Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's all Kara can do not to float right off the balcony when, instead of putting the previous night's drunken kiss down to alcohol or stress or a lapse of judgment, Cat actually hears her out, lets Kara pull her closer, leans in to let Kara kiss her.

And so Kara tangles her fingers in Cat's hair and slides a hand to her waist, the fabric of a ridiculously expensive blazer soft under her fingers. She opens her senses, just a little, to listen to Cat's heartbeat, and it's such a rush to know that it's racing for her.

Their bodies press together, the grit of the wall rough again Kara's back, and Kara moans as Cat presses a kiss into the hollow of her throat, takes that as permission to run her hand down from Cat's waist and over the back of that close-fitting designer skirt, squeezing just a little. Well, Kara thinks it's just a little, but the little puff of air, the barely audible gasp that brushes Kara's collarbone, well... that's enough to tell Kara that it was exactly right.

But when Cat's fingers stray downward, slip beneath Kara's waistband, Kara tenses, fear stabbing like a knife in her gut. She grabs Cat's wrist, as firmly as she thinks she can afford to, and gives a little shake of her head.

“No?” asks Cat, leaning back to look Kara in the eye. She looks gorgeous, her hair mussed, her eyes dark with desire, and the knife twists because Kara thinks she might just leave, that this might be it, they might have to go back to being strictly professional and Kara's not sure she could take it this time.

“No,” says Kara, letting go of Cat's wrist and disentangling her other hand from Cat's hair, to let her step away if she wants to. “I can touch you, if you want, but I don't want you to touch me down there.” It kills her to say it, but she knows that if she lets it go too far, she'll reveal her identity, maybe even break something or worse, hurt Cat. And she's scared, scared because she's been rejected before for as little as this, or been called a freak when she did break something, but this time, after all that they've been through, it seems to matter even more.

“Oh,” says Cat, surprise written across her features. Surprise, yes, but not, crucially, rejection. “In my day we would have called that stone. Stone butch, usually, but you'd be more femme, I suppose, appalling fashion sense aside.”

“Stone?” asks Kara, confused.

“Women who don't like to receive, sexually, but only like to give.”

“I didn't know there was a word for it,” says Kara. It comes out in a rush—relief, amazement. Though it isn't quite right—it's not that she doesn't want to be touched, but that she's afraid to be. “I've had boyfriends in the past, but they... weren't too understanding.”

“I don't think straight people have a word for it,” says Cat, in a tone that lets Kara know exactly how much of an oversight she thinks that is. “Is this your first time with a woman?”

“It's...” Kara flashes back to a cast party in college, where the lead actress... Sophie... had made out with her, then to the next day, when, sober, she'd claimed it didn't mean anything. “It's my first time getting this far with a woman. But last night wasn't my first time kissing one.”

Cat looks at her as though she knows there's more to the story (Kara's seen that expression far more often than she would like, these last few months) but she doesn't press for more. “Okay. I can work with that. Anything else I should know?”

Kara's mind is fuzzy, she knows Cat is expecting something, but in the moment she can't think what. Later, she'll wonder if Cat was still fishing for her secret identity. “No, Miss Grant.”

“Please, Kara,” and Kara freezes for a moment, suddenly aware that all of Cat's attention is focused on her. It makes her feel terrified and important, and somehow that pools together with the arousal that's been sitting in the pit of her stomach since their kiss and sets her body on fire. “I'm Cat to my lovers.”

“Then, Cat,” she says, clipping off the name, remembering that Cat likes brazen... that's probably the only good thing to come of the red kryptonite incident, that knowledge... Cat likes brazen, likes Kara brazen, it's why Kara wore black today, a black sleeveless top, but with pale slacks, not quite willing to duplicate her looks from those awful days. She pushes off of the wall, steps closer, tries to channel that energy, but without the aggression, leaning in closer, her voice dangerous, seductive (she hopes), “Where do you want me to touch you?”

And before Cat even says anything, she hears Cat's response, in her heartbeat, she imagines she can feel the tension in the air between them, and there's not very much air between them anymore, either, they're almost, but not quite, touching.

“I want,” Cat's voice is more dangerous still, “I want your fingers inside me, I want to come on your tongue. I want you everywhere.” She grasps one of Kara's hands in hers, and Kara thinks she's going to guide it somewhere, perhaps under her skirt, but instead she strokes it, a featherlight touch that Kara feels even after she stops, a warm tingling that makes Kara draw a small, surprised breath.

It feels a bit like a promise that can't be kept, but Kara tries not to think about that as she strokes Cat's hair with her free hand, traces the curve of an ear, touches the soft skin behind it. She's surprised to realize how sensitive Cat's ears are as Cat's eyes flutter closed, just for a moment.

Then they open again, and Cat shucks her blazer, dropping it on a chair, and kisses Kara with a new urgency, and this time she does guide one of Kara's hands under her skirt.

“Fuck...” breathes Kara, breaking off the kiss, and at any other time she'd blush at the language, but something about feeling Cat's panties soaked through because of her makes it seem entirely appropriate.

“I knew there was more to you than that mild-mannered- oh,” says Cat as Kara pushes the panties aside and slips a finger between Cat's folds. “Oh.” She gives a twitch, grabbing onto Kara with both hands as her knees give out, for a moment.

Kara immediately pulls her hand away, favoring Cat with a grin she hopes is devilish. It feels devilish, at least, and daring and a half-dozen other things she rarely is, can rarely allow herself to be. “You okay there?”

But Cat seizes her hand, pushing it into her body. “Don't you dare.” But her glare is unconvincing, somehow, because she's hot and wet to the touch, because she's panting and because Kara knows she's enjoying this, because Kara's still listening to every beat of her heart. Kara feels powerful, suddenly, in a way that has nothing to do with super strength.

“Maybe you should sit down for this,” says Kara, because even though she could hold Cat up it runs the risk of exposing her secret, and because she wants Cat to be comfortable. It's instinct by now, after over two years as Cat's assistant.

Cat nods, and unfastens her skirt, pulling it and her lacy underwear off before settling down on a lounge chair. It's not romantic, and she doesn't take off her top, but Kara isn't quite brazen enough to ask. Really, she's just happy to have this much, more than she ever thought she would get from Cat, even if it's just clandestine sex on the balcony.

Even if it only happens this once.

But there's something unexpectedly tender and vulnerable about Cat as she sits there, her eyes expectant, and Kara finds herself thinking, maybe this won't be the last time, after all.

Kara shucks off her own shirt, just for the heck of it, keeping her simple black bra, and is rewarded with the pleasant warmth of the setting sun on her back, as well as an appreciative expression on Cat's face as she looks Kara up and down.

“Still taking kickboxing classes?” asks Cat, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from Kara's abs.

Kara stares at her blankly for a moment before remembering her excuse about the results of sparring with Alex for the first time. “Uh, yes. And I work out.”

“I can see that. I wonder... could you pick me up? Carry me, even?”

For a moment Kara tenses, thinking that Cat's asking her to confirm that she's Supergirl, and then she remembers that it's possible for a human woman to be that strong—she knows several who could do that.

“I don't know,” she lies, and somehow it's easier than usual, perhaps because Cat has other things on her mind. “But wouldn't you rather I finish what I started?” Kara straddles Cat then, her knees on the chair, leans in to kiss her on the ear, her hand almost, but not quite touching Cat's wet slit. Cat squirms at that, brushing against Kara's hand, then lifts her hips off of the chair, grinding into her hand, her arms coming up to wrap around Kara's back, hot against her bare skin.

As worked up as she is, even that touch sends a shiver through Kara, but she holds out, revelling in the power she suddenly seems to hold, though she knows Cat can take it away at any time.

“Kara...” It's the closest Cat's going to get to pleading, Kara's sure of it—her name comes out in a groan, and Kara thinks it's the hottest thing she's ever heard.

They'll have time for teasing later, she decides, and maybe even romance, if she's lucky, but right now what she needs is to see Cat come apart under her touch, like she's fantasized about so many times. She's imagined fucking Cat against the balcony wall, or pinning her to her own desk, even going down on her in that fancy chair of hers or flying her home and doing her in bed. And now it's coming true, and she lies to herself that she could be happy, if only she gets to see this once.

Carefully, she slips a finger into Cat's slit again, just barely grazing her clit, and is rewarded when Cat bites her lip. Then Cat looks at her, almost a glare, and her commanding tone is back again. “Inside. Now.”

Kara has to stop herself from muttering, 'Yes, Ms. Grant,' but she slides her fingertips back along Cat's slit and slips one inside, slowly, then another, attentive to any sign that she might be going too hard.

When Cat's arms tighten around her she freezes. “Was that... too much?”

“No. You're strong, but I'm not made of paper, Kara. You can go harder than that.” There's a note of disdain in Cat's tone but Kara ignores it and begins to move her fingers in and out, her palm grinding against Cat's clit.

Cat gasps and jerks up off of the chair, and Kara can't help but kiss her again. But this time Cat takes Kara's lip in her mouth and bites down, hard. It doesn't hurt—Kara doubts Cat could ever physically harm her—but the pressure of it, and the thought of Cat trying to mark her, is enough to make her moan.

Oh, Rao, she thinks. But saying that aloud would draw too many questions that she isn't ready to answer, so she settles for pressing her fingers a little harder into Cat's slick insides.

Cat arches her back, releasing her hold on Kara's lip and pressing her body against Kara as Kara pumps in and out. Kara wraps the arm she'd been bracing against the chair around Cat's back, steadying her as Cat shakes.

Cat doesn't seem to know what to do with her hands—they clench and unclench against Kara's back as Kara pumps in and out of Cat, trying to find the spot that had her so desperate before.

Cat's letting out little gasps into Kara's ear, and Kara revises her assessment—that's the hottest thing she's ever heard. But when Cat snakes a hand up to bury it in Kara's hair and Cat's lips find Kara's earlobe, and she bites, well, Kara's eyes slam shut and she lets out a little moan herself, pumping into Cat a little more firmly than she meant to.

But apparently that was the right thing to do, because Cat shudders against her, crying, “Kara!” into her ear, and Kara's glad she set the limits she did because she's having a hard time controlling her strength even now, as she holds Cat to her and moves her fingers more slowly, letting Cat ride out her orgasm.

When it's over, she lets Cat collapse back against the chair. She looks gloriously dishevelled, her blouse rumpled, her expression dazed and intensely satisfied all at once, her breathing ragged and her hair tangled. Kara can't imagine that she looks much different herself.

There's a certain pleasure in seeing Cat like this, but Kara knows she's going to need to touch herself as soon as she gets home. As soon as it's safe.

But for now, she scoops up her shirt and pulls it back on, then leans back against the balcony wall, crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture more Supergirl than Kara Danvers, though in the moment she doesn't notice that.

Cat blinks at Kara a few times, then shivers as a breeze ruffles her hair. The sunlight is dimming now, and the air is cool. She stands, a bit stiffly, and winces.

“Oh, God, I'm going to be sore,” she mutters, but Kara hears it and instantly closes the gap between them, her heart in her throat.

“Did I hurt you? Cat?” She'll never forgive herself if she has, she knows that. Never really trust herself to touch someone without hurting them. “I'm so sorry!”

Cat shakes her head, the grimace replaced by amusement. “No, it's a good kind of sore.” She picks up her damp underwear with the tips of her fingers. “I definitely was not expecting that when I kissed you last night.”

Kara remembers the kiss, remembers Cat pulling her into the alley behind the bar after one (or two, or three) too many drinks and kissing her soundly, if a bit sloppily, on the lips. She'd half expected Cat not to remember, though, and almost hadn't dared to bring it up, at the end of a long day, when everyone else had left the office. But now she's glad she did.

And she asks the question, even though she knows the answer, because her insecurity is real, after the number of times she's screwed up relationships since arriving on this planet. “Was it... good?”

Cat laughs at that, but it's not cruel. “If you have to ask, you weren't paying as much attention as I thought.” She dresses again, slowly pulling up her underwear, then her skirt, and Kara feels a little regret that it's already over, that the curves of Cat's butt are hidden again, out of reach, possibly off-limits. Until, that is, Cat plants another quick kiss on her lips, then holds her at arm's length, one hand playing with Kara's hair, the other at Kara's waist, her eyes soft, affectionate. “This is a bad idea for so many reasons, but after that performance I can't regret it.”

“Really?” asks Kara, hopeful.

“Yes. But... if we want to keep doing this, we're going to need rules, limits. This'll be a nightmare if HR ever finds out, not to mention the press... well, the parts of it I don't control. Yet.” She picks up her blazer and throws it on, then takes a moment to straighten her hair, and almost doesn't look as though she's just been fucked silly by her assistant.

Almost.

Maybe this is what it looks like when I put on the supersuit, thinks Kara as she watches Cat slip back into her professional mask. And like Supergirl, the mask Cat wears at the office is not entirely an act, but merely a part of who she is.

But Kara doesn't miss the broader implication of Cat's words, either: this isn't over, not unless Kara wants it to be. “I'm fine with limits,” says Kara, trying not to sound like she's jumping for joy, even though internally, she is.

But Cat sees right through her, the way she always does, and her mouth quirks with amusement. “You're looking entirely too pleased with yourself.”

Kara raises an eyebrow, daring again. “Shouldn't I be?”

But Cat shakes her head at that, breaking the moment. “Not a word of this to anyone, not until we talk about it. Tomorrow. And call my car, Kiera. Have my driver pick me up in half an hour. After that, you may go.”

“Yes, Miss Grant,” says Kara, and fumbles in her pocket for her phone, the wind taken out of her sails.

Cat sees it, or thinks the better of her words, because she softens it. “I don't... want to push you away. But this is a lot for both of us to process, and I have to figure out how to do this without ruining both of our lives in the process. If we even can. You're young, and maybe you don't see this yet, but sometimes, it's best to be careful.”

Kara gives Cat a little half-smile, touched by the concern in Cat's words, and pulls out her phone to make the call. “I understand.”

Chapter Text

When Kara gets home, she can't get out of her clothes fast enough, so she uses a little burst of super-speed and within seconds she's in the shower.

She turns on the water and waits for it to heat up, thinking about Cat's words. She knows she should think about it, that she should consider whether she still wants a relationship, even if they have to keep it a secret indefinitely. She should decide if there are any other limits or conditions they need to discuss, think about how this is going to affect her work life, all sorts of things like that.

But it's hard to think, because her fingers still smell like Cat, even though she washed them, and she can't get the image of Cat shuddering against her out of her mind, can't forget her little moans, the deliciously right way that Cat called her name, and she still hasn't come.

The water's hot now, and Kara lets it roll over her shoulders and down her back. She allows herself to stroke her outer lips, the other hand cupping one breast. She finds that she's already aroused, and she lets herself imagine that it's Cat touching her, Cat as she'd seen her on the balcony, gloriously undone, in a world where Kara can let herself be touched without fear. She imagines Cat's hands squeezing her breasts, then her mouth moving to suck on one nipple.

The imaginary Cat is rough with her, her fingers digging in, leaving little marks that fade almost instantly, pushing her back against the shower wall with a thud that, in reality, cracks a couple of tiles. But Kara doesn't care, because she imagines Cat's nails scraping down her belly and her fingers slipping inside of Kara, then her mouth following them, nipping at Kara's skin then swirling her tongue around Kara's clit as the fingers of her other hand dig into Kara's hip.

Rubbing her own clit, Kara comes in the imaginary Cat's mouth as the water sluices over her, and she can feel the cracked tiles dig into her back as she shakes with her orgasm.

Kara opens her eyes, panting, and pushes off the wall to inspect the damage. Bits of tile that have been clinging to her shoulders clatter to the floor. The wall underneath feels solid to the touch, but she has yet another repair project to do if she ever wants her security deposit back. She's already had to replace a number of small things, hinges and door handles, not to mention the window Indigo threw her into. She's glad she insisted on helping to fix the things she broke as a teen, because otherwise she'd have to learn all of this from scratch.

Replacing the tile won't be difficult, but it requires supplies she doesn't have on hand.

She's just lathering up her hair when her phone, sitting on the bathroom counter, rings. It's the ringtone she assigned to the DEO line, so she pops right out of the shower with her hair still soapy and answers it.

“Kara, hi.” It's Alex. She sounds concerned, rather than alarmed.

“What's up?”

“I thought you were coming here right after work. Did something happen?”

In a manner of speaking, yes. But Kara remembers Cat's words about not telling anyone yet, so she dodges the question. “I got held up at work, and I guess I forgot about checking in. I'm taking a shower right now.”

“It sounds like you're out of breath. You sure nothing's up?”

Kara takes a moment to control her breathing before she answers. “No, I'm fine. See you in a few minutes?”

“Sure.” And the line goes dead.

Kara showers in a hurry, then quick-changes into her suit before flying across the city, letting the wind dry her hair.

When Kara and Cat are finally alone on their floor at CatCo, at the end of another long day, Kara looks up from her work to see Cat fixing herself a drink. Cat meets her eyes and nods, and Kara takes that as an invitation.

She's been waiting all day to talk about what happened yesterday, but she's worried that Cat will say they can't work it out, that it was a mistake to act on their feelings... and what are Cat's feelings, exactly? Obviously she's attracted to Kara, but is that all it is for her?

In short, Kara's been having a rough day, and she would really have appreciated a minor emergency for Supergirl to handle, but no dice.

With a little sigh, she walks to Cat's office and follows Cat onto the balcony.

“I think you know what I want to talk about,” says Cat.

Kara just nods and swallows around the lump that has formed in her throat.

“First things first. Yesterday was...” Kara can hardly listen with her heart thundering the way it is, but Cat smiles a rare, gorgeous smile, like dawn breaking over the bridges of Argo City, and she allows herself to hope. “Yesterday was wonderful, but Kara?”

“Yes?” Kara meets Cat's eyes, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“If, for any reason whatsoever, you want out, tell me. I won't hold it against you. If you need to find a job elsewhere, I'll give you a fantastic recommendation. I can't... I won't be the kind of person, the kind of boss who manipulates their employees into relationships. And... not that I think you have it in you, but it bears saying: if you're doing this to get something out of me, you'll regret it.”

“Cat, I...” Kara swallows again. “I'm not doing this for ulterior motives. And I don't want to quit.”

Cat puts a finger on Kara's lips, forestalling any further comments. “Think about it. That's what people will say, if they find out: that I'm forcing this on you, or that you're manipulating me, that you're a gold-digger, that I'm a cradle robber. And that goes double because we're both women—they'll say I've corrupted you. Recruited you. And they probably won't listen to anything else either of us have to say about it. The safest option, if you ever want to go public about this, would be for you to leave CatCo first. There would still be rumors that we were an item before you left, but it wouldn't be quite as bad. The other safe option is to stop this, right here and now, and never speak of it again.”

Kara can hear the concern in Cat's words, but that doesn't stop it from feeling like a rejection.

Cat's eyes soften then, and she lays a hand over Kara's, stroking the back of her hand with one thumb. “I'm saying this because I care, you know. And because I'm concerned that you're not very good at keeping secrets.”

Kara opens her mouth to deny it, but Cat's eyes on hers are piercing, and she's suddenly certain she knows what Cat is really talking about, and she can't deny it anyway, any of it, without revealing exactly how many other secrets she's been keeping this whole time, so she doesn't.

Maybe it would have been easier to be with her as Supergirl, she thinks suddenly, though as Supergirl she's a celebrity, the cameras are on her in a way they've never been on Kara Danvers, and discovery would be that much more likely. Even if Cat knows that she's Supergirl... and she does, Kara's sure of it now, Kara doubts Cat will force her to admit anything. For whatever reason, she's waiting for Kara to make the first move on that front.

“This might surprise you,” says Kara with a little of yesterday's daring, “but I'm not interested in safe.” She turns her hand over so she can stroke Cat's hand right back. And it's true, at least right now—she's sick of safe, sick of hiding, sick of repressing things, sick of splitting herself in two or three just to be safe. Maybe it's not healthy to feel like that but it's honest and in the moment that's the best she can manage.

“After yesterday, that doesn't surprise me one bit, actually,” says Cat, and somehow just touching like this is sending little shivers of pleasure through Kara and it's a little hard to concentrate as Cat's fingers glide over Kara's hand, a warm, whispery touch that reminds her of Cat's breath on her neck and of her fantasies and...

Kara gulps. Part of her wants to pull away, clear her head, maybe even run from this because even though she's being brave it doesn't mean this doesn't scare her, but Cat has pulled Kara into her orbit and she can't seem to will herself to move.

“But Kara... what do you want from this?”

Kara looks down at their joined hands before answering, because right now, that seems to encapsulate exactly what she wants from their relationship... the soft pressure, the electric connection that joins them, the lazy pleasure of Cat's touch. The tension in the air, like humidity before a thunderstorm. The trust they have slowly rebuilt. The two years of teamwork that lie behind them and between them. If she could bottle this moment she might be happy forever, or at least content.

Cat's eyes follow hers, then Cat looks up again, not quite seeming to understand, and Kara knows she'll have to put it into words, into requests, and maybe on Krypton she would have been good at this, but this is Earth and sometimes English is still unreasonably hard, not so much the words themselves but stringing them together into an actual sentence that means something.

“I want... this,” she says, squeezing Cat's hand, just a little, and that doesn't seem to explain much of anything, Cat's brows drawing together in confusion, so she tries again. “I want... this connection. Trust, if that's what it is. Closeness. I want to keep touching you.” She doesn't add that she wants Cat to keep touching her, even though she does, because Cat might misunderstand it.

“Interesting,” says Cat, cocking her head to one side. “I had you pegged as a romantic. I thought you would want us to date.”

“I mean, it's not that I'm not, just... I don't think that's us, at least not yet. Or maybe it is, I don't know. But... I don't necessarily expect romance.” She realizes that she's babbling and shuts up.

What is romance, anyway? Roses, and chocolates, and walks on the beach? Waking up in your lover's arms and making them pancakes? Dinner and a movie, going down on one knee, getting married? Kara can't picture Cat agreeing to any of that. But there's a certain intimacy, a tenderness to Cat's touch and Kara can't help but wonder if maybe this is romance, or it will be.

Cat nods, slowly, and looks out over the city without breaking their connection. There's something almost... sad in her eyes, but after a moment it's gone and she says, “Good. That's good.”

Was she hoping for Supergirl to sweep her off her feet? Or for Kara Danvers to? Kara is half-tempted to admit that she is Supergirl, just to find out, but she doesn't. “Is that a yes?”

“It is. We'll try to make this work. We can't let this change things for us at work, not when others are around, and perhaps that will be easier if we aren't actually dating.”

Kara nods, but Cat isn't done.

“We probably shouldn't do it on the balcony again, either. Too risky.”

Too bad, thinks Kara. The balcony is kind of a special place for them, charged as it is with the memories of so many oddly intimate conversations, in both of her identities, but she understands Cat's reasoning. “Where, then? Your place? Mine? I mean, it's kind of a mess, I'm doing repairs in the bathroom, but...”

Cat glances at Kara's hands, surprised and intrigued. “You're doing them yourself?”

“Yes, I mean, I haven't really started but I need to replace some tile... sorry, I completely sidetracked the conversation.”

Cat grins, a little feral. “I always did like a woman who was good with her hands.”

“...we're not talking about grout anymore, are we?” Cat's grin has her feeling bold again, so she takes a risk. “You could come over, watch me work, and afterwards I could show you exactly how good I am with my hands.”

Cat's grin widens. “Hmm. Suddenly I find myself very interested in home improvement. As long as I don't have to get my hands dirty, that is.”

Kara lifts Cat's hand and makes a show of inspecting her manicure. “I can think of better things to do with your hands.” Slowly, deliberately, she unfolds Cat's hand, softly licks the underside of her index finger, then puts the tip in her mouth and rolls her tongue around it for a moment before releasing it, watching Cat's mouth open in a little o of surprise. She feels the pulse quicken in her own throat even as Cat's echoes it, and allows herself a little smile. “So, I can do Saturday or Sunday evening, if you like.”

Cat's mouth closes and stretches into a smirk. “Sunday, I think, but I'll have my assistant work out the details.”

Chapter Text

When someone knocks at Kara's door a full twenty minutes before Cat is supposed to arrive, Kara looks through the door and is surprised to see that it's Cat. And is she really wearing jeans?

Kara drops her paintbrush into a jar of water and rushes to wash her hands and find her glasses, but doesn't dare take the time to change clothes, so when she opens the door, she's still wearing the beat-up jeans shorts she wears for home improvement projects and the stained, oversized t-shirt she wears when painting. At least her hair is in good shape—she spent entirely too much of the afternoon trying out different styles before coiling a braid around her head—and the apartment is ready. The tiles in the bathroom are prepped, there's a bottle of a decent white wine in the fridge and a bowl of fruit on the counter, and the only mess is at the easel.

Cat looks her up and down. “I suppose I shouldn't have expected you to dress up when you invited me over to watch you fix your bathroom,” she says, and it's so mild a reproach that, coming from Cat, it's nearly a compliment. Cat herself is wearing a maroon blouse over jeans, a simple brown necklace and dark-colored cloth flats. In short, she's nowhere near as casual as Kara, but still more so than Kara's ever seen her.

“I was painting,” says Kara by way of apology and ushers Cat into her living room, where the easel is clearly visible.

Cat glances around, hums under her breath, and strides over to the unfinished painting. It's the kind of painting that worried Kara's teachers in high school, angry splashes of red and orange and abstract rubble in black, some shapes that might be corpses. She's been trying to work through her emotions in art instead of punching cars, and she's not sure it's working.

“Striking,” says Cat, and this time it really is a compliment. “Do you paint often?”

Kara glances behind the easel, where there are a couple of small canvases leaning against the wall. “Sometimes.”

“May I?”

Kara nods and Cat moves the first one aside so she can look at both at the same time. One of them's a landscape, a stretch of coastline not far from Midvale, cliffs and water and the old lighthouse done from a mix of memory and photographs. The other one is of Alex, and this is the one that Cat focuses on.

Kara had been tempted to depict Alex in full DEO gear, but she held back, knowing that it wouldn't be safe. Instead, she painted her in civilian clothing, a plaid shirt over a t-shirt, with the fierce look in her eyes that Kara sees so often in the field, and a shadow behind her that suggests a full cape billowing out from her shoulders.

“Who's this?” asks Cat, with perhaps a note of jealousy.

“That's Alex. My sister,” explains Kara.

The expression in Cat's eyes goes soft again. “You're close,” she says. “You look up to her?”

“She's kind of my hero,” replies Kara, a little embarrassed. “Um, there's wine, if you want some.”

“Sure,” says Cat, and Kara can tell that she's not the only one having trouble working out their new dynamic, fathoming how to relate to each other outside of work. And she can't fall back on the habits she's developed as Supergirl, either, or the pretense of keeping that identity a secret will drop entirely.

Her various identities are tangled together, and sometimes she wishes she could pick them apart. Be Kara Zor-El without having to be Supergirl. Or just be Supergirl and not worry about her life. Even be Kara Danvers, as she seems, not as she is, and just be normal, for once.

But none of that is ever going to happen.

She pulls out the wine and two glasses (actual wine glasses, not water glasses or mugs) and uncorks it, pouring them each a glass. She hands one to Cat, who gives the wine a little sniff before lifting her glass.

“L'chaim,” says Cat.

“L'chaim,” echoes Kara, a little surprised at what she takes as an acknowledgment of her foster family's religion (not that they're terribly observant, though neither, she suspects, are the Grants), and clinks glasses with Cat before taking a sip.

The wine is mellow enough that Kara doesn't mind it, though she's never taken the time to get used to alcohol of any kind, and she's hoping it's sophisticated enough to satisfy Cat.

Cat doesn't say anything about it, which is either a good sign or means that she's holding in her snark, which would just be strange. But there's a little smile on her lips and she gives a tug to the hem of Kara's shirt.

“How about you take this thing off and kiss me?”

Kara raises her eyebrows. “Afraid I'll get paint on your nice blouse?” But she strips off the shirt all the same and throws it over the chair near the easel.

Underneath, she isn't wearing a bra, and she grins at Cat's surprised expression. Then Cat carefully sets down her glass on the coffee table and runs her hands over Kara's abs.

Kara almost snaps the stem of her glass before collecting herself and setting it down next to Cat's. Then she kisses Cat, a kiss that tastes like wine and lipstick and makes Kara feel drunker than the wine alone ever could.

Kara's body burns where Cat touches her and when, after a moment, Cat lets her go, she moans in spite of herself.

“Didn't you have some kind of project you were going to do?” asks Cat.

Project? Oh, right. “Yes, I should probably...” Kara gestures in the direction of the bathroom. “Um.” She grabs a chair and sets it up near the bathroom door. “You can watch from here,” she says, her mind still a bit fuzzy.

Cat grins at her and sits down, wine glass in hand once more. “Oh, don't let me distract you.”

Kara shoots her a little glare, then opens the bathroom door and gets herself set up, not bothering to put her shirt back on.

She cracks open the adhesive and selects the correct trowel, standing on a drop cloth that covers the floor of the shower. She spreads a thin layer of adhesive and pulls the trowel back over it to create a crisscross pattern. She smiles, remembering Eliza comparing the pattern to the marks on peanut butter cookies.

Then some small noise makes her turn her head to look at Cat, and she drops her trowel in surprise.

Cat's blouse hangs open, giving her just a glimpse of the swells of her breasts. But what makes her drop her trowel is Cat's hand, which has disappeared into her jeans, the fly now open, and seems to be moving, perhaps stroking herself.

Kara lets out a little involuntary squeak before retrieving the trowel. She brandishes it at Cat. “If these tiles come out crooked, it'll be your fault.”

Cat just grins. “I told you not to let me distract you.”

It should be a quick repair—Kara won't even be able to add grout until tomorrow—but after that it takes at least twice as long as it should, because Kara's hands are unsteady and she can't help glancing over at Cat from time to time.

But at last she finishes and breathes a sigh of relief, all the tiles in their correct places, and steps over to the sink to wash her hands, freezing as she catches a glimpse of Cat, her blouse falling open now to show a black, lacy bra, head tipped back in abandon.

Kara stifles her impulse to use super-speed and finishes washing her hands with what feels like agonizing slowness.

“You could have waited for me,” she says as she dries off. It comes out petulant, which is a pity, because she wants to sound seductive.

“Well, you were giving me such a good show that I thought I'd return the favor,” says Cat breathlessly, and Kara realizes that she doesn't even have to be seductive, now that they're alone Cat's not going to bother to hide her desire. That doesn't stop her from wanting to seduce Cat, though, so she struts over to her and leans over, one hand on either arm of the chair, effectively trapping Cat in place.

“I could fuck you in this chair, you know,” she says, slowly, as if seriously considering it, “but since you're here I thought we might as well do it in bed.”

“Hmm,” says Cat, “much as I'd enjoy seeing you on your knees in front of me, I think I'll take you up on the bed. Especially if you carry me.”

Kara's mouth goes dry at that. Does Cat know how many times she's fantasized about going down on her in her office chair? But she's not sure she wants that particular fantasy out in the open, especially since she's fairly certain Cat will shoot it down, so she simply scoops Cat up into a bridal carry, causing Cat to let out a gasp, and carries her to the bedroom, laying her down gently on the bed.

Cat's looking up at her speculatively, and she feels her secret identity as the elephant in the room, wonders how Cat would react if she threw open her closet door to reveal the supersuit hanging there. Her disguise has always been so flimsy—right now it's a closet door, a hairdo, and a pair of glasses—but she's glad that Cat has stopped pushing her.

Even though sometimes she thinks it would be easier to have everything out in the open.

“Earth to Kara,” says Cat, as though she knows what Kara's been thinking about.

Kara's attention snaps back to the present, back to Cat's half-open shirt and unzipped jeans. “You're wearing too many clothes. I want to see all of you this time.” She hooks a finger into one of Cat's belt loops and tugs a little for emphasis.

Cat's hands hover near the buttons of her shirt, hesitating or taunting, Kara can't tell. But then she smiles, and it's playful as much as it is seductive. “Take off those shorts and I'll give you want you want.”

Kara reminds herself to go slow as she pulls them down so that she's wearing nothing but a pair of plain white briefs and her glasses. Sometimes she loses control of her speed when she gets excited, and she wants to be just Kara for at least a little longer, here and now, if she can.

When she looks up, she sees Cat sitting up on her bed, undoing the last few buttons of her blouse, and a wave of something—tenderness or desire or both—washes over her.

As Cat gets up to remove her jeans, Kara raises her hand to her glasses, realizing that she should probably take them off, but that she'll look like Supergirl without them. After a moment's hesitation, wiggling her hand in the air, she does take them off and folds them, setting them neatly on the nightstand. She meets Cat's eyes, remembering the last time that she took off her glasses in front of her, but there's no spark of recognition, no flash of triumph, no, “Thank you, Supergirl,” just a little nod, and Kara feels a tension she didn't realize she was holding unknot itself.

Cat unhooks her bra and lets it slide to the floor alongside her other clothes, and Kara takes the opportunity to wrap her arms around Cat's waist and bend, just a bit, to kiss her. Their bodies press together, seeming to fit despite the difference in height. Cat is warm against her and when Kara reaches down to pull off Cat's panties they're drenched, of course, and she wishes she could have just watched Cat touching herself, but she knows that's why Cat picked that moment to do it, to distract her, to force her to either abandon her task or look away.

Cat steps out of her panties and reaches down before Kara can straighten back up, tipping her chin back with a still-damp finger.

“Kara, do you want to taste me?”

It's the way she says it, low and soft, that gets Kara, as much as the words do, and suddenly she wants that very much indeed.

“Yes,” she breathes, standing to her full height, and as she says it Cat proffers her finger, so she takes it in her mouth. Cat's juices are sticky and earthy and primal, a little different from her own, and the taste of it just makes her want more. She licks and sucks Cat's finger until it's completely clean, then goes in for another kiss, desperate this time, filled with that ache that makes her press their bodies together, slide a thigh between Cat's, an aching that might not ever be really satisfied, but she'll take what she can get.

Cat's tongue on hers seems to be made of liquid desire, and she gasps as Cat breaks off the kiss with a shuddering breath.

“Kara,” says Cat, panting, “show me where I can touch you.”

In answer, Kara takes Cat's hand in hers, the one she cleaned a few minutes earlier, and guides it over her body. “Here,” she says, touching it to her ears and neck in turn, “and here,” touching it to her chest. “Here,” she says, placing it over her butt. And then she lets go of Cat's hand, and cups her mound, still covered with panties, the crotch damp. “But not here.”

She's not afraid of a little pleasure—the risk is small enough. It's the shuddering release of orgasm that scares her, that she fears could lead to her losing control. And she's not likely to reach that point as long as Cat sticks to those limits.

“Hmm,” says Cat, “like this?”

And by Rao, when she licks Kara's neck Kara's knees almost give out and she finds herself sagging against Cat for a moment, and she would pull away and apologize but Cat just wraps her arms around her and pulls her to the bed, sitting down on it and guiding Kara to straddle her.

“Mind if I'm a bit rough?” asks Cat, and it takes Kara a moment to gather her thoughts enough to respond.

“It's fine,” she manages.

Cat slides her hand into Kara's hair and tips her head just so, then gives her a little nip on the neck, then another, and it doesn't hurt but it does send a shock of pleasure right into Kara's center and she just barely manages to clench her hands around a fold of blanket instead of Cat's hips.

“Too much?” asks Cat.

“Maybe a little.”

And so Cat is more gentle as she kisses her way down Kara's chest, as she squeezes her breasts and plays with her nipples, and as her mouth reaches one breast, hot and urgent but gentle, she moves a hand to Kara's butt and squeezes.

Kara gasps, and with a deliberate effort unclenches one hand from the blankets and wraps it ever so lightly around Cat's waist, steadying them both even as she lets her head fall back from the pleasure of it. Without thinking, she moves her hips, grinding against Cat, unable to get the friction she needs.

When she realizes what she's doing she freezes, and Cat's tongue stops moving, pulls away from her nipple.

“If it's too much, I'll stop,” says Cat, and part of Kara wants to groan because she really had been enjoying herself but at the same time it's sweet, how considerate Cat is being. “Or... you could touch yourself, if you like. I don't need to be the only one to get off, even if it's not me getting you there.”

And there it is, Kara's desire comes thrumming back again, because that sounds like something that might actually work, something they could try without too much risk, with Kara controlling every movement. Kara nods before she can think the better of it, and stands, removing her panties at last. They're soaked through by now, and she balls them up and tosses them on top of her dirty laundry before sitting back down on the edge of the bed.

“You could... hold me while I do it? Maybe?” She hates how frightened she sounds, but this is something she hasn't tried before, and she's just hoping it won't go wrong.

Cat sits behind her, nestling Kara between her thighs, and somewhat hesitantly wraps her arms around Kara's waist. Kara hunches down a little to let Cat put her chin over Kara's shoulder, and Cat presses a chaste, reassuring kiss to Kara's cheek.

A bit self-consciously, Kara slips one finger between her folds, stroking herself a few times before seeking her clit. She lets her other hand stray across her chest, stroking and squeezing her breasts, then running along Cat's forearms and hands, which stay obediently still over her belly. Cat presses a kiss into her hair and it's tender and soft even as Kara's hips buck against her hand. She slows the motion, wanting to savor this, but she's been waiting too long, and it doesn't take much before she comes, Cat's name on her lips. Almost too late, she remembers to hold herself as still as she can, torn between restraint and release, and that tension is delicious in and of itself, but the only part of her that's touching Cat is her back and it's fine, or at least she hears and feels nothing to say that it isn't.

She keeps playing with herself for a few moments as she comes down from it, but then Cat whispers, “Beautiful,” against her ear and she wants to make Cat as much a part of this as she can so she pulls her hand away and holds it up for her.

“Want a taste?”

Cat's tongue is hot and a little rough against her fingers then, lapping up every drop of her juices, and Kara just about comes again.

Kara gives Cat's arms around her waist a little squeeze as Cat releases her finger. “Now it's your turn.”

It's irritating that they have to use so many words, when usually so much is just... understood between them, so much is unspoken, little nods and glances and touches, an ease of communication even in Cat's prickliest moments that outstrips what Kara has with anyone else, except for Alex. But this is new. They'll figure it out.

Kara still feels a little lethargic, a little slower than usual as she stands and pushes Cat back on the bed, letting her scoot back so that she's resting against the pillows. And maybe it's that lethargy that lets her go slow, lets her kiss Cat's ear ever so lightly, lets her brush Cat's neck with a series of kisses so light they barely touch.

“No teasing,” scolds Cat, and Kara makes the next kiss a little harder, smiling into Cat's skin, remembering the feeling of power that coursed through her when they had sex on the balcony.

Consciously, she opens up her hearing again, just enough to hear Cat's racing heart as she keeps kissing her way down Cat's body. At last she reaches Cat's breasts and takes one nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it as she squeezes the other breast. Her other hand strokes Cat's stomach, almost but not quite straying down between her legs. Cat gives a groan of frustration and guides Kara's hand between her own legs.

Kara lets Cat set the rhythm this time and moves her mouth to her other nipple. Cat's skin is salty on her tongue and her breath is coming in little puffs now. She grinds against Kara's hand and Kara knows that Cat wants her to go faster, but it's the first time she's had a chance to really take her time and enjoy this and it feels like she's trying to make up for all those weeks of painful professionalism and Rao, Cat is so beautiful, and...

Still letting Cat guide her hand, Kara pulls her mouth from Cat's nipple. “Cat, I want to taste you.”

“Then do it,” moans Cat.

Kara plants a trail of quick kisses down Cat's belly, then one on each of her inner thighs. She pulls Cat's lower lips open, gently, and she's so tuned into the little sounds and movements of Cat's body that she can almost feel the wave of anticipation that courses through her at that touch.

Then she dips her tongue between Cat's folds. At the first stroke of her tongue, Cat's hand comes down to grip the back of her head. She's been watching videos in preparation for this, blushing at her computer screen late at night, so she tries a couple of different strokes before settling on a up-and-down motion that has Cat rocking against her tongue. As Cat's movement speeds up she moves a bit to focus her attentions on Cat's clit, and with Cat's juices all over her face she swears Cat's jolt of pleasure at that runs into her too, as though it's flowing over, too big to be contained in one person's body.

A few moments later and Cat goes still for a second, throws her head back and she's coming on Kara's face, screaming her name, digging her fingers into Kara's hair. Kara keeps licking until Cat's fingers go slack and Cat collapses bonelessly against Kara's pillows.

Kara licks some of Cat's juices off of her lips and sits back to admire her handiwork. Cat is visibly spent, limp, her skin covered with a fine sheen of sweat, her makeup smudged and her hair a tangled mess. Her eyes are half-closed and there's a peaceful smile on her face.

Kara searches for the words that could capture the beauty of this moment, snippets of English and Kryptonese chasing each other around her mind, but she can't find them. Maybe she'll be able to paint this later, but words are beyond her. So she just says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” says Cat, her eyes opening the rest of the way. “Come here.”

Kara moves closer, leans against the pillows, and puts her arm around Cat's shoulders. She can't resist tracing the curve of Cat's ear—well, she could, but she doesn't, and it's just wonderful that now she doesn't have to, at least not when they're alone like this.

Cat reaches over and strokes Kara's hand, the one that's slung across her shoulders. It's comforting, sort of. It's nice.

“Is this what you were hoping for?” asks Cat, and it's surprisingly vulnerable, a real question that demands a real answer.

Kara tries to decide. When she uses her speed, she can think faster than humans, but she hasn't figured out how to feel faster, how to work through her feelings, put them into words, into neat little boxes and be done with it. So she mulls for a moment or two, or three, even though Cat's eyes are on her and normally she would be scrambling to answer (or deflect) any of Cat's questions. But this isn't normal, this is something new, and it deserves whatever thought she can give it.

“I don't know,” she says after a while, honestly. “But it's good.”

Cat gives a little nod, accepting that, and leans her head against Kara's shoulder.