Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kara’s main miscalculation, in Cat’s opinion, was her assumption that people wanted to know her identity. That was where Kara’s naivety showed itself most. Like most young people her age, she assumed people wanted to know who she was, what she was like, how she lived her day to day life.

Cat knew better. She knew that couldn’t be further from the truth. No one really cared about knowing Supergirl’s identity - they wanted to look at her, consume her. They wanted to see Supergirl, wanted to gaze at her like all their other celebrity idols and Instagram crushes. They wanted her to live in pictures, in tiny videos on their iPhone screens, a clip of heroism devoured over lunch at their desks. They wanted to follow her, not know her.

Cat understood this, but she’d been avoiding it so far. While she had no problem slapping a name on this hero and publishing photos of her public battles, it would be an entirely different animal to have Kara sit down in the studio and pose for her. She considered the prospect now, sitting alone in her office, leafing through James Olsen’s shots. He captured action well. His itchy trigger finger, honed at the Daily Planet, caught all the right moments. But what his shots were missing was intimacy; they lacked the eyes of the hauntingly beautiful subject.

The world wanted to stare into the eyes of their hero, and for that to happen, Kara had to stare directly into her lens.

Professionally, she knew she should give the assignment to James. He could easily have Kara come in for some casual shots and give Cat plenty of decent options; a single portrait of the girl in red and blue would be front page material. But Cat felt oddly possessive of this opportunity, and she knew this wasn’t really Olsen’s forte. He could capture Supergirl while she was happening.

Cat could capture her while she was standing perfectly still.

 Monday morning, Kara was striding along behind Cat, giving her the usual informal morning briefing.

“So you have Smith at 11:15, but you should do your best to be done with him by 11:30 because you have lunch with Diane at 11:45. She’s usually early. This afternoon-”

As they passed through the doorway into her office, Cat turned so suddenly that Kara nearly crashed into her. She clutched her iPad to her chest and stepped back quickly, her mouth already open to apologize, but Cat stopped her.

“Kara. I’d like you to clear my afternoon,” Cat said.

“Of course, Miss Grant,” Kara said without pause. “Should I make sure you’re completely undisturbed after lunch, or will you still be taking calls?”

“Sit,” Cat said, and Kara was starting to look nervous. Kara moved to the left couch and sat as requested, her ankles crossed and her hands folded neatly in her lap, waiting expectantly for Cat to speak.

Cat began to pace slowly back and forth behind the second couch, gathering her thoughts on how she wanted this shoot to go.

“Kara, I’d like to set up some time this afternoon to see Supergirl ,” Cat began, and she arched an eyebrow at Kara. Kara nodded almost imperceptibly, acknowledging their secret. “You see, I think the world needs to see more of Supergirl.”

“Miss Grant, don’t you think the world sees a lot of her already? I feel like I’m - she’s - plastered all over every newspaper from here to Metropolis,” Kara said. “I wonder if overexposure is a bad thing here?”

“If we were talking about more shots of her pulling dogs out of floodwaters or rescuing careening school busses full of children, I’d agree with you,” Cat said sharply. She didn’t like being questioned before her ideas were fully formed. “But I’m not talking about that. I think the world needs to see Supergirl differently. I want her to come to my studio today and pose for me. For portraits. I want to publish the world’s first photo of Supergirl willingly posing for the shot.”

Kara looked a little taken aback, but she didn’t seem to hate the idea. “... you have a studio?” she asked, genuinely surprised to find out Cat Grant had a secret that Kara wasn’t already keeping. Cat smiled.

“I have a studio,” Cat confirmed. “Could you please arrange for Supergirl to meet me on the 14th floor at 2pm.”

It wasn’t a question, but then again, Cat’s demands never were.

Kara floated onto the 14th floor balcony right on time, and Cat was ready for her. She’d come down to 14 immediately after lunch to start preparations. She hadn’t invited anyone she cared about into her studio in a very long time.

Just like her office, everything was white and clean. Backdrops of various colors and textures rolled down from horizontal bars hanging from the ceiling, and a vast array of studio lighting equipment was set up against a white backdrop at the far end of the space. It was a huge open warehouse-style room, and floor to ceiling windows flooded the studio with afternoon sun.

On the other side of the room, a lone clothes rack was covered in mostly-empty hangers made of richly toned wood, though a few at the end held various tees, button down shirts, and dresses.

Cat was staring at the camera, her fingers manipulating the buttons to desired effect, adjusting the focusing ring on the lens. She had changed into jeans and an airy button-down shirt not unlike the ones on the clothes rack. She’d kicked off her heels an hour ago, and the concrete floor was cold against the soles of her feet.

“Don’t just stand there in the doorway, Supergirl. In or out,” Cat said.

After a few moments Cat looked up at her and smiled, and Kara met her gaze with a wary quirk of her lips. It was hard to read Kara when she donned the suit; it gave her a certain air of authority that had left Cat feeling unbalanced before. Now that the truth was out, she simply found it a fascinating contradiction in terms.

Cat turned to mess with one of the lightboxes and Kara stepped inside the room, the heels of her boots clicking loudly in the cavernous space.

“I’m here for my glamour shots,” Kara joked, and Cat laughed.

“Perfect. I’ll just call someone to tease your hair and apply the blue eyeshadow.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Kara said, looking around the room, looking anywhere but at Cat, her hands moving from her hips to crossed over her chest and then up to nervously tuck her hair behind her ears.

“First of all, relax,” Cat said. “I’ll tell you exactly what to do. Second, I need you to help me out with white balance and framing, so if you could just sit there,” Cat gestured to the stool nearest the white backdrop. “Let me see how the light hits the suit.”

Kara walked over and sat down, hooking the heels of her boots over the bottom rung of the stool. Kara clasped her hands in her lap, clearly unsure what to do with them.

Cat looked up at the scene in front of her. The studio umbrellas gave a pleasant white glow, highlighting the sparkle of Kara’s golden hair and pushing gentle shadows against her jawline. Even hunched in bad posture and glancing around anxiously, Kara was absolutely beautiful. She was so perfect that it almost hurt Cat to look at her, and Cat felt that familiar pull in her stomach. She brought the camera to her eye and snapped several shots from a few different angles. The click of the manual shutter was loud in the room.

“Film?” Kara asked.

“Old school,” Cat confirmed.

“How does it look?” Kara asked, full of uncertainty. Cat let the camera dangle at her neck and smiled.

“You look perfect,” she said.

Kara burst into a huge grin at the praise and Cat immediately lifted the camera and snapped another shot. Cat stalked toward her then and the smile dissolved from Kara’s face - whether in fear or something else, she couldn’t be sure. When Cat drew so close she was almost between her knees, Kara sat up a little straighter, gazing up into Cat’s face. Cat swung the camera to her side and, without asking for permission, ran both of her hands through Kara’s hair, mussing it gently. Kara’s eyes slipped closed at the contact and her lips parted ever so slightly.

Cat kept one hand tangled in the blond tresses, but with the other, she grabbed the camera and snapped another photograph, a beautiful close up with her own hand visible in the girl’s hair. That one she could never publish, but she had a feeling it would be one of her favorites. Kara’s eyes opened again at the sound, but she said nothing. If she minded Cat’s hands on her, it didn’t show.

Cat pulled back and swept the red cape a bit to Kara’s side. She backed up a few more paces and clicked the shutter again, but she was still unsatisfied.

“Kara, I know how this is going to sound,” she said. “But I’d like to see you take off the suit.”

Kara froze, and Cat wondered if she’d finally pushed one step too far. “You want me to be…” Kara looked down at her body and back up at Cat, fear evident in her eyes.

“No! God, no. Just… try this,” Cat said. She strode across the vast room to the clothing rack, plucked off a hanger with a simple oversized white t-shirt, and walked it back over to Kara. In a silent offer of privacy, she turned her back and fiddled more with the camera. She heard the thud of boots and rustle of heavy fabric. Even with her back turned, she had to close her eyes for a moment and focus on her breathing; Kara undressing just a few feet away was more difficult to ignore than Cat had anticipated.

“Okay, Miss Grant,” Kara said finally, and Cat turned around. Kara stood in front of the stool in just the baggy white t-shirt, her toned, smooth legs a distracting sight beneath it. She was barefoot now as well, and her suit and cape were puddled around her, spots of distinctive color in the otherwise white room. Her boots lay on their side at her feet. Her wavy blond hair cascaded down her shoulders. Kara shrugged with a small smile, waving both hands briefly in a dorky little greeting.

“Okay, sit,” Cat said. Kara obeyed. “Put one foot on the bar of the stool, and the other on the floor. And I’d like you to look at me like you want something, okay? Think of the thing you want most in this world. Take a minute to really think about it. Look right into the camera and tell me what you want with your eyes.”

Cat raised the camera again, focused, and waited. She could see emotions flitting across Kara’s face (confusion, worry, determination) and then the girl started to move. Kara slowly dragged one hand through her hair, down her neck, and finally let her palm rest against her own collar bone. She leaned forward at the waist, bit her lip gently, and shifted her legs ever so slightly while using her other hand to tug the white tee down between them, keeping herself covered.

Cat had forgotten to breathe, but she didn’t forget to press the shutter. That was the one. This was the Supergirl that National City would pay any price to see. She was open, vulnerable… human. She was wanting. This photo would leave them wondering what Supergirl was thinking about, just as Cat was wondering it now.

“That’s it Kara, that’s the one. We’ve got it.”

“That’s it?” Kara asked, surprised out of the quiet reverie of the shoot. She almost seemed disappointed.

“Yes, you’re done. I’ll leave you to change,” Cat said. “Thank you for doing this. I’ll let you have approval over the proofs.”

Cat slipped back into her heels and started to walk toward the door, but turned just as she reached the far end of the room.

“Kara?” she called.

“Yes, Miss Grant?”

“What is it that you want? What were you thinking of?”

Kara waited a moment, not sure she wanted to answer.

“Someone I can’t have,” she finally said.

Cat stared hard at her for a minute. “I doubt that,” she said. Then she pushed through the door and was gone.

The next day, Cat stood alone in her darkroom, staring at prints coming to life beneath the liquid. Kara’s beautiful eyes gazed at her from every photograph, staring into her and confusing her thoughts. Something about shooting Supergirl had torn her open from the inside, complicated things, and twisted her steady determination into something that felt vaguely like wanting. The whole point of the shoot had been to show the world a softer, unguarded side to the hero, yet Cat was the one who felt exposed.

She sighed. “Get a grip, Cat,” she muttered. Talking to herself probably wasn’t a great sign either.

She reached tongs into the liquid and pulled out a photo from the middle of the shoot, Kara grinning after Cat had told her she looked good. It was two seconds of praise, but the girl’s reaction was blinding happiness. She couldn’t think about that too closely. She hung the photo on the wire to dry and went along one by one, pulling the prints from the rinse.

When she got to the final shot, the one she knew she had to print in tomorrow’s paper, she stared at it nervously. It was exactly the shot that she’d intended to get - it was intimate, almost sexual. Even though Kara was staring directly into the camera, her eyes looked distant, almost lost. The grip of her hand on her shirt, the clothing on the floor. The photograph seemed… private.

Private was exactly what would sell newspapers. The outtakes of the shoot would send digital subscriptions through the roof. And as she planned to publish the photographs without credit, the entire world would be wondering who got Supergirl to take off her suit and pose for that shot.

Still, she couldn’t help her unreasonable wish not to share the shots with anyone. Maybe just one… the shot of her hand in Kara’s hair. That one would remain hers and hers alone.

Cat dumped the pile of photos on her coffee table in front of Kara, who stared down at them from the opposite couch.

“May I…?” Kara asked.

“Please do, that’s why I called you in here,” Cat said, her tone clipped.

Cat sat back and watched Kara’s face as she looked through her work. Kara smiled at a few and  skipped right over others. When she came to the white t-shirt shot, Kara slowed way down, examining the photograph.

“God, Miss Grant this is…”

“Too much?” Cat asked.

“No! No, it’s just… you’re really talented.”

“When you’re standing in front of someone who looks… how you look, it’s not hard to take a good photograph,” she said dismissively. Kara’s eyes immediately met hers over the top of the print.

“And how do I look?” Kara asked. It was direct and bold - it was a Supergirl question.

“Like you’re not even from this planet,” Cat said. Whether she saw through the answer or not, Cat couldn’t tell. Kara looked down at the photo again and Cat was relieved that she seemed willing to drop that line of questioning.

“I’d go with this one,” Kara suggested, handing the shot over to Cat.

“That’s the one,” Cat confirmed. “Send it down to layout and send the rest of these to digital. I want hi-res scans for the digital edition.”

“Yes, Miss Grant,” Kara said, but she didn’t move, and her expression was indecisive. She was stalling.

“Something else?”

“Ah yeah um… the closeup you took. The one where… the one with your hand in my hair,” Kara said.

If Cat didn’t know better, she would swear an earthquake just tilted the room. Internally, her mind raced and her stomach dropped.

Externally, she was carved from granite.

“What about it?”

“Was it... was it printed? I just was curious to see it. Did you toss it? Maybe it was a terrible shot, I mean because of my face, not because of your-”

As Kara rambled, time slowed down in Cat’s mind because she now had a decision to make. Kara wanted this photograph specifically, and had been brave enough to ask her for it directly. She should reward Kara for that kind of behavior. However, handing it over would tip Cat’s hand. Sure, she could tell Kara that she didn’t bother printing the photo because it was out of focus or otherwise unusable. She could deflect this entire situation. But at this point, did she want to? Kara had asked.

“Kara,” Cat interrupted. Kara immediately shut her mouth. Cat walked purposefully over to her desk and opened the top right hand drawer, the one where she kept her Lexapro and her keys and everything important. She glanced over at Kara and smirked, because Kara looked absolutely stunned. Cat pulled out the single print and handed it over.

“Is this the one you meant?” she asked. Cat knew very well that it was.

Kara’s eyes darted from the photograph to the drawer, to Cat, and back to the photo. Kara said nothing.

“Take it, it’s yours,” Cat said. “That’ll be all, Kara.”

Once Kara was gone, Cat allowed herself a rare moment of defeat and rested her forehead on her desk. She should have given this assignment to Olsen.

The next morning, Cat rolled in just past 7, her head throbbing and hangover in full effect. She’d hosted a one-woman pity party in her media room after Carter had gone to bed, drinking whiskey well past 2 while she stared blankly at old Grey’s reruns. But that was last night, and last night was done. This whole business with Kara and the photographs - that was done as well. She’d just keep telling herself that she did what needed to be done to get the shots. She would keep telling herself that and eventually, it would be the truth.

She was so early that the bullpen was empty, and she was relieved at that. She trudged into her office and dumped her bag on the desk, then opened the desk drawer to put away her sunglasses and keys.

She froze.

There on top of the other items in her drawer was the portrait of Kara, Cat’s own hand easily visible, her fingers threaded through blonde locks. It was tucked into a beautiful white frame, and there was a post-it note stuck to the edge.

“It seems like we both wanted this, so I made you a copy. X, Supergirl”

Chapter Text

The images of Kara as Supergirl hit the public eye like a hurricane, flattening everything in their wake and flooding every online news site. Over the next few days, Cat stood in front of her desk with her eyes glued to the monitors, watching her work float by. As much as she was used to seeing her machinations morph into headlines, this felt different.  Maybe it was because the photographs were her physical work, or maybe it was because of her relationship, whatever it was, with Kara.

CNN ran headlines about “Supergirl exposed,” “the girl behind the cape,” and “what Supergirl really wants.” Less reputable rags commented on legs that went on for days and made insinuations about white t-shirts and their usefulness in wet t-shirt contests. Cat gathered up every mention and headline in her mind as if scraping together justification after the fact. She was building a case, but for what, she didn’t know. For some reason she was still trying to convince herself that taking those photos was the right thing to do.

This irked her. In business, Cat Grant did not doubt herself. But down in some hidden realm of her heart, she knew she wasn’t doubting whether the photos were the right move for the paper or for Supergirl or even for National City. They loved their hero more than ever; she had cemented Supergirl’s place in the hearts of millions.

No, her doubts were darker. She doubted whether it was a good thing for her to have seen Supergirl that way —alone, obedient, disrobed. She doubted whether she should be trusted with that control—that intimacy. She didn’t have a good track record when it came to protecting delicate things and Kara, despite her bulletproof skin, was delicate. That delicacy was further compounded by the girl’s complete and utter belief that she was invincible. Cat was older and harder and she knew there existed more serious wounds than even Kryptonite could provide.

Cat tapped a fingernail absently on the back of the TV remote that dangled loosely in her right hand. She switched channels and restlessly tapped the remote against her hip bone, still staring at the images of Kara scrolling across the 24-hour news cycle.

“Miss Grant?” The voice of the girl she’d been staring at for the past 45 minutes floated past her ears. Cat didn’t turn, and she felt, more than heard, Kara walk up behind her. They both stood in silence staring at the screens for several seconds, contemplating this wave they’d dredged up together.

Her presence was like lead in the room, heavy and dense.

“What is it?” Cat snapped, crossing her arms in front of her.

Kara jolted a bit. That, that reaction right there, was the reason Cat Grant normally kept her distance from the girl.

“Supergirl wanted me to ask you… ask if you’d gotten her gift,” Kara asked.

Cat glanced over at her briefly. Kara knew damn well she had. Kara cleared off her desk at the end of each day, putting glasses back in their cases, sharpening pencils, and generally making everything perfect for her. She already knew the drawer had been emptied of the photograph.

Cat didn’t know what to do with this. She knew what Kara was really asking, of course. Did you like it? Did you mind? Did you notice that I’m perfectly fine with you having a private, intimate framed photograph of me half dressed, your hands in my hair, a photograph that you took?

Cat could hear the questions pouring out of Kara’s mouth, even though she’d stopped speaking what seemed like ages ago. Kara herself probably didn’t even know what she was getting at with this line of questioning.

This was Cat’s superpower. She could hear the questions no one else was asking out loud. That ability got her where she is today. It made her a better reporter than Lois Lane, but it also made her life unbearably difficult at times; in real life, if she was going to maintain any semblance of professionalism, she had to answer only the questions people wanted her to hear.

She foolishly hoped Kara wouldn’t speak of it again. It was understandable, though, that she hadn’t been able to avoid thinking about it. How could she, when Cat’s view of her was peering out from every available monitor? Winn had even made the photo his desktop background, for god’s sake.

“I got it,” Cat said simply.

“Oh,” Kara said, annoyingly crestfallen.

“I took it home, Kara,” she said, rolling her eyes at her own ridiculous willingness to coddle this sort of needy behavior.

Kara brightened a little. “Oh!” she squeaked, the same word sounding entirely different now under this new information. “...Oh.”

“You’re very articulate today,” Cat said with a derisive arch of her eyebrow.

Kara sighed but willingly moved on. “I also need to give you these,” Kara said, handing over a stack of files she’d clearly forgotten she was holding until that moment. As the two exchanged the folders, Cat glanced down at their hands, so close to one another but nowhere near touching. Kara’s nails were well-manicured but plain, nondescript, and simple. Looking at Kara’s hands, Cat stared, frozen.

It always bothered Cat when people described things as “like being struck by lightning.” Hardly anyone even knew what that felt like, and it seemed ridiculously dramatic to her. Cat’s ideas never came like lightning. Her best ideas had always felt more like she was passing through the eye of a storm — everything was suddenly quiet, still and clear.

Right now, standing there in her in her office staring at Kara’s hands, Cat felt like the wind had been sucked out of the room.

“I have an idea,” Cat said.

“Miss Grant, I think this is too dangerous after all,” Kara was arguing, but Cat wasn’t listening.

She was tweaking settings on her camera, going through them again and again. She was shooting digital this time, because the speed and precision required to get this shot would be massive.

She continued to ignore Kara’s protests as she put the camera aside and climbed onto the scaffolding again, its iron skeleton now filling nearly half of the room. The lighting setup for this shoot was significantly more complicated—she’d had crews in the studio day and night working on the lighting design. Her studio lights were now suspended from the ceiling, hanging around the center of the room in a circle high above the cement floor. But now they were alone, and the setup was nearly perfect.

Kara was still rambling. She’d been trying to refuse the shoot since Cat had fully outlined her plan, but Cat was having none of it.

“Kara, enough,” Cat interrupted, exasperated. “You agreed and you’re here so let’s just skip the worrying and the protectiveness and concentrate on making this look good. Besides,” she paused, arching an eyebrow. “At least you get to keep all of your clothes on this time.”

Kara seemed a little shocked at that, but to her credit, she recovered quickly. “I’d rather take my clothes off again than risk dropping you on this concrete floor!”

“You won’t drop me,” Cat said.

“How do you know?” Kara asked.

Cat was tired of this game. She climbed back down the scaffolding and skipped the last step, putting her bare feet back onto solid ground. She walked up to Kara with purpose, much like she’d done before she’d gone and fucked herself over completely by putting her hands in Kara’s hair. This time at least she had the sense to look without touching.

“I’m ordering you not to drop me,” she said. “And if there’s one thing I know you’re good at, it’s following my orders.” She held Kara’s gaze for a second too long, allowing herself to savor the moment before the tension grew too thick and she needed to walk away. She went back to her camera—her shield— it was the one thing she could put between herself and Kara in a futile attempt to dampen some of the sparks between them.

Cat surveyed the room. The lighting was aglow, filling the upper half of the room with light.

“Okay, push this scaffolding out of the way for me,” Cat said.

Kara said nothing, but she did as she was told. She put her weight behind the wood and metal structure and easily slid it across the floor away from the glowing ring of lights.

“Let’s give it a shot,” Cat said. She stood on the floor in the middle of the whole setup, and she made a lifting motion with her hand. “Up,” she commanded.

Kara sighed and floated into the air, hovering at a height just barely taller than Cat. Cat stared up at her and reached out with her left hand, crooking her finger into a come-hither gesture. She gripped the camera tightly in her right.

Kara floated forward so she was nearly horizontal and reached out with her right hand and gripped Cat’s left tightly. She tried to execute the move just as they’d discussed; with barely any effort at all, Kara held Cat’s hand firmly and tugged, pulling the two of them up toward the ceiling and into the center of the suspended lights.

When Kara floated them into position, Cat previewed the framing for the shot on her camera’s LCD screen. “A little higher,” she said, and Kara floated up. If Cat Grant had any reservations or complaints about being dangled 20 feet in the air in an empty warehouse on a Friday evening, she wasn’t expressing them.

“Okay,” Cat said. “Like we talked about. On three, drop us down just a little so the cape billows.”

She had the camera on burst mode, each press of the shutter capturing dozens of images from her perspective, looking up, her hand grasped tight in Supergirl’s, the hero hovering above her mimicking a rescue. They repeated the float-and-dip over and over until Cat’s wrist started to ache, and finally Kara lowered them back to the ground so Cat could review the shots.

The photographs were amazing, but they didn’t truly capture what she had in mind when she planned this shoot. Kara wasn’t going to like her next suggestion.

“Okay, last one. This time I want you to actually drop me and catch me.” Cat threw Kara a little smirk, mischief in her eyes.

“Miss Grant, no,” Kara shook her head vigorously. “...no!”

“If you don’t, I’ll walk to the top of Catco with my camera and jump.”

“Goddamnit Cat, that isn’t funny.”

That stopped her, at least for a minute. She hadn’t heard Kara use her first name in all the time she’d known her, and she’d certainly never heard the girl use profanity. It rubbed against Cat’s insides like a pleasant ache.

“Just give me one shot at it,” Cat said, and it was definitely a request instead of a demand. She’d hoped to hold onto this card for something drastic, but they were here and they were so close to getting the shot she wanted. “If I don’t get it, I’ll call it and we’ll be done.”

Cat knew Kara wanted to continue this line of argument, but was surprised to find she didn’t pursue it. “I’m not dropping you and then trying to catch you with only one hand. It’s too risky; there’s not enough space between here and the floor. If we’re going to try this, we do it my way,” Kara proposed.

“Fine,” Cat agreed, but Kara’s tone was a missed warning that the tables were beginning to turn.

Without pretense, Kara hooked one arm around Cat’s waist and lifted her. God, Cat had not thought this through. She had not thought it through at all. Now she was well and truly fucked, because she wasn’t in control of this anymore. She started this with the intention of showing the world what it looked like to be rescued by Supergirl, but now Supergirl had her. Kara had her. She had her 20 feet in the air, without a safety net, pressed against her body. Cat was cold with fear, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she was about to be dropped into a free fall.

Her heart raced and she knew that to Kara’s superhuman ears, it must sound like thunder in the room. She was in the most dangerous position of her life and it was because she was going to fall and this soft-hearted girl was going to catch her.

Kara tilted them until they were nearly laying horizontal together in the air, one arm still curved securely around Cat’s waist. Cat held the camera in her right hand, her left curled around Kara’s shoulders. From her vantage point above her, Kara was staring down into her eyes. Cat hooked one leg around Kara’s to steady herself, and Kara grinned.

“Are you ready?” Kara asked, and Cat could barely stand to blink for want of looking at her.

Moderating her breathing was taking every ounce of energy Cat had left. She could feel every curve and plane of the girl’s body and her own traitorous libido kicked up a riot inside her.

“Get on with it,” she said, but her voice didn’t have the bite she intended. She gripped the camera tightly, the wrist strap secure.

“One, two,” Kara counted. “Three.”

Cat pressed the shutter as she felt three seconds of free fall. She kept it pressed, the camera collecting shot after shot of each moment faster than any human could, and she let it shoot a few more as Supergirl dove down, caught her, and pulled her up. The whole thing took maybe 4 or 5 seconds, but Cat felt like she’d been in the air with Kara for a lifetime. Kara floated them slowly to the ground, Cat still catching her breath.

As soon as her feet hit the floor, she stepped away, desperate for distance. She retreated behind the camera again and hit playback to review her photographs. The final shot filled the screen and Cat couldn’t stop staring at it. Kara had already caught her, and her golden hair was fanned out behind her in a beautiful halo. Her cape billowed up perfectly, flowing gently in flight. The coat of arms was on full display and Cat’s arm was visible, slightly blurred from the motion of being slung desperately around Supergirl’s neck. Her face stared down at Cat with a beautiful expression of determined concern.

She could almost hear the questions jumping off the screen. Are you okay? Was that too much? Maybe I shouldn’t have let you fall? Can we do that again?

The answer to every single question was “yes.”

Chapter Text

The occasional shuffling of paper was the only sound in the room. Cat and Kara sat opposite each other on the twin couches in Cat’s office as the National City sunset gave way to dusk and then darkness. A time lapse of light and shadow played across the floor as the building eventually emptied around them; they sat in silence for hours, concentrating wholly on the task in front of them.

The magazine was a mess. And yes, Cat always said it was a mess when she saw the initial layouts and fashion spreads for each issue, but this time Cat wasn’t just criticizing the editorial team to see how far she could push them. The editor-in-chief had flamed out two weeks ago with spectacular flourish, screaming “fuck you, Cat Grant, you bitch!” as she was escorted off the premises. No, this was an actual mess; the remaining magazine staff had given her almost nothing. There was no cover story, the seasonal wardrobe piece was dismal, and the accompanying article was even worse.

Cat dropped the drafts to the table and took off her glasses, staring down at her lap as she massaged the bridge of her nose with her fingers. She stared up at the ceiling to stretch her neck, rolling her shoulders back, desperately trying to remember the last time she’d left before sundown. Though Kara tried to maintain her appearance of diligent productivity, Cat could feel the girl’s eyes on her.

“What?” Cat snapped.

“You’re tired,” Kara said, her sincerity riling Cat’s nerves.

“If you’re going to speak, you should have a point in mind before you begin,” Cat said, picking up the layout proofs again. She perched her glasses back on her face as she took another sip of her latte.

Kara sighed and squirmed a little in her seat, smoothing down her skirt and tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear.  

“I have an idea,” Kara said, more boldly this time, her back set a little straighter as she spoke.

Cat glanced up and met her eyes briefly, noting the uncertainty there before looking back down at her work.

“Out with it,” Cat said.

“No one will care about anything else in this issue if Supergirl is on the cover,” Kara said, the words leaving her in a rush of earnest hope.

Cat didn’t know what she’d expected her to say, but it definitely was not that. Kara got up from her couch and walked around the table, wringing her hands nervously in front of her. Kara was energy personified; she was lightning in a bottle. She sat down close, too close for Cat’s comfort. Cat leaned back, her outward expression one of light disgust.

“If this is your big play for getting into fashion modeling, I’m underwhelmed,” Cat said.

Cat knew that the things Kara chose to ignore often revealed more than the things she acknowledged. She employed that tactic now, sidestepping Cat’s attempt at deflection.

Kara sighed again, quieter this time, and her hands stopped their nervous motion. She reached out one hand very slowly, as if she might startle Cat away. Cat simply stared, unable to understand what was about to happen but equally as unable to move away from it. With a lighter touch than Cat thought possible, Kara grasped the edge of Cat’s glasses and slipped them slowly off her face, folding them gently in her lap.

“Let’s go down to the studio,” Kara said simply.

Cat’s synapses were firing inside her head the way she imagined other people might react in times of drastic crisis. An earthquake, or perhaps a ship sinking rapidly into the deep, might cause someone the same amount of reckless fear she was feeling at this moment.

She knew Kara could see the hesitation and Cat found that unbearable. She didn’t do indecisive. In her normal course of dealing with other people, the moment she paused was the moment another person had the jump on her. But as usual, Kara’s reaction was undeniably perfect.

Kara set the glasses down on the coffee table and reached both hands up behind her own head. Cat stared, uselessly mute as Kara closed her eyes and moved her fingers along her scalp. She slipped bobby pins out of her hair, setting them on the table as well, her hands deftly undoing the tight braid she’d arrived with that morning. When her hair was free, she tangled both of her hands in it and shook it out, golden waves falling against her shoulders with enviable ease. Her eyes finally opened and met Cat’s, not shy in the least.

She knew. Cat knew then that Kara absolutely knew the effect she was having on her, and Kara had never seemed more dangerous.

“See?” Kara said. “Instant Supergirl hair.” She smiled that megawatt grin, the one that colored her cheeks and made her eyes squint with happiness.

The lighthearted tone of her joke finally allowed Cat the air she needed to breathe, and she stood up quickly.

“You know you’ll have to change,” Cat said. “That sweater is horrible.”

Kara stood up to follow her, her eyes alight with something dark and unpredictable. “I’ll wear whatever you want me to, Miss Grant.”

Kara’s compliant offer still hung in the air between them like smoke as the elevator ding rang out through the empty bullpen. Cat immediately realized she hadn’t fully considered the impact of walking into an enclosed space alone with someone so attractive she could melt sand into glass without using a single superpower.

Cat avoided eye contact with Kara and kept her gaze locked on the floor numbers as they ticked down one by one. She tried to focus on staying grounded in her own body; she felt the pinch of her Manolo Blahnik heels, impractical and brutally gorgeous. She felt the weight of her camera bag slung over one shoulder, the slide of her necklace against her skin.

When the numbers hit 15, Kara turned and hit the emergency button with a little more force than was necessary. She spun around to face Cat, her hair flying with the motion and her back pressed against the panel. She looked like she was deciding whether or not to base jump off of a waterfall.

“Kara, don’t,” Cat said, her tension palpable.

Kara ignored her and took one step, then two. Cat was backed against a wall, but then again, she had been up against this wall since the moment Kara first agreed to pose for her. Kara gingerly reached down and took one of Cat’s hands in hers, staring at it in wonder as if she’d found something she thought she’d lost. She looked into Cat’s eyes and brought Cat’s hand up to her face, smoothing the palm against her cheek, then dragging Cat’s hand into her hair. Cat closed her eyes, her self-control nearly gone.

“Don’t... because you don’t want me? Or don’t because we shouldn’t?”

Cat opened her eyes and gave her a hard stare, a little angry that Kara would presume to ask her either question. As usual, it was Cat’s temper that was her downfall.

With a heedless disregard for consequences, Cat tightened her grip in that silky blonde hair just enough for Kara to feel a little tug, and Kara came visibly undone in front of her. Kara’s arms fell loosely to her sides in delicious submission, her eyes slipped closed, and her mouth dropped open in an unmistakable wanton display of pleasure.

“Cat, yes,” she whispered, and she tilted her head ever so slightly, offering herself.

Cat leaned forward, her body coiled tightly under white-knuckled control, ready to spring. She was done. With those two simple words, Kara had quietly confessed her desire into the negligible space between them. All the walls Cat had built, the brutal defenses designed to prevent this very misstep, were now crumbling.

She was still holding Kara’s hair firmly in her grip when the buzz of the intercom sliced through the heat in the elevator like ice water being poured over flames. Cat dropped her hand from Kara’s hair as if she’d been burned.

“Elevator 3, this is security, are you in need of assistance?” a disembodied voice asked.

“We’re - I’m fine,” Cat barked. “Everything’s fine.”

Careful not to touch her again, Cat reached behind Kara and slapped at the panel of buttons and the elevator jolted back into motion. As Cat pulled back, Kara’s eyes blinked open and she gave Cat a disappointed little smile.

Cat Grant had underestimated many things in her lifetime (though she would never admit to any of them), the greatest of which was Supergirl. Cat took a shaky breath as the elevator doors opened and she realized Kara Danvers may have just stolen the top spot on that list from her alter ego.

Chapter Text

As the elevator doors slid open on 14, Cat could feel the trapped tension exhale outward from the enclosed space like dance-floor fog slipping out around her feet. She tried to recall a time when she didn’t have to wonder if she could control her hands around Kara. Now, that worry settled heavy in her stomach each morning as regularly as the sun rose.

Cat strode quickly past Kara out into the open space of the studio.

“Cat—” Kara began, following close behind her. But before Cat could interrupt wherever this conversation was surely leading, Kara stopped herself mid-sentence. Cat turned to look at her and Kara’s face had a far-away gaze. Her brows were creased in concern, and she tilted her chin down ever so slightly, listening hard. “I’m on it,” she said, and Cat could tell from the clipped tone that Kara was no longer speaking to her.

Cat crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Sounds like that’s your cue.”

Kara looked vaguely regretful at the interruption; the shadows of the still-darkened studio playing across her face, but her resolve was firm. Cat knew someone out there needed her.

Kara whirled into action, quick-changing right before Cat’s eyes. Seeing this tornado of movement up close was impressive, but for Cat, watching Kara become her alter ego had absolutely nothing to do with clothes or hair or even the cape. It was in her beautiful dark eyes, now turned a little harder. It was crafted in the set angle of her jawline and solidified by the straightening of her posture. It was as if Kara was suddenly inhabited by Supergirl; she was a woman possessed by her own strength. And as Cat stood there watching the transformation unfold, she was possessed herself—transfixed by the duality and equally infatuated with both sides of the coin.

As always, Cat’s reckless emotional attachment to the moment only existed like hidden waves beneath the surface of a frozen lake. She stood perfectly still, her expression giving nothing away. Kara spun to a stop more gracefully than seemed possible and she met Cat’s eyes.

“I guess the shoot will have to wait, unfortunately,” Kara said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Cat said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Go. Besides, I think I’ve changed my mind about the story I want to tell with this shoot. I need to make some preparations. I have an idea.”

“The last time you said you had an idea, I ended up in here in nothing but a t-shirt,” Kara teased, her smile less Supergirl and all Kara now.

“That issue sold over 750,000 copies in its first two weeks, but I think we can top that. Besides, don’t worry, your purity will remain intact. I plan to have you in full Super-suited glory for this one,” Cat said, gesturing casually at the red and blue.

Kara took a deliberate step forward into Cat’s personal space and Cat leaned away imperceptibly.

“I’m not all that concerned with my purity, Miss Grant,” Kara said.

With more physical confidence than her eyes showed, she leaned in and touched her lips to Cat’s cheek. Cat’s eyes fluttered closed and her mind went frustratingly blank—she no longer remembered what she was doing here or why she was standing in this room, in this building, on this planet. All she experienced in that instant was Kara’s soft, warm lips brushing gently against her face, then with a bluster of breeze, Kara was gone.

Later that evening, Cat avoided thinking too closely about Kara’s chaste kiss the best way she knew how—she threw herself into the execution of her plan and started making calls. When the idea for the shoot first bubbled up into her consciousness, Cat was reluctant to turn her private studio into the three ring circus necessary to pull off her plan. But the idea was too brilliant, and Cat Grant never let anything get in the way of a good story—not even preserving the sanctity of one of the only places left in National City she felt was solely her own.

When Cat saw Kara next, it was 24 exhausting hours later. Cat stood in the middle of her studio like a maestro conducting a messy symphony; what was yesterday a private sanctuary for just the two of them was now exploding with bustling energy.

Along one side of the room, rows and rows of racks with expensive clothing lined the wall. Nearby, craft services had set up pricy coffee machines and trays of pastries. Photography equipment was everywhere and cords for the lighting setup criss-crossed along the floor. Two gaffers fiddled with power supplies for some of the equipment and two more stood on ladders, adjusting tall fill lights designed to mimic a skylight. Assistants scurried past, fetching coffee, swapping lenses, and unpacking camera equipment. James Olsen stood in the far corner, talking with two associate directors from the art department.

Against the furthest wall, what had once been a simple white backdrop with a wooden stool was now completely transformed. It looked like the set of a movie—Cat had built an entire bedroom in her studio, perfectly appointed and looking deliciously lived-in. The bed was covered in layers upon layers of crisp white sheets and down comforters, and piled high with perfect fluffy pillows. Along the right side of the bed, the comforter draped casually down to the dark floor, just touching the ground. It looked as if someone had just gotten up on a lazy Sunday morning.

Cat heard the telltale heavy step of Supergirl’s boots as she entered through the balcony door, and she turned in time to delight in Kara’s expression as she approached the set. The girl looked amazed.

“Wow,” Kara said, looking around at the ongoing work in crowded the room.

Cat stared at her, looking her up and down quickly. Kara looked like an utter wreck and she seemed tired as hell. Her suit was scratched, ripped, and dirty, and her hair was a complete mess. Her face held smudges of dirt and maybe— was that blood?

“What the hell happened?” Cat asked, her eyes conveying the concern that her words lacked.

That brought Kara’s attention back to Cat. “I’m fine,” Kara said. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“I see,” Cat said, unconvinced. This was a far cry from the perfect creature who’d leaned in and stolen a kiss last night, but Cat was relieved to see her none the less. “Good, because we have work to do.”

“Hair and makeup!” Cat barked sharply, and a girl with a cosmetics case the size of a small carry-on suitcase came running at full speed. Kara glanced over at her and nodded once in greeting.

“Yes, Miss Grant! Ready!” the girl answered, then turned to Kara. “Hello Miss… Miss Supergirl.”

The makeup artist looked terrified, which Cat took as a good sign that this shoot would go well. These types of productions usually went best if everyone involved was frightened of the art director, and James’ title aside, today’s show was all hers.

“Fix this ,” Cat said, gesturing to Kara’s face. She considered a moment more. “But not the hair. Clean up the… debris,” she said, eyeing a leaf still tangled there, “but leave it messy .”

On that last word, her eyes met Kara’s and the spark she’d tried so hard to leave back in the elevator leapt into flames again. The corner of Kara’s mouth twitched and finally quirked into a little smile. The makeup girl immediately got to work with some cotton pads, cleaning the smudges from Kara’s skin. Even with another person between them, Cat could hear the quiet unspoken questions. Do you like my hair messy? Do you like it when it’s messy because of you? Did you mind it when I kissed you?

Overwhelmed by the electricity of their connection, Cat turned and walked away, passing James as he strode up to say hello to Kara.

“10 minutes everyone!” Cat yelled into the room, and the already frantic pace increased around her. She grabbed an outfit off the rack and left the studio to change.

When Cat reentered the room, Kara was sitting at the end of the bed, legs crossed and laughing at something James was saying. She looked much more relaxed than when she’d first arrived, despite the crowd of people surrounding her. Three set designers were hovering around fluffing pillows, re-draping the blankets, and nudging the background set pieces into place in alignment with Cat’s previous directions. James stood with camera in hand, at ease and seemingly ready to get to work.

To Cat’s perverse pleasure, when she approached, Kara immediately turned away from James even though he was mid-sentence. Cat noticed how Kara’s eyes dropped to her extremely slim-fitting black skirt. Kara met her eyes again with some difficulty, but this time they were less mirthful and a little more dangerous.

“Anyway,” James trailed off. “Should we get started?”

“Is anyone going to tell me what I should be doing?” Kara asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“That’ll be me, darling,” Cat said before James could speak. “And I need you to get in bed.” Kara’s eyes snapped to Cat’s, her eyes bright with amusement.

James glanced between the two of them. “I’m gonna check the lights,” he said, and he was off to the working side of the set.

Now that they were “alone” (as alone as they could be with the army of people working around them in the room) Kara rested her hands behind her on the bed and leaned back a bit. She shook her hair at Cat, moving it off her shoulders and tilting her head back to let it hang freely behind her.

“Well, what do you think? How do I look?” Kara asked with a smirk. Cat narrowed her eyes at the vague attempt at flirtation. The girl was getting too confident for her own good in this area, but as always, Cat gave her leeway. Why wouldn’t she be confident? Cat remembered what nearly happened in that elevator, and she knew Kara wasn’t as naive as she wanted to believe.

“A lot less dirty than before,” Cat said, one eyebrow quirked. “Now, like I said, up by the pillows please. Chop chop.”

Kara bounced off the edge of the bed with natural athletic ease and stood, stretching her arms above her. As she walked toward the left side of the bed, she leaned close to Cat as she passed, tilting her head to Cat’s ear. “I knew you’d be bossy in bed,” Kara said with a little smile.

“Jesus, Kara,” she said quietly, and she turned away from her to address the rest of the room. The dozens of staring faces served as an excellent reminder of why she shouldn’t grace Kara’s flirting with a response.

“SET DRESSING!” she barked over her shoulder, and two assistants came running. Kara looked like Cinderella surrounded by helpful mice - the girls were flitting around spreading her hair against the pillow and arranging the covers just so.

“This is the easiest work I’ve done all week,” Kara mumbled, the treacherous flirtation gone from her voice as she sighed happily from her spot on the luxurious pillows. Kara looked fairly pleased, and Cat warmed a little at the idea that the girl might relax with her here under these bright lights with all of this busy attention surrounding them.

The set assistants finished settling Kara in the bed and stepped back from the staging area.

“That will be all,” Cat dismissed them.

She finally took a minute to survey the results of the hard work which was now laid out in front of her in perfect detail. The room was flawless, but the gorgeous set held nothing against the sight of Kara splayed out in that bed. She was undeniably beautiful. Cat’s business acumen always told her that beauty sells, and it was the truth. But Kara was otherworldly in both the literal and figurative sense; beauty didn’t even begin to cover it. The red and blue were shockingly stark against the white and Cat knew they would draw the eye immediately.

Though the entire setup was designed to make the viewer imagine Supergirl in bed, Cat hadn’t really allowed herself the liberty until just now. Her traitorous mind dredged up images of her richly appointed bed in her own apartment, and she consciously slowed her breathing. Her mind was racing with thoughts she was trying to tamp down.

Cat thought of an old trick she learned from an astute professor back in college. When she’d had trouble calming her mind and regaining focus, he’d told her to stop fighting her thoughts. “Allow yourself just 5 seconds, Catherine,” he’d said conspiratorially in his distinctive Russian cadence. “5 seconds for your thoughts to fly, unhindered, then they’ll set you free and you can get back to work.” She closed her eyes momentarily.

One. Kara in her apartment, comfortable, happy, at ease. Leading Kara down the dark hallway toward her massive bedroom, no longer having to hide her intentions.

Two. Kara backed against the bed until the backs of her thighs touched Egyptian cotton, then sinking down onto the mattress, giving in.

Three. Kara naked sprawled on her sheets.

Four. Kara writhing, clutching her dark down comforter, out of control.

Five. Waking up to Kara sleeping next to her.

If that professor was still alive, she would track him down and murder him herself.

She opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and walked toward the head of the bed. She sat down beside Kara carefully so as not to mess up her hair or makeup.

Cat angled her body toward Kara and reached out to run a single fingertip tenderly along her forehead, over her eyebrow, down her cheek and over the outer shell of her ear. It was an unfulfilling substitute for the desires swirling inside her, but it would have to do. Her movements were small and careful because other people were watching. She shouldn’t be doing this at all, but here they were. Kara was staring up at her from the pillow, her eyes wide and her body still. She never took her eyes off of Cat.

Cat was touching Kara’s face as if it were the first time she’d ever seen it. She had resisted the luxury of touching her for so long; she’d put Kara on the other side of a line she would not cross.

But now—under the white heat of the studio lights, in a fake bed with dozens of onlookers around to keep her from doing something too stupid—Cat felt her willfully-frozen heart melt a little and her affection for the girl bled out into the open. She moved her hand to rest against Kara’s shoulder and sighed, something wrenching open painfully inside her.

“I like it when you touch me,” Kara said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” Cat responded softly, and as she pulled her hand away from Kara’s arm, her body slumped a little in resignation.

“That disappoints you?” Kara asked. She was so goddamned sincere. Cat knew every word that came out of her mouth was truthful and honest and good.

This was not the time to have this talk, huddled together on a bed in the middle of the most elaborate shoot Cat had ever staged for the magazine; James was barely out of earshot and a dozen other people were waiting for her command. But she couldn’t help being tempted to broach the subject now—something about sitting under the lights created a little bubble of intimacy that was spurring her forward. Of course, it was that very same “bubble of intimacy” effect Cat was counting on to make this photograph sensational.

Cat leaned closer, touching the end of a blonde strand of Kara’s hair as she spoke, her voice low. “There are lot of reasons I shouldn’t.”

Kara stared at Cat’s fingers as they played with her hair against the crisp white linens. Cat was overwhelmed by the heavy weight of the few words they’d spoken, but her expression was stoic. She could see Kara thinking, processing, her face flitting almost indiscernibly through a catalogue of emotional responses.

“Cat? We need you in place,” James interrupted from behind the monitors.

Kara’s expression cleared and now her eyes were questioning. “Wait,” she said. “You’re in the shot with me?”

Cat grinned, her delight in her own brilliant idea overshadowing the tension from their previous moment. “I am,” Cat said. “I think you’re going to like the headline.”

“Oh god, what is it?” Kara looked adorably apprehensive.

Cat stood, the bed shifting slightly as she moved. She pulled herself into perfect posture and smoothed out her skirt, then mussed her own hair ever so slightly. She smiled down at Kara, then turned and walked over to sit down at the end of the bed.

“Okay everyone,” she commanded loudly. “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Text

It took almost an entire week, but the lingering ghosts of people who had occupied Cat’s studio finally seemed to evaporate, and she was relieved when silence returned to the room like a blanket settling over her. The cover was a massive success, of course—850,000 newsstand copies and counting. Nearly two million people would hold the photo in their hands by the end of the week.

Eager for privacy that her fishbowl office wouldn’t allow, Cat had come down to her studio’s makeshift editing bay to browse the titillating news coverage from the shoot. She stared at a digital image of the magazine cover splashed over Gawker’s homepage.

“In Bed With Supergirl: How Cat Grant Scored the Source of the Century”

The bold red letters were a nice touch. In the photograph, Cat sat posed at the end of the bed clad all in dark tones against the contrast of white sheets. She had a smirk on her face that she couldn't remember putting there, but she supposed James did have some talent after all. She looked pretty damn pleased with herself, and why not? Lounging behind her, draped against pillows and clad in the coat of arms of the House of El, was the most powerful girl in the world.

Cat was still relieved Kara hadn't killed her for this stunt. But most of all, she was relieved she’d made it through another week without taking this thing with Kara to someplace irreversible.

Cat knew she’d set it in motion herself. She’d touched Kara, and in doing so she started a chain reaction that couldn’t be undone. And what had the indulgence gotten her, really? A few moments of fingertips on skin? The direct knowledge of what Kara’s hair felt like tangled in her fingers?

She tried to convince herself it was inconsequential, but deep down she knew those moments were pieces of shrapnel that would forever live buried next to her heart, threatening her peace. She would exist for the rest of her life knowing that if she shifted a certain way, or saw Kara wearing the right thing in a certain cast of light, the memory of barely touching her might slip into Cat’s bloodstream and destroy her.

Cat dropped her glasses to the desk and put her face in her hands momentarily, allowing the weight of the situation to press down against her, suffocating and deep. She deserved to feel these uncomfortable consequences; this longing was something she brought on herself. She rubbed her weary eyes and blinked, her vision blurred momentarily as she stared at Kara staring back at her from the monitor.

She looked at the photographs and vowed to drop her maudlin thoughts. The cover was selling, and more importantly, it was generating buzz. It would solidify her position in the race to cover the world’s apparently growing population of alien defenders, plus it would bolster Catco’s reputation as serious competitor to the Daily Planet. This would not be the first time Cat Grant turned a dangerous situation into a hefty journalistic payoff.

The studio was dark except for the glow of her monitor and the soft light of the small lamp from the set’s bedside table. As she flipped through photo after photo of her and Kara together, Cat felt a rush of wind and a flutter of fabric, then suddenly the reflection of the very real warm-blooded girl stared back at her against the screen. Cat spun in her chair then stood, startled and half thinking she was hallucinating the sight.

“Jesus, Kara,” Cat whispered, unintentionally echoing her previous words as she leaned back against the desk in relief, half sitting against the white surface. She gripped the edge of the table with one hand and lifted the other to her forehead, calming herself. Kara smiled warmly at her. If she thought anything odd about Cat down here in the dark looking at photos of her, the expression on her face didn't give it away.

Cat crossed her arms over her chest, gathering up her defenses.

“You’re working late,” Kara observed, glancing around at the empty room, her cape swaying gently as she moved. Her eyes lingered briefly on the messy bed, the bedside lamp casting a focused spotlight in the otherwise dark room. “It looks so different now,” she observed quietly, “with everyone gone but you.” When she turned to meet Cat’s eyes, Kara wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Cat.”

“Kara, I know that—” Cat began, but the situation was too far gone.

Kara stopped her words by stepping into her personal space, one knee slipping between two of Cat’s. She reached up with agonizing slowness and grasped Cat’s elbows gently. Her arms were still crossed protectively in front of her, but Kara eased them loose and ran her hands from Cat’s shoulders all the way down to her delicate wrists. With a gentle pull, Kara brought Cat’s unsteady hands up to rest against her waist.

Cat closed her eyes. She added this moment to her collection of hundreds of other tiny little disasters with Kara standing at their epicenter. She could feel Kara’s muscles move under her hands, her obliques powerful and strong as Kara lifted her arms to gently rest them on Cat’s shoulders, hands clasped behind Cat’s neck.

Kara leaned in slowly and brushed her face so close that Cat could feel the girl’s eyelashes tickle her cheekbone. Her hair smelled like honey and lavender, and Kara’s nose lightly nuzzled Cat’s ear as she spoke softly.

“I know you want me, Cat,” she said, and Cat knew then that every god in this universe and the next was completely devoid of mercy. Cat gripped her waist harder, her hands giving away a truth that she wished could remain unconfirmed.

“I do,” Cat admitted. What was the use in denying it now, when she was so clearly gone?

“Mmm,” Kara hummed softly in pleasure, her body pushing closer, leaving Cat very little space for plausible deniability. She barely had room now to take a breath without her chest brushing Kara’s. “Why do you keep fighting it?”

“Because I don’t want what you want, Kara,” Cat snapped, and it rushed out into the room more harshly than she’d intended. Kara pulled back to look at her, curious but unscathed.

“How do you know what I want?” she said simply. “You’ve never even asked me.”

She was right - Cat hadn’t asked. She had assumed, like most would, that someone like Kara ( whatever “like Kara” meant ) would want romance. Flowers. Lightness, brevity, and weekend beach trips. Someone like Kara deserved a life. Cat had nothing but work. Deadlines. Late nights and early mornings, control issues and coffee addiction. Cat had everything at her disposal but the one thing Kara should have—softness.

“Fine,” Cat said exasperated and tired from the strain of resisting this. She closed her eyes again, her hands sliding lower on Kara’s hips of their own volition. “Tell me then. Tell me what you want.”

Kara pressed closer again, seemingly emboldened by proximity. It was as if she could feel Cat’s desire for her; at the very least, she could probably hear it. Cat’s heart, threatened by the magnitude of this moment, was beating a thousand miles a minute inside her ribcage.

“You think I’m looking for something else, something you can’t give me,” Kara told her. “But I’m looking for exactly what you can give me.”

Cat’s eyes opened wide, staring at Kara’s soft expression. Kara dropped one arm and placed her hand over one of Cat’s at her waist. With barely any pressure at all, she dragged Cat’s left hand up her hip, across her flat stomach, and over her ribs. She stopped just short of her goal, Cat’s thumb just barely brushing the underside of a firm breast.

“You don’t need to fight it anymore,” Kara said, her fingers playing at the base of Cat’s neck now. “I know all the ways you want to own me, Cat. I know it, and I want it too.” Their eyes locked and Cat had no idea what to say. “What I'm telling you is…” Kara faltered for a moment, and she seemed to be looking for delicate words.

“I'm telling you that you don't need to be gentle. Not with me. You can't be, but I don't need you to be. With your words, or…” Kara trailed off as she glanced down between them. “...with your hands.”

And there it was out in the open, this thing they had been pressed up against. Kara had been flirting with it and Cat had been running from it, refusing to give it light or air or water in the hopes that it wouldn’t grow. But even starvation couldn’t kill Cat’s desire, and now that she had opened the floodgates, she couldn't let this go.

Cat froze, her hand dangerously near Kara’s breast and her heart in her throat. If Cat had been forced to describe what was happening inside her head at that moment, she wasn’t sure she could paint a clear picture. Whatever she’d been resisting—whatever fears she’d harbored about Kara’s age, her innocence, her delicate heart - all collapsed in on themselves after Kara’s admission. It felt like the inward gust of an atomic detonation right before everything pressed outward and laid waste to the landscape.

Cat’s resistance snapped as her hand pushed upward, sliding along the rough blue fabric.

She took the pleasing weight of Kara’s breast into her palm, and in the same second she let her right hand glide through Kara’s hair and down a bit toward the nape of her neck, gripping the soft little hairs there and claiming them with a harsh tug. Kara gasped at the motion and her head jerked back, her eyes already clouded with lust.

“Tell me what you want,” Kara said, the raspy sound of her breath cutting through the silent room.

Cat was beyond the point of no return. She felt drunk with the power of the situation, but that was the thing about power—it intoxicated everyone in its wake. The dark parts of Cat’s mind, the parts that liked control and someone else’s willing desperation, were racing like a river overrun with floodwaters. She felt as though she’d been dying of thirst, and now she was nearly drowning.

Cat kissed her then without restraint or regret. In her first true show of deliberate action since this mess began, she pressed her lips to Kara's and reveled in the feel of her instantaneous submission. Cat swept her tongue once over the girl’s lips and that was all it took for Kara's mouth to fall open in a soft moan. Cat took advantage of the opportunity the same way she would in conversation, and she slipped her way inside.

She moved to sling her arm low around Kara’s hips as she brushed her other thumb against her pebbled nipple. She tried to tug Kara even closer to her, but then Kara broke the kiss and Cat hesitated. She watched reckless abandon bloom in Kara's eyes as the girl inched closer, dropping down just slightly, still arching her chest toward Cat’s careful hand. Kara never said a word, but her mouth fell open and her eyes slipped closed as she dragged herself just once along Cat’s strong thigh. A desperate moan escaped Kara’s lips and she had never looked so lost or so in need.

“I want you out of your suit and in that bed,” Cat said, her eyes dark and full of promise. “Now.”