Another Supergirl (2015) ficlet
I have a couple of ideas about these ficlets, but I haven't settled on anything yet, so I don't know if there will be more of them. But enjoy this one from Clark Kent's POV, vaguely in the same universe as the other Supergirl ficlet from Monday.
Clark Kent - born Kal-El of Krypton, but Clark Kent to his family, friends, and coworkers, Superman to his other friends and the rest of the planet - is having a bad day.
Week.
Year.
Whatever.
He rubs at his eyes as if the headache he’s suffering could really be eye strain from new glasses (his last pair recently disintegrated in - well, it’s best not to think about it) instead of simple stress. In addition to the problem with his last pair of glasses, Bruce Wayne has been kind of a dick in both parts of his life for the last few months (he doesn’t get this thing that the tabloids have about Superman and Batman being best friends, or possibly more), Lois isn’t talking to him again, he’s been forced to move because his rent skyrocketed after Green Arrow accidentally set off a gas explosion in the neighboring building (oh, god, don’t even think about it, Clark, he tells himself, that trip down memory lane only leads to misery and pain) and his balcony suddenly had a lovely view of Hobbs Bay, and Ma has been on his case again about so many things as she always seems to be and he’s kind of avoiding her calls and emails right now. Because he is an adult and therefore it’s his right to ignore his mother. Yes, that’s a very adult thing to do. Absolutely.
And the last few days? Well, he’s spent the last forty-eight hours
- stopping an asteroid headed for Beijing,
- corralling a giant sewer rat in Rome (what is it with mad scientists and turning ordinary pests into mega fauna?)
- dealing with Lex Luthor (don’t ask - seriously, do. not. ask),
- helping Wonder Woman fix a glitch in her invisible jet’s navigation system by installing a Kryptonian software patch from the Fortress of Solitude,
- Lex Luthor again (still don’t ask),
- having Perry get on his case about that damn article on Bill Church,
- missing and trying to return calls from Bill Henderson and Maggie Sawyer,
- Lex Luthor a third godforsaken time (admittedly, that was actually an impersonator who had been put under citizen’s arrest in a bakery for trying to steal a fresh batch of cupcakes from these sweet old ladies who could land some surprisingly good blows with their rolling pins - but seriously, what the hell is one person going to do with a little more than three baker’s dozen cupcakes? it was terrible, theft is always terrible, but why cupcakes? And why dress up as Lex Luthor so convincingly that the authorities call Superman to help deal with it? And did it have to be the bakery with the sweet little old ladies who keep offering to bake a wedding cake for him and whichever of his super-powered colleagues the tabloids that aren’t connecting him with Batman are connecting him with this week? At least it means those grannies are pro-LGBT, right? He kind of misses the days when it was nothing but Is Lois Lane pregnant with Superman’s love child? twenty-four-seven - not that he’d wish that on Lois ever again),
- and then trying to dodge Dr. Emil Hamilton’s renewed requests for tissue samples for his research. Because Kryptonian DNA and other assorted samples are only going to be used for the good of mankind. Truly. Really.
In short, it’s been a difficult couple of days.
And to top it all off - when he takes five minutes to relax at the bar by the Daily Planet, it turns out that his baby cousin Kara - sweet, bubbly, innocent little Kara with her new job at Cat Grant’s magazine and stereotypical mid-20s lifestyle complete with hip loft apartment and never-ending series of bad but hilarious-in-the-retelling blind dates - darling little Kara has just outed herself as another super-powered person.
One with his powers specifically.
And LNN is already speculating on whether she is Superman’s sister, wife, daughter, or some combination thereof.
At least they don’t have her name yet, or know for certain that they’re connected. The heading they’ve put just above the news ticker on the video feed reads Who is this Maiden of Might saving Flight 1050? It alternates with Girl of Steel saves jetliner from certain doom and Mystery teen connected to Superman?
Because, to some people, Kara looks about twelve or thirteen years old when she’s just climbed out of a river and is not wearing glasses, apparently.
He closes his eyes and gently - very gently - thumps his forehead against the polished wood of the bar counter a couple of times.
He’s not dealing with this now. No, he’s not, not tonight. Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be soon enough. Yes, tomorrow. Tomorrow he’ll see what’s being reported. Tomorrow he’ll call Jimmy in New City and see if this was in any way a premeditated decision and Kara just didn’t want to tell him in advance, or if it was just one of those things. Tomorrow he’ll call a meeting of the Justice League and let them all know that he’s not the only Kryptonian on Earth after all, and not the only one in the cape business. Tomorrow he’ll call Uncle Fred and Aunt Sylvia to see how they’re dealing with all this, especially the fact that their daughter has apparently decided to be a superhero after all.
Tomorrow.
“Rough day, pal?” the bartender asks.
Clark lifts his head and sighs. “You have no idea.”
Clark Kent - born Kal-El of Krypton, but Clark Kent to his family, friends, and coworkers, Superman to his other friends and the rest of the planet - is having a bad day.
Week.
Year.
Whatever.
He rubs at his eyes as if the headache he’s suffering could really be eye strain from new glasses (his last pair recently disintegrated in - well, it’s best not to think about it) instead of simple stress. In addition to the problem with his last pair of glasses, Bruce Wayne has been kind of a dick in both parts of his life for the last few months (he doesn’t get this thing that the tabloids have about Superman and Batman being best friends, or possibly more), Lois isn’t talking to him again, he’s been forced to move because his rent skyrocketed after Green Arrow accidentally set off a gas explosion in the neighboring building (oh, god, don’t even think about it, Clark, he tells himself, that trip down memory lane only leads to misery and pain) and his balcony suddenly had a lovely view of Hobbs Bay, and Ma has been on his case again about so many things as she always seems to be and he’s kind of avoiding her calls and emails right now. Because he is an adult and therefore it’s his right to ignore his mother. Yes, that’s a very adult thing to do. Absolutely.
And the last few days? Well, he’s spent the last forty-eight hours
- stopping an asteroid headed for Beijing,
- corralling a giant sewer rat in Rome (what is it with mad scientists and turning ordinary pests into mega fauna?)
- dealing with Lex Luthor (don’t ask - seriously, do. not. ask),
- helping Wonder Woman fix a glitch in her invisible jet’s navigation system by installing a Kryptonian software patch from the Fortress of Solitude,
- Lex Luthor again (still don’t ask),
- having Perry get on his case about that damn article on Bill Church,
- missing and trying to return calls from Bill Henderson and Maggie Sawyer,
- Lex Luthor a third godforsaken time (admittedly, that was actually an impersonator who had been put under citizen’s arrest in a bakery for trying to steal a fresh batch of cupcakes from these sweet old ladies who could land some surprisingly good blows with their rolling pins - but seriously, what the hell is one person going to do with a little more than three baker’s dozen cupcakes? it was terrible, theft is always terrible, but why cupcakes? And why dress up as Lex Luthor so convincingly that the authorities call Superman to help deal with it? And did it have to be the bakery with the sweet little old ladies who keep offering to bake a wedding cake for him and whichever of his super-powered colleagues the tabloids that aren’t connecting him with Batman are connecting him with this week? At least it means those grannies are pro-LGBT, right? He kind of misses the days when it was nothing but Is Lois Lane pregnant with Superman’s love child? twenty-four-seven - not that he’d wish that on Lois ever again),
- and then trying to dodge Dr. Emil Hamilton’s renewed requests for tissue samples for his research. Because Kryptonian DNA and other assorted samples are only going to be used for the good of mankind. Truly. Really.
In short, it’s been a difficult couple of days.
And to top it all off - when he takes five minutes to relax at the bar by the Daily Planet, it turns out that his baby cousin Kara - sweet, bubbly, innocent little Kara with her new job at Cat Grant’s magazine and stereotypical mid-20s lifestyle complete with hip loft apartment and never-ending series of bad but hilarious-in-the-retelling blind dates - darling little Kara has just outed herself as another super-powered person.
One with his powers specifically.
And LNN is already speculating on whether she is Superman’s sister, wife, daughter, or some combination thereof.
At least they don’t have her name yet, or know for certain that they’re connected. The heading they’ve put just above the news ticker on the video feed reads Who is this Maiden of Might saving Flight 1050? It alternates with Girl of Steel saves jetliner from certain doom and Mystery teen connected to Superman?
Because, to some people, Kara looks about twelve or thirteen years old when she’s just climbed out of a river and is not wearing glasses, apparently.
He closes his eyes and gently - very gently - thumps his forehead against the polished wood of the bar counter a couple of times.
He’s not dealing with this now. No, he’s not, not tonight. Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be soon enough. Yes, tomorrow. Tomorrow he’ll see what’s being reported. Tomorrow he’ll call Jimmy in New City and see if this was in any way a premeditated decision and Kara just didn’t want to tell him in advance, or if it was just one of those things. Tomorrow he’ll call a meeting of the Justice League and let them all know that he’s not the only Kryptonian on Earth after all, and not the only one in the cape business. Tomorrow he’ll call Uncle Fred and Aunt Sylvia to see how they’re dealing with all this, especially the fact that their daughter has apparently decided to be a superhero after all.
Tomorrow.
“Rough day, pal?” the bartender asks.
Clark lifts his head and sighs. “You have no idea.”