(no subject)
This past month…this past month has been one of almost nothing but fuck-ups.
Kara eventually came back enough to figure that out, and she’s honestly kind of glad about it. Real life sucks, but…whatever the hell else it is in her head is worse. She’d rather go through a year of months like this one than one day like the one after Zhaan ever again.
She woke up in her bathroom covered in black and red and light blue lines. It’d be funnier if she remembered drawing them on.
This, she decided, touching her own mottled reflection, was so fucking getting old.
So…she won’t do it again.
It can be that simple.
*
The first step was cleaning up her apartment. She even got in the fridge, which she hadn’t done in like forever. She’s going to have to replace most of the stuff she threw out. She also arranged for a new couch, because this one just kind of makes her queasy when she looks at it.
That was one of the bigger fuck-ups.
As she works, she plans. The words ‘damage control’ come up a lot. She realizes while she’s scrubbing the ceiling that at some point she’ll have to turn herself in at the Bar for Draco and -
- it’s really hard to stay away from her markers, but she’s not fucking doing that anymore because not only is it really creepy? It’s also just kind of pathetic.
Supergirl doesn’t do pathetic, so Kara figures she’d better shape the hell up.
*
One of her first patrols after that takes her through Sydney.
“Look,” she informs the guy she pulls out of the giant robot, “This is not cool. You totally wrecked like, three streets. People need those for their cars, which is an interesting device you should look into, because I bet that a Honda is like, way easier and cheaper to run than a escapee from anime, okay?”
The guy - Kara notes he has green eyes and blond hair, but how hilarious that is is really up in the air - nods mutely. She nods back and glides down to hand him over to the cops.
This is my life, she reminds herself, watching them cuff him, this is what I do and -
"Supergirl!" Kara turns around expectantly, which means ready to hit something, but...it's just a kid. A...vaguely familiar kid.
"Um," Kara says to the kid's bright and shiny eyes, "It's, um, S- S- gimme a minute - S -?"
"Sue!" The girl chirps, and lunges forward in a tackle hug and - oh, yeah, her. Sue.
"You are like, really all about the hugs, huh?" Kara says, amusedly, as someone who's presumably Sue's mom comes rushing out of the crowd. Sue nods, her breath warm and moist on Kara's skin, and Kara hesitantly and ever so gingerly puts a hand on the back of her head, and her hair is actually almost as soft and fluffy as the puppies'.
Kara flexes her hand around that feeling when Sue's mom finally pries her off and apologizes as she pulls her away.
*
"Nightwing, please," Kara says, lifting her clasped hands pleadingly, "Please please please pleeeease?"
He very literally facepalms.
"Supergirl," he says, slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose, "This is not the time or place for this discussion. When I get off patrol, then maybe we can -"
"Do you know you look really hot when you're annoyed?" She says, drifting closer, "Like, really." He looks up at her - she hears his eyes shift in their sockets - and is completely and utterly silent in the way only he can be.
"Really really," she adds, grinning.
"...who, exactly, is pretending to be your guardian?"
"Yes!" Kara pumps her fist above her head triumphantly. "I am like, so awesome!"
She knows he's probably giving her one of the most confused looks of all time, but she doesn't care.
She's going to school.
*
Boomer dials the phone way, way too damn slowly. Kara’s ready to strangle him by the time he’s done.
“….and they put me on hold,” he says, shaking his head, “Typical civil service.”
“Don’t be weird,” she pleads, grabbing his elbow, “If you’re weird they’ll think I’m weird and it’ll just be weird, okay?”
“You know,” he says, tilting his head as he eyes her, “I think I’m buying you a thesaurus.”
“Boomer! I said don’t be weird!” He laughs, slinging an arm around her shoulders.
“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” He asks, casually, and she almost believes it.
“I want to,” she insists, and he ruffles her hair affectionately as they wait for the office of Guggenheim High School to pick up.
Kara just liked the picture of the building. It’s got a lot of angles.
“Are you still serious about me watching those prison movies?”
“Kara, have I ever been anything but serious?”
She grins, and rests her head against the only shoulder that really feels right.
*
This is not your purpose.
This is not for you are for.
*
The water can’t cool her off.
She runs it over her face and her hands and the back of her neck and she can’t -
The drawer full of markers ends up open, somehow, and she stares at them as the city thrums.
*
“…okay, so, like, I’m from Kansas?” Kara says, perched on the edge of her fire escape as she leafs through her new (forged is such a harsh word) identity papers. Birth certificate, school transcripts, passports…everything. Nightwing’s thorough and hot.
She flicks another marker into the air and casually incinerates it.
“Kansas,” she says, looking down and shaking her head, “I mean, I’m not even from anywhere cool, God. And apparently I’m really good at math - whatever.” She sighs, and glances up.
“What are you looking at?” She demands of the cat crouched across the alley, “Your secret identity isn’t from Godforsaken Middle-of-Nowhere, USA, so shut up. Seriously.”
*
She has to shop for school supplies and glasses the Saturday before her first day of school.
First day of school. She’s going to have a first day of school.
She can’t stop grinning, and when she looks in the mirror to check the first glasses she tries on (red, thick framed, utterly dorky) she decides her secret identity will totally smile all the time.
Milliways and Kandor feel about ten thousand years ago as she runs her fingertips across the frame of her new face and grins at the brown haired dork in the mirror.
*
“Okay, cat,” Kara says, crouching on the rail of her fire escape, “Listen up. I know you’re new around here, but we have a hierarchy in this pack.”
Boomer told her to practice talking tough. Apparently, she might have to beat up someone to establish herself. She’s a little worried about that. Detention sounds like it’ll suck.
Movies are really confusing. The cat seems to think she is, too. She sighs and looks it in the eye.
“I,” she says, tapping her chest, “Am the alpha alien. Boomer is the beta human. And you? You, cat, are the omega cat.”
The cat just watches her, tail swishing behind it. Kara narrows her eyes.
“The omega cat,” she continues, “Does what the al - hey, don’t leave while I’m talking to you! This is so not over!”
*
School is noisy.
School is noisy and school is busy and Kara doesn’t want to get out of the car as she holds the strap of her new shoulderbaf and stares out the passenger side window.
Boomer shifts in the seat next to her, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, but for once? He doesn’t say anything.
“We could drive anyway right now,” she says.
“Yep,” he agrees, “We could.”
“I don’t, like, have to start today,” she continues, “I mean, Tuesday is just like Monday, right? If you think about it. It wouldn’t matter if I started tomorrow.”
“Probably not,” he says, and puts his hand on her knee. If it was anyone else, she’d think he was about to hit on her, but it’s Boomer. She puts her hand on top of his and nods, still staring out the window.
…Is that guy actually wearing a Booster Gold t-shirt? Ew.
“If they kidnap me, you’re totally rescuing me, got it?” She says, pulling on the doorhandle. “And we’re watching American Idol tonight and I don’t care if -”
“Hey,” Boomer says, quietly, squeezing her hand, “Good luck.”
“…thanks,” she says, glancing back, “Um…yeah. Thanks. I…”
He grins, and shoves her out of the car.
*
First class.
She is in her first class. No one is staring at her.
How is she getting away with this?
“Claire Connors?”
How?
“Here!” She says, raising her hand with what she knows to be the stupidest grin on her face ever. “I’m from Kansas!”
“I’m sorry to hear that, dear. Welcome to Guggenheim.”
Claire…keeps grinning.
It’s her first day of school. It’s her first day of school.
She hopes they like her. She hopes it works out. She hopes she gets it.
She really hopes she doesn’t have to shank anyone.
Kara eventually came back enough to figure that out, and she’s honestly kind of glad about it. Real life sucks, but…whatever the hell else it is in her head is worse. She’d rather go through a year of months like this one than one day like the one after Zhaan ever again.
She woke up in her bathroom covered in black and red and light blue lines. It’d be funnier if she remembered drawing them on.
This, she decided, touching her own mottled reflection, was so fucking getting old.
So…she won’t do it again.
It can be that simple.
*
The first step was cleaning up her apartment. She even got in the fridge, which she hadn’t done in like forever. She’s going to have to replace most of the stuff she threw out. She also arranged for a new couch, because this one just kind of makes her queasy when she looks at it.
That was one of the bigger fuck-ups.
As she works, she plans. The words ‘damage control’ come up a lot. She realizes while she’s scrubbing the ceiling that at some point she’ll have to turn herself in at the Bar for Draco and -
- it’s really hard to stay away from her markers, but she’s not fucking doing that anymore because not only is it really creepy? It’s also just kind of pathetic.
Supergirl doesn’t do pathetic, so Kara figures she’d better shape the hell up.
*
One of her first patrols after that takes her through Sydney.
“Look,” she informs the guy she pulls out of the giant robot, “This is not cool. You totally wrecked like, three streets. People need those for their cars, which is an interesting device you should look into, because I bet that a Honda is like, way easier and cheaper to run than a escapee from anime, okay?”
The guy - Kara notes he has green eyes and blond hair, but how hilarious that is is really up in the air - nods mutely. She nods back and glides down to hand him over to the cops.
This is my life, she reminds herself, watching them cuff him, this is what I do and -
"Supergirl!" Kara turns around expectantly, which means ready to hit something, but...it's just a kid. A...vaguely familiar kid.
"Um," Kara says to the kid's bright and shiny eyes, "It's, um, S- S- gimme a minute - S -?"
"Sue!" The girl chirps, and lunges forward in a tackle hug and - oh, yeah, her. Sue.
"You are like, really all about the hugs, huh?" Kara says, amusedly, as someone who's presumably Sue's mom comes rushing out of the crowd. Sue nods, her breath warm and moist on Kara's skin, and Kara hesitantly and ever so gingerly puts a hand on the back of her head, and her hair is actually almost as soft and fluffy as the puppies'.
Kara flexes her hand around that feeling when Sue's mom finally pries her off and apologizes as she pulls her away.
*
"Nightwing, please," Kara says, lifting her clasped hands pleadingly, "Please please please pleeeease?"
He very literally facepalms.
"Supergirl," he says, slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose, "This is not the time or place for this discussion. When I get off patrol, then maybe we can -"
"Do you know you look really hot when you're annoyed?" She says, drifting closer, "Like, really." He looks up at her - she hears his eyes shift in their sockets - and is completely and utterly silent in the way only he can be.
"Really really," she adds, grinning.
"...who, exactly, is pretending to be your guardian?"
"Yes!" Kara pumps her fist above her head triumphantly. "I am like, so awesome!"
She knows he's probably giving her one of the most confused looks of all time, but she doesn't care.
She's going to school.
*
Boomer dials the phone way, way too damn slowly. Kara’s ready to strangle him by the time he’s done.
“….and they put me on hold,” he says, shaking his head, “Typical civil service.”
“Don’t be weird,” she pleads, grabbing his elbow, “If you’re weird they’ll think I’m weird and it’ll just be weird, okay?”
“You know,” he says, tilting his head as he eyes her, “I think I’m buying you a thesaurus.”
“Boomer! I said don’t be weird!” He laughs, slinging an arm around her shoulders.
“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” He asks, casually, and she almost believes it.
“I want to,” she insists, and he ruffles her hair affectionately as they wait for the office of Guggenheim High School to pick up.
Kara just liked the picture of the building. It’s got a lot of angles.
“Are you still serious about me watching those prison movies?”
“Kara, have I ever been anything but serious?”
She grins, and rests her head against the only shoulder that really feels right.
*
This is not your purpose.
This is not for you are for.
*
The water can’t cool her off.
She runs it over her face and her hands and the back of her neck and she can’t -
The drawer full of markers ends up open, somehow, and she stares at them as the city thrums.
*
“…okay, so, like, I’m from Kansas?” Kara says, perched on the edge of her fire escape as she leafs through her new (forged is such a harsh word) identity papers. Birth certificate, school transcripts, passports…everything. Nightwing’s thorough and hot.
She flicks another marker into the air and casually incinerates it.
“Kansas,” she says, looking down and shaking her head, “I mean, I’m not even from anywhere cool, God. And apparently I’m really good at math - whatever.” She sighs, and glances up.
“What are you looking at?” She demands of the cat crouched across the alley, “Your secret identity isn’t from Godforsaken Middle-of-Nowhere, USA, so shut up. Seriously.”
*
She has to shop for school supplies and glasses the Saturday before her first day of school.
First day of school. She’s going to have a first day of school.
She can’t stop grinning, and when she looks in the mirror to check the first glasses she tries on (red, thick framed, utterly dorky) she decides her secret identity will totally smile all the time.
Milliways and Kandor feel about ten thousand years ago as she runs her fingertips across the frame of her new face and grins at the brown haired dork in the mirror.
*
“Okay, cat,” Kara says, crouching on the rail of her fire escape, “Listen up. I know you’re new around here, but we have a hierarchy in this pack.”
Boomer told her to practice talking tough. Apparently, she might have to beat up someone to establish herself. She’s a little worried about that. Detention sounds like it’ll suck.
Movies are really confusing. The cat seems to think she is, too. She sighs and looks it in the eye.
“I,” she says, tapping her chest, “Am the alpha alien. Boomer is the beta human. And you? You, cat, are the omega cat.”
The cat just watches her, tail swishing behind it. Kara narrows her eyes.
“The omega cat,” she continues, “Does what the al - hey, don’t leave while I’m talking to you! This is so not over!”
*
School is noisy.
School is noisy and school is busy and Kara doesn’t want to get out of the car as she holds the strap of her new shoulderbaf and stares out the passenger side window.
Boomer shifts in the seat next to her, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, but for once? He doesn’t say anything.
“We could drive anyway right now,” she says.
“Yep,” he agrees, “We could.”
“I don’t, like, have to start today,” she continues, “I mean, Tuesday is just like Monday, right? If you think about it. It wouldn’t matter if I started tomorrow.”
“Probably not,” he says, and puts his hand on her knee. If it was anyone else, she’d think he was about to hit on her, but it’s Boomer. She puts her hand on top of his and nods, still staring out the window.
…Is that guy actually wearing a Booster Gold t-shirt? Ew.
“If they kidnap me, you’re totally rescuing me, got it?” She says, pulling on the doorhandle. “And we’re watching American Idol tonight and I don’t care if -”
“Hey,” Boomer says, quietly, squeezing her hand, “Good luck.”
“…thanks,” she says, glancing back, “Um…yeah. Thanks. I…”
He grins, and shoves her out of the car.
*
First class.
She is in her first class. No one is staring at her.
How is she getting away with this?
“Claire Connors?”
How?
“Here!” She says, raising her hand with what she knows to be the stupidest grin on her face ever. “I’m from Kansas!”
“I’m sorry to hear that, dear. Welcome to Guggenheim.”
Claire…keeps grinning.
It’s her first day of school. It’s her first day of school.
She hopes they like her. She hopes it works out. She hopes she gets it.
She really hopes she doesn’t have to shank anyone.