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Alex hears Kara’s knock at precisely twenty-seven seconds past midnight. She rolls her eyes as she makes her way to the apartment door, delighting in Kara’s audible scoff from the other side, and braces herself as she turns the latch.
The moment the locks click open, Kara’s burst inside and scooped Alex up in a hug/deathgrip unique to Kryptonians (today’s official hug count: 1), and Alex laughs and shakes her head and thumps Kara on the back playfully. “Put me down,” she groans, swearing she can hear her bones creak, and Kara obliges.
Before Alex can make a sarcastic request for Kara to scan her for broken ribs, Kara’s whipped out a white box from behind her back (where did that even come from? Both her hands were very clearly occupied two seconds ago) and put on her brightest smile. “Happy birthday!” she chirps.
Pretending to be disgruntled, Alex takes the box and comments, “Kara, it’s midnight.”
“It’s Saturday and you’re up anyway, don’t even try it,” Kara fires back.
Alex shoves Kara, who surprisingly stumbles before laughing aloud.
“You know it’s true,” Kara crows as Alex deliberately ignores her sister’s antics and sets the box on the counter.
“Please tell me this is cake,” Alex says, eying the container.
Kara scoffs. “As if it would be anything else, Alex, please .”
“Vanilla and strawberry creme?”
“No,” Kara answers flatly. “Chocolate with nuts. You know, my favorite. For you. On your birthday.”
Alex glares half-heartedly, but when she opens the lid to see red and white swirls, her mask cracks, and she doesn’t try to fight the affectionate smile that sneaks its way onto her face. She reaches over for a quick one-armed hug (hug count: 2), and Kara beams.
“Alright,” Alex says, pulling away, “go fetch some plates and forks, and I’ll set up the tv. What are we on, episode 9?”
Kara’s voice drifts from the kitchen as Alex grabs the remote and switches the power on. “Sounds about right.” Alex can feel the faint breeze as Kara appears instantly beside her, two plates of cake in each hand, one piece noticeably bigger than the other.
“I call the big one.” Alex grins and reaches over.
Kara pulls the plate away and pouts. “You can’t even eat all this, “ she whines, and Alex grins smugly, tormenting her sister for a few more seconds before giving a relenting “fine”. Taking the smaller, but still rather large piece, Alex grabs a fork and doesn’t hesitate, closing her eyes and savoring the bite.
When she opens them again, Kara’s nearly halfway done.
Alex stares.
Movements slowing to a halt, Kara smiles sheepishly and shrugs. Swallowing, she says, “I’ve got a second one back at my place for you, just in case.”
Well, Alex supposes that’s an improvement from previous years. As is the lack of candles. (After Kara once tried to light a group of candles simultaneously with heat vision last year, and subsequently burned the entire cake before a well-timed freeze breath saved the rest of the kitchen, they were banned from any and all future birthdays.)
Curled together on the couch (hug count: 3), Alex hits play, and for the next hour and a half, comfortable silence fills the air between them as their attention stays riveted to their show.
By 1:30, Alex catches herself yawning, and she can already tell Kara’s halfway to falling asleep right here and now, so she shuts off the tv and slowly stands up, gently moving Kara’s drooped head from its resting place on her shoulder and gathering up the empty plates.
Putting them in the sink with a small clang, Alex hears shifting from the couch, and turns to see Kara yawning and stretching. “Is it late?” she asks sleepily.
Alex points at the clock. “Take a guess.”
Kara rubs her eyes and shrugs.
“So,” Alex says, sticking the cake in the fridge, “when’s Mom coming by tomorrow?”
“One, but it’s a surprise.” Kara yawns again, and her button-up is loose just enough to reveal the top of the El symbol beneath.
“It’s never a surprise,” Alex mutters, wishing her mom would stop insisting on this every year.
“‘Cause I’m not supposed to tell you,” Kara points out. “Also she’s trying to be nice now, remember! If anything, I’m the one who needs to watch out.”
Alex smirks. “Not so easy being on the other end, is it?”
Stepping into the kitchen, Kara whines, “She critiqued my flying form last time, Alex.”
Alex snorts.
Kara frowns. “How did you defend yourself all these years?”
“Sword, shield, and sarcasm.”
“Unhelpful,” Kara grunts, perching on a stool and dropping her head down on the counter. She lets out a long, pained groan, and it’s moments like these that Alex wishes she could film and show to the world, let them know just how normal the famed Supergirl really is.
“Not trying to be,” Alex retorts. She starts to make her way to her bedroom when a light touch on her shoulder halts her.
“Wait a sec.” Kara steps back and starts to rummage in her pockets, murmuring a soft “aha!” as she pulls out a small, oddly-shaped item wrapped unevenly in chemistry-themed gift paper. “Happy birthday!” Her voice is soft compared to her earlier greeting, and Alex stares curiously.
“I thought we normally wait until later?”
“Yeah, and I’ve got a couple more things! But I thought now was better for this one, just because, I don’t know.” Kara scratches the back of her neck and shuffles her feet.
“Now’s fine,” Alex says, and she takes the package in cautious hands. “Can I open it?”
Kara nods, biting her lip.
Permission given, Alex carefully peels off the tape and wrapping to reveal a tiny, hand-carved bird, wings spread, coated in dark blue paint and spangled with immaculately colored white and gold stars. It’s like a miniature night sky in her palms, and Alex cradles the figure with the utmost care.
“I got you some more, you know, useful things, for later today, but I also - I was playing around with carving a bit, and I couldn’t help but think of birds, because of when - “
“We went over all those species together. I remember.” And she does; not long after Kara had admitted there were no birds on Krypton, she’d hesitantly approached Alex and asked her about them, if there were different kinds, what they did, what they were like. Alex thinks she and Kara spent the whole night doing research before Mom and Dad caught them in the morning, curled amidst a pile of pillows and blankets, an old Zoobooks magazine spread before them.
“And then the night,” Kara continues, “because of the telescope, and Jeremiah.”
“And the first time we went flying,” Alex adds quietly.
Kara’s eyes crinkle. “That too.”
Alex turns the bird over, runs her fingers over the rough-hewn edges and dried paint, and, being careful not to drop it, moves forward to gather Kara up into the tightest hug she can muster (hug count: 4). “Thank you,” she whispers, and Kara nods and wraps her arms around Alex (hug count: 5) and they relax in each other’s hold.
“Happy birthday,” Kara says again as they start to pull back, and that earns her one last, quick embrace (hug count: 6; current time: 1:43 am) before they split up, Kara to the bathroom and Alex to her bedroom.
She holds the figure almost reverently as she sets it down on her dresser, right next to a framed photo of Kara, Mom, Dad, and herself, and she could swear the light glints off the stars on the bird’s wings.
It was exactly sixteen seconds after midnight, when Kara wished Alex an early “happy birthday!” years ago, that Alex realized for the first time in her life that maybe, just maybe, having a sister wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
Over a decade later and Alex can finally acknowledge that having a sister, especially one like Kara, might just be the best .
.
.
.
(End of the day hug count: 31)