Back to the bar, Alex stared balefully over the packed dance floor and games area. This was no different than any other bar she'd been to. Her gazed locked onto a pair of women at a pool table, hands playing with things definitely not on the table. OK. Maybe it was a little different.
Her stomach twisted as she struggled to look away. Heat suffused her face, and Alex squirmed on the barstool. Thank Rao for the low lighting. Scowl growing, she tossed back her drink and waggled the empty glass at the bartender.
"Looks like you're coming off a bad day." The bartender, muscled arms displayed by her sleeveless t-shirt, winked. "Good thing I've got something to make you feel better." Before Alex could snarl that nothing would make her day (or her life) better, the woman lined up five shot glasses and pulled an open bottle of Connemara single malt from beneath the bar. "Complements of an admirer."
Alex immediately glanced at the mirror over the bar. It granted a decent view of the tables at the edge of the dance floor. All of them were crammed with women – none of whom were looking in her direction. The booths at the back were harder to see. Tuning out the bartender's friendly babble about the unique attributes of the Scotch, Alex slowly and casually turned on her stool.
She didn't see anyone waiting for her to wave her thanks for the drinks. "Keep the…" The words tapered off as the hairs at the back of her neck rose. One hand slid to the hilt of the knife stashed in her boot sheath. Alex scanned the bar again, hunting whoever was watching her.
No one stood out, but Alex wasn't J'onn's second-in-command for no reason. She zeroed in on the only booth cloaked in shadows. It sat in the farthest corner of the room and had a prime view of the entire bar.
Light glinted off a glass and Alex caught the outline of a hand for an instant as the invisible woman sitting in the booth saluted her.
Professional paranoia dictated Alex refuse the free booze. Instead, the anonymous admirer's gift loosened some of the tension pressing on Alex's shoulders. She reached behind her without glancing away from the dark booth. Returning the salute with the first glass, Alex tossed it back. Heat and smoke slid down her throat. She savored the taste then turned away from her admirer. She wasn't here to hookup.
Hookups always ended in disappointment. Alex didn't need more of that, even if watching the couples grind together on the dance floor turned her on more than any man she'd ever fucked. She polished off two more of the drinks before taking a break. The whiskey was potent; her head swam.
"Care for company?" a lightly accented voice asked at Alex's shoulder. Long fingers, free of rings, stroked the gleaming wooden bar top.
Alex turned enough that she could observe the other woman more easily. "It depends."
An impish grin unearthed a pair of dimples. "On?"
Butterflies the size of Fort Rozz took flight in Alex's stomach. Her mind faltered as she stared impotently at the other woman.
The grin slowly faded. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push. If you'd prefer I go…" Alex watched the woman's gaze drop away and saw her shoulders hunch.
"Don't go." She touched the woman's hand. Eyes locked onto Alex's forearm where it extended from beneath the turned-up sleeve of her favorite plaid flannel overshirt. Alex enjoyed the way the woman's throat moved as she swallowed. "I'm not…I mean…" Rao damn it! She sounded like Kara. If she had glasses, Alex had no doubt she'd be mindlessly fiddling with them. "I'd like the company," she finally managed.
"I've a private table." Alex followed a pointed finger to the shrouded booth. A hint of the woman's former mischief crept out, and her accent deepened. "I promise to keep my hands above the table at all times."
For the first time since entering the bar, Alex enjoyed the twist in her stomach and the heat unfurling beneath her skin. "What about my hands?" she said, knocking back another drink. "Where should they be?"
Bold, breathless laughter rang out at her daring question. Rather than answer, the woman handed a credit card to the bartender who'd hurried to their location. Alex glimpsed only part of the gold lettering on the card's black surface. L.K.
"Why don't we negotiate that over more drinks and some appetizers? I only landed a few hours ago, and I can't remember when I've last eaten." LK raised an eyebrow at Alex. "And I haven't seen you do more than drink since you arrived."
Alex shrugged. "I didn't come for the food."
LK's dimples popped again. "Aww. I'm glad you came for the company then."
Rolling her eyes, Alex chuckled as she followed her new friend and admirer through throngs of women. Every one of them turned to watch LK go by; a few of them eyed Alex approvingly, too. She blushed and then glared. They must be made of sterner stuff than baby agents, irritating superhero younger sisters, and rampaging aliens. No one cried or ran away. They grinned and winked at Alex's reaction.
As they slid into the booth seats, LK tilted her head toward their audience. "Not what you're used to?" Her hand hovered near Alex's without actually making contact.
"Thought it wouldn't feel like a meat market." But they'd sure been ready to take a bite out of LK.
The hand slid back to LK's side of the table.
"Not you," Alex said, reading LK's withdrawal as guilt. She initiated the contact this time, fingers whispering across the soft skin of LK's hand. Alex noted calluses on each finger and several small scars along the knuckles. Tracing each one, she slowly relaxed.
Their drinks arrived, breaking into their quiet interlude. Alex withdrew as a barback returned LK's credit card and depositing a brand-new bottle of Connemara, glasses, and large platter of wings, fries, and stuffed mushrooms.
"Dig in." LK reached for the bottle despite her comment to Alex. She poured a generous amount in two glasses, pushing one across the table.
"And you. Miss 'I can't remember when I ate?'" Alex grabbed food from the platter, filling one of the smaller plates. When LK merely smirked and took a drink of Scotch, Alex leaned across the table and plunked the plate of appetizers right in from the LK.
She could grow addicted to that pair of dimples. Her own smile readily answered. "Come on. We both need food if we're going to do justice to the booze." And it meant she might get to spend more time in the booth with LK.
LK heaved a dramatic sigh. "Fine. But you don't have to be so formal. It's just 'Kay' tonight. Save the 'Miss' for later." Her eyes danced as she waited for Alex's reaction.
Narrowing her eyes, Alex refused to give Kay any satisfaction at the taunt. "What makes you think you'll deserve the title later?" She sipped her drink, praying Kay didn't see the tremor in her fingers.
"Call it intuition." Kay popped a mushroom into her mouth, chewing slowly before licking grease from her fingertips. "And what shall I call you? Now…and later."
It took two tries before Alex managed to croak, "Alex."
Turning her hand, Kay ran her fingers through the hair on Alex's forearm. "Al-ex." Her lips curved in a beguiling smile that burrowed beneath Alex's insecurities.
The food was gone. Only crumbs and pools of grease remained. Most of the Scotch was gone, too. Alex blinked as she watched Kay's hands wave in the air as she described something. Alex couldn't remember what they were talking about. Something Kay was working on before she left Metropolis.
"Jack had to go on a date with hands that glowed blue. It was a good thing it was winter, or he might have had a hard time explaining away his gloves."
Kay had many stories. Andrea, her roommate in boarding school (who Alex suspected had done far more than share a room). Jack of the glowing hands. Each tale brought color to Kay's face, dimples to her cheeks, and an impish gleam to her eyes.
Giving in to the emotions building inside, Alex sprang from the booth, startling Kay so badly that she nearly knocked over the bottle of Scotch. "Dance with me."
Eyes wide, Kay's smile dimmed. "That's not a good idea."
The refusal hit Alex with the power of a Supergirl punch. She stiffened and felt her face freeze into a rigid mask. She'd obviously misread Kay's earlier signals and their on-again, off-again attempts at flirting. "Never mind. I should go," she mumbled.
"Alex, wait!" Kay slid from the booth and grabbed onto Alex's shirt. "I'm not turning you down. Really. I just…I can't dance." She hung her head, as if the admission shamed her. "I'd break all of your toes and bruise your shins."
"Steel toes," Alex said, lifting a foot and showing her boot to Kay. "Plus, they cover my shins." She hadn't bothered to change out of her tactical boots before leaving the DEO. Then she leaned in to whisper in Kay's ear. "I'll show you all my moves; all you have to do is let me lead."
The music blared around them as Alex tugged Kay onto the scarred and pitted dance floor. Fewer couples clogged the space with the later hour. Alex hoped having fewer possible people around would help Kay relax. The other woman was stiff as statue as Alex moved against her. She let the beat fill her veins and the heat of Kay's body burn through her skin.
One song bled into another. Sweat dampened her clothes, and Kay's face glowed under the neon lights of the bar. Alex pulled Kay closer, satisfaction rolling through her at Kay's pliancy now. They were pressed together, but Alex wanted more. More contact. More heat. More Kay.
Any worry about coming to the bar or being like this with a woman slipped from her mind. Alex pressed her lips to Kay's neck. Kay tasted of sweat, Scotch, and the slight chemical tang of perfume.
Kay shuddered at the kiss. The vibration travelled along Alex's body, and Kay's groan rose even above the music.
Desire surged hot and hard. Alex maneuvered them off the dance floor. She sought the darkest corner – their abandoned booth. This time, though, she didn't settle across the table from Kay. Alex shoved Kay into one side of the booth and followed her. Her hands scrabbled at Kay's button-up where it disappeared into her hip-huggingly tight jeans.
"Alex." Hot breath fanned Alex's neck. Hands crept beneath her flannel overshirt; nails raked over the black shirt covering her stomach.
"Fuck!" Even over her shirt, Kay's nails light Alex's skin on fire. She ground down on Kay's leg, gasping as the pressure drove the seam of her jeans into her clit. "Feels good." So good. Better than any other sexual encounter. Better than her own shameful attempts to find her own pleasure.
The pleasure grew exponentially when Kay's shirt sprang free. Alex spread both hands over the sinfully soft skin now exposed.
Kay's thigh jammed against Alex as Kay writhed under her touch. "Al…Alex!" The sound of her name on Kay's lips gave Alex the courage to kiss Kay. Gently at first. Then frantically, as Alex tasted something uniquely Kay.
Kissing was Alex's new favorite hobby. Kissing Kay. Blessed Rao. Alex never wanted to stop.
Unfortunately, "forever" wasn't as long as Alex had once believed. A shrill ring startled her into pulling away. She stared in confusion into Kay's dilated eyes as the sound repeated.
"Damn! God damn it." Kay shoved Alex away. She sat up, back against the wall at the far end of the booth and wrestled a cell phone from a pocket. "What?" Her expression cooled. All the life and passion disappeared between one heartbeat and the next.
Alex gripped the edge of the table with one hand as Kay spoke in clipped tones to the person on the phone. Her accent was gone. Only the smooth, boarding school diction remained. Alex mourned its loss.
Two minutes passed. Maybe three. The call ended. "I'm sorry. I have to go." Kay tucked her shirt back into her jeans.
Ice replaced the blood pounding through Alex's veins. It encased her heart and buried her fledgling courage. She stumbled backward out of the booth, spinning on her heel, ready to run. Why did she keep trying? Why had she ever believed women would be different from all the men she'd found in straight bars?
Nausea and shame collided in her stomach until Alex couldn't breathe around the pain.
"Alex." Warm hands touched her arms and held her in place. "I'm sorry. I don't want to go." Kay hugged Alex, head resting on her chest. "I…I got a new job. It's why I'm here tonight. They need me to go to the office." She sighed and stepped away.
"It's fine," Alex said by rote. She knew the score. This wasn't her first rodeo.
Lips tightening, Kay waved down a barback. She ripped a page off the woman's order pad and scribbled something on it with the woman's pen. "Call me. Please. It's my private number. Only four other people have it." She stared pleadingly into Alex's blank expression for a long minute. "Please, Alex."
Alex tore her eyes away from the bleeding body on the sidewalk in front of her and into the barrel of the gun that had put him there. "Kay?"
"Alex?" The accent was the same, but the black hair and thousand-dollar skirt and jacket were not. She tossed the gun before running to Alex's side. "Are you hurt?" Fingers gripped Alex's chin, lifting it. "Alex?"
Hearing the tightly-controlled panic, Alex turned her head enough to press her lips to Kay's (Lena fucking Luthor's, her mind bleated) palm. "A little banged up. Nothing major." She stood slowly, and Kay's hands fell to her sides. "I guess I should have called, huh?"
Her favorite, mischievous smile appeared for a second. "We have a lot to talk about. Still have my number?"
"Yes."
"Tonight. Don't forget this time," Kay said. She broke off but waited for Alex to nod in agreement before strutting away.