Rule #41. Trust. Your. Instincts.
It's afternoon on a Friday, the familiar white noise of CatCo's scrambling, ever busy journalists and crew working to wrap up deadlines and loose ends before the week's end. Regardless of their effort, half of the staff will likely filter in on a Saturday, something unresolved needing to become the resolvable before Cat Grant sees their employment to an end, but for now there's still hope bustling the halls. Hope that everything can be wrapped up with a hint of excitement on chattering tongues for various plans and activities.
Kara happily multi-tasks, listening to Brad and Violet from downstairs argue about the semantics of water cooler talk like something out of a Seinfeld skit (Is it water cooler talk if we're not by a water cooler? Is the water bottle the modern-day water cooler? When did water coolers become obsolete? What would you do if you didn't want cold water, anyways? I happen to like my water tepid, Vi! How about that?) over finishing their reports for the design board as she nips at a muffin, crossing out a wayward word on the barely-edited document in her lap. She's found a sense of familiarity on a couch that she's cleaned in the dark hours of the morning more than once, settling into it in companionable silence as her boss pushes around a salad, a battlefield of greens that have been picked solely of their meat, the rest of the salad's fate unclear.
It's easy to become engrossed in the article she's reading when practically ever sentence needs review, sighing as impatient fingers cross out yet another thing that needs to be fact-checked, when she catches the sight of Cat out of the corner of her eye. It's been nearly five months and the faintest red creeps up a neck at the sight of that unfaltering gaze, fingers hesitantly moving up to shift glasses on her nose.
When Cat continues to stare, Kara turns around to look in the nearby glass surrounding them, pretty sure she must have a piece of muffin up her nose, or something. "Do I-"
"You really never had any ulterior motives did you, Kara? There isn't a single intentionally cruel bone in your body." There's a hint of calm reverie in Cat's voice-something that's unusual in such broad daylight and only makes Kara shift more, lips parting to question before her boss continues on: "Never took any opportunity to lower someone else in order to raise yourself higher. Never had a secret agenda in your back pocket."
"I...what?" Brows knit. Normally she's used to dealing with things out of right field (or was it left? She still really doesn't care about baseball) but this is a little different.
"Climbing the ladder." 'The corporate game of Life' as Cat usually calls it, humming, piercing another piece of greenery, but this time actually eating it. The faith doesn't sit right on Kara's chest. It's like a heavy weight because out of everyone in her life, Cat is the only one she's tossed off of a balcony and should really know better.
"I...did, once." Kara vaguely alludes, a hint of hurt clouding the back of her throat like smog from a fire. "I felt…" A wave of her hand, explaining before Cat could even hope to think it might revolve around her, because that's where an assistant's priorities lay, these days, spilled chess pieces on the black and white board of a game she never learned how to play, "With...Siobahn. It was horrible. I can assure you, Ms. Grant, that person…" Her voice trails off, fingers clenching in the fabric about her knees before she straightens, tone even regardless of the quiet nature of it, article shifting in her lap, "That person is in me somewhere. But I learned from you that if you have to push someone down to get to their level, you're never at the level you should be."
Cat hums, thoughtful, still searching her face across the small distance, like Kara's small speech hasn't deterred the track of her mind in the least.
"Always rise higher than the people you surround yourself with. Well of course you were forward with Siobahn." It's said like nothing can get past her-like fingers are snapping, insistent, before Kara's eyes-but Cat just leans back in her chair, "Come." Ever obedient, she does, trying not to associate that command with late nights and early mornings and something in-betweens, slowly moving over to the seat in front of a long desk like she's waiting for the other shoe to drop. On her head. "I meant with me. Snapper. The board leaders but most importantly I was mostly talking about your intelligent, stunning CEO. You only ever sought to help me, didn't you." It's more a statement than a question and suddenly Kara has no idea what to do with this.
"I-well I," A throat clears, fingers raising up to tilt and stabilize glasses, Cat reaching across to halt the motion when she's curled fingers about the rim. "Of...course I did, Cat. That's my job." A moment passes between them, a slow breath unwinding the tense coil of her shoulders, allowing the slimmest smile to spread, "Besides, helping's...kind of my thing. Not…"
"Not just for me." Something goes unsaid between them but Cat's hand doesn't fall from her wrist. "I know you did. Well, I've always known you did-just wanted to help. Noble, really. Heroic." The word ends in a sharp k that lingers on the edges of white teeth in a way a hero might find endless purchase in. "That's something I've just...come to accept. Maybe take for granted. Your...good nature."
Kara shifts, again, and isn't sure why her chest feels so tight-like there isn't enough room to breathe with quite so many layers of clothing on.
"I...appreciate the recognition?" A hint of a laugh, pulling her hand free in favor of bringing arms in tighter to sides, fingers lacing in a lap, warmer than an article but still cooler than they're used to being, these days. "I'm sorry, I guess I'm just not...I'm not sure what your point is, Ms. Grant."
"In a rare turn of events, Kara." Cat murmurs, gaze intense but something familiar and dangerous behind them-something that Kara wants to rest a shaking hand against and find familiarity in, "I don't have one. Save for the long overdue idea of thanking you for being such an ever-faithful companion, the past two years or so."
"Oh." It's a breath and despite herself-despite the look in Cat's eyes and the fact that her employer always has a point, even when she's not making one-her smile spreads, something like anxious optimism lifting her shoulders. The sight of the relief seems to only pull Cat closer, patting a knee as she rounds the desk. "Thank you, Cat."
"You don't need to thank someone for thanking you, Kara." Cat moves towards the window, grabbing her glass as she goes. Water, today. "It's overkill."
"I think I do, in...this case." Kara slowly comes behind her, shoulders imperceptibly straightening, listening to the way breath hitches-watching the way the reflection catches downturned eyes like a child playing in rain that's starting to clear. There's a hint of bittersweet revelry in it that prompts the forced lightness in her voice, and Kara's hands raise just like that child, aching to catch it, fingers gently smoothing along shoulders like they aren't in a vault of glass. Just for a moment before they drop. "Wait, you're not firing me, right? Because that would be the," A laugh, "Opposite of-" A sinking feeling of dread. "...you're not firing me, right?"
"Oh, Kara." Cat laughs, turning around, catching her hands as she does, raising eyebrows. "No. Not unless you've done something stupid to give me reason to, is there?"
"Not me. I'm absolutely innocent." Her hands raise in defense, though her smile spreads at the sound of that familiar, faint laugh. "If you were firing me, I'd hope you would do it before I bought you lunch b-"
"Stop worrying about your job." Tone drawling in a way that Kara can only hope is a tease: "For today, anyways. I just arrived at a decision, is all."
"Right." Kara laughs, a hint of nerves curling around the rumbling noise, "And I'm...never going to learn what decision that is. Okay, then. Well...then, thank you, Ms. Grant." She straightens herself a little, moving back over to the discarded article, "It's...nice to hear that I'm doing well."
"Isn't it?" Cat mysteriously hums, walking out of the desk before Kara can do anything but sink back down into a couch with a muffin and an article, trying not to cross the whole thing out.
It's a wayward siren that pulls her from the couch, a kidnapper stopped and a girl returned safely home, and when she comes back to her desk she's humming with something that should be excitement.
Until Cat starts shoving the few belongings she's allowed to have on her desk (A CatCo rule, not a Cat Grant specific one) into a banker's box, Kara stumbling in heels after her, pleading her case towards (for? against? between?) whatever it is she's done this time, breathless for a woman that doesn't need all that much air.
"B-But-I thought you said no about the fir…" They're suddenly in an office, Cat dropping the box on a desk. "...ing?"
"I'm not firing you." Cat says simply, hip cocked like the ever-ready gun that it is, eyebrows raised. Kara sees her drop something into the box, catching the afternoon rays of sun from closed blinds-and all she can do is blink. "I'm promoting you."
"Promoting...?"
A speech follows, something Cat Grant is good at and Kara Danvers never gets tired of hearing, and the younger girl slowly sinks onto wood, swallowing the rough sandpaper of her throat once it settles on her shoulders.
The end of working girl makes her cry, and so does every other movie where she gains something, but feels like she's losing a little bit of something, too. The distance is crossed and Kara's breath quivers-quakes-looking around a wide cavern of...white. Suddenly she feels like there's too much of it.
"I think it's time I told you something I don't think you understand." A nod, like Cat Grant is unveiling the mysteries of the universe to her protege lover. "I didn't hire you because you were average, Kara." Cat's searching the landscape of her face like oceans hide buried treasure in their depths. "I hired you because you pretended to be."
"What?" A faint hint of a confused breath-an almost disbelieving, laughing noise-brows knitting.
"Sure, you gave me this whole...weird, entirely unnecessary speech about being ordinary when you came into my office and I didn't believe you for a second. I found it fascinating. Honestly ," A hand waves in gesture, "I told myself I hired you on a whim, but I've founded an empire on one steadfast rule: 'Trust. Your. Instincts.' And I knew there was something special about you. I felt it. I was right." A thoughtful hum: "Otherwise, you never would have lasted here after that first day. It wasn't a whim."
Outrageously, Kara notes on the cusp of a promotion-maybe the muffin from earlier wasn't enough and she wants to taste her own feet, too:
"I...you've told me practically every day I've been here that I'm replaceable. Well, save for today."
Cat's eyes flick up, arms crossing. "Your job is replaceable."
"My job." Kara quietly catches on-dangerous and bold-notes. "Not me."
Cat doesn't answer-doesn't encourage or refute-and that's enough of an answer for a very surprised, pleased Kara, unable to help the almost giddy feeling in her chest.
"Don't look so happy with yourself." Cat seems to notice but she doesn't sound nearly as annoyed as she might any other day. "Or do. You are being promoted. Of course you're not replaceable. Why else would I hire you?" There's a pause, Cat's hand stilling, a hint of humor finding its way into her tone, "So you did decide to go with looking pleased with yourself. If I knew you were going to smile like Macaulay Culkin at his premier for that God-awful Party Boys all night I could have waited until Monday."
"I don't think you mind that much." Kara dutifully tries to bite her smile with a white row of teeth, but it doesn't do much to temper it, voice upbeat and intentionally casual as she continues-as she attempts to push further into the waters, leaning over to brush their shoulders, hand coming to curl around a wrist. "I know you're busy, but I-could you stay? For just a minute."
Eyebrows raise and Cat's smile is something close to soft. The look she gave her when a chuckling voice explained how Carter had tried to bring his entire comic collection with him to his first day of kindergarten, the sun painting lines of light along her cheeks while Kara tried to chase them with her fingertips.
"I just…" Kara beams, wide and quiet and a little breathless, "I'd like to share this moment with you, if that's okay?" A hesitant smile. One that is shared, though it's anything but hesitant as Cat leans into her, Kara's fingers tracing up to a bicep, head falling down to a shoulder as the smile spreads.
Fingers gently brush the hair from fluttering eyelashes. "That's ok with me. I guess the world can wait a couple minutes longer."
"Everything's changing, isn't it?" It's barely a whisper on sun gently floating dust into the office.
"Change is a natural part of life. The forests grow and shrink, the polar caps melt, Tay-Tay finds another flavor of the month. And thus we grow and change and adapt with-"
"Okay, so not everything's changed." Kara quips, eyes bright and playful.
"There's better things you can do with those new claws of yours, Dear." Surely enough, Cat bats right back and Kara laughs despite the faintest red that still creeps up her neck. "You've changed, too. You're not that doe-eyed girl who stumbled into my office." A sweeping gesture towards the world of possibilities in front of her but nostalgia still tinges Kara's voice. "It's a change for the better."
"I guess I have." And she has. "You know, I still can't believe that you had me hand-deliver personalized fruit baskets that I'd assembled at 7 pm to every single member of the faculty on my first day."
Kara can see-barely, even for eyes slitting behind dark frames-the edges of Cat's lips quirk. "They certainly knew your face by the end of the day."
"Or morning. I was out until 6 AM."
Without missing a beat, seemingly nonplussed by the idea:
"That explains why you were there bright and early to give me my coffee. And you knew to be there every day after at the same time."
If they were closer-if Cat was Alex, snickering and teasing over a steaming mug of hot cocoa in the early hours of the morning-Kara might shove her shoulder. She might wrinkle her nose or throw a piece of toast her way, intentionally not hitting her mark out of habit (or, if she's really annoyed at the tease, hitting between the eyes anyways). She might roll her eyes or even laugh in familiarity, but Cat Grant isn't closer than Alex.
But she's not further, either.
She's not a room away, the cool air settling between them like morning dew on grass, because if they had been...Kara's might have crossed the whole world to get here in sonic booms and cascading flurries of paper.
They're somewhere in the middle- they're somewhere together, now-and Kara shakes her head, settling back against the desk. She feels the moments change and pass and watches Cat-who's never been anything but settled, anywhere she goes-trickle nails along a desk like rainfall with her free hand.
"SevenO'-Five A. M." Kara murmurs.
"Seven O'-Five A.M." Cat agrees, their eyes meeting, a faint-almost mythical-smile shared between them before the older woman gently leans off the desk, her time likely up for anything but large decisions and corporate takeovers of other mags. "This had nothing to do with us, Kara. The promotion." It's gentle, a hand quietly moving up to skim along a cheek, earlier speech still hanging in the air between them. "You've earned this."
"Thank you." Maybe against the point, Kara kisses a palm, gratitude clear in her gaze, but Cat doesn't seem disturbed. "Three days to decide my fate, right?" She repeats the earlier ultimatum.
"After Monday. I'll be counting the hours."
That's sure to be literal, knowing Catherine.
Kara, bold and delirious and far too friendly, tugs Cat closer by a wrist, but instead of catching her lips, she just...holds her, nose falling into a neck, a little tighter than she should. A little tighter than she ever has, as Kara. She's something more, in this moment, than a meek assistant-something closer to a strong continued presence than just a lover-the faintest hint of ink and perfume in the back of her throat. A knowing hand cups her shoulder and she hears the faintest kick up of a heartbeat...and smiles.
"I'll see you tomorrow for Carter. Unless I can...convince you to come to game night, tonight?"
Cat scoffs as she pulls away but there's still a smile tucking up warm lips, waving a single hand over her shoulder in gesture as the queen gets back to her castle.
"Don't push your luck!"
Her Working Girl moment. Can it be that simple? Cat would say Carpe Diem.
Kara's phone is out in an instant, hopping back on a desk-her desk-heel bopping in tune with a silent, happy beat (as it will for the rest of the night) already debating where they'll celebrate as a phone finds its way immediately to her ear. She doesn't wait until Alex greets her before Kara slams open the blinds, beaming, fishing out a necklace from a banker's box to watch it hang from her palm underneath the warm afternoon sun.
"Guess where I am?"
She doesn't need super hearing to guess that when her sister pulls away the phone, a disbelieving obscenity is soon bouncing off of the DEO's cool walls, somewhere in the cells a Daxamite curiously looking up at the ceiling, wondering what wraith ghouls haunt this planet.
Rule #42. Cat Grant Quote #2: "Knowledge is useless if not shared, but dangerous if shared with the wrong people. I know I've stated that you're only as good as who you publish with, and that's true…
It's not unusual for Cat to stay behind on a Saturday, but it is unusual, nowadays, for her to have so much passing interest in Carter's study sessions. Dark eyes have mysteriously appeared every few hours around the corner of a wall and Kara isn't sure if it's to check on Carter or her.
Mainly, she's not sure why Cat is suddenly so interested, at all.
"So...what you're saying is that my teacher is wrong?"
"Your teacher is definitely wrong. Trust me, I have seen black holes…" Kara pauses, "Documentaries. So many black hole documentaries. I even had a really...really large lecture from Martin Stein at the start of this year." It really wasn't as much of a lecture as it was a series of very pointed, fascinated questions about planets outside of Earth.
Kara was actually kind of lecturing the professor, really. Until she found out he'd encountered a singularity firsthand just the year before with Barry and, knowing Alex wouldn't let her live it down if she didn't find out the details, had tried to listen as intently as she could to a very nice, very erratic, very...scientific Martin Stein.
For three hours.
She listened for about twenty minutes before she gave up, politely nodding and interjecting a fascinated sound every couple of minutes like she's listening to Winn rant about Clone Wars or Eliza about genome structures.
"Martin Stein?" Carter's head tips in curiosity and Kara waves a hand.
"Big...science guy."
"Like Bill Nye? That guy on Netflix?" Carter asks, casual, fingers drawing endless circles on notebook paper that should be littered with notes. But Kara can't blame him. All of her notes, to this day, are lined with sketches to keep jittery hands as busy as a wandering mind. Even her rule books are more sketch than rule.
When did Bill Nye get a Netflix show? Man, her and Alex really need to get their Netflix on. She's finding less and less free time these days between a crest and dark eyes.
"...Kind of. I guess." She settles on, shrugging. "Anyways, yes. Your teacher's definitely wrong. There is a possibility that you could traverse a black hole, but she is right about there not being any way to escape an Event Horizon."
"Because it sucks you in?" Carter's ears pick up again, now that they're back on the part of the subject he recognizes, covered last week over donuts and Alex's factual tone on the other end of the phone.
But Alex is a little too busy running tests on the Daxamite and Carter...well, space, at least, Kara knows well.
"Right. It's pretty scary, but fascinating, too. Like...if you were to cross this line-" She draws a series of circles within each other on the page next to Carter's doodle, each circle a little darker and smaller than the last before she draws the smallest circle, filling it with black. She draws lines from the edge of the dark circumference out to the final circumference of the largest circle, an odd telescope-like shape on the page. "Imagine this is the singularity and it's sucking all of the force outside of it into it. That includes light...matter...power...cows. Everything."
"Like how we talked about." Carter nods, leaning over the page, elbows barely smearing faint pencil lines. "Because black holes are like giant vacuums in space-"
"Vacuum like...absorbing and pulling everything into it via gravity, not vacuum like-"
"Like the endless, imperfect vacuum of space." Carter quotes verbatim. Probably because Alex had drilled it into him every time he misused the word. "Yeah, yeah."
"Right. Good job, Carter." She squeezes his shoulder, a small, sheepish smile her reward. "So imagine everything is being pulled into this point. The singularity at the center of the black hole. Which means more and more energy is in each of these circles…" It's overly simplified in a way she's sure Alex could explain easier, but Carter nods, Kara's finger tracing along the darkest black line before the hole in front of it. "Well after a certain point, you would need to be able to create so much energy in order to get past this point here, because there's so much energy going against you, that it would be impossible. Nothing could go that fast."
"I bet Supergirl could." Carter's nose scrunches and Kara can't help the small smile, a hint of a laugh on her tongue. She catches Cat's eyes once more around the corner, a hint of amusement there, this time watching as she clicks off her phone and crosses arms, watching from the threshold.
"I don't know, buddy. The fastest thing Earth-" She adjusts her glasses, "-knows of, because maybe someone else out there knows other...things. But we don't. And we haven't met them, yet." A cleared throat, tapping the page, "The fastest thing we know," She rectifies, "Is light. And Supergirl can go faster than light, sure...but in order to go fast enough to get past this point-the Event Horizon, where there's no turning back-the force of it might...you know." Kara tries to think of a nice way to word it, but can't, "...split her in two?"
"Ouch."
"Tell me about it." It's not exactly a thought she wants to think of. Especially since anyone who goes into the singularity is likely to have the same happen to them. Even the girl of steel. Probably. She doesn't plan on finding out. Jumping into a black hole is not in her bucket list. "But even Supergirl can't get past this point, because she might not be able to generate enough force to go against what's pulling her in. Think of it like someone trying to hold a door closed in front of you. If it was me ...I bet you could push me away. But if that was Supergirl? Sorry, Cart." Her eyes are a little lighter and young eyes meet hers with a cock-eyed grin, shrugging his shoulders in defeat.
"I could generate enough force for you. But not for Supergirl. So Supergirl could get out of the black hole before she got to here, but if she got sucked in past this point…"
"No getting out."
"Sooo...if you can't get out of it...what'd you mean by traverse it?" He hops back in his chair with a hum and a curious look that reminds her far too much of his mother, sometimes, Kara thoughtlessly straightening her shoulders like she's being interviewed.
"Well, it's only theoretical, but you…" She leans over and plucks up a small piece pencil, wiggling it in her fingers in a way that makes both Grants roll their eyes, "You know when you have a bottle of water and you spin it, when you stop the bottle, everything inside of it is still spinning?" Carter nods, the demonstration clear. "Well there's a...theory," It takes her a few moments to remember the Earth name, writing a few mathematical formulas down on the sheet in Kryptonian before scratching it out feverishly, shaking her head. She can't remember. Karen? That can't be right. "Anyways, there's a theory that black holes are constantly spinning and, because of this...there's essentially this ring -a ring singularity-inside of it."
"But...why?"
"Well...are you sure you want to know?" Kara leans back in her chair, eyebrows rising, "None of this will be on your test."
"Yeah." But he's curious-fascinated-the same way Alex used to be when Kara explained physics in space to her, and Kara can't help the nostalgia that grips at her chest, leaning forward. She tips the pencil forward, balancing it on its lead.
"Well, when a star collapses, which…"
"Creates a wormhole." Carter fills in, Kara smiling at him.
"Right. Well, under general relativity, when a spherical, non-rotating body of a critical radius collapses (meaning it's not moving) under its own gravitation-like if this pencil was to collapse down into itself-the theory is that it will collapse to a single point. Because it's not moving, it doesn't have any momentum. It has nowhere else to collapse, so it's going to collapse down to its...tip. This lead."
"Okay." Carter nods and Kara tips the pencil, circling it with her thumb."You mean it'd collapse down in a straight line?"
"Right. But Black holes are rotating, so when they collapse-" She draws an oval with the pencil before setting it back in the center, tapping the top of an eraser. "They collapse and the way the inside sort of...distributes-like that water in the water bottle?-it's more like a sphere. So inside of a black hole, there would be this sort of...ring. It wouldn't be a single point, it would collapse into a ring. And because of that, the event horizon would be a ring inside the black hole, not a circle." She goes back to her original drawing, pointing at the straight lines dragging up from the dark mass in the middle out to the outer rings. And then, around the darkest circle, draws an oval around it. "So if someone were to go into a blackhole like this, they might be able to avoid the singularity pulling them in because they'd be outside that pull." A tipped head, "Kind of. See how the force of pull has two curves around it because its a ring?"
"Woah." Carter blinks, looking down. "But...what would happen to them? If someone were to...you know. Try to go around the ring instead of going past it?"
"No one knows. I definitely don't."
"Well, I guess if you did you wouldn't be my mom's assistant." Carter laughs a little-not a sharp jibe, but an almost familiar quip-and Kara smiles.
"I still might." After all, she still does. The knowledge-her heritage-might be rusty and buried deep in the back of her mind, but normal, ordinary, regular Kara Danvers can't see herself anywhere else in the world. Only, now she has to. In five days she will be. "Some people think that, since time is relative and...kind of weird? That if you were to go through this ring, it might shoot you into another dimension. Or another time."
"Woah." Carter repeats, looking down at the small little squiggles like they hold the same adventures pages upon pages of books had for her when she was young and Kara leans back in her chair, smiling at it, gently setting down the pencil and wiping smudges of lead from her fingers. "You know," He starts, almost a little hesitant, bashful, as eyes raise up from the page to greet her. "I don't know why you always make Alex explain this stuff to me."
The question makes her chest a little tighter than it should and Kara smiles through it, but she hears Cat shift-reminds herself that Cat is leaning against the opening of the kitchen-hears the way her arms cross as fabric rustles-and knows older eyes can see right through her attempt at a smile. Hopefully, younger eyes can't.
"Trust me, she's way better at the science stuff than I am." She pats his shoulder, "And actually likes it."
"Well," Carter shrugs a shoulder underneath a palm like it doesn't make a difference to him, but blue watches the small gesture not quite raise as much as it would have an hour ago, eyes focused back on his study guide. "Whatever. Don't worry. I guess you can still teach me math."
Kara looks towards the doorway, meeting Cat's eyes, knowing it doesn't quite reach, muscles in her lower back tightening when Cat doesn't look away-doesn't stop curiously searching her face for answers like how Carter had searched blank pages of a study guide-and breath quivers from lips when she forces her gaze back down to a blank sheet.
"Thanks, Carter. Come on, let's go onto the next one."
The dishes clink as Kara calmly works a rag around them, drying moisture and suds off of porcelain and nails when she hears Cat lean against the doorway, again.
Her voice is even-measured-like how it used to be on a balcony when she first drew lines on concrete between Supergirl all while simultaneously getting the hero to stumble over them.
"If I'd known my assistant was suddenly an expert on NASA when I hired her, I'm sure I would have wondered why she was bothering to fetch me glasses of water-I know, a very exciting, engaging task when you get to speak with me at the end of it." A husking voice tickles a shiver down the ridge of her ear and Kara can't help but lean back into it, listening to the sound of Carter pack upstairs. Lenny Fontaine's house, tonight. It means Cat will be spending the night in the apartment once Carter's gone. "But not a very good use of her talents."
"I'm not interested in Space." In what she's lost-where she's from and can never go, again-of all the planet's she's visited. She can still taste the cinnamon on her tongue in her dreams just as well as she can imagine who Kal-El would have been mated to, at home. What his wedding would be like. But it feels far more warm to imagine him smiling at Lois, smile creasing the corners of his eyes-it feels more like home than a vacuum she'd floated in for decades.
Although sometimes she traces the stars like maps with her fingers and misses it, it isn't a hobby. It's something she's lost.
It's something she loves, too.
"I mean, I'm interested...but not for a career." Kara settles on, sincere. Like a lost love. An old flame. A really, really painful breakup. Not that she's had a lot of those, but she's heard things.
Mainly from a mixture of Alex, Disney tv movies, and books.
"You know a lot about it for someone not interested in it."
"I grew up with a family of scientists, Cat." There's a hint of laughter, now, because that part is hardly a secret. Continuing to wash and dry, thankful for the company. It's not the first time they've done this routine, either. "My sister dragged me to science conventions...well, okay, she's still trying to drag me to science conventions. My adoptive mother is a bio-engineer, my adopted father was a brilliant mathematician and scientist. Though I...actually don't really know what he did," Kara admits, "And Alex, while also a Bio-Engineer, is a pretty big space buff in general. What I was interested in," A smile-more genuine than the one they'd shared an hour earlier, fingers smoothing out the inside of a bowl, water soaking a towel as she wrings it out and sets it back in its place. "And still am, is learning from the legendary Cat Grant."
"My point is that you're hiding who you are, Kara." Cat's ever to the point and Kara visibly freezes, breath catching painfully in her chest.
"What? I-I don't-" A hint of a fake laugh, focusing on the bowl for a couple of seconds so that she doesn't break it while setting it down before she looks up, anxiousness curling down the edges of her lips, "I'm not-I don't know what you mean, Cat."
"I mean exactly what I said, Kara." And somehow it's different from yesterday. From a bright conversation in an office, light and simple, and she's not sure what changed. "In the past few months, all of my assumptions about you have been proven correct." Kara doesn't have a chance to ask what exactly those assumptions are , picking back up the towel so that she has something to do with fingers that won't prune no matter how long she leaves them in scalding hot water. "What I don't understand, is why you would possibly shove all of that down. Hide your intellect from the world."
"My...my intellect?" Kara asks, confusion settling in place of panic, towel slackening in her grip. A hint of relief showcased in a heavy breath. "Oh. Thank-I mean. Oh. You're talking about my intellect."
"Of course I am. I understand the need to climb the corporate ladder, Kara. We all have to. I certainly did. What I don't understand-" Cat steps closer, eyes slitting, "Is why you feel the need to do it with only half of your guns loaded. Success takes everything you have, Kara. You have to grab it with both hands, not hide it. And even after I've given you a promotion-a chance-you're hesitating to take what you want."
"I'm...I don't-" Kara watches the way the recessed lighting catches the necklace she'd slyly slid back into Cat's palms when she first arrived at lunch because it's far easier, avoiding that knowing stare.
"Ordinary, plain, humble Kara Danvers." It sounds almost like a quote the way it leaves Cat's lips, eyes still slit, "Why would you hide yourself for so long?" If this is how Hillary Clinton felt when Cat interviewed her, it's no wonder she hyperventilated and ran out of the office. But Kara's fingers twine in a rag, steam unnoticed by either one of them from the friction of it, a chin tipping backwards. It's the first time she's felt protective over herself in front of Cat Grant, not like a small child who's been caught with her hand in a cookie jar (or, given her slim childhood on this Earth, like she's eaten the entire pantry).
Maybe it's because Kara isn't the only one who's spent months memorizing the way light settles on the dips and valleys of places the rest of the world doesn't see-places neither Kara or Cat shows the world-and the sting in her chest is quickly replaced by something else.
Everything is changing.
"I like my job." She argues, chin full of lead and nostrils barely flaring. Anger, unbidden and quiet and unrecognizable sinks into her tongue and she desperately does what she can not to show it. "I love my job. I'm good at my job." She argues to the woman who gave it to her, stepping closer, voice challenging, "Well, I...was. I mean, I guess was. Good at my job. My...not my job." Stronger-has it been five months (two and a half years?)and Cat's just-"Just because you're finally taking the time to notice me does not mean I'm hiding anything."
Cat Grant is not intimidated, stepping closer, voice even and indomitable.
"Why do you think I hired you, Kara?"
The question only causes the anger to bat at the cage of her chest like the cutting talons of a bird desperately trying to escape-to fly-looking away for a moment as she drops the towel into the sink before she crumbles it to ash. "It doesn't matter. I proved myself to you."
"Yes, you did." There's something about the emphasis that steals her breath.
"And I was the one who applied in the first place, whether you thought I was ordinary or-"
"If that's what you still think, I'm not the person who hasn't taken the time to notice my surroundings."
The statement gives Kara pause, anger stopping in its tracks for a breath as she blinks up at Cat, lips barely pursing.
"Why do you-" But she's cut off by the familiar ping of a phone, shaking her head to clear rattling thoughts, breathing something sharp and cold through her mouth to pull away, wiping her hand on a nearby towel to clear it before reading the message. A sigh rattles her resolve. "I...I have to go. We moved game night, and James-"
"Don't keep James waiting, Kara." Cat hums, elegant fingers wrapping around a glass, snatching it off the counter nonchalantly, lifting it to her lips when she turns on her heel, "He won't wait for forever for you."
"Cat." Kara protests, but the ever enigmatic voice is replaced by silence, lingering for a few confused moments before finishing the rest of the dishes faster than she should with eyes so close by. An almost ex-assistant stops by the edge of the doorway because she can't leave like this-won't-never will, following after a familiar, retreating back, watching for a few seconds as Cat so meticulously packs something for Carter off of a nearby bookshelf.
"Did you nee-"
"I've never regretted working for you for a minute, Cat." Kara says simply, stepping a little closer. She doesn't touch her-doesn't forge the gap, especially with Carter so close-but when Cat turns to look at her, the anger has been replaced with something quiet and maybe just as strangling, but genuine. "And one of these days, ordinary or not, I'll convince you to come to game night with me."
Cat's hand slackens on a tshirt, turning around to meet her, and Kara watches it-watches some of the tension ease out of her shoulders, lips shifting from taut to thin-before she scoffs, "Not likely."
"That's still a chance."
"Ever the optimist."
"You could say that." Kara adjusts her glasses and they share a faint smile, Cat dropping a t-shirt in a bag before she nods.
"Goodnight, Kara." A beat, "Thank you. For Carter."
"Always glad to do it. Tell Carter bye for me? I really should..." A gesture towards her phone and another look shared-another slim smile-silence stretching in slightly more comfortable companionship before she catches familiar eyes.
"By the door." Is all Cat offers, getting back to work folding. It's not a sight Kara has ever gotten used to-she would've thought there were just ever-present maids in their houses years ago-but Kara obediently tips back a small dish by the front door, finding a small blouse's button there. Ivory.
It's the first verbal acknowledgement of whatever ritual this is and a dusty swallow halts her steps right before the threshold, gaze searching shoulders. Cat doesn't say anything and Kara quietly tucks the button-too small to leave to chance-in a pocket next to a small picture. One more breath breaks the air and she leaves, door clicking with an ultimate finality, heading towards a room of people who love her but knowing there's always going to be room for two more.
But the real brunt of it is that you're only as good as who you trust.
It's played on repeat in her mind, when she leaves, the way Cat's tongue had curled when she said James . It wasn't malicious-she's seen Cat Grant tear down mountains with barely the flick of a few words, before-or spiteful-she's heard, first-hand, Lois and Cat impressively turn a simple conversation into a complex roadmap of insults and back-handed compliments-but it still sticks in the back of her mind, playing on repeat like a broken record, thumb gently rolling the weight of a button between fingertips
It was...resigned. Not in defeat, but acceptance. It was acceptance .
"Hey-o, Earth to Krypton-" Winn waves a hand full of cards in front of her face and Kara blinks, sitting up straight, fingers cupping knees as she blinks. "You're killing me here, smalls."
"Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry, Winn." Kara's eyes flick over to the timer before settling back on her very, very downtrodden partner. Which is a shame, because Winn usually gets all into charades. She winces. "Don't tell me I zoned out for the whole round."
"I've been dancing around trying to get you to guess Godzilla for, like, ohIdon'tknow -" He waves the timer, "All of this." But there's concern mixed in with the friendly annoyance, stooping down. "You okay, there, Supergirl?"
"If you're not, it still counts!" Alex shouts from the kitchen, but her head peeks around the corner, similarly concerned eyes settling on Kara's shoulders. She can't see her, but she can feel it like a warm blanket and she smiles, shaking her head.
"Yeah, yeah. Totally fine! I was just…" She waves her hand, "I just zoned out. Long day. I'm sorry."
"You sure?" It's James that asks this time, eyes conflicted and quiet and she reaches across the distance to squeeze his wrist.
"I'm sure. Sorry, guys-I'm in it. I'm here, now. Bring it." She claps her hands, shifting forward, pointing towards her partner, but James catches her wrist, this time, holding up a finger.
"Hey, can we, uh-" A gesturing thumb thrusts back towards her barely-sequestered bedroom, "Talk? For a sec?"
"Yeah. Yeah, of course." She straightens glasses. Stands and straightens a dress. Straightens her shoulder and a magazine she passes by on the way to the small corner, not missing the wincing looks her sister and best friend share over a board game. "Is everything okay?"
"That's my line." James notes, arms crossing as he leans against the wall, eyebrows raising. "No offense or anything, but you haven't really been all that there today. Or...in a while. Winn is a really, really bad liar. Like…" He laughs, gesturing with both hands, "Worse than you, and you've had him covering for you at work? It's getting weird since he doesn't really work there."
"Oh." Kara winces a bit, slowly sliding the glasses off of her nose so that she can focus on the man in front of her, "Well...I didn't ask him to…"
"What's going on, Kara?" His voice is gentler-quieter-eyes flicking back towards the room before settling on her, dipping his head to come closer, crossing a bit of the gap. "Whatever it is, you know I have your back. Is it about the alien guy, because we're gonna find hi-"
"No. It's not-it's…" She sighs, the weight suddenly heavier on her shoulders, dropping herself onto a squeaking bed with a sigh, "Complicated. But not bad."
"It doesn't have to do with…" He vaguely gestures between them and Kara shakes her head, folding the glasses and setting them in her lap. "Does it have to do with Cat? Since whenever you're gone..." He tries again and Kara's lips part, but no words settle on her tongue. "And...there's the part I implied earlier about you being a bad liar."
"James…" She sighs, hands nervously settling on her glasses before the bed dips, a larger hand, warm and familiar, smoothing over her own.
"Look, okay, whatever it is." He squeezes her hand and she looks up at him, guilt a familiar breath slowly seeping between lips. "Just follow your heart, okay? Hey, your heart," He takes her hand and points up to a framed picture, a stolen moment in time just for her and the guilt is strangling until she looks back up and sees his eyes-sees the familiarity there-and settles. "That's what's saved everyone in this city. Whatever it's telling you to do, if you listen to it, I'm sure you'll figure out the right thing."
Kara squeezes his hand, thankful and quiet, letting out a slow, quivering breath as she looks up at the picture, leaning into him despite herself. "You...know when I said that I didn't think I could have a relationship? I meant that...I can't." She clarifies, not letting go of his hand, because she does owe him this, the feeling of his breath on her lips not too faint of a memory. "I meant that there will always be someone who needs saving, or an emergency, or a danger...I meant that I'll...always have to be ordinary, regular, humble ," She quotes from a conversation James will never know, "Kara Danvers in order to keep my family safe. To keep Kal-El safe. And...and you're right. My heart does always know what it wants-what to do-but sometimes..."
She stands, hands pushing through hair, tossing the glasses onto her bed as a rushed hand runs over her lips.
"Kara…"
"I just don't understand what she wants from me. Who she wants me to be. I'm-I'm not who she thinks I am. Or, worse, I am and I'll never-"
"Well maybe it's not about what you think she thinks." James stands, grabbing his jacket in a hand, both hands gently curving over shoulders, lightly shaking so that Kara will look at him. "Like I said, I don't know what's going on. But take it from me, as your friend ," James smiles and it lightens the room and Kara's not sure why tears prick the back of her throat, something unraveling in her stomach, "And as someone who worked with Clark and Cat for years . If Cat Grant sees you at all, being yourself is all you need to do. Stop overthinking things. I get it, things...didn't work out between us." Hands shove into pockets, a jacket cupped in the crook of an arm, "But that doesn't mean I don't want to see you happy, alright?"
Kara leans forward and before she can think twice, lips gently brushing along a smooth cheek in thanks, hand wiping a hint of moisture from a smiling cheek, a taste of bittersweet on her tongue.
The perfect guy for a girl who doesn't know how to pretend how to be perfectly imperfect, anymore.
"Thank you, James."
"Hey," He raises both hands in a humble display, still smiling, "But for the record? Alex is so gonna kill you when she finds out we talked about this first."
"Oh, boy, yeah." Kara nods emphatically.
"Yeah." His laugh is light and she feels a torn seam slowly repairing, a needle thread with stronger string as it pulls gaps closed. "So...are you gonna go-"
"Cat can wait." They share a moment, just a moment, before Kara tucks her arms in his, tugging him back into the main room, smiling at the sight of Winn and Alex huddled on a couch, feverishly whispering gossip Kara will do them the favor of pretending she can't hear.
Since all of it is about her.
"I kind of feel like being with family right now."
"We were definitely not talking about yo-oh-woaa-"
Alex shoves Winn off of the back of the couch when Kara comes into view, a groan coming from the floor as his head pops up over the back of it.
"Ok," Winn's a fluffed mess of hair as arms struggle to heft himself up, Alex shrugging as she lifts a beer to her lips, "Oww."
"We were definitely talking about you." Alex notes, "And you're telling me later."
Kara loves them in this moment more than she could ever hope to show, beaming as she tugs a laughing James over to the couch, shoving a potsticker in her mouth with a happy hum.
"You guys are great."
"Well, pfft…" Winn runs hands through his hair and Kara lovingly smooths down an antenna of it, voice exaggerated and smile tucked as he plops down next to her. "Tell me something I don't know."
They get back to charades soon enough and eventually James and Winn leave the apartment underneath quiet sounds of night in the city, Kara and Alex settling down on the couch with blankets and a tub of ice cream, her sister's head tucked in the crook of her neck.
"He's right, you know." Alex notes, taking a mouthful for once not safeguarding it beforehand like Kara might eat it before it even touches her lips, rain gently pattering the windows like an erratic heartbeat, "You should follow your heart."
It's all she can do not to drop the ice cream.
"You heard?"
Alex's smirk is nothing short of a shit-eating grin, grabbing the ice cream from suddenly slack fingers, "Nope." The 'p' pops, winking upwards, snuggling in closer, "I'm just that good." A little more serious, "That's always his advice. Anytime you tell me you talk, it's always 'follow your heart, Kara'. And I have to admit…" A little gentler, "It's not bad advice."
"Yeah." It's a little quieter, listening to the sound of the rain mix with her sister's heartbeat-with the sound of the ice defrosting around a large tub. "He makes it sound so simple."
"Because you're the one that always makes it look so simple." The tub plunks down on the nearby coffee table, a sister's ever-attentive hands tugging Kara into her lap, patting a knee. "Your whole life you've always chased after your heart. All of us have watched that-the city's inspired by it-and I've spent years trying to convince you not to do it and...I was totally wrong." It's a quiet admittance, setting the ice cream aside, "So...why aren't you doing it right now?"
"I am." Kara quietly argues, "I think that's the problem." Dark eyebrows arch and a sigh leaves from sagging, deceivably small shoulders as Kara turns around, dropping a head down to a chest now that it's devoid of steadily-melting ice cream. And then pulls the bucket into her lap, folding around white with a warm spoon and a sigh. "I'm doing the chasing. It's just...when did my life become so complicated?"
"You mean before or after you lost your planet, floated around in space for a couple decades, crash landed on a brand new planet and had to learn a completely different culture, language, and history?" Alex pats her shoulder, continuing, "Found out your baby cousin was a grown man. Lost our Dad. Flashed the whole varsity soccer team Junior year-"
"You're never letting me live that down."
"-Or when you became Supergirl and almost lose your life on a daily basis helping your sister protect the planet and routinely save the lives of all of the people we care about?" Alex finishes without missing a beat, shrugging her shoulders underneath the weight of Kara's head, fingers brushing through blonde locks. "Your life- our lives-have always been complicated."
"Not ordinary." Kara murmurs, eyes watching the rain gently roll down fogged windows.
"Right. But the point is," Alex taps above the edge of a heart, right near the edge of a shoulder, "Through all of that, you've helped people. Our lives are only going to get more complicated, and I know you'll still always help people. Your heart's good, Kara, and you always follow it. It's not going to stop. It's who you are."
"What?" Kara's brows knit, leaning up in a warm embrace to turn around, leaning back just enough to meet Alex's eyes, idly setting the ice cream back down. "What did you say?"
"I said it's who you-"
"It's who I am." It's a realization that settles as brightly as the sun in her chest, stumbling back off of the couch, "It's who I am. That's what she-she meant I-It's about who I am. Not the glasses, not Supergirl, not-" A rush of air tosses Alex's hair as Kara grabs her glasses, standing in front of her sister in a changed set of clothes, determination clear on her face a moment later. "It's me . I've never even asked her. That's it. Thanks, Alex." A gentle kiss is brushed over a forehead, smile wide and easy, "I gotta go. Love you."
"No-" The apartment is empty a moment later, Kara hearing the faint edge of "...problem." half a mile away before she realizes she forgot something very, very important.
Another gust of wind in the apartment and the ice cream Alex has immediately lifted into a lap is replaced with a stuffed animal from Kara's closet, mouth happy and cool with her roadtrip snack, the faint-very faint-sound of her sister collapsing back into the couch (probably throwing hands up in frustration but cuddling the bear, anyways) as she yells after her-
"Didn't want it anyways!"
So choose who you trust wisely, Kara.
It's fortune that favors the bold and Kara is apparently very, very bold today when the air cracks around her and she steps around the corner to see none other than Cat Grant, herself, slowly making her way into an apartment. Carter is dropped off, late night hours likely tasting like bourbon on Cat's lips-just enough to get the woman through the weekend-and Kara isn't surprised because the CEO always stays close to work when her son isn't nearby.
The breath steels itself in her lungs, clothes soaked from the flight here, voice husking as she watches Cat still before she even talks-freeze like she feels her here-but it won't be Supergirl that greets a journalist's gaze.
"You're right. I am hiding a pretty big part of myself."
"Kara-" Cat slowly turns around, stepping forward just enough to be covered by the awning, nose wrinkling a little in distaste, "You're drenched."
"Yeah. I ran here." She says simply, shaking her head, a few drops of water going with it.
"You ran ." It's drawled, eyes barely slitting, and Kara continues before they can get stuck on a far easier topic.
"I don't want James." It's blunt-to the point-voice as strong as Supergirl and eyes as sincere as Kara Danvers, heart pounding somewhere inbetween as she steps closer. Somewhere along a third line that's developed between the axis of the two, tethered to a tired Cat Grant. "I know we didn't talk about it, and I'm sorry if I let you think that I did."
"It's none of my business who you-" But Cat sounds a little quieter underneath the raging rain. Water sticks a ponytail to a neck, glasses too wet for Kara to see, an arm wiping the moisture from fogged glass, shaking her head as she sucks in a small breath.
"I don't want James." Kara repeats, not letting the lie settle between them-not letting the other woman try to get another one in, either. "I don't want that...that relationship. I don't want conventional or normal. For once, I'm letting myself do more than want the not-normal." Kara steps closer, feeling the water from the awning mix with the heavens, painting her hair in wet drops, smile shakily spreading, "I know you think I'm trying to push you into that, the traditional thing, but I'm not. I want whatever really complicated, beautiful, infuriating thing it is I have with you."
Cat pauses and Kara's close enough to see it, even through her glasses-watch the way Cat Grant, for only a few moments, is breathless.
"Sex." Cat supplies. "It's just very good, very frequent, very inventive s-"
"No. Well, I...yes." Kara clears her throat-straightens her glasses-hands finding hips before one finger waves in indignation, realizing Cat's steered her off track. "That's not my point, Cat. You know it's more than that. I mean, yeah," A faint laugh, "The sex is, like... really really good. I agree with you. I've always agreed with you on that. But stop trying to deny it's-"
"That's a tall glass, Kara." Cat shakes her head, stance mirroring Kara's for only a moment before she saunters closer, water painting an invisible line between them. "It's funny, after that week where you had that little-" A wave of a hand, tucking down Kara's finger like an unloaded gun, unimpressed as she shakes off a few wayward droplets from a manicured nail, "Angelina Jolie dip into the deep end last year, I've always wondered why you didn't just come into my office and demand what you wanted...until I remembered who I was dealing with." There's something about the tone that curls in Kara's shoulders, stepping closer, only her shoulders left in the storm, now.
"Well maybe this is-" Voice quieter when she hears someone round the corner of the street, despite the fact that they're far out of earshot, eyes flicking to the side before they settle back on familiar eyes and now-crossed arms. "Maybe this is me demanding." A beat, brows constricting in something pained. "I don't...Nevermind, this is not me demanding. I'm not going to demand anything from you, Cat. You don't demand anything from someone in any kind of relationship. That's not how it works."
"Well…" Lips barely part, Cat's hands sliding into ever-fashionable pockets as she searches Kara's features for a moment, seeming to hesitate-to pause-before she steps closer, imperceptibly, and it's a moment-a golden sun-and Kara doesn't bother to stifle the hope blooming from barely-damp fingers. "That would be a change."
"I just…" Footsteps sound in wet concrete and Kara isn't quiet because she's scared that someone will overhear, the silence between them fragile. She's scared of something else altogether-terrified. She found more peace floating endlessly in a vacuum of space than this cracked line of cement, tiptoeing along the edges of cracked slivers of ice, trying to outstretch a hand to save her before they can both fall into unknown depths. A faint, vulnerable laugh on her lips: "I'm tired of my life being full of ultimatums. Of fitting into one box. Or...twelve. I just want to be with you, Catherine. I just want to be with you."
"Kara…"
"Is that so bad?" It's a question that she can't keep from cracking, asking more than just a question. Something Cat understands, given the knowing eyes across from her: "To be tired at the thought of even pretending that I'm not happy when I'm with you?"
"Now isn't the time," Cat's eyes close, "To ask me questions you aren't prepared to hear the answers to, Kara." It's an echo of a time that feels so long ago and a smile is waiting for Cat when her eyes open.
"I'm ready to hear anything you want to tell me, whenever you're finally ready to tell me." Kara gently settles on, instead.
A car rushes past them, the sound of tires spinning through sputtering water onto the sidewalk not much of a distraction from the faint breath dancing mist into the air.
Ironically enough, the silence between them reminds her of space, too.
"If we keep doing this, there aren't going to be any attachments, Kara. There can't be." Cat finally settles on-fights-and Kara feels like a hot air balloon, chest expelling with a gust of hot air, fire underneath the brim of her nose.
"Other than our friendship." Kara argues, not willing to let that point slide.
A wave of a dismissive hand, practically conceding, Cat's eyes dropping down to her lips. "But something tells me you're not very good at staying detached, are you?" Reminding, "Miss, 'I don't do 'casual'."
"I don't." Kara agrees, but still steps closer, "This has never been casual for me. I'm not making a deal that I won't...have an attachment to you, Cat." She wouldn't be able to, sincere and honest: "I already do. I'm already attached. You already have one, too."
"Kara…" It's her second warning, tiptoeing along dangerous waters. She's a breath away, now, the woman in question curling fingers around her elbows, slowly untangling the crossed arms in front of a chest.
"You do, Cat." Nails dip in the crevice of Cat's very own personal fortress of solitude over a quaking heart, "I mean, you can't just...five months and no attachment? I'm not pushing you. I'm not asking for a relationship. Not a...courtship or the 'hey come meet my parent' weekend. I actually think a traditional relationship is the...exact opposite of a good idea. I don't want to have lunch with your mother." A faint laugh at that from slightly hunched shoulders that Kara wants to trace with fingertips, "In fact, I promise I won't make you have lunch with your mother." Cat's laugh is a little more obvious, head tipping back to run her fingers along a chin before arms once more cross,
"That's a binding verbal contract." It's a hum that doesn't quite meet uncharacteristically hesitant eyes.
"Give me a piece of paper and I'll sign it." Kara promises. "I'm not as traditional as you think."
"And you're not ordinary," Cat argues in a way that makes Kara shift on her feet-look away for a beat before she looks back and settles, meeting the challenge head on. If she's intent on being honest with Cat, it's only fair that she's honest in return. The woman proceeding-letting it go, for the moment-tipping a chin back, "Nothing traditional. At least there's something we can agree on." Cat's muscles flex underneath the touch but ease at the swipe of thumbs.
"Attachments aren't bad. Letting people in doesn't mean the end of the world." Brows knit, thinking of family and open chests for hearts, "Well, usually." A shake of the head, finally untangling arms, smile spreading when Cat gives no resistance. It might be contagious because the edges of Cat's lips bat upwards. "Letting me in isn't the end of the world. I promise."
A murmur, "You're intent on teaching me that, aren't you."
"And if you don't want that attachment, I...I understand." She clears her throat-tries not to swallow-tries not to lean into the soft touch of Cat's fingers brushing along the bone of her wrist, a small gesture that doesn't go unnoticed. "I told you I'm not going to demand anything. You can always walk away. We'll just...stay friends and I'll always be there for you. Always. I promised you that." Adding, words wrinkled in a way her eyes won't be for centuries underneath a yellow sun, "Maybe I'm not good at staying detached but I'm...I've had a lifetime of learning how to let go." A breath, shifting on feet, trying to find equilibrium in the nearly imperceptible waiver of her voice, "Please."
It's a heavy statement that hangs between them and Kara lets out a quaking breath when it's Cat that breaks the silence between them, fingers smoothing up a bicep-a neck-to curve around a cheek, eyes dropping back down to lips.
"This time there are going to be rules." It's a breath and Kara doesn't bother hiding the wide smile that slowly bridges the gaps between her cheeks.
"I love rules." It's an immediate response as Kara breathes a sigh of relief, stepping closer, "I'm great at rules." Their bodies pull closer, city fading into white noise around them.
"We're going to keep everything else strictly professional." Fingers curl in the fabric by her shoulders before smoothing it out, like Cat isn't sure whether to console or break.
"Yes, Ms. Grant." Kara immediately supplies, closing the distance until a breath is all that stays between them. "We always do."
Another car comes a little too close to the curb, a waterfall raining down, Kara thoughtlessly tugging Cat away from it before it can hit in a whirlwind, a hint of laughter breaking between them, a spell broken for only a moment. Surprisingly, an elegant wrist is the one that dips, offering open fingers to her momentary savior, nodding back towards the apartment. Wordlessly-immediately-Kara takes the gesture and their ascent up to a familiar door is uneventful and calmer than it should be. Natural. It's only when the door closes and their fingers untangle-when those same fingers turn into molten silk as they slide along bones of a tilted hip, gently tugging Cat closer in something that, for once, isn't immediacy or secrecy-that it feels heavy, at all.
"This is either going to be the best idea I've ever heard from you...or the most ill-advised." Cat murmurs, hands smoothing up clenching forearms-biceps-curving around shoulders, ultimately once more finding a hand buried in wet, free hair, impossibly soft as she guides Kara down. "I'm leaning towards it being a horrible idea, Kara."
"You can fire me if I'm wrong." Kara offers, eyes settling on lips.
"Of course I can." Their mouths are a breath apart and blue eyes watch water drip from the rims of glasses onto Cat's cheeks and lets out a small breath.
It's time.
"Wait." A nervous laugh strangles in her chest, fingers slowly moving up to dip in the black band of slim glasses, Cat's look of surprise and confusion turning into something impossibly darker. Kara will never know words enough to describe the faint, almost knowing huff of air from Catherine's lips, or the sharp curve of nails behind her neck.
Anticipation.
She has to close her eyes as she removes the glasses from the bridge of her nose, blinks coming into focus so that she can see her-see all of her. Every inch. Every breath. Every smile. Their eyes meet and Kara could bury herself here, gladly, instead of going in flight to Rao whenever the time comes. Because it isn't nakedness or vulnerability that spreads in her chest-
It's something close to freedom.
" Oh. " Cat breathes, one of the hands untangling to brush between the spot where glasses normally sit-where an impression should be, but isn't-and skims up to trace the line of a faint, crinkling brow, instead. There's a hint of moisture caught in a reverent gaze-an overwhelming amount of emotion caught between both of them-and Catherine holds Kara Danvers in fragile hands that have built empires underneath nails for the first time since they've met, a world protected underneath a curving palm.
"Hi." Cat breathes and Kara's swallow is so dry that the faint scratching tickles her ears, blood sounding a drum in her chest.
"Hi."
When Cat kisses her, Kara can't seem to remember why she agreed to the notion of it being anything close to bad at all, murmuring against a warm mouth, glasses clattering to the ground as Cat pulls her tighter and tighter past an event horizon and into a singularity she can't see, all of time passing between the touch of her lips:
"Yes, Catherine," She's breathless, Cat's breath warming her lips, seeing the whole world behind her eyes, but only tasting it for the first time in this moment. It's intoxicating. "You're right. This is probably a horrible idea." But she doesn't pull away.
"Kara." A tsk as Cat kisses her, fingers not as gentle along shoulders as they were underneath uncovered eyes when she pushes Kara onto her bed, crawling on top of her, a blouse pulled over a head in one swift, elegant movement. "Always the pessimist." It's a husked laugh in an ear as Cat pulls away, gentler, cupping cheeks. Lips brush over a left eyelid-a right-arms that could crush a building into ash gently circling, protective, around Cat's waist, breath catching as she buries a prayer against a chin, blinking away moisture in her eyes. A wetness that Cat has the grace not to comment on as thumbs swipe underneath bare eyes, murmuring against parted lips: "It wouldn't kill you to have a little faith."
"I do." Kara promises, not in the mood to join the charade, feeling light in her chest but heavy in her head, a contradiction of pained breaths behind her ribs, hand smoothing up a chest to rest over Cat's fluttering heart, memorizing the familiar beat with free eyes. "I have it in you."
"Then don't worry." Cat kisses her, fingers always tangling in free hair when they have the chance, easing them both back onto the bed, nipping at a lip. Promising in the most Catherine's ever given her, Kara's hand listening to the solemn drum of her heart, "Stop demanding so much of yourself when you're not demanding anything from anyone else. You're the only one giving ultimatums, Kara. It's not so bad to want to be happy if you believe you deserve it."
Kara lets out a quivering breath, trying to focus just on Cat instead of the entire world behind her, mind pulsing until she sees just dark eyes and smooth lips, honesty the only language left between them.
Rule #11...
She couldn't be asking.
"I can't believe I'm saying this to a girl who wore a pastel sweater with a zebra on it, today." There's a world of words unsaid between them, Cat's hand skimming down a cheek, fingers pushing underneath the fabric of a shirt to smooth up ribbed blue, Kara's stomach clenching at the weight of it. At the want of it.
Lust isn't always just a physical need and she feels something longing within her chest, lungs aching to voice it. Like every single fiber of her being is curling towards the emotion in her throat.
Towards Catherine.
"Let yourself be happy." Cat might ask the world between them-might demand or request or promise, Kara isn't sure-but fingers smooth up an arm to cheeks, holding a small body against her. "Let yourself feel like you deserve it, Kara."
"Do you?" It's a quiet question like a girl who's just learned English, unsure how the world works or why sand crumbles beneath her fingers when she tries to hold it, fading away into the wind of a beach. "Feel like you deserve it."
Cat's lips part, the most Kara knows she'll ever admit, a vulnerable whisper on her tongue, "I do right now." It sounds dangerously close to I do with you.
Kara's response is to pull Cat closer to her and kiss her for everything she's worth, arm wrapping around warm shoulders as she pulls her to the bed, heartbeat falling into sync with the wild one against her chest.
Happiness.
The sound of a button falling out of the safe pocket of a suit, rolling along the crevices of a floor to be tucked away in a dusty corner, is forgotten underneath the sound of a moan.
It's the first time she ever makes love to Catherine Grant and she refuses to focus on whether or not it will be the last.
Because they will define you."