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Kara had stayed with Clark for enough time by now to know when he was acting weird. In the good ways, like when he bought her a surprise bottle of Batman curated vodka which actually had an effect on her for about 6 hours even under the yellow sun. She’d known he was hiding something the moment he appeared in the window with a stupid, dopey smile. And, in the bad ways, like when he was being dragged through the media for ‘bringing another crazed alien (her) to earth, and he was a bit too snappy with pushing Krypto away.
So, even though she could tell Clark tried really, really hard this time to act natural, she knew the second his smile was just a bit too foolish.
Now, if Kara particularly cared to maintain his dignity, she wouldn’t bother him. Unfortunately, she doesn’t.
“Come on, Kal, give it up already!”
“No, no. I can’t do that, because there’s nothing to give up.”
She laughs, floating up to his eye level.
“Look me in the eye, and lie, Kal.”
Bravely, Clark looks her in the eye, tonguing his cheek. “I–”
Kara interrupts instantly, crossing her arms and making a loud errr noise. “Liar.”
“What– I didn’t even say anything yet!”
Kara laughs, flipping in the air to ‘lie down’ and tilting her head all the way back to meet his eyes.
“Didn’t have to. I can smell it.”
He scoffs, crossing his arms with only mild amusement. “You cannot smell lies, Kara.”
“Uh, says who? Trust me on this, I’ll tell a lie and you take a deep breath.”
“No.”
“Indulge me.”
He folds instantly, looking up at the ceiling like it may grant him strength. “Fine. Fine, go.”
“I can smell lies.”
Clark takes in a deep breath without really registering her words, then pauses when a foul scent invades his nostrils. He wretches, waving a hand in front of his face as if to fan the scent away. Kara is already cackling, hair waving wildly.
“What the hay, did Krypto just fart? Did you just con me into smelling Krypto's fart?!”
Krypto, having had enough of being silent, barks at much the same tempo as Kara’s laughter, and they both share in Clark’s misfortune until he too breaks with a small chuckle.
“Well, what makes you think I’m gonna tell you now, Kara?”
Her laughter slows, but does not stop. She lands back on the floor, and shoves him slightly. Perhaps with a bit too much force, because he stumbles back slightly with an oof. The glance between her and the dog absolutely says you’re more alike than is healthy. She, very graciously, ignores it.
“Come on, Kal, just tell me.”
Funnily enough, his ears flush a little bit.
“Okay, okay. I’ll tell you what. You go drop Krypto off at the Fortress, come back in one hour, and I’ll tell you then.”
“Um, why do I have to leave my dog at that rotating ice shed?”
“Ice shed? That Fortress is the most– no, okay, listen. Just trust me. It’s just for a couple hours, and I promise if you hate it we can go get him and I’ll–”
“Jesus, nerd, shut up. I’ll be back in, like, 40 minutes.”
With a whistle, she heads to the window with Krypto on her heels.
“Hang on, I said an hour!”
“And I said 40 minutes.”
“Kara, come on!”
“40 minutes!”
✭
39 minutes later, Kara is taking the elevator back up to the apartment. She would’ve just gone through the window again, but Clark taped up a big tarp saying KARA GO THRU DOOR and she felt like she should probably obey.
Her headphones are playing One Way Or Another, though up this high she’s turned them down since there’s less of a need to block out noise. Through the music, she can hear Clark whispering to himself behind the door of their shared penthouse. Kara did have her own place, but she spent most of her time with her cousin anyways, when she wasn’t off planet visiting Ruthye.
For once, or maybe even possibly the first time, Kara knocks on the front door before opening. Or rather, she slams her fist against it hard enough it creaks on its hinges, and follows up with a “hey, loser, I’m back!”
She swings open the unlocked door (Kryptonians don’t really have to worry about robbers) and then stops in her tracks.
Hues of gold and white line the apartment, texture added to the walls to make the room seem more sophisticated than it is. Against one far wall, a thick wooden panel is propped up, and she can make out carvings on it that she doesn’t really bother to investigate in the glamour of the rest of the room.
Clark– No, Kal-el is standing in the centre of the room, awkwardly propped next to a thick metal table of whitened steel. It looks like– The colours, the spacing of the furniture– the lighting… It looks..
It feels like..
“Oh my god,” she says, tears brimming in her eyes so suddenly it’s almost embarrassing.
“Bezhgam zehdh, Kara.”
Welcome home.
Kara flies into the room so fast her headphones actually fly off her head and clatter onto the floor. She slams into Kal-el so hard they fly backwards, but he gathers himself quickly and they thankfully stop before they rocket through the blocked window.
She hasn’t heard anyone speak Kryptonese to her since the very last time she saw her planet, as her father bid her adieu.
Now, Kal-el sounds so similar to how her father did as a child. Strong, sturdy. Though, Kal is unsure in his words, a little stilted on the hitches and dips of their shared mother tongue. Not shared, Clark’s first language is English.
But he’s speaking it. She can almost pretend they’re on the Argo. She can almost - no, it’s not pretend. Kara is home, here, crying like a fucking pussy in her cousin’s arms.
Eventually, she calms down enough to pull back, embarrassed by the meltdown she’d barely avoided. Through it all Clark was there with her, rubbing her back and whispering ‘it’s okay’ in Kryptonses until he realised it was only making her cry harder, so he just fell into silence and hums.
Pulling away, she covers for her puffy eyes by turning away to further examine the room. Now that she’s closer to the wooden panel, she can see tat the carvings are actually Kryptonese symbols. A little crude, and absolutely done by Clark himself, but she can see the ways the lines are smooth enough to have been practiced. To have been learnt.
The symbols spell words she’d read a million times before, as a girl. Not even super sentimental, intrinsic things like their version of the ten commandments. They’re house rules. Almost exactly as they were written in her house.
And, that includes the little inputs of (Kara) after a particularly specific rule. Man, she really does feel like crying again. As she reads, she can hear her mothers voice in her ears, playfully reading them to her over and over before the sickness turned her bones to ash beneath her skin.
There’s a whoosh behind her, but Kara is too busy to see why Kal-el has disappeared to the bathroom. She hadn't noticed before, but the table was laid with food she’s never seen before. Wait, hold, no.
“Holy shit,” she says. She does recognise them. Traditional Kryptonian housefoods. Made of Kryptonian ingredients. She recognises them now, though just barely. Clark doesn't seem to be as good a cook of Kryptonian food as he is of mac and cheese.
If she ever saw Earthen food even half as burned as the Roast Babootch, Kara would never let Clark live it down. But there are no pictures of it in the universe, no living recipes of Roast Babootch not involving Kryptonian livestock.
She’s tried the knockoffs on other planets, they just don’t work.
But she can smell this. It smells like a genuine Babootch. And Kara doesn't understand how, but she’s too consumed with the scent of her home – like that of every third sunrise when her father would come home early from the lab. He’d give her mother the afternoon to have a girls night, to have some womanly time to herself, and he’d play some ridiculous music he’d made with his brother in his youth and make them a slightly burnt dinner.
Fuck, she’d forgotten. She’d forgotten the tune of the song, but somehow the melody comes back to her with the scent of the Babootch.
She hums it, desperate not to lose the tune again, and examines the lighting fixtures set up to mimic the natural, somewhat permanent golden hour of Krypton.
“No way, is that a Mighty Crabjoys song? Queen’s Daughter, right? Or was it King’s Son? I think that was from their Kingdom Come album, which I didn't really–”
He rambles, but Kara is left with her ears ringing and blocking him out when she turns around. Clark’s wearing traditional Kryptonian clothing. White draped over white, an ivory, loosely flowing robe with gold detailing stitched elegantly into the fabric. Which is of the wrong cloth, but it’s not like she’s focusing too hard on the details.
“Kal-el,” she breathes, and her voice cracks. “Ta rriv ju voiehd– ah, why do all this?”
She changes to English when his brow crinkles slightly, and he waves his hands, almost in distress. “No, no! Don’t not speak Kryptonese. I mean, I can understand. Just, go slower.”
Kara smiles, watery and bemused. “Okay. Zhi. Ta rriv ju voiehd, Kal-el?”
“Gehd si pahdh rrip jevia. Xap sem rrip vo nan– ah wait – vo nim jevia.”
It would make you happy. I want you to be happy.
Pathetically, Kara wants to cry once more. His grammar structure is a bit juvenile, but it’s not Kara’s going to pick on him now. No, it would actually be her pleasure to help him learn. Some other time. Tonight, she’s going to talk with her cousin as they were born to talk, and if he messes up too badly, she’ll tell him.
Home. This place, right now, is home.
This is zehdh.