Mon-El shoved the Tupperware container into Kara's hands before opening the lid, letting out a gale of steam. The spaghetti was still warm. The meatball sauce he'd poured over it was bubbling.

"Supergirl! I-a make you-a de Spaghetti! A nice-a plate-a pasta for de nice-a girl! Taste-a so good, you wanna slappa my face!"

"Thank you for the food, Mon," Kara said, feeling very Jamaican, as she always did around him. She sniffed the sauce. "Thank you a lot for the food. But, uh… what's with the accent?"

Mon-El dropped it like a hot potato. "Secret identity. I figured the glasses thing might not work for me, so if I craft some sort of persona, then people won't mistake Italian-me for non-Italian-me."

"Yes, but… why Italy?"

Mon-El shrugged. "Maggie was the only one who would help me come up with an accent."

Kara wasn't sure that added up, but the food was warm and the sooner she got her end of the ask over with, the better. She went to her kitchen for a fork. "Mon, I need to ask a favor."

"Yeah, sure, any—shit… yeah-a, sure, anything for de-a nice girl! Hard to stay in-character…"

"You know I'm seeing Lena, right?"

"Yeah, Alex mentioned it. Isn't she potentially evil?"

"Only a little potentially!" Kara insisted.

Mon-El nodded anyway. "Niiice."

Kara scowled for a moment as she ladled some spaghetti into her mouth. Whatever other problems Mon-El's libertinism caused, it did make him an excellent cook. If Lena didn't have a private chef, they'd have a real love triangle on their hands.

"So Lena…" Kara began, poking her fork through the spaghetti as if checking it for clues. "Who is a great girlfriend, just awesome, I'd tell you you should date her if I wasn't dating her and if she weren't probably a lesbian? Mainly a lesbian? Mostly a lesbian? We haven't really gotten down to brass tacks there."

"Eh, she's a brunette. Not my thing. Try one of the meatballs. It make-a di boom-boom, no canna control!"

"Right." Kara speared one. "So Lena has mentioned, in passing, and this is top-secret, need to know, privileged information."

Mon-El crossed his heart. She was so glad she'd taught him that gesture.

Kara lifted the meatball. "She is apparently… possibly… allegedly interested in strap-ons."

"I see," Mon-El nodded. "What's a strap-on?"

Of course. He didn't know what a banana was, why would he know about strap-ons? Then again, considering everything, it had seemed like a safe assumption. "It's the human version of an Argosian sagex-br'm."

Mon-El blinked. "But… the thorns?"

"No thorns. Hence, their version."

"Hunh. Never pictured a sagex-br'm without thorns. I guess it would work."

Kara stuffed the meatball in her mouth, chewed almost tastelessly, and gulped. "The thing is, Lena and I have mostly been… doing things… that are not that."

"Such—" Mon-El started.

Kara held up a finger. "Don't! Not what I was asking about!"

"Point taken."

"And if we do use a… thornless sagex-br'm, I would not have much experience in that. And I have noticed you have… much the equivalent… and experience in that field of…" Kara had to set her spaghetti down, her hands needed to knead together so bad. "Do not!"

"I wasn't saying anything," Mon-El protested.

"You were thinking it very loudly."

"It's just… that is the straightest line anyone has ever gotten."

"I'm aware."

"Men go their whole lives dreaming of a straight line like that."

Kara closed her eyes, steepled her fingers under her nose, and practically inhaled her nail polish. "If we could just treat this… like pasta! Like a completely asexual, platonic, really scientific way of making pasta. I would be open to you telling this story."

Mon-El looked off into the distance. "This could be one of those series of tweets that people screencap and put on Facebook…"

Kara was suddenly really glad that when she'd arrived on Earth, there was no Facebook. Rao only knew what impression Mon-El was getting of humanity. "You can't use my name, though. Say I'm Karen Starr or something."

"Okay, got it."

"Now please just tell me what you think Lena might like if you were in my shoes while we were doing that… maneuver?"

She looked steadily at Mon-El.

Mon-El looked back at her.

"Well, uh, the first thing, obviously—"

"Foreplay, right?" Kara moved hurriedly to take her grocery list off the fridge, flip to the next note on the pad, and hover a magnetic pen over it. "Lena and I are really good at that, but like, hypothetically, do you think I should be wearing the apparatus during that? Or should I put it on after the foreplay but before the… business? It could break the mood if it takes too long, I suppose I should practice putting it on. I mean, if I can put my costume on in a second, there's no reason a strap-on—"

"You know what?" Mon-El held up his hands. "This isn't working for me."

"C'mon!" Kara cried, tapping her pen against the page. "I've used my super-hearing enough times to know that all guys like talking about their cocksmanship, and the one time I actually ask someone to do it—"

"Did you just say cocksmanship?"

"It's a word! I work in print!"

Mon-El ran his hands down his face. "Please appreciate that I'm someone who virtually never feels awkward or uncomfortable. This is the most awkward and uncomfortable I have ever been, and I had to have what toilet paper was explained to me."

Kara sympathized with him. She didn't know why humans didn't use the three seashells either. "Why?" Kara demanded. "Because I want to have a frank and open discussion about sexuality?"

"Yes! It's just, it's you!" Mon-El jabbed a finger at her. "You're looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes and your little notetaking like you want to go over the ten most delicious pancakes I've ever eaten or something! But no! You wanna talk about… penetration!"

Kara had to admit, now that he'd mentioned it, she would like to know the ten most delicious pancakes he'd ever eaten. But other than that, she was actually somewhat offended. "Just because I'm cute and girly and soft doesn't mean I'm not a mature, sexual being who is willing to take charge of her own pleasure!" Kara stomped her foot to punctuate her point.

Mon-El just stared at her. "That was the most adorable thing I've ever seen."

"It was not!"

"Look, I'll write it down, okay?" Mon-El picked up a pencil from the coffee mug Kara was using as something people keep pencils in. "I'll make a long list of everything you should know about… thrusting. Then you can read it, with me out of the room, and I can stop feeling like a pervert."

"Works for me!" Kara floated up the fridge to pick up a notebook on top of it, then brought it over to Mon-El. "Use the last pages. My dream journal's in the front."

"You're killing me, Zor-El." Mon-El started writing. "Okay, I'm gonna ask one question, and please wait at least five minutes before you make eye contact with me after."

"Shoot."

"How would you describe Lena's anus?"


"Okay," Mon-El said. Having pulled the pages out, he now shuffled them together by banging the bottom edges on the counter. "Everything you ever wanted to know about sex with only one vagina."

"Thanks, Mon. I really appreciate it." Kara flipped through the sheaf of papers.

"I'm leaving."

"Wait, one sec, on page 12, you said—"

"Dude, seriously, talk to Jimmy about it. He must know something."

"Jimmy's visiting Metropolis," Kara said. "Maybe I should ask Winn?"

Mon-El shrugged. "I'm going…" He started for the door, then stopped on one heel, circling back around. "So, wait… you're in a relationship with Lena Luthor?"

"I told you, she's not evil. If she is evil, she's just a little bit evil. She's fun-evil. Like those Real Housewife shows."

"But you are in a relationship with her?"

"Yes."

"Then I should definitely not sleep with her?"

"She's a brunette!" Kara pointed out, so aghast that that was the only objection she could muster.

"There are wigs."

Kara had to cover her face with the sheaf. "Daxamites…"