Chapter Text
It wasn't a secret that Mon-El hated the big, loud, pretentious events his mother would organize just to flatter herself. They were always the same; the same kind of boring, the same kind of pointless, the same kind of a waste. But he couldn't miss one, no matter how much he hated them. Because as bad as those events could be, his mother was worse, and he'd long ago run out of patience when it came to dealing with a pissed off Rhea Gand.
So, he sat at the bar, away from the crowd but still there to be seen, to be gossiped about, to be noticed. He couldn't replace his late father, couldn't cover up the obvious absence, but he still tried to play his part, if only to satisfy his mother's wishes and fill up the space in the company his father had left void.
He nursed a glass of whiskey he had intended to gulp down in a single go but, for some reason, hadn't yet. He couldn't even take a sip. Because even that had been his father's thing — Mon-El didn't drink whiskey. Actually, Mon-El didn't drink anything, not any more.
There was some kind of tasteless music playing in the background, probably something classic and fancy that nobody paid attention to. The atmosphere had already gotten dull, even though it wasn't even ten yet. Which not only meant it was too early to try and get out, he would be stuck in that stool for at least two more hours.
"Mon-El, dear," his mother suddenly spoke from behind him in that familiar tight tone she always used when she wanted to introduce him to someone. It was a warning, one he'd known since he'd been child; it meant he was to be his best self and not even think about embarrassing her.
"Yes, mother," he said, a questioning tilt in his voice. He put his still-full glass down and stood, turning around slowly.
"This is William Dey, he's a reporter at CatCo Worldwide Media, he will be covering our company's Charity Galla next month."
"Mon-El Gand, pleasure to meet you," he offered his hand for a handshake, plastering a well-practiced smile onto his face, one that didn't showcase his complete disinterest in whoever that dude was.
"Likewise," the reporter said, "I was just talking to Mrs Gand about doing an interview before the Galla. Would you be interested?"
Before Mon-El had time to answer, his mother did it for him. "Of course he is. It's about time we introduced the company's new vice president to the world. Isn't that right, son?" She raised a brow at him.
"Oh, definitely," he replied right away, holding back the urge to roll his eyes at her. "I have to warn you, though, I'm not used to this kind of thing," a playful grimace flashed across his features.
William Dey chuckled politely. "Don't worry, it's just a casual chat. You'll only have to answer a few questions. Leave the rest to me."
"Good, good, I look forward to that interview then."
"I will contact your secretary soon. Now if you'll excuse me," Dey's gaze fleeted away for a second, his face brightening up at whatever it was he was looking at. "My date has arrived," he said and walked away.
"What are you doing?" Mon-El threw his mother a piercing look once the reporter had been out of earshot. "New vice president? Since when? Need I remind you I haven't agreed to this yet?"
Rhea smirked in response, an antagonizing sparkle in her eyes. "Now, don't make a scene, dear, you and I both know it's the right decision. It's what your father would've wanted."
Mon-El's face hardened even more at his mother's choice of words. "No. This is what you want. Don't bring my father into it," he spat out.
"We talked about this. You will be the vice president for a few years, and then, when you're ready and I feel it's the right time to step down, you will take over the company."
"If you think I'm going to come work for you and obey your every word, you're wrong," he said, his jaw clenching. "You can have everything. I don't give a fuck." He turned to leave. "I'll have my resignation letter ready to be signed first thing in the morning."
In response, Rhea gripped his arm, stopping him before he could slip away. "What's gotten into you, tonight? Who the hell do you think you are to speak to me like that? I am your mother and you will listen to me."
Mon-El was ready to open his mouth, to spit some more colorful words out, definitely going for that scene his mother hadn't wanted. But then, as he moved his head to the side, biting the inside of his cheek in a feeble attempt to control his growing frustration, he caught a glimpse of a very familiar face and stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes focused on her, traveling from her blond hair to her wide smile to her soft hands to her long dress to her hidden feet. In that moment, his world froze. His heart stopped. He couldn't breathe. He knew her; he knew her too well, in fact. But he didn't know why she was hanging onto William Dey's arm, and more importantly, why she was there in the first place.
"Mon-El, look at me, I'm talking to you," Rhea snapped him out of his momentary trance.
"I gotta go," he told her without taking his eyes off the blond woman. "I have to go. I need to go." And with that, he took off, too fast to be stopped again.
In his rush to get away, Mon-El didn't notice the woman's gaze falling on him. He didn't see the way she followed his every step, as if she was ready to run to him. But she stood there, her date completely forgotten, the small talk she'd been in the middle of totally abandoned, and watched him. At that moment, he was all that she saw.
As cliche as it may sound, Mon-El needed some air. Thus, he headed for the balcony.
He didn't turn to look back, didn't attempt to get another glimpse of her face. He was too desperate to get out, needing to put his thoughts back in order before he could do anything stupid like go talk to her.
He hadn't seen her in almost two years; since she'd left him without as much as a goodbye. So to see her now, on an already rough night, out of the blue, was starting to mess with him. His argument with his mother was forgotten, any thoughts about his dead father sidelined, the company issues pushed to some corner in the very back of his mind. He couldn't think of anything but her — she was overwhelming him.
With shaky fingers, he pulled at his tie, leaving it to hang loosely around his neck. The cold breeze blew by his unsteady figure, chilling him, but he didn't unfold his sleeves. Instead, he welcomed the shivers, for they served as a distraction, however brief.
Maybe he should've drunk that whiskey, after all, he thought.
Silence hang above him, but it was tense. He was all alone outside, and still, the atmosphere felt heavy and charged, as if she was right there with him. Mon-El breathed in and out, resting his elbows on the balcony rail and looking out at the city. And with every second that passed, his heart beat faster. Only he wasn't sure if that was because he wanted to see her again or because he'd rather he hadn't seen her at all.
"I knew I'd find you here," she spoke from behind him, not giving him enough time to make his mind up. Her voice was quiet and sweet, luring him into a daze, urging him to turn and look at her.
And so, Mon-El did. "Kara," he said, trying to appear surprised. His brows raised, a fake smile struggling its way across his lips.
"Hey," she smiled back, "what are you doing out here? It's cold."
"Yeah, I know," he shrugged a shoulder. "I'm gonna go back inside, I just needed a moment."
"Are you okay?" She took a step closer.
"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"
She threw him a look, studying him. It was clear that she wanted to say something, but she held it back. A chuckle slipped out of her mouth instead. "I met your mother inside," she pointed a thumb behind her back, a grimace accompanying her words. "She still doesn't like me, does she?"
"Nah, not really," Mon-El shook his head, "but then again, she still doesn't really like me either, so..." he trailed off and the two shared a laugh. "What are you doing here?" he couldn't help but ask.
Kara stalled for a moment to fix the glasses atop her nose. "I, uh," she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, "I'm here with someone."
"Oh."
"Yeah. He was invited and he invited me to come with and... you know..."
Mon-El nodded in response. "So, how long are you back in town for?" he continued the small talk, the uneasiness growing within him as his thoughts were swarmed by past memories.
"I actually live here now. I moved back a few months ago."
Kara didn't move closer, didn't invade his space physically, but somehow she made him feel cornered. "Right. You said you're here with someone. It makes sense," he said, the original surprise turning into jealousy, despite the fact he didn't have a right to feel that anymore.
"What's that supposed to mean?" the blonde raised a brow at him.
"Nothing. Sorry," he apologized, although he didn't know what for.
"No, tell me. What was that supposed to mean? What makes sense?"
Mon-El noticed her getting frustrated, which would normally be a telltale to back off and walk away. During their last months together, Kara would get angry often, and they'd fight a lot, thus he'd learned to keep his distance. But now, even though his instincts told him it wasn't the time nor the place to antagonize her, her piercing gaze stirred the same frustration in him.
In reality, he wasn't frustrated. And he wasn't even jealous anymore. Different feelings had flooded him, one by one, as memories filled his head the longer Kara stood in front of him. Now he was angry and betrayed and sad, feeling the cracks of his broken heart grow wider and wider, each of her words and each of her looks undoing all the work he'd spent two years on. In just a few minutes and an unexpected appearance, she was undoing him as a whole and Mon-El didn't know how to keep himself together.
"What makes sense is that you moved back to be with your new someone. After all, I know better than anyone that you don't do long distance. Wasn't that why you left me? Or did you think that I would ever hold you back from going after your dream job just because it was on the other side of the country?" he told her and regretted every word before it had even left his mouth, but he couldn't stop.
"Oh my God," Kara took half a step back. "After all this time and you still have no idea," she threw her own words at him like an accusation and shook her head when he eyed her questioningly.
"Now, what is that supposed to mean?" Mon-El crossed his arms in front of his chest.
The blonde shook her head again. "I'm not doing this with you," she said and turned to leave.
"Yeah, okay, you're gonna leave again, aren't you? Go ahead, it's what you do, after all."
At that, she froze on the spot. Her hands were starting to shake due to her overwhelming emotions –not necessarily anger– and she took a deep breath in to calm herself down. "I didn't come here to fight with you," she said in an even tone.
"Then why the hell did you follow me out here? What did you think would happen? You and I, we've got history, the kind you can't just erase with a 'hi, how are you' and then go on your merry way. It doesn't work like that."
His stormy eyes had started to well with tears and she noticed. Why could she not notice? But the truth was that Kara was holding her own tears back too, because she was just as hurt as he was, even if he couldn't see it.
"I didn't think of anything. I just saw you and I couldn't not talk to you," she admitted. "It was clearly a mistake."
"No, it wasn't," Mon-El sighed, running his fingers through his hair. His demeanor changed completely. "I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean to. You just caught me off guard and I'm not having the best of days."
"I can see that." Kara's shoulders relaxed, her eyes filling with concern she didn't dare voice. "Can we start over? I haven't seen you in so long, the last thing I want is to fight with you."
"Yeah, okay, sure," he agreed and offered her a genuine smile this time. "May I?" he reached an arm out, going for a hug.
"Of course," Kara let a brief laugh out and walked into his embrace, which immediately enveloped her. It was definitely awkward but it was also gentle. It reminded her of old times, the good ones, though.
"How are you?" Mon-El asked her once they'd pulled apart.
"I'm good, really good, actually," she replied. "I got a job back at CatCo, Mrs Grant liked the articles I wrote for the 'DC News' and offered me a reporter's position in her team. That's why I moved back here."
"Wow, that's amazing. I'm really happy for you."
"Thank you," she said. "What about you? I've heard some rumors. You're stepping up as the vice president?"
"I'm considering it."
"That's good," Kara nodded. "Can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead," Mon-El said.
"Is this what you want?"
He went still at the question, his eyes narrowing. Until that point, there had been an invisible line they'd both been dancing along. They'd crossed it earlier, when things had gotten too serious and heated, but now, with that question, Kara hadn't simply crossed it — she'd jumped over it.
But instead of Mon-El allowing her to get too close, to play a part in his life she had no business playing anymore, he decided to do what he'd used to when they would have a fight. He decided it was better to back off and walk away. Because their history didn't matter anymore. The fact that Kara had once known him better than he'd known himself didn't apply anymore. And he couldn't let her do that to him; act like nothing had changed and she was still the one who could read him like an open book, asking things he hadn't even dared ask his own self.
"It is what I want," he told her with a nod. "We should go back inside," he prompted then, hinting at the fact he was done talking.
If she was being honest, Kara was done talking too, and not because she couldn't engage in further small talk or face the past. It was quite obvious that the two couldn't keep a normal conversation; they didn't know how to act like strangers who barely knew each other. And the more time passed, the longer they talked, the harder it became to ignore the tension between them.
The hug they'd shared earlier hadn't been a good idea. Touching, in general, should've been avoided. Because now Kara couldn't help craving another one. She wanted to get closer to him, erase the distance inch by inch until they breathed the same air. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her again, to feel his warmth and gentleness she'd been deprived of for too long.
"Hold on a second," she said, grinning, and used a finger to beckon him closer. "You can't go in like this. Your mother will freak out if she sees your tie."
"You think?" Mon-El chuckled, looking down.
"Let me fix it for you," Kara said and didn't wait for an answer. She reached out, pulling at Mon-El's tie and proceeded to finish the task. She could feel his eyes on her, though she didn't know if he was staring at her hands or her face. What she knew, however, was that being close and breathing the same air hadn't satisfied her at all. If anything, she craved even more now. So, when the tie was fixed and she looked up, their eyes meeting, she didn't hold back. She grabbed his collar with one hand, preventing him from pulling away and whispered: "Kiss me."
Mon-El hesitated. "You said you're here with someone," he spoke against her lips.
"But I didn't say we were together," she replied, "now will you kiss me or not?" a huff almost escaped her mouth but Mon-El muffled it with his own.
Right from the start, that wasn't a tame kiss. It was as desperate as it ought to be, as reckless as it ought to be, as hungry and instinctive and catastrophic. It sucked the air from their lungs and buried any inhibitions they might have had until that moment. And instead of calming them down and easing their yearning, it fueled their desire until that was all they knew. But what else had they expected? Two years was a long time to cover up for...