Title: Edging Towards Synchronicity

Author: gldngr7

Rating: Explicit

Began: March 11, 2017

Chapters:

Feedback: Encouragement and constructive criticisms are always welcome. Flames are destroyed with my freeze breath.

Author's Notes:

I'm not even kidding around anymore. This story is about a journey to intimacy and that intimacy includes heavy elements of BDSM, Dominance/submission, and Daddy-kink. If you know you're not into that or interested in seeing more, walk away now. Kid gloves are off, folks.

If you would like to know whom to thank for this upping of my smut game, you can thank the Anti who left me a hate comment on my last story telling me that I was going to hell and that I needed to "atone for my sins" for "hating woman". To this Anti: If you thought I had "out-grossed" Fifty Shades of Gray before…you ain't seen nothing yet. Just so you know…"This was all for you, Damien. All for you!" Enjoy. And know that there's so much more where this came from. I take your hate as encouragement.

Dedicated to my fam member mon-kai-el and dirty bitches squad (aka The Dark Side) whose dirty talk showed me that I could take the kid gloves off. Stay thirsty, my friend.

For those of you who care…there is in fact plot. And it moves forward and everything.

PSA: If there are any Babysubs out there who read this and think, 'this is me' and you don't know what to do. If you want to talk, message me. It's important that you know this: THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU! Not a damn thing, and don't ever let anyone tell you differently

Yeah, you are my dream

There's not a thing I won't do.

I'll give my life up for you,

'Cause you are my dream.

And baby, everything that I have is yours,

You will never go cold or hungry.

I'll be there when you're insecure

-Chris Brown - "Next to You"

Chapter 1/8

"Come again?"

"I'm Valor," Mon-El repeats his confession. "I'm the…guy. It was me." He turns to Kara seeking encouragement, which she provides with a subtle nod. He pulls his hands out of the pockets of his jeans and clasps them behind his back, as though he's not quite certain how to stand – how to present himself in this situation. "I was out after curfew," he recounts the event of the early morning. "I heard the car crash into the guardrail and from the distress of the vehicle, determined that a rescue would never be mounted in time, and so I chose to render assistance."

"You…rendered assistance?" J'onn echoes, flummoxed by the professional sound of Mon-El's phrasing. Seems that someone has been paying attention to DEO operational reports when J'onn had just assumed that the only thing the Daxamite had invested in was the length of Supergirl's skirt. Perhaps he had underestimated Mon-El.

"That's correct," Mon-El confirms, cringing on the inside as he waits for the explosion.

J'onn J'onzz grits his teeth together and releases a deeply held breath, his nostrils flaring noticeably. He's wrangling his anger with truly admirable control. "I believe I recall you checking in at midnight last night, Mon-El. Was I mistaken?"

"No, sir," he gulps, suddenly understanding why Winn sits a little straighter in his chair when J'onn focuses that intense gaze upon him.

"So, if I'm hearing you correctly…last night you left the building after curfew."

Mon-El holds up his index finger. "If we're being completely honest…"

"We'd better be completely honest," J'onn growls, wishing, not for the first time that he could read Kryptonian and Daxamite minds.

"Okay…so it wasn't just last night. I've been sneaking out a few nights a week for a while now."

"Which is expressly forbidden in the agreement that allows you free run of this facility instead of being confined to a cell."

"Yes," Mon-El corroborates.

Sensing that Mon-El is struggling, Kara steps in to defend him. "He can't sleep, J'onn," she adds. "He can't sleep, and the only way he can stay awake—"

"Kara," Mon-El interrupts her before she can confess everything on his behalf. These are his sins to confess; his responsibility, not hers. "Let me," he says, turning back to J'onn. "I have trouble sleeping, and if I—"

"Nightmares?" J'onn interrupts. J'onn stands silently for a long moment, a heavy weight, like a blanket, dropping over the room. Finally, he looks up, pinning Mon-El with his stare, squinting his eyes as though attempting to see something just beyond his field of vision.

"Yeah," Mon-El replies simply, ruefully clasping his hands together until the knuckles go white.

J'onn nods, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning up against the table behind him. "There's not one of us in this room that doesn't know exactly what you're going through right now," he reminds the younger man. "Kara and I both know what it's like to lose our worlds. You should have come to one of us about this before it became a problem."

"I thought I could handle it," Mon-El rationalizes.

"And how is that working out for you so far?" J'onn snarks.

Ral stands behind the Martian sticking his tongue out at him like a recalcitrant child. Mon-El would laugh if he wasn't so terrified that he is already going to lose every bit of freedom he's tried so hard to earn. "Admittedly…not my best plan," Mon-El answers with a gulp.

"Not your best…" J'onn repeats incredulously, and Mon-El feels a shiver race down his spine. "You couldn't sleep, and so you felt a walk around the block at three in the morning would do the trick?"

"Electricity," he confesses. "I can use electricity to energize myself and to repair cells damaged by sleep deprivation. I mean…at least that's what it feels like is happening. But if I siphon the electricity from the DEO you'd notice and it could make the building's security more vulnerable to attack than it already is."

"Speaking of vulnerable security," J'onn stands up, straightening his shoulders. "How did you get out of the building unseen?"

"It helps that I can move at super speed," he answers, studying the tips of his boots. "But the door to the roof is a vulnerable spot, which I…took advantage of."

"We don't have a team on the roof during the third shift." J'onn squeezes his eyes shut, mentally kicking himself.

"It's easy to slip out and prop the door open with a rock, so I can sneak back in later. As long as I'm back by six, no one's been the wiser."

"How many times?" J'onn sighs as it all begins to sink in. The status quo he's worked hard to maintain is about to change. Security will have to be revamped. Again. And then there's the addition of a new, unexpected superhero that will have to be dealt with.

"A few nights a week."

"Starting when?"

"About three weeks ago."

J'onn's bowed head snaps up as he recalls the events of three weeks ago. "The blackout in Grid 9. Was that you?"

Mon-El shrugs his shoulders and lifts his hands remorsefully. "I was trying to figure out how to regulate the power exchange, and I overcompensated. I think I have a handle on it now though." The last part of Mon-El's declaration trails off sheepishly at the extremely dissatisfied expression on the Martian's face.

"Well that's just great, isn't it?" J'onn shouts, his voice just slightly lower than a roar. "You think you have a handle on it now? You've been sneaking out of DEO custody, going against the express conditions of your agreement, but it's okay because you have a handle on it now?"

Kara steps closer to Mon-El's side, and he leans down to her ear. "What's happening right now?"

"He's just venting," Kara whispers, hopefully. J'onn continues waving his arms about, but his shouting has changed into frustrated mumbling. Mon-El opens his mouth to speak, but Kara's hand clamps down on his bicep. "Not now," she instructs. "Just wait."

"Perhaps it's best to just let him burn himself out…like a fire," Ral suggests, circling around the mumbling Martian as though he is an inscrutably abstract work of art.

"He's just angry at the moment," Kara confirms. "More at himself than at you, I think. He'll circle back around…eventually."

"Is there an estimated time on when that might happen?" Mon-El asks.

"I can hear you both!" J'onn snaps. Both Kara and Mon-El straighten their spines in response to taking J'onn's unwelcomed notice.

"I think he's back," Ral whispers through clenched teeth.

For a moment, Kara is certain that J'onn is preparing to shapeshift into his Martian persona. "Explain to me again about the electricity," J'onn demands.

Mon-El takes a deep, settling breath, places his hands on his hips, and begins to explain to J'onn how and why he siphons the electricity and from where. Explanations are long-winded, and at several points J'onn quizzes Mon-El with questions, which Mon-El answers with alacrity.

Kara watches them together, her heart swelling with affection for her boyfriend. He stands up to J'onn, and he doesn't back down; he doesn't crumble beneath the older man's intimidating personality. That he's nearly ready to become a superhero, she has no doubt—she just needs him to stop doubting his own ability before he talks himself out of success.

He will be a true partner in every way; she can see that now – if only she can find a way to help him through this grief that he hardly acknowledges. It frightens her to spend too much time thinking about the width and breadth of his losses, perhaps because it reminds her so much of her own, or perhaps because she can no longer pretend that he's just another alien refugee on this planet among a host of others. He's more than that. He's her chosen mate now, which means his pain becomes her pain and his tribulations become her tribulations.

She rests a hand on her lower stomach as she watches her mate converse and negotiate with their supervisor. There could be more, she knows; a future potentially growing inside of her for which neither of them planned, nor expected.

J'onn and Mon-El debate over the best way to deal with the latter's emotional issues – their supervisor insisting that Mon-El sit down several times a week with a trauma counselor on the DEO staff. Predictably, Mon-El rolls his eyes and releases a sigh of frustration. "Talking to a stranger is the last thing I need," he bemoans.

"Well, this can't continue, Mon-El," J'onn maintains.

"You don't need to worry about me."

"It's part of my job to be concerned about the people who work under me."

Mon-El touches his chest with a faux-dramatic air. "Oh, I work for you now?" he asks. "That almost makes it sound like I wasn't accused of attempted assassination and then locked in a cell after I woke from stasis. And then, even after I was proven innocent, treated like a criminal who needed minding twenty-four hours a day for the first few months I was here."

"For which you have received multiple apologies, both from me and from Kara."

"But still I have to wonder: 'what makes me so special?'" he asks. "Did the alien who actually tried to assassinate the President spend months on lockdown at the DEO while she was vetted?"

J'onn's facial expression goes dangerously neutral. "Slow your roll there, Brother," Ral cringes. "Are you trying to end up back in that cell?"

"You weren't in control of your powers," J'onn rationalizes, his voice calm and even but his eyes a maelstrom of emotion. "You injured a civilian your first time off base, do you remember that? We couldn't release you into the populace until we were reasonably certain you wouldn't hurt anyone accidentally. Which I was just about ready to recommend, but now with this electricity thing…"

The back and forth of their disagreement continues, neither one reaching a consensus or an acceptable solution to the problem at hand. Their raised voices spin about in her head, and all she can think is that she still doesn't know enough about what's going on in Mon-El's head: Valor, his lack of sleep, his night-time exploits with office building transformers and still she senses that more is going on with him than he's letting on. He's terrified of something; scared enough that he's holding it back from her.

But why? Does he think she will think less of him? Care less for him?

Kara recalls her first months on Earth and how transient it had all seemed then. Clark had been unable to take custody, so instead she had been carted off to the Danvers'. Ostensibly rejected by her flesh and blood, Kara had struggled to trust Eliza and Jeremiah, mostly because as a xenobiologist, Eliza seemed like more of a threat to her in the beginning. Kara questioned whether she would be anything more than a science experiment to her foster mother.

Over time, Eliza had put Kara at ease, eventually gaining her trust by treating her like a member of the family, setting out the same rules for Kara as she did for Alex, and providing her with whatever physical affection Kara would allow. The road to emotional security was laid out brick by brick; it was a slow and painful process, but ultimately it led Kara to a place of, if not peace, at least reconciliation with all that had happened to her and her world.

Something with which Mon-El is clearly struggling right now.

"He should move in with me," Kara blurts.

The argument between J'onn and Mon-El instantly ceases, and both men's heads snap in her direction. "What was that?" J'onn asks, as though he hadn't heard her correctly.

"What was that?" Mon-El's head tilts to the side, his eyes widening while his mouth drops open with incredulous speculation.

"What was that?" Ral leans toward Mon-El, whispering in his ear.

Kara freezes in the headlights of their synchronized stares, at first unable to believe the words coming out of her own mouth. Then, as if her subconscious had understood what was needed long before her conscious mind did, she catches up. It makes sense, she realizes. He needs to feel emotionally secure if he's ever going to trust her enough to let her see what's really going on with him. By getting him out of this place, offering him a home, both in her heart and in her loft, she is offering him the security he needs on multiple levels. "I think it's for the best," she proclaims, squaring her shoulders.

"I don't understand," J'onn announces, shaking his head.

"Mon-El shouldn't be here," Kara decides. "It's not doing him any good. He needs a home and security and a place that doesn't make him feel like he's under surveillance whenever he's there. And he's right, J'onn. He's not a threat anymore."

"Not that he ever was," Ral pipes up.

"Not that he ever was," Kara echoes, causing Mon-El's eyebrows to furrow at the coincidence.

J'onn places his hands on his hips and stares down at Kara, his eyes glancing back and forth between Mon-El and Kara. "There's something else going on here," he concludes. "Isn't there? I can't read your minds, but I can sense it."

"Noooo," Mon-El shakes his head, attempting to deny their connection for Kara's sake. Were it up to him, he'd joyfully spill his guts, but they hadn't talked about how to announce their relationship or if they ever would. Both Alex and Eliza know, and for now that was okay. But when Kara begins to nod, he grins and mirrors her nod. "Yes…okay," he changes his tune. "There's something going on here."

"Care to clue me in?" J'onn asks.

"Mon-El and I…are…"

"You are…?" J'onn presses, crossing his arms at his chest and waiting.

"We are mates," Mon-El finishes boldly. "As in…together."

Kara smiles softly, relieved that he'd made it sound so proper. "I know that may come as a bit of a shock to you—"

"The only shock is that it took so long," J'onn interrupts, actually rolling his eyes.

"Really?" Mon-El chuckles, perhaps just a tiny bit full of himself.

"There's been a pool for three months," J'onn deadpans. "I missed by four days."

"Great," Ral chuckles. "I love a mating pool. Ask what the buy-in was…."

Ignoring Ral, Mon-El instead asks, "J'onn…can I have a moment with Kara?"

J'onn complies and steps out of the room, mumbling, "Apparently, I have to make a phone call anyway."

After a moment, ensuring they won't be overheard, Mon-El turns to Kara and asks, "Are you sure this is what you want? I don't know much about this planet and its customs, but I know that moving in together is a huge step. Huge!"

"I can't stand the thought of you sleeping here for another night, Mon-El," she answers. "This is no place for you. How can you possibly feel comfortable sleeping on a cot in the middle of what's essentially a military installation?"

Then she gives him 'the look', her most powerful weapons turning up to him, and suddenly he's drowning in an ocean of her making. "That is…a dirty pool," he says, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the sight.

"It's just 'dirty pool'," she corrects with a chuckle, leaning up against his firm body and placing a lingering kiss on his cheek. Her fingers toy with the belt loops on the waistband of his jeans, where none can see, despite the glass walls of the room. "Come home with me," she whispers, her voice all temptation and urgency. "Be home with me."

"Say 'yes'," Ral pleads from behind him. "How can you say 'no' to that face?"

Mon-El sighs heavily. "Are you certain this is what you want? Because I'm pretty sure there are no take backs. Cohabitation is a serious commitment, Kara." He cups her head in his hands, holding her still so that there are no more illicit kisses. "I need you to be absolutely sure."

Never in a million years did Kara think her life would ever be moving this far, this fast. After all, nearly her entire life had been lived with a secret she feared exposing. But with Mon-El, none of that matters because he already knows all of her secrets. Or at least the big ones, anyway.

"I'm sure," she nods resolutely, her eyes refusing to budge from the steel-gray of his gaze. "Will you cohabitate with me?" she asks, with a hint of a giggle.

His thumbs caress her cheeks as his eyes search hers for any signs of self-doubt before finally making his choice. "Yes, Kara Zor-El…I will cohabitate with you. Assuming J'onn says it's okay."

"He will," she pronounces confidently. "And when he does, we can pack your things, and you won't have to come back here again, except for work."

"Good. Because I am sick of these gray walls," Ral chimes in, sighing with relief. "It's just a little too much like the throne room for my tastes."

"I admit…that does sound nice." Mon-El wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer. "But you know what sounds even nicer?"

"What?"

"Waking up with you," he replies, his voice soft and hopeful.

"That does sound nice." Kara pulls him down into a searching kiss that ends long before either of them wants it to when J'onn barges back into the room.

"Break it up, lovebirds," he grumbles.

"Your timing sucks," Mon-El counters when he tears his lips away from Kara's.

"There had better not be any of that happening where I can see it, either," J'onn says, referring to the kiss. "The DEO is not a place for romantic interludes. Do I make myself understood?"

Kara blushes at J'onn's bold statement (and the knowledge that it was too little, too late) calling out her romantic designs on her boyfriend. Predictably, Mon-El preens, a mischievous grin crossing his face. Kara nudges him with her elbow until the smile slides off his face, and his expression changes to a more appropriate response.

"Right," Mon-El agrees, reluctantly. "No romantic interludes in the building. Understood, sir." He snaps a sharp salute with no small amount of sarcasm.

Kara rolls her eyes at his antics and smacks him on the arm. "We understand, J'onn." She carefully calculates her level of seriousness to perfectly offset his sarcasm output.

J'onn rifles through one of the drawers of his filing cabinet before withdrawing a manila folder. "Obviously, there's paperwork to fill out. The best I can do…for now…is release him into your custody, Kara."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Kara speaks up, shaking her head.

"It's policy," J'onn replies.

"J'onn, Cadmus is getting their information on DEO movements from somewhere. There's already been one mole in-house, and I'm not convinced there aren't other sleepers."

"Kara doesn't think it's a good idea to make our relationship public knowledge," Mon-El adds.

"Nothing should change…officially. At least not until we find a way to clean house," she says. "They've already tried to use him against me once; I won't let it happen again." Her voice turns cold like iced over steel, and Mon-El can feel her determination in the pit of his stomach.

J'onn considers her request for a moment before nodding. He's not entirely sure they're operating at the highest levels of security either. "You'll be responsible for what happens when he's in your custody," he says to Kara before leveling his gaze on Mon-El. "If I were you, I would take that very, very seriously."

The smile melts from Mon-El's face, the sparkle fading as his eyes take on a new level of solemnity. "I will," Mon-El replies, accepting the Martian's challenge.

Kara quickly grabs Mon-El's hand and squeezes it enthusiastically with her own, their eyes darting towards one another's before turning back to J'onn. Excitement is written plainly across both of their faces.

"Nothing will happen," Kara insists, her faith in Mon-El unshakeable and absolute.

"Mon-El, this doesn't change the arrangement made with M'Gann. You will still be required to check in at DEO at least once a day during the probationary period."

"And…how long is the probationary period?" Mon-El inquires, seeking clarification since this was a term J'onn had not used before.

"It's as long as I say it is. Let's say six months for now." J'onn's eyes squinted, as though calculating Pi to the 27th digit in his head. "If Kara hasn't gotten sick of you by then and kicked you out…we'll re-evaluate."

"Fair enough," Mon-El agrees with alacrity. If Kara grew sick of him and his presence and threw him out in six weeks, he wouldn't be a bit surprised.

"We should go pack his things," Kara suggests, grabbing Mon-El's arm as though anxious to be on their way.

"Not so fast," J'onn belays. "We still have this little matter of a new superhero to discuss."

"We were this close to escaping," Ral snarks, snapping his fingers for effect.

Mon-El sighs and grimaces. "Winn says there's a suit."

Both J'onn's and Kara's eyes widen in surprise, and they ask in unison, "There is?"

"Well…there's a design for a suit," he qualifies. "Winn said something about having to license some special Kelbar from Kord Industries to make it, though."

"Is it possible you mean 'Kevlar'?" J'onn asks.

"Right...that's what I said," Mon-El nods. "He says it can be woven into a material and that it's rated for fire, so it won't burn up in high temperatures. But mostly it's bulletproof."

"Kord Industries already has several government contracts," J'onn muses, coming to a decision. "I'll have Winn license the technology and get an estimate on how long it will take to build."

The sudden image of Winn taking Mon-El's measurements for the suit flashes through her brain, and she responds with an involuntary snort and giggle. When Mon-El turns to look at her, she covers her mouth to hide her grin. He knows instantly from the sparkle in her eye that she is imagining something to do with the suit.

"What is it?" he asks with a resigned tilt of his head.

"Nothing," she chuckles. "Just try not to get nervous when he measures your inseam. He's very professional." It is the secret reason behind why Supergirl wears a skirt instead of tights.

"Isn't there a machine you can get into?" he wonders. "We have those on Daxam."

"Not in our budget," J'onn shakes his head.

"I'm sure you'll both survive the process intact." Kara claps her hands excitedly. "I can't wait for the fittings."

"For the time being, I think it's best if Valor rides the bench," J'onn posits.

"Not a good idea," Kara disagrees. "CatCo wants the exclusive on this, and James assigned the story to me."

"I appreciate the fact that this could be a career-making opportunity for you, Kara, but—"

"That's not it, J'onn," she denies, and then, "okay, maybe a little. But this will let me…us…control the story. This way, we can decide what the public gets to consume. In order for it to work, he has to be out there, black hoodie and all. Visible, but not too visible. Doesn't have to be every day," she qualifies. "Just enough to keep the public interested."

"This story needs to get out there fast, because CatCo's not the only outlet that will be gunning for it," J'onn points out.

"Getting an exclusive and getting it out as soon as possible will take some of the heat off," Kara points out another benefit of spinning the story.

"Fine," J'onn agrees. "So he's out there making a name for himself. Until the suit's ready, I want him in a vest, though. There's no telling when some crazy is going to take potshots at a superhero – it's happened to us more than once."

Kara chews on her bottom lip, her brow crinkling in concern. "I'm not sure how I feel about the idea of him taking those calls. Maybe I should be handling the heists and robberies. Just in case," she decides.

"And suddenly, it's like we're not even in the room," Ral sighs, rolling his eyes. "Maybe we should just go pack your things while they decide the rest of your life for you."

"This leaves what for me, exactly?" Mon-El pipes up. "Saving kittens from trees and puppies from drainpipes? Lecturing school children on safe street crossing habits? C'mon!"

"Mon-El…" Kara reaches for him, attempting to reassure him.

"No, Kara. Either I'm in this thing, or I'm not. Look…I get that there're going to be situations that you're better suited to handle because of the flying and the heat vision and…other stuff, but I'm not interested in having the two of you decide what I can or can't do out in the field. If you have to do that, then maybe I shouldn't be out there in the first place."

A full head of steam built up, Mon-El turns and storms out of the room, while Kara stares after him, dumbfounded. She pivots back around to J'onn, her hands outstretched as though to enquire of J'onn what he plans to do about this new wrinkle.

"Don't look at me," J'onn grumbles. "That's your mate. You should talk to him. Pack his things, take him home, and sometime between all of that, you should maybe apologize for trying to run his life. If you feel like apologizing on my behalf…that would be all right too."

Kara pouts a bit but nods before turning to leave.

"One last piece of advice, before you go…if you'll indulge me," the Martian says before she can leave.

"What is it?"

"People say things in the heat of anger that they don't mean. My wife and I…we had a lot of arguments in the early days of our marriage because we were young and both quick to anger. Eventually, we learned that we were much better prepared to talk things through and to hear apologies, if we gave each other time to cool off."

"Cool off," she echoes pensively. "So…fifteen minutes?"

"Better make it an hour," J'onn counters and then waves her away. "Go save some puppies out of drainpipes."

Mon-El has never really been angry with her, not since the nature of their relationship has changed, and the idea of earning his ire rankles her. Her instinct is to go to him and make it right. But if J'onn is correct, that action could result in even more hurt feelings, and she doesn't want that. There's so much she doesn't understand about what's going on with him right now, that the idea of making it worse for him—of being the reason for one of his problems—makes her feel sick inside. Kara nods her head, deciding reluctantly to follow the Martian's advice, even though her heart screams at her to go to her mate and soothe his anger, in any way possible.

She leaves the room without looking back, determined to find something else to fix.

TBC