Work Text:
Amy Alderman isn’t here to make friends.
That’s the mantra that runs through her head on repeat as she strides her way through the bullpen to her boss’s office with an overly sugared latte clutched in one hand and a stack of financial documents in the other. She pauses just before the double glass doors, fixing her expression into something a bit more doe-eyed and infusing her voice with a nervous stutter.
“M-ms. Danvers,” she asks tentatively, voice tremoring just the slightest bit. A perfect performance, if she does say so herself.
“Oh, good morning, Amy,” her boss greets, seemingly startled out of whatever reverie had her staring intently at the far wall of her office. “Come in. And I’ve told you, you can just call me Kara.”
Amy gives a short nod at this, but the confidence implicit in calling her boss by her first name does not at all fit with the personality she’s trying to project, and so she ignores the suggestion as pointedly as she has the last five times it was brought up.
She’s been the assistant to Kara Danvers, Catco’s new editor in chief, for almost a month now, and she’s here with one singular purpose in mind – to find an exclusive scoop on the woman sitting before her.
Because Kara Danvers isn’t just Catco’s newest editor in chief. She’s also National City’s most famous resident superhero – the Girl of Steel herself. Supergirl.
Amy can still vividly recall the interview from two months prior that had pointedly blown the lid off Supergirl’s secret identity. Confusion over Cat Grant’s sudden return from whatever remote corner of the globe she’d been hiding in had morphed into disbelief the moment the name ‘Supergirl’ had entered the conversation. Amy had watched with rapt attention, leaving her partially prepared dinner to burn on the stove, as Kara Danvers had laid the entirety of her past bare before the world’s viewing population – everything from her arrival on Earth, her adoption by the Danvers family, her early work as Cat’s assistant, and her eventual transition into cub reporter.
It was the biggest news story of the year in a city rife with headlines about alien attacks, mad scientists and crime-fighting superheroes, and Amy was damned if she wasn’t going to get herself a piece of it.
“Here’s your coffee,” she says quickly, staggering forward to offer both the cup and the stack of papers tucked beneath her arm. “I’m sorry if it’s a little cold. I got stuck waiting at the elevators, and then I had to stop by accounting, and by the time I got here-”
“It’s completely fine,” Kara says, cutting off the momentum of Amy’s apology with a wave of her hand. Then, as though it’s a completely normal thing to do, her boss removes the lid from her cup and fires a blast of heat vision directly into its contents.
Amy tries to suppress the tiny jolt of surprise that shoots through her at such a blatant and casual show of power, but it’s clear her boss has noticed by the way her expression suddenly turns sheepish. Amy is fairly certain that Supergirl is too righteous a figure to turn those burning eyes in her direction, but it’s a good reminder to keep her ulterior motives to herself.
“D-did you need anything else, ma’am,” she asks quickly, and she’s not entirely certain that the stammer is fabricated this time around.
“No that’s all. Thank you, Amy,” Kara says with a friendly smile, and Amy takes that excuse to scamper her way back to her desk.
She watches her boss out of the corner of her eye for a few moments, taking note of the slight sag to her shoulders and the faraway look in her eyes. Supergirl or not, the past few weeks seem to have taken their toll, and it’s still not entirely clear what prompted the revelation of her identity in the first place. That’s one potential angle for a story, scribbled down in Amy’s small, leather-bound notebook beside other such gems as ‘the real Kara Danvers,’ ‘Superfriends secret identities,’ and ‘possible romantic relationships?’
It’s not as though she’s coming at this with any sort of malicious intent. This is more about seizing an opportunity to further her budding career. After all, if Kara Danvers didn’t want her secrets ferreted out from the shadows, why had she thrust herself so pointedly into the limelight?
Amy still can’t quite believe that the sunny-yet-humble personality that Kara Danvers presents to the world is the flip side to the confident and powerful Supergirl, but the office gossip she’s been pointedly eavesdropping in on seems to corroborate it. Coworkers who have known Kara Danvers for years appear to have been absolutely shocked by the revelation, painting the picture of a kind, unassuming, and slightly clumsy individual who would not have been on anyone’s short list for secret identity of the most powerful being on Earth.
Setting thoughts of her boss’s confusing life choices aside for the time being, Amy pulls up her schedule for the day and runs through her checklist. Just because she’s here for personal gain, that’s no reason to do a shoddy job, and Amy is as type A as she’s ever been. Fresh from her journalism degree at NCU and with a prestigious (though sadly, unpaid) summer internship at the New York Times under her belt, she’d known she was a shoo-in for this assistant position from the moment she’d read the job description. The slight embellishing of her involvement in alien rights activism and shameless gushing about working under a strong, inspiring woman during her interview had merely been icing on the cake.
It also helped that only two other people had even applied for the position. Apparently, the prospect of being Supergirl’s personal assistant was a bit too intimidating for most mere mortals.
And so Amy waits, biding her time as she fetches coffee and schedules meetings and scribbles slightly stalker-esque observations about her boss in the aforementioned notebook that she keeps stashed in the top drawer of her desk.
She’s midway through answering the emails that have accumulated in her inbox overnight, when her attention is drawn by the sound of a fist wrapping softly against a wooden doorframe. She looks up to find Nia Nal, one of Catco’s more senior reporters, standing in the doorway of Kara’s office.
“Time for the staff meeting, boss,” she says jovially. Then, seeming to take note of the same look on Kara’s face that Amy had noticed, she adds, “You okay?”
In response, Kara rises from her chair with a convincing smile. “Yeah, of course. Must have lost track of time is all.” She shuffles a few of the papers that have accumulated on her desk into some semblance of order, then follows Nia out into the hallway, the two of them chatting in hushed whispers that Amy can’t quite pick up on.
Come to think of it, Nia Nal does seem to be on particularly good terms with Kara Danvers. Perhaps that bears some looking into. As she watches the two women leave Kara’s office to disappear down the hallway, she takes a moment to scribble ‘Nia Nal – suspicious?’ into her notebook, before returning her attention to her work.
It’s about a week later, and Amy’s just beginning to really find her feet, when her boss is inexplicably late to work one morning. Amy is staring at the rapidly cooling latte sitting on her desk, wondering how someone with super speed could possibly justify not showing up to the office on time, when a breaking news report begins flashing across the bullpen’s many screens. Every head in the office turns to watch as their editor in chief throws herself between a speeding car and a group of helpless pedestrians, still dressed like she’s about to attend the morning’s editorial meeting.
It's one thing to know that Kara Danvers is Supergirl; it’s another to see the blatant evidence of such a fact in action. Supergirl, in her impressive blue super suit and flowing cape, feels like the type of otherworldly entity meant to perform such daring feats of heroism. Kara Danvers, in her button-down shirt and chinos, looks decidedly out of place as she extracts her hands from the dented bumper of the midsize sedan she’s just forcefully immobilized.
That doesn’t seem to be an unpopular opinion either, judging by the looks of shock and confusion from the bystanders at the scene. Even Kara herself seems somewhat bewildered by her own actions as she turns to face the crowd that’s gathering behind her. She stands frozen like a deer in headlights for several seconds, before she focuses her attention on the family whose imminent flattening she’s just averted, presumably to ask if they’re all right.
Footage of the incident is still looping twenty minutes later when Kara steps off the elevator, her face turning several shades of red as she’s met with a bullpen’s worth of polite applause. The method of her arrival alone is a bit unorthodox - she’s been entering the building via her office balcony every morning, presumably to avoid the paparazzi from competing publications who have taken up near-permanent residence outside. Amy supposes there’s no real point to that this morning in the wake of the scene she’s already caused.
Kara gives a few polite nods of acknowledgement, then makes a beeline across the bullpen to her office. To the untrained eye, her strides might appear confident and purposeful, but Amy has spent enough time around the woman over the past few weeks to recognize that she’s actually beating a hasty retreat. Those suspicions are confirmed when Kara reaches her desk and drops into the chair behind it with a tired sigh of relief.
Amy debates going in to check on her, before she decides to hang back and observe for the time being. Kara drops her head into her hands for a few moments, then turns her gaze towards the phone that sits beside her computer monitor. She seems to grapple through some sort of internal debate, before she finally picks up the receiver and dials. Amy surreptitiously scoots her desk chair closer to facilitate her eavesdropping.
“What’re you doing?” comes a voice from somewhere behind her, and Amy startles so badly she nearly falls out of her chair. She turns to find Becca, one of the few women in the IT department and a coworker that Amy has begun to warm to in spite of herself, perched on the edge of her desk.
This is decidedly not the time for socializing, so Amy holds a finger up to her lips and turns back to her task.
“Are you eavesdropping on the boss?” Becca asks, clearly not getting the signal.
Amy lets out a frustrated groan. “Becca,” she hisses. “Please.”
“Fine, geez,” the other woman says, rolling her eyes and fiddling with a pencil holder on the desk in front her while Amy attempts to refocus her attention.
“Yeah…no, you’re right. I guess it’s still going to take some getting used to,” Kara is saying, clearly already midway through her conversation. “Thanks, Lena, I appreciate it. I figured you of all people might understand.”
It takes only a momentary shift through Amy’s mental rolodex to piece together that Lena must be Lena Luthor. The L-Corp CEO has been a known associate of both Supergirl and Kara Danvers for years, though the exact nature of their relationship is still somewhat in question. There’d been some rumors of a feud or falling out between the youngest Luthor and Supergirl about a year or so ago, but that seems to be water under the bridge, if the way Kara is smiling into the receiver is any sort of indication.
“Yeah, sure, I’d love to,” Kara says after a brief pause, looking markedly more relaxed than she had upon entering her office. Amy files that tidbit of information away for later scrutiny. “I can have my assistant handle it if you’re busy.”
Upon hearing herself mentioned, Amy immediately turns her eyes towards her computer screen and attempts to look busy, assuming correctly that her boss might glance over in her direction. There’s another brief pause in the conversation, and then Kara rolls her eyes with a fond laugh, “Oh please, I am not! I’ll see you later, okay?”
Kara hangs up with a decisive click and when Amy chances another glance towards the office, her boss is still staring at the phone with a goofy grin on her face.
“What was that about?” Becca asks from behind her, and Amy sighs, having forgotten that she has uninvited company.
“I like to be able to anticipate Ms. Danvers’ needs,” she says innocently, still making a show of clicking around her browser windows with no real purpose.
“Wow, you really are a psycho,” Becca says sagely, then she shifts so she’s facing Amy and adds, “I’m having a game night over at my apartment tomorrow with some of the guys from IT. There’ll probably be more drinking than actual game playing, but it would be nice to balance out some of the testosterone, if you’re not busy.”
“Oh, thanks. I’ll have to check my calendar,” Amy responds, and her mind is already churning through a list of excuses she can use to decline the offer at a later time when a voice to her left makes them both jump.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
Kara is suddenly standing right beside Amy’s desk and damn, Amy hadn’t even heard her move from her office. Coming from any other boss, that question would likely be delivered with pointed sarcasm, but Kara Danvers actually seems apologetic to be breaking up her employees’ unsanctioned workplace conversation.
Becca, who has little to no experience with being directly addressed by Supergirl, jumps to her feet immediately, squeaks, “No, I was just getting back to work!” and is gone so quickly that Amy could be convinced that her coworker has a touch of super speed herself.
“She was just inviting me to a game night,” Amy says, intending to reassure her boss that she hadn’t been indulging in extended casual conversation during work hours. What she doesn’t expect is the loud, piercing squeal that her words elicit from the woman before her. It makes the hairs on the back of Amy’s neck stand on end.
“Oh, I love a good game night,” Kara says, clearly brimming with excitement on Amy’s behalf. There’s a somewhat wistful look on her face as she adds, “It’s nice to see that’s something the kids are still up to these days.”
Amy, surprised by the level of her boss’s enthusiasm for such matters, quickly recalibrates her intentions of accepting Becca’s invitation. Game night might actually be a worthwhile use of her time if it gives her something meaningful to talk about with her boss on Monday. Then, in the interest of steering the conversation far away from her personal life, she clears her throat and asks, “Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Danvers?”
“Um, yeah actually,” Kara says, looking a bit sheepish as she snaps out of her reverie. “I need a reservation for tonight. For two. Do you think you could get one at L’Étoile?” It’s clear from her tone that she’s attempting to sound authoritative, but her body language betrays that she still feels a bit awkward giving her own assistant directions. Amy wonders, not for the first time, how this is the same woman who tangles with world-ending threats on a monthly basis.
She raises an eyebrow at the question. L’Étoile is one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, but her boss is also both Supergirl and a high-powered media executive. “I’m pretty sure I could get you a reservation at Buckingham Palace,” she says, a mite sarcastically. Then, realizing she’s let her façade slip, she straightens up and adds, “Uh, if you wanted me to, ma’am.”
Kara seems too self-conscious about the reassurance to notice anything strange about its delivery, her cheeks turning a slight shade of pink as she stammers, “Oh, okay great! Well, can you make that reservation then? For 8:00pm?”
“Of course, will you be needing anything else?”
“No, that’s all. Thank you, Amy,” Kara says, and then she abruptly freezes in place. Amy watches curiously as her boss’s eyes unfocus for a few moments, and when she returns to normal, her expression is apologetic. “Oh, uh, I need to step out for a little while. I should be back in an hour or two. Thanks again!” and then, before Amy can even fully process her words, Kara has vanished in a gust of wind.
Amy clamps down over a few of the papers on her desk that threaten to fly away in the wake of boss’s abrupt departure, then sits back in her chair with a satisfied smirk. It just so happens she has a cousin who works as a hostess at L’Étoile - a cousin who happens to owe her quite a few favors from their college days. She pulls out her phone and dials.
That evening, Amy changes into a busboy’s uniform in the alleyway behind an upscale French restaurant, while her cousin Corinne stage whispers, “Will you hurry up?” from her lookout post at the back door of the kitchen. Amy has already slipped on a wig and a fake pair of glasses, and as she adjusts the thin tie that accompanies her uniform, she turns to her cousin and asks, “Okay, how do I look?”
“Like the psychopath who’s going to get me fired,” Corinne whispers urgently, casting another furtive glance back over her shoulder. “Will you get in here already?”
Amy finally acquiesces, slipping past Corinne in the doorway and into the back of the restaurant. “How did I let you talk me into this again?” the other woman asks with a sigh as they head towards the dining room.
“Because you promised me if I got you into delta phi’s end of the semester party junior year that you’d owe me indefinitely and for the rest of your life,” Amy responds, the latter part of her sentence clearly a direct quote.
Corinne huffs but doesn’t bother to deny this as she holds open the swinging door that leads into the dining area. “Look, just please get through this shift without costing me my job, okay? If you do really well, I’ll even make sure the waiters tip you out at the end of the night.”
Amy rolls her eyes but allows herself to be shoved out into the restaurant proper, where she immediately sets herself to clearing the dirty dishes off a nearby table, intending to keep her head down until her targets arrive.
At just past eight, Amy has conveniently angled herself so she’s busy at a table near the doorway when Lena Luthor and Kara Danvers finally make their entrance. Lena’s ensemble - an elegant, backless black dress and its complimentary designer heels - is hardly shocking, given that the CEO is constantly being photographed at one fancy soirée or another, but it’s Kara’s appearance that causes Amy to do a double take. The sleek blue dress currently hugging her figure is quite the stark contrast to the button-ups and cardigans she usually favors at the office, and her hair is down in loose curls rather than swept up into a ponytail. The overall effect is far more Supergirl than Kara Danvers.
The two of them cut quite a pair of striking figures as they sweep into the building, and Amy is hardly the only one to notice, judging by the gradual hush that descends over the restaurant. Kara very obviously freezes in the doorway as she becomes aware of the many pairs of eyes watching them, before Lena reaches out to grab her hand and tugs her further inside.
Amy tries not to laugh as Corinne nearly swallows her own tongue at the hostess stand before showing the two women to a secluded table at the back of the dining room. Amy makes her way towards their table slowly, straightening tablecloths and inspecting place settings as she goes so as not to appear suspicious.
Unfortunately, the pair have been so thoroughly sequestered away from the rabble that Amy can’t quite get close enough to listen in on their conversation. Instead, she settles for stealing furtive glances in their direction every few minutes as she wipes down the surrounding tables. Both of them seem to be thoroughly enjoying each other’s company, though there’s nothing particularly telling in the soft smiles or hushed words they’re sharing over their canapés. Their interaction suggests nothing more scandalous than close friends catching up over dinner.
At one point, Amy makes a gambit of strolling by their table at a snail’s pace on her way back to the kitchen, managing to catch a few snippets of conversation on the way.
“I guess it has made it easier to get out of the office for Supergirl business during the day. I mean, it definitely beats having to sneak out of the window in the supply closet.”
“That’s the spirit. And it must save valuable time, not having to find somewhere to change into your suit on short notice. I’m sure there wasn’t much room to hesitate with that family you rescued earlier today.”
“Yeah…I guess you’re right-”
The sounds of the conversation sadly fade behind her as Amy moves out of earshot. It seems they’re discussing the fallout of Kara’s decision to reveal her secret identity. What Amy wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall for the rest of that conversation.
She rounds the corner and nearly walks into a cluster of waiters who are locked into their own excited chatter.
“They seem so nice! And so normal. Especially Supergirl. She even smiled at me when I brought their drinks!”
Amy rolls her eyes as she makes her way into the kitchen to deposit a load of dirty dishes into the sink. If these waiters are so enamored by the prospect of serving Kara a club soda, she can’t imagine what they’d think of the incomparable privilege of fetching her boss’s coffee and takeout five days a week.
In an unfortunate turn of events, Amy gets caught on her way back out of the kitchen and diverted into rolling silverware, and by the time she’s able to make her escape, her boss and Lena are nowhere in sight. Cursing under her breath, she resigns herself to the fact that this endeavor has amounted to a complete waste of a Friday night, and then she dutifully finishes out the rest of her shift until closing.
She’s usually much more aware of her surroundings, especially as her apartment isn’t in the best part of town, but as Amy gets off the bus at just past eleven, the wad of tips from her bussing shift sitting pleasantly in her pocket, she’s too busy texting her thanks to her cousin to notice the tall figure approaching her from the shadows.
“Give me your phone and any cash you have on you,” a gruff voice demands, and a shiver runs down Amy’s spine as though she’s been doused with ice water.
Amy looks up to find a disheveled man in a tattered jacket leering at her in the darkness. His eyes are hard and slightly wild, and she feels her heart accelerate in her chest as she considers her options. In what might be considered a bit of a risky move, she tosses her phone behind her with all of her might, hoping that the man will turn his focus on retrieving it, and then makes a break in the direction her apartment.
Her plan, unfortunately, is unsuccessful. Undeterred by the attempted distraction, the man manages to grab Amy’s forearm before she can get any real distance between them. The grip on her arm is painful, and Amy lets out an involuntary cry for help, even as she realizes the streets around them are completely deserted at this hour.
The glint off a switchblade flashes somewhere near her neck, silencing Amy immediately. “I’m not going to ask you again,” the man says, and he’s so close that she can feel the warmth of his breath on her ear. Amy squeezes her eyes shut and resigns herself to hoping that her assailant will leave her alone if she gives him what he wants. Hands shaking, she reaches down to retrieve the wad of bills stuffed into the right-side pocket of her pants.
Then, an instant later, the weight at her side and the knife at her neck vanish in tandem as a gust of wind blasts down the previously empty sidewalk. There’s a grunt of pain from somewhere to her left, and Amy blinks her eyes open to find Supergirl pinning her attacker up against the brick wall of the building beside them.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I’m going to need my assistant in one piece for work on Monday,” Kara quips, her grip on the man’s collar tightening as she hoists him higher up against the wall. She gives him a slight shake, and his head knocks against the brick behind him and then lolls to the side, clearly unconscious. Supergirl sets him down in a slumped pile at her feet, and then turns to Amy and asks, “Are you all right?”
Her heart is still hammering in her chest, and she feels slightly dizzy from the adrenaline, but Amy somehow manages a short nod. Kara turns back around, tugs off the man’s jacket, and uses it to bind his hands to the railing of a nearby stairway. Seemingly satisfied with her work, she pulls out her phone, sends a short text message, and then vanishes in another gust of wind.
She reappears directly in front of Amy, holding her discarded cellphone, which Amy takes with shaking hands. “The police will swing by and pick him up,” Kara says, nodding her head in the direction of the incapacitated thug. “You’re lucky, I was just flying home from- Well, I was passing by, and I happened to hear your cry for help.”
“T-thanks,” Amy manages to stutter out. Her first thought is that she’s indescribably grateful that she’d returned her borrowed busboy uniform to her cousin before leaving the restaurant. She can’t imagine how she would even begin to explain that one to her boss.
Her second thought is that if she’s ever wondered how Kara Danvers managed to keep up a secret identity for years using nothing more than a pair of glasses, those doubts are now decisively banished. Amy has recently spent upwards of forty hours a week with the woman before her, and even she hardly recognizes her boss in this moment. Where Kara Danvers is all warmth, smiles and endearing stammers, Supergirl is hard steel and unwavering confidence. It seems that, even with the merging of her identities, Kara hasn’t yet completely forgone the dissociation of personality between the two.
Kara seems to recognize that Amy is still badly shaken, and her expression morphs into one of concern. “Hey, it’s kind of late. Why don’t you let me walk you the rest of the way home?” she suggests.
Amy gives another nod, and then the two set off in the direction of her apartment while Amy attempts to ignore the confusing awkwardness of her boss, dressed in full superhero regalia, trailing at her side.
“So…did you do anything fun on Friday night?” Kara asks, clearly trying to diffuse the tense silence with awkward small talk.
Amy, finally feeling as though her faculties are beginning to return to her, manages to answer, “Oh, not much. Just hung out with my cousin.” It isn’t a lie, anyway. Then, remembering that she’s meant to be aware of what her boss was up to, given that she’d made the reservation, she asks, “How was L’Étoile?”
“It was nice!” Kara says quickly. There’s a small smile on her lips and she’s twisting her hands in front of her, and it’s uncanny how she’s now completely recognizable as the woman Amy has come to know over the past few weeks. “Very fancy, but the food was really good.”
Amy smiles at that, amused by the simplicity in Supergirl’s review of the Michelin star restaurant. They walk on in silence for a short time after that, but mercifully they’re only two blocks from Amy’s apartment, so there’s no need to find another suitable topic of conversation.
“This is me,” Amy says, slowing her gait before the entryway to her building. It’s a somewhat shoddy four floor walk-up, and she’s suddenly a bit self-conscious that it’s on display before the most powerful woman in National City. She grows even more concerned a moment later, when she remembers the whiteboard covered in Kara Danvers research that’s set up in the center of her living room.
Luckily, Kara doesn’t seem to have any intention of sticking around. With another small smile, she says, “Stay safe, okay? I’ll see you on Monday.”
Amy nods, relief flooding her system, and says, “Thanks again. For the rescue.”
“Any time,” Kara says, and then she takes off into the night and Amy is left alone to ponder the insanity that was her entire evening.
She turns and unlocks the front door of her building, then makes her way up to her third-floor apartment, where Chester, her twelve-pound ball of orange fluff, meows loudly at her as she steps inside. She reaches down to scratch him behind the ears, mind finally kicking back into gear as she deposits her phone on the coffee table and makes her way into the living room. Perhaps the evening hadn’t been a complete waste after all.
Because it had been dark, and she’d hardly been in the right frame of mind to be noticing such things, but Amy could swear there’d been a smudge of red lipstick on her boss’s cheek.
She lifts a marker and steps before the whiteboard that documents the information she’s gathered on Kara Danvers so far. She finds the name Lena Luthor under the header of ‘Known Associates’ and underlines it in red, drawing a large question mark beside it for good measure, then steps back to examine her work.
This, she thinks to herself, warrants further investigation.
The next day is Saturday, and so Amy finds herself in a holding pattern until her return to work on Monday morning. She spends the day lazing around her apartment with her cat, watching whatever trash TV is on offer, and it’s already mid-afternoon when her phone buzzes with a text from Becca.
You coming tonight? it reads, and Amy has almost forgotten the invitation to game night that she’d brushed off the day before. She deliberates on it for a few minutes, before deciding that she’d rather not spend the night alone in her apartment.
I’ll be there. Can I bring anything? she sends back. Becca texts her the rest of the details and, at half past seven, she bids Chester goodbye and hops a bus across town to her friend’s apartment, stopping to grab the cheapest bottle of Moscato available at the local liquor shop along the way.
Becca’s apartment is slightly larger than hers and in a slightly nicer part of town. She buzzes 3B and waits to be let in, then climbs the stairs to find Becca already poking her head into the hallway. She’s holding a colorful can of some sort of presumably alcoholic beverage and already looks a bit tipsy.
“Hey, glad you made it!” she says excitedly as she ushers Amy inside. There are three other coworkers Amy is vaguely familiar with – Brice, Matt, and Jacob, if she recalls their names correctly – squished onto a couch and recliner around the coffee table. Some sort of board game is clearly already in progress, judging by the various game pieces scattered around the table in front of them.
“Hey, new girl!” one of them - Matt, she thinks - says jovially, holding up his beer bottle in cheers as Amy kicks off her shoes in the doorway. “Welcome!”
Five minutes later, she’s nursing a generous pour of Moscato in a paper cup as she settles into a desk chair that Becca has dragged over from her bedroom. She watches the tail end of their haunted house themed board game, (which seems to end in a resounding loss for Jacob and win for everyone else) content to let the conversation flow around her as she sips her cup of warm wine. Afterwards, they transition into some sort of casual trivia game, but the gap between turns grows longer and longer as the players grow increasingly inebriated.
Inevitably, the game sits forgotten on the table in front of them as the evening’s activity slips into workplace gossip. Amy has always been a very goal-oriented individual, usually keeping her head down and focusing on the task at hand, and so she doesn’t have the best history of building camaraderie with fellow students or coworkers. She has to admit, it’s a fascinating experience to be made privy to an entire world of office drama she hadn’t even known existed. Most of it is flavored by the IT department, given the present company, but there’s some speculation about romance amongst the staff reporters and minor scandal about lunch thefts in the break room sprinkled in for good measure.
This goes on for some time, before the others seem to become aware of Amy’s continued silence and try to draw her into the conversation.
“So, what’s it like being Supergirl’s personal assistant?” Brice asks, slurring his words slightly as he pops the bottle cap off a fresh beer. “Is it as intimidating as it sounds?”
Amy merely shrugs her shoulders and says, “I don’t know. She’s kind of weirdly normal, all things considered.”
“It’s sort of crazy, isn’t it?” Becca chimes in. “Giving up her secret identity after all these years? I wonder why she did it.”
Amy has no real response to that. It’s one of the many mysteries of Kara Danvers that she’s been working on solving herself.
“I can’t believe she bothers to work a day job,” Jacob says. “If I had all of those superpowers, I don’t think I’d waste my time sitting behind a desk. You could rob a couple of banks and be set for life. Nobody would even have to know. You could just travel around the world and live it up.”
“Well, thank god no one’s lining up to give you superpowers,” Becca says, rolling her eyes as she chucks a meeple across the table at her friend’s head.
“That’s what I’m saying, though,” Jacob laughs as the game piece misses its mark by a wide margin and bounces to the floor. “We’re all, like, crazy lucky that she’s so nice. I don’t think there are a lot of people that could be trusted with that much power.”
“Any of you guys ever get rescued by Supergirl?” Matt asks. “I feel like if you live in National City long enough, it’s sort of an inevitability, right?”
There’s a pause for answers and a brief exchange of glances at the question, and even though Amy is only nursing her second glass of wine, she’s already beginning to feel a bit fuzzy around the edges. That must be why she finds herself saying, “She actually rescued me from a mugging last night.”
This causes four pairs of interested eyes to snap immediately in her direction. “What, no way, really?” Becca asks, clearly enthralled by the potential gossip.
“Yeah, some guy jumped me on my way home,” Amy elaborates, figuring that this isn’t really something she needs to keep secret. “She pulled him off me and knocked him out, and then she walked me home.”
“Wow, that’s crazy,” Matt says, throwing himself backwards against the couch cushions. “You think that’s part of our employee benefits or something? Personal Supergirl protection?”
“Might make up for our crappy insurance plan,” Brice jokes as he takes another swig of his beer.
The rest of the night passes in a similar warm haze of company and conversation, and before Amy knows it, she’s stumbling out of Becca’s apartment at the end of the night. She splurges for an Uber home, given the late hour and her uncharacteristic level of inebriation, and happily makes it back to her apartment in one piece. As she settles into bed that night, she can’t help but feel that it was one of the more pleasant evenings she’s had in recent memory.
Maybe she hasn’t come to Catco to make friends, but she finds the fact that she has anyway isn’t necessarily an unwanted side effect.
Amy wonders if the fact that Supergirl has the dietary preferences of a fifteen-year-old boy would make any sort of worthy news story. Her boss’s ability to maintain washboard abs on a diet that seems to consist predominantly of pizza and pot stickers is certainly enviable, and Amy assumes it must be a quirk of her of alien physiology. She truly can’t think of any other explanation as she lugs what could only be described as a sack of greasy takeout up to Kara’s office for the third day in a row.
She expects to find her boss seated behind her desk at this time of the afternoon, so she’s mildly surprised to find the office vacant when she arrives. She pokes her head in anyway and spots the back of a familiar head of blonde hair through the glass door that leads out to the balcony.
Kara doesn’t turn as Amy steps outside, and so she rustles the bag of takeout gently and says, “I have your lunch, Ms. Danvers.”
Despite her super hearing, Kara seems so distracted that she actually startles at the interruption. “Oh, thank you, Amy,” she says, recovering with a small smile.
Amy gives her a strange look as she sets the bag down on a nearby table. “Is everything all right?” she asks.
Kara lets out a small sigh. She’s wearing her glasses today, which is a habit she seems to fall back on when she’s in need of comfort, and she fiddles with them as she holds out a copy of the National City Tribune, one of their competing publications. Amy accepts it with some amount of confusion, which dissipates as soon as she catches sight of the headline her boss has been staring at: ‘Integrity in the Media: Supergirl and the Standards of Ethical Journalism.’
“It's in response to my most recent article on aliens and affordable healthcare,” Kara elaborates. She looks up to find Amy still hovering in the doorway and motions for her to take a seat, which she does after only a moment’s hesitation.
“I’ve read it,” Amy responds, passing the copy of the Tribune back to her boss. “It was a really solid piece of writing.” That isn’t just a lie for the purpose of brown-nosing either. Amy had almost forgotten that, among her many other accomplishments, Kara Danvers is a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, and her most recent article certainly reflects that quality in her work.
“Yeah, well, it’s apparently sparked a lot of conversation around what it means for a superpowered alien to be editor in chief of a major publication. The concern about my inherent biases, the possibility that people might be too afraid to disagree with me for fear of how I might retaliate….”
Amy raises an eyebrow at that. “People can’t really think Supergirl is going to come and beat them up because they disagree with her writing in a newspaper article.”
This manages to elicit a small chuckle from Kara, before her expression falls once more. “I’d really like to think so, but I guess there’s always going to be some amount of fear surrounding me and my cousin, given what we can do. I’d hoped that by coming clean about my secret identity, people might see me as more human. That I’d be able to do both of my jobs with greater transparency. But I’m worried I may have just caused a whole host of other potential problems.”
There’s a part of Amy’s brain that’s screaming that this is just the type of conversation she’s been waiting for – a real heart to heart to shine a light on Supergirl’s recent decisions. Yet even as the thought occurs to her, Amy takes one glance at Kara, who’s looking more forlorn and vulnerable than a woman with bullet-proof skin has any right to, and she knows that this isn’t the type of scoop she’s going to be able to publish. Instead, she gives an encouraging smile and says, “People are always afraid of change, and of the unknown. This is just growing pains. It’s temporary.”
“You sound like my sister,” Kara says with a small smile, then her expression grows pensive. “I used to come out here and ask Ms. Grant for advice, back when I was her assistant. Now I’m basically Ms. Grant and I’m out here getting advice from my own assistant. I should be the one mentoring you.”
Amy doesn’t really know how to respond to that. The idea that Supergirl wants to mentor her at all is flattering, but the woman is, quite frankly, too much of a mess herself right now to be offering anyone advice. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ve been doing a great job so far,” she offers, and she finds it isn’t a lie.
That finally seems to lift Kara’s spirits somewhat, and she sits up a bit straighter in her chair as she says, “Thank you, Amy.”
“Any time,” Amy says, and then she steps back through the glass doors and into her boss’s office.
Kara does seem to be in much better spirits when she reappears later in the afternoon, and Amy decides to give herself a pat on the back for that, even though it’s equally possible that the six cheeseburgers she’d dropped off outside were the real MVPs.
An hour or two later, Amy looks up from her desk to find her boss and Nia having a whispered conversation down the hallway from Kara’s office. Kara’s hands are resting on her hips and Nia’s are curled into loose fists at her sides, and the sight gives Amy a strange, sudden sense of Déjà vu. On a whim, she pulls up a few recent articles on the Superfriends and scrolls through them absently until something catches her eye and oh dear god Nina Nal is actually Dreamer.
She’s staring at a picture of Supergirl and Dreamer from a Catco article published several months ago, standing in almost the extract same poses as Nia and her boss are currently, and now that she’s seen it, the truth of it seems painfully obvious. Nia had been one of the only staff members at Catco, besides Cat herself, who had seemed completely unfazed when Kara had revealed herself as Supergirl, and the two had always been abnormally close given that they didn’t actually spend a ton of time together at the office.
This is another very worthy tidbit of information she’s gleaned, but as Kara and Nia embrace at the conclusion of their conversation and then go their separate ways, Amy realizes that she hadn’t been planning on blowing up the life of a coworker over a potential story. It would be one thing to out a perfect stranger, but Nia had always been so kind to her. With a heavy heart, she realizes that this too is a scoop she simply can’t, in good conscience, publish. She’ll just have to continue to bide her time until something better comes along.
Luckily, she’s reminded of another potential story angle later that very day, just as Catco activity is beginning to wind down for the evening.
“I’m here to see Kara Danvers,” says a voice at Amy’s desk.
“Do you have an appointment?” Amy begins to ask, but she chokes on the end of her sentence as she looks up from her computer to see Lena Luthor standing before her. “Oh! Ms. Luthor,” she recovers quickly. Lena Luthor’s name is at the top of the very short list of those who don’t need an appointment for an audience with her boss. “She’s in her office. You can go right in.”
“Thank you, Amy, was it?” Lena asks, eyes flitting over the name displayed on the plaque at the front of the desk. “You must be the assistant I’ve heard so much about.” Then, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, she adds, “Thanks for watching out for her. She’s only made of steel on the outside, you know?”
Amy only stares, speechless, as Lena flashes one more smile and then turns on her heel and heads towards Kara’s office, marveling at the revelation that her boss apparently mentioned her to at least one member of her inner circle. She watches as Lena steps into the office with a soft greeting, watches as both women’s faces split into practically reverent smiles at the sight of one another, and she just knows there’s something there that she’s still missing.
Time marches onward, and Amy finds herself getting lulled into the quiet monotony of a stable full-time job. She fetches coffee and schedules meetings and makes dinner reservations. She attends another game night at Becca’s and then starts to take her lunch breaks over in the IT department, where the vibrant chatter is a welcome change to the silence of eating alone at her desk. She finds herself picking up the stray salad alongside her boss’s more questionable dietary choices as the paparazzi outside the building finally disperse and Lena Luthor begins stopping by the office for lunch more frequently (all four of the usual takeout spots call to verify that this wasn’t in error the first time she places the order). Amy still casts the occasional surreptitious glance towards the two women as they laugh and chat and occasionally share a suspicious, too-friendly touch over their afternoon meal, but she’s resigned herself to the fact that if there is anything more interesting than friendship going on between them, they’re keeping it very close to the chest.
She finds herself putting on less of an act at work as she gets to know her boss better, and, in an uncharacteristic slip, she mentions her ambitions of one day becoming a reporter. Rather than showing any signs of suspicion over this information, Kara is absolutely delighted, and Amy finds herself relieved of assistant duties a few hours a week to join the copy-editing team once it’s revealed that she has a knack for it. It may not be the sort of instantly-career-changing play that she was angling for, but Amy looks around at her office friends and her financial stability and her boss who’s clearly willing to give her a shot, and she thinks that maybe it’s fine to just ride this thing out the old-fashioned way.
That, of course, is precisely when the universe decides to turn things on their head.
Amy is puttering around her apartment on a Sunday afternoon when her phone dings with a breaking news update stating that Supergirl has been critically injured in her most recent fight. Alarmed, Amy scours the internet for more information, but all she comes up with is a video of Supergirl getting absolutely clobbered by some sort of giant, radioactive looking monster. It’s still difficult to reconcile the image of the caped superhero on her screen with the boss who takes her coffee with five sugars and excitedly shows cute cat videos around the office, but the danger of the situation certainly hits closer to home when Amy acknowledges that it is, in fact, Kara Danvers who is getting soundly thrashed for all the internet to see. The articles she finds on the subject assure her that the creature Supergirl was fighting has been subdued, but that the Girl of Steel herself was last seen being whisked away, unconscious, into the back of a government van.
Still, Amy reasons, Supergirl has been in a lot of tough scrapes before. Surely she’ll bounce back and be at work the following day as though nothing has even happened.
Those hopes are soundly dashed the moment she steps off the elevator the next morning and finds a rather cranky-looking Cat Grant settled behind her boss's desk.
The days that follow are the truest representation of the phrase ‘you don’t always know what you have until it’s gone’ that Amy has ever experienced. She’s been taking for granted that, though her job may be demanding, Kara Danvers is an absolute dream to work for. Cat Grant, on the other hand, is something else entirely.
“This is what you call lightly seasoned?” Cat scoffs at her as Amy presents a lunch that she is certain is done exactly to the other woman’s specifications. “Honestly, you’re lucky you’re Kara’s assistant and not mine. That girl never did have any concept of standards.”
So pass the longest four days of Amy’s life, and she returns home each evening feeling like she’s just emerged from the trenches of some godforsaken battlefield. She has no idea how Kara managed to survive working for this woman for more than a week, let alone for a matter of years. Her spirit already thoroughly broken, Amy isn’t sure how much longer she can go on, until she steps off the elevator at the end of the week and finds, not Cat, but Kara, seated at her rightful place in her office.
She can only blink for a few moments, feeling as though this is a mirage in the desert, a beautiful lie that’s poised to blink out of existence before her very eyes. When it doesn’t, and the building remains decidedly void of Cat Grant’s presence, Amy chucks the skinny vanilla latte she’s carrying directly into the trash and makes a beeline for her boss’s office.
“You’re back!” she bursts out as soon as she clears the double doors. Then, noticing her startling lack of decorum, she clears her throat and says, “I mean, good morning Ms. Danvers. So glad to see you’re feeling better.”
Kara merely looks amused by the display. “Wow, you’re like the fifth person to give me a suspiciously enthusiastic greeting this morning. What did Cat do to you guys while I was gone?”
The rest of the day passes in blissful harmony. The entire office seems to breathe a collective sigh of relief now that the shackles of tyranny have been broken, and operations return slowly but surely to normal. Amy stays a little later than usual, catching up on some work that had been pushed to the wayside while she’d catered to Cat Grant’s many, many, many demands, and so she’s mildly surprised when she finally turns off her computer at nearly 6:00pm and finds that her boss is still seated behind the desk in her office.
“Did you need anything else, Ms. Danvers?” she asks as she shrugs on her jacket, and Kara looks up from her computer with a small smile.
“No, that’s fine Amy. I’m just hanging out because I’m meeting someone here in a bit, but you should go. Enjoy your weekend!”
Amy spares only the briefest thought to this mystery person her boss is waiting on, but she’s well past the days of tracking Kara’s every move, and so she merely smiles and waves and then exits the building to the freedom of the weekend. It’s not until half an hour later, when she’s already almost home, that she smacks a hand against her forehead and realizes she’s left a folder of articles she’d meant to get around to proofreading over the weekend on her desk. She deliberates on it for a few minutes, weighing her options, before she turns around with a heavy sigh and heads back to the office.
The security guard seems surprised to see her, but he doesn’t remark as Amy swipes her keycard and then rides the elevator back up to Catco’s floor. The office has been thoroughly vacated and most of the lights are off, bathing the room in a dim glow. Amy doesn’t bother to switch them back on, given that she isn't intending to linger.
She’s relieved to find exactly what she’s looking for right out on top of her keyboard, and she’s already snatched the folder and turned to leave, when a strange noise from behind catches her attention. Without even thinking, Amy turns back towards her boss’s office to identify the source of the disturbance.
And boy, does she really wish she hadn’t done that, because what she’d heard was very clearly a soft moan. Lena Luthor’s moan, if Amy had to take a guess, given the way the woman is pressed up against her boss’s desk, eyes closed and wearing an expression that perfectly matches whatever sound has just been elicited. Kara’s face isn’t fully visible, lost behind a shock of blonde hair as she trails a line of kisses down Lena’s neck, and one of her hands has clearly disappeared under the hemline of the other woman’s shirt.
Amy can’t help the strangled noise that escapes her lips involuntarily as she realizes she is witnessing something she is really not meant to be seeing. She turns on her heel immediately and makes the quietest sprint to the elevator that she can manage, praying to whatever god will listen that neither of the women at her back have heard her. Luck is apparently not on her side, as Kara appears directly in front of her a moment later, looking wide-eyed and flushed.
“Amy?” Kara asks, voice threaded with confusion and alarm in equal measure. “This is not what it looks like.”
Without thinking, Amy casts a glance over her shoulder to where Lena Luthor is currently smoothing her hair back into some semblance of order, red-faced and still breathing somewhat heavily as she stares pointedly out the window to the balcony. When Amy turns back around, Kara’s expression is sheepish.
“Okay, maybe it’s a little bit what it looks like,” her boss relents, eyes shining with anxiety. “But I really, really didn’t mean for you to see that.”
“I didn’t see anything,” Amy squeaks, feeling her own cheeks heat up with the collective mortification of the entire situation. Then, without further hesitation, she adds, “I’ll see you on Monday!” and makes a break for the stairwell, not even wanting to chance having to wait an additional fifteen seconds for the elevator. Mercifully, no one tries to stop her as she takes the stairs down all fourteen floors and back out into the night.
The weekend that follows feels like the culmination of every experience Amy has had since she began working at Catco. Here, finally, is the exact story she’s been waiting for – something that she’s certain no news outlet has caught wind of and that will make waves immediately when it’s brought to light. Supergirl and Lena Luthor – an item! It’s like a tabloid writer’s wet dream come to life.
And yet, as Amy sits in her apartment, staring across her living room at the whiteboard full of evidence that she’s gathered on her boss, she feels the insidious fingers of unbidden guilt already beginning to twist at her insides. If she’d become privy to this information even a month ago, Amy is almost certain she would have pushed down her misgivings and gone straight to another publication to let loose her boss’s secrets. However, she’s since been caught and tangled quite thoroughly in Kara Danvers’ web of sunshine-y affection and trust. Betraying her boss’s confidence at this stage evokes within Amy the image of kicking a starving puppy.
With a sigh, Amy rises from the couch and stands before the whiteboard, using two fingers to smudge away the question mark she’d drawn beside Lena’s name. She picks up the red marker and circles it several times, standing back to admire her work before she decisively erases the entire board.
She tries to ignore the pounding in her chest as she rides the elevator up to work on Monday morning, not at all looking forward to facing her boss after what had transpired between them on Friday night. She can only imagine that Kara is having very similar misgivings.
Her suspicions are confirmed when she steps off the elevator and glances up to meet her boss’s blue eyes across the bullpen. Kara darts her gaze away immediately, pretending to be busy with something on her computer screen, but it’s clear that she’s been anxiously awaiting Amy’s arrival. With a weary sigh, Amy squares her shoulders, tightens her grip on her boss’s morning coffee, and makes her way across the room.
Kara is still pointedly ignoring her as she reaches the doors to her office, and so Amy takes the opportunity to wrap lightly on the doorframe.
“Oh, Amy, good morning,” Kara says, attempting to feign a casual tone and failing somewhat miserably. She motions for Amy to close the door behind her, and Amy does so, feeling only reasonably certain that she isn’t about to be vaporized where she stands.
“Look, about what happened on Friday-” Kara begins.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Amy cuts her off, placing the coffee cup on the edge of her boss’s desk like some sort of peace offering. She’s already decided how she’s going to play this.
She and Kara merely blink across the desk at each other for what feels like an eternity, before Kara’s face breaks into a small, tentative smile.
“Will you be needing anything else, Ms. Danvers?” she asks, tone a bit more pointed than usual.
“I’ve told you so many times, you can just call me Kara,” her boss counters, relief palpable as she catches on to what her assistant is doing.
Amy merely gives a small nod and slips back out of the office, leaving the doors open behind her. She straightens the plaque on her desk as she settles back into place, poised and ready to greet the day with a renewed sense of purpose.
Kara Danvers may not have as many secrets as she once did, but Amy has already vowed to take whichever ones may remain to her grave.