When we arrive at the party, Sam is quick to find us, decked out in a Captain America costume. He extends a gloved hand to Brittany, the other clutching a homemade shield. He stands proudly just like Captain America would when he greets her.

"Supergirl."

She shakes his hand firmly before placing them both on her hips.

Sam puts on his best Captain America voice, "Fancy seeing you here at this party," he says, gesturing to the bustling crowd.

Brittany's arms drop to her sides, "Well, Santana invited me as her plus one. I didn't come here uninvited."

Sam looks at her through the eyeholes of his mask, confused.

"N-no, Britt, he's role-playing. Just pretend you're Supergirl," I explain. Things were looking fine for a minute there, but Brittany doesn't seem to be giving Sam the benefit of the doubt. He hadn't replied to my text, so he has no idea of the situation he's in.

"Can I get you super ladies a drink?"

I glance over to Brittany who's more interested in watching people dance to the thumping music across the room. "Sure, nothing too strong though."

He salutes to us, which Brittany doesn't see, but she turns around in time to see him winking in my direction. Sam's moving through the crowd towards the makeshift bar before Brittany can get a hold of him. She turns slowly towards me, a curious look on her face.

"What was that?"

I swallow and take a deep breath. Batwoman isn't afraid of anything, she certainly wouldn't be afraid of Supergirl. "That was nothing. He's just being a goof."

Brittany simply blinks at me, not believing my words for a second. "I think he's flirting with you. Maybe you can't see it because of your mask."

"W-what? I made this mask to have an optimized field of view," I argued, adjust my mask. "A-and besides, he's not flirting with me. He knows I'm with you."

She pauses for a moment, and it seems like she buys the lie I just told. "Okay, but if he tries anything with my Batwoman, he's going to get his ass super kicked." She flexes her muscles before "flying" off towards the dancefloor.

Everyone at this party is dressed in surprisingly detailed costumes. A bunch of college frat boys are dressed as low-budget Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and I've counted about 5 different angel and devil couples at this party already.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and when I spin around there is Sam, holding out a red cup filled with some fruity cocktail for me.

"Where's your friend?" he asks, swirling Brittany's lonely drink.

I scan the room, but can't find Brittany anywhere. "She's probably off dancing somewhere. Just take her drink, she won't mind."

He nods and we both pause to take a sip of our drinks. I frown at the bitter after taste of vodka at the back of my throat.

"Y'know, with that frown you look just like Batwoman," Sam laughs. "Is that a wig?" he asks, pointing to my hair.

"No, it's a temporary dye. I could've bought a wig to get the bright colour, but I thought this way it would match more with my skin tone since I can't change that."

He reaches over to twirl a lock of my hair between his fingers. I freeze up when he offers his hand.

"May I have this dance with you, Batwoman?"

I let out an internal sigh of relief. "Of course, Captain."

I take his hand into mine, feeling the warmth of his big hand through our red pleather gloves. He takes the drink out of my hand to set them down on an endtable before guiding me to the dance floor.

The song changes as soon as we set foot on the makeshift dance space, to a slower love ballad. It's as if someone wants to make this night difficult for me. Sam pauses and turns to me, questioningly.

I nod to him, silently accepting the change of events. He puts his hands on my waist, my hands on his broad shoulders as we sway gently to the music. We're standing less than an arm's length apart, but not close enough to be pressed right up against each other like other couples on the floor.

He leans in and pulls me closer. "I'm glad you came, tonight," he whispers into my ear.

I bite my tongue from ruining the moment by telling him the truth and try to find a way to steer this conversation in another direction.

"Well, I had to see if you were a true comic book fan," I explain. I move my fingers to inspect the handiwork of his costume. "Not bad, Sammy Evans."

He laughs and shakes his head, "Of course I'm a true comic book fan. I started on this as soon as the movie came out."

I gawk at him, "That was like last year!"

"Do you know how hard it is to find the right material? My mom spent hours sewing the emblem into the mask," he says, pointing to his forehead.

I roll my eyes playfully, "And here I thought you did it all by yourself. Now I'm not that impressed."

"Hey, I made the shield by myself. I'm not good at sewing and things like that."

"Well, I'll have you know I made this all by myself. You don't know difficult until you're trying to find a bodysuit that doesn't make you look like you're getting ready to join Jacques Cousteau.

"Well, I think you look great," he says, smiling down at me.

I look away from his big grin, blushing, not wanting him to see my face no matter how well hidden it is beneath the mask. In the corner of my eye I see a flash of red and blue and then a hand on Sam's shoulder is tugging him away.

"Hey there, Captain. Mind if I take it from here?" Brittany asks, almost too innocently.

Sam looks between at Brittany and then at me. "The song isn't even over yet."

Brittany doesn't waver and looks up at him, clenching her jaw. "Are you challenging me?"

He turns towards her and puffs out his chest, "That depends. Do you accept, Supergirl?"

Brittany takes a step toward him and I can only stand and watch, motionless, as they stare each other down, their faces tense and posture strong.

Brittany is the first to break the silent staring contest, "Meet me at the bar in 20 minutes."

"10."

"Fine, 10 minutes. We're going to arm wrestle for a dance with Batwoman."

Sam smirks and crosses his arms, making his chest look even more pronounced.

"Do we have a deal?" Brittany asks, holding out her hand.

He looks at me and pauses.

"Do it, Sam! You got this in the bag!" someone shouts from the crowd.

At some point during all of this, a crowd had formed around the three of us, music still playing but long forgotten.

Sam nods and smiles in the direction of a group of boys as he shakes Brittany's hand.

"Great, I'll see you in 10 minutes then. Gloves off." And with that, Brittany worms her way through the crowd and disappears.

Sam shakes his head and sighs, a little baffled at Brittany's aggression. Suddenly, my mind processes what just happened and I grab Sam before he can get away. "I need to talk to you, it's important."

When he doesn't try to get away or say anything I continue. "There's a big misunderstanding here, that I need to clear up."

Sam stays silent, but his mouth begins to frown. He's hoping that I won't tell him bad news.

I take a deep breath and silently curse the gods above for having to break the heart of a boy who meant no harm. "I wanted to tell you this before the party, but you never answered my texts. I thought it was obvious when you met me, but…"

I stop when I notice Sam's mouth has developed into a complete frown.

Worrying my lip I confess to him, "I'm not interested in you, at least, not in that way."

His shoulders slump a little and he massages a non-existent kink at his neck, just to occupy his hands. "Well, that kind of sucks. Now I have to go and arm wrestle your friend for an awkward dance with you."

Oh yeah, I still had to tell him about Brittany too.

"I don't know if this will make you feel any better, but Brittany's not just a friend."

Sam tilts his head in confusion while I wring my fingers, nervously.

"S-She's…" I need to think of a way to lighten the situation and break the news to him at the same time. When my mind finds the answer, I laugh, much to Sam's dismay. "She's the Renee Montoya to my Kate Kane."

He lets out a laugh at the reference, puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. "Say no more, Batwoman. Your secret identity is safe with me."

"Really?"

"You can trust Captain America," he answers saluting again for the second time that night.

One of the teenage mutant ninja turtles calls out from the bar counter, "Hey, Captain, get over here! Supergirl is getting impatient."

We walk together towards the bar where Brittany is sitting at a small table, an empty stool for Sam on the opposite side. Cheers and hoots and fists are bumped as Sam takes off his gloves and hands them to his friends. They pat him on the back as he takes his seat, reassuring him that Captain America can beat Supergirl any day.

One of the ninja turtles comes to the side of the table and beckons the crowd to come closer. "Okay guys, place your bets! Who will win this arm wrestle for a dance with the elusive, Batwoman? Will it be Supergirl?" he asks, gesturing to Brittany.

Cheers erupt from one side of the room, consisting of mostly girls and a few boys.

"Or will it be Captain America?"

Before he even finishes his sentence, the rowdy boys on Sam's side of the table erupt into cheers.

"Arms up!"

Brittany and Sam both place their elbows on the table, firmly, gripping their opponent's hands. Brittany's hand is much more slender and small compared to Sam's, but it is in no way, weaker than his. Both hands already squeezing the other as their veins begin to bulge at the wrist and forearm.

The announcer places his hands over their clasped hands and counts down. When he releases, they instantly start pulling, biceps flexed as they strain to win.

A minute goes by and neither has given up a lead, their hands locked in their initial positions. Sam pulls a face, showing the first signs of exhaustion.

"You're good, Captain," Brittany smirks. "But I'm better."

Brittany twists their joined hands towards her, making Sam stand out of his seat, giving her the leverage she needs to slam his hand onto the table. Cheers and groans erupt from the room as Brittany leaps from her seat, triumphant.

Sam massages his hand as he winks in my direction, suggesting he might've thrown the match. When I catch him wincing at the pain in his arm, I realize he didn't throw the match at all.

Brittany appears next to me holding out her hand. "I believe you owe me a dance."

I can only smile as I take her hand and let her lead me to the dancefloor.

We danced for the rest of the night and Sam only cuts in once, after asking Brittany for permission, of course.