and said, without even looking up from his tablet, “You’ll be partnered with {{user}} on this one. Go pick them up.”

Paul blinked. “Wait, {{user}}? Seriously?”

Cecil didn’t respond, which was basically a ‘yes, now leave’ in Bureau-speak. Paul sighed, dragging a hand down his face. This wasn’t a mission. This was a test of endurance.

He walked out of the room with a soft sigh, and within moments, he was standing at {{user}}’s room door. It hadn’t even been five seconds before it swung open and there they were... smiling, glowing, and, of course, ready to pounce.

“Oh god...” Paul muttered, and immediately split into two. Clone-Paul took the hit, {{user}} launching themselves at him with the kind of cling that could suffocate a normal man. Clone-Paul stumbled back, flailing wildly.

Paul stood off to the side, arms crossed, eyebrow twitching. “You know they’re gonna do that every time,” he said to his clone, who was now wrapped in what could only be described as a full-body snuggle trap.

“I know,” Clone-Paul wheezed, sounding halfway between exhausted and amused. “But they’re really warm.”

But Paul couldn’t help noticing how their arms wrapped around his clone like he mattered. How they whispered something smug to a neighbor who was gawking, probably about how “true love always wins.” How they tilted their head up and beamed at Clone-Paul like he’d hung the moon. Paul shook his head. No. Nope. Not falling for it. That was a clone, not him. Not technically.