Chapter Text
The first thing Kara noticed about the morning was that Cat Grant was already in a bad mood.
Not the dramatic, performative kind she wore like couture on live television. This was sharper. Faster. The kind that made every heel-click through the halls of CatCo Worldwide Media Group sound like a warning shot.
Kara barely had time to stand from her desk before Cat swept out of the elevator, sunglasses still on despite being indoors.
“Keira,” Cat snapped, tossing her purse onto the assistant desk without slowing down, “if one more person emails me asking whether CatCo plans to publish another article about alien sightings in Burnley, I will personally launch them into the sun.”
Kara blinked. “Good morning to you too?”
Cat pointed a manicured finger at her while continuing toward her office. “Do not test me before caffeine.”
“Yes, Ms. Grant.”
“And where is my coffee?”
“You said yesterday you were trying to cut back.”
“I also said I was going to start pilates. We all say things we don’t mean.”
Kara hurried after her, notepad already in hand. Inside the office, Cat dropped into her chair with a dramatic sigh and immediately started rifling through folders.
“You’re late.”
“I’m three minutes early.”
“Exactly. Which means emotionally late.”
Kara bit back a smile and sat across from her desk.
Cat finally looked up at her. “Why are you smiling? It’s suspicious.”
“You’re very awake today.”
“I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours.”
“That explains it.”
“It explains brilliance, Keira.”
Kara scribbled on her tablet mostly to hide the grin pulling at her mouth.
For a few moments, the office settled into their familiar rhythm. Cat dictated edits to an article while Kara answered emails and filtered calls. It was strangely domestic in the way only catastrophe-driven workplaces could be.
Then Cat abruptly stopped speaking.
“Oh.”
Kara looked up.
“Oh?” she repeated carefully.
Cat’s eyes narrowed with sudden interest. “Lena Luthor.”
Kara nearly dropped her tablet.
“What about her?”
“The elusive daughter of Lionel Luthor has arrived in National City ahead of schedule.” Cat leaned back slowly. “And apparently she’s taking over Luthor Corp.”
Kara frowned faintly. “I thought Lex handled most of that?”
“Yes, and now he’s busy being a cautionary tale.”
Cat swiveled toward her computer screen. “Young. Brilliant. Mysterious. The media already hates her for her last name. Which means she’s either going to become a monster or America’s newest obsession.”
“And you want an interview.”
“I want leverage.”
Cat pointed at her. “Call her office. Schedule a meeting. Preferably before every other publication in the country realizes she exists.”
Kara nodded quickly. “Okay. I can do that.”
“And Keira?”
“Yes?”
Cat smirked faintly. “Do not sound desperate. Rich women can smell desperation.”
—
The next few days passed in a blur of deadlines, articles, and Cat’s increasingly theatrical commentary about Lena Luthor.
“She graduated MIT early.”
“She bought a biotech startup at twenty-one.”
“She once embarrassed a senator on live television.”
At one point Cat had even paused mid-meeting just to say, “Also apparently devastatingly attractive. According to every blog written by women under thirty.”
Kara had rolled her eyes.
Now, three days later, Kara stood at her desk sorting papers when the elevator doors opened.
The entire bullpen shifted.
Conversations softened. Heads turned.
And Lena Luthor stepped out like she belonged there.
Dark coat. Sharp posture. Elegant confidence.
She was beautiful.
Cat emerged from her office immediately, all effortless charisma.
“Miss Luthor.”
“Ms. Grant.”
Their handshakes were perfectly matched smiles and concealed calculation.
“Kara,” Cat called suddenly without looking away from Lena, “coffee.”
Kara stood automatically. “Of course.”
Cat gestured toward Lena as they walked toward the office together. “What do you drink?”
Lena’s voice was smooth, warm. “Flat white. Two sugars.”
Cat immediately raised her voice.
“Keira! Flat white. Two sugars.”
Kara scribbled the order down.
Then Lena laughed softly.
And something in Kara’s stomach dropped.
No.
No way.
But before she could think about it too hard, Cat waved dismissively. “Go to Noonan’s. The coffee here tastes like regret.”
Kara nodded quickly and fled.
—
The cool air outside did nothing to stop the panic rising in her chest.
Noonan’s was only a few blocks away, but by the time Kara stepped inside the familiar bar, her thoughts were already spiraling backward.
A few nights earlier.
Too much alien rum.
Too much frustration.
Alex yelling at her.
A fight that had nearly leveled three city blocks.
And Kara—exhausted and angry and lonely—had done something profoundly stupid.
She’d gone drinking.
Hard.
The memory came in flashes.
Music.
Neon lights.
The burn of alien alcohol.
Someone laughing beside her.
Dark hair.
Green eyes.
Kara remembered slumping against the bar dramatically while complaining about life.
“She thinks I’m reckless,” drunk Kara had muttered. “Which is fair because I am reckless but like… supportively reckless.”
The woman beside her had laughed softly.
“And what exactly does that mean?”
Kara remembered turning toward her.
Really turning.
And feeling the world go strangely still.
Because the woman was stunning.
Sharp cheekbones. Dark lipstick. Intelligent eyes lit with amusement.
“Hi,” Kara had said immediately.
The woman smiled into her drink. “Hello.”
“You’re very pretty.”
“That was fast.”
“I’m drunk.”
“I gathered.”
Kara remembered grinning helplessly while the woman introduced herself.
“Lena.”
Just Lena.
No last name.
Thank Rao.
Because otherwise Kara might have combusted on the spot.
They talked for hours.
At least Kara thought it was hours.
Everything blurred together after a while. Lena’s laugh. Her hand brushing Kara’s wrist. The warmth in her gaze every time Kara said something ridiculous.
At one point Kara had apparently climbed onto a bar stool backward to make a point about journalism ethics.
Lena had looked delighted by this.
Then came the fragments Kara really couldn’t stop thinking about.
The alley outside the bar.
Lena standing close enough for Kara to smell expensive perfume.
Kara staring openly at her mouth.
“You’re staring,” Lena had murmured.
“You’re very kissable.”
“Kara.”
The way Lena said her name had nearly melted her.
Then the kiss.
Warm hands.
Lena pulling her closer.
Kara laughing breathlessly into her mouth.
And then—
Nothing.
Just brief flashes afterward.
Soft sheets.
Dim lighting.
A woman’s silhouette beside her.
Kara waking the next morning completely naked in an unfamiliar bed with her head splitting open.
Panic.
Absolute panic.
She’d grabbed her clothes and escaped before the other woman had even woken up.
And now—
“Oh my god,” Kara whispered in Noonan’s.
The barista looked concerned.
“You okay?”
“No.”
—
When Kara returned to CatCo balancing the coffee tray, she prayed desperately that she was wrong.
Maybe lots of women had dark hair and green eyes.
Maybe she was hallucinating.
Maybe—
Lena looked up as Kara entered the office.
And smiled.
That same wicked, knowing smile from the bar.
Kara nearly dropped the coffees.
Heat exploded across her face.
Cat narrowed her eyes immediately. “Keira.”
“I’m fine.”
“You look like you’re having a stroke.”
“I’m not having a stroke.”
Kara shoved the coffees onto the desk too quickly. “Here’s your coffee and wow weather sure exists—”
Cat stared at her.
Lena took her cup slowly, clearly enjoying this.
“Thank you,” Lena said warmly.
Kara looked at her fully for the first time.
Oh no.
It was absolutely her.
The same eyes.
The same mouth.
The same woman Kara may or may not have slept with while blackout drunk.
Kara made a strangled noise.
Cat blinked. “Keira?”
“Kara,” Lena corrected gently.
Kara froze.
Cat looked between them slowly.
“You know each other?”
Lena sipped her coffee calmly. “Not particularly.”
Kara laughed too loudly. “Nope! Never met. Total strangers. Strange how strangers exist.”
Cat’s expression became deeply concerned.
Lena’s eyes sparkled with barely-contained amusement.
“It’s lovely to officially meet you, Kara.”
Officially.
Kara wanted to die.
“Yep,” she squeaked. “Officially.”
Then she turned around and walked directly into the office door.
Silence.
Cat stared.
Lena bit her lip.
Kara fled.
—
Exactly seven minutes later Cat’s office door slammed open.
“KEIRA.”
Kara looked up from her desk like a criminal caught mid-confession.
“Yes?”
“My office.”
Now.”
Kara followed her in slowly.
The second the door closed, Cat crossed her arms.
“What,” she asked carefully, “the hell was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Kara looked everywhere except at her.
Cat’s eyes widened suddenly.
“Oh my god.”
“What?”
“You slept with her.”
Kara choked violently. “WHAT?!”
Cat pointed dramatically. “You absolutely slept with her.”
“I did not— probably— maybe— I don’t know!”
Cat blinked.
“You don’t know?”
Kara covered her face with both hands.
“This is the worst day of my life.”
“Oh no,” Cat said, now fascinated. “We are absolutely discussing this.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s delicious.”
“Ms. Grant—”
“Sit.”
Kara sat.
Cat leaned against her desk expectantly like a queen awaiting gossip.
After several moments of suffering, Kara finally groaned.
“I was having a bad week.”
“You’re always having a bad week.”
“A really bad week.”
Cat waved a hand. “Continue.”
So Kara told her.
The bar.
The drinking.
Meeting Lena.
The flirting.
The kiss.
Waking up in someone else’s bed with no memory whatsoever.
By the end of it, Kara was red enough to match CatCo’s logo.
Cat stared at her for a very long moment.
Then—
“She called you Kara.”
Kara blinked.
“What?”
“She remembered your name.”
Kara frowned slightly.
“Well… yeah.”
Cat gave her a look.
“Keira, beautiful women do not usually remember the names of drunken disasters they meet in bars unless they are interested.”
Kara opened and closed her mouth.
“Oh.”
“And judging by the way Miss Luthor looked at you just now—”
“Please stop talking.”
“—you may actually have a chance.”
Kara dropped her head onto Cat’s desk with a groan.
“This is humiliating.”
“No,” Cat said thoughtfully. “Humiliating would have been vomiting on her shoes.”
Kara lifted her head slightly. “I might have done that.”
Cat stared.
“You are exhausting.”