Work Text:
Living room
The light of the setting sun swims in through the windows, setting the dining area ablaze in a deep orange glow. For a brief moment, the immense warmth on your cheeks, whether real or imagined, makes you think that is how the sun’s rays must feel on Kara’s Kryptonian skin.
You want to think up something sappy about the sunset, about how it’s the most beautiful one you’ve ever seen or something to that effect. But if you’re being honest, looking out from the view of your shiny penthouse with its giant windows and fantastic view, all sunsets look the same to you now.
Just as the sun is finishing up it's trek below the skyline, you leave the dining room in search of your evening’s guest.
As you enter the living room, you find her standing at the ceiling-to-floor bookshelf, intently tracing the spines of some of your paperbacks. You have an eclectic collection of books, your attachment to most of them too strong for you to willingly thin out your little library, nor are you willing to make Carter clean up the mess of comic books in his section of the shelves. You think your employees would balk at the idea of just how homely your penthouse really is, with your’s and your son’s stuff strewn all over the place.
You cross your arms in an attempt to look intimidating, but you're sure there's a look of amusement on your features that you just can't hide.
“Learning all my secrets, Kiera?” you ask teasingly.
Kara turns to you with a grin that gives you a warm, familiar feeling like you've known her your entire life and in every life before this one, if you believed in that sort of thing. Maybe you have, but something tells you you’re not that lucky. You just barely notice as she quickly peers at your two undone blouse buttons before meeting your eyes again and you feel a pleasant fluttering sensation settle low in your belly.
“Just looking at all of your books and stuff,” she answers as she adjusts her glasses, lips upturned at the corners. She faces the bookshelf again just long enough to reach out and pull down a book. She studies it a moment, then fully turns to you with a raised eyebrow and says with a playful lilt, “I didn’t exactly take you for the camping type, Miss Grant.”
The flirty tone doesn't catch you off guard the way it would have a few months ago. This little dance between you and her has become a familiar one and you’ve always been able to give as good as you get. And admittedly, in the back of your mind, you knew inviting Kara over to your home to “work on layouts” was an incredibly thin rouse.
She holds the book up so you can see the cover of the small, old hardcover Sierra National Forest camping guide. You roll your eyes before walking towards her, putting more sway into your stride than is strictly necessary. You let your eyes roam the length of her body before pulling yourself together enough to respond.
“Carter found that at a used bookstore a few weeks ago and has been begging me to take him camping ever since.” You stop just in front of her and take the book from her hand, letting your fingers brush against hers softly, lingering just a few seconds too long, “But I told him we would need to do much more research than simply reading this old thing before doing any such thing,” you shrug, “So, we’re working towards it slowly.”
“He’s never been camping before?” Kara asks, blue eyes widening just a touch, the flirtatiousness quickly overtaken by genuine surprise.
A small bit of sadness washes over you at her words. The book is just one of the many reminders that because of you, your son doesn't have a normal life, has never done most of the things considered normal childhood milestones. But, with a quick glance at the video game controllers lying tangled up on the coffee table and the throw blanket draped over the arm of the couch from the last failed pillow fort attempt, you just have to take solace in the fact that you've done the best that you can for your son.
You smile and shake your head, try to brush off the sudden sadness with, “I don’t think I have to tell you that I’m not the outdoorsy type, and Carter’s father is who he is, so no, Carter has never been before.”
Kara’s face lights up with childish excitement and you feel the sadness begin to slip away with ease.
“Oh, he has to have his first experience camping on the beach,” she grins, nearly vibrating with excitement, “When we were teenagers, my sister and I went camping on this one beach near Midvale that was right beneath a flight path and we stayed up super late just listening to the waves and watching the planes fly by, and it was so much fun! We have to take him sometime!”
Kara stops her babbling suddenly, eyes widening in realization at what she's just suggested. A few strands of hair have escaped her ponytail near her temple and frame her face in a way that makes you want to push aside your issues with personal space, with trust, and run the tips of your fingers down her jawline.
She finally sputters out, “I- I mean, you should take him, obviously, not- not us, because he’s your kid, of course, and-"
“Kara,” You stop her rambling and watch her with amusement for a moment, “I’m sure Carter would love it if you mentioned this idea to him,” you can’t help but roll your eyes as you anticipate your son’s reaction, “Hell, I’ll probably hear about nothing else for weeks once you suggest it to him.”
It's an exchange that seems to take only a second of time, but in that second a million thoughts pass through your head. You want that. You want to kiss Kara on the beach and watch her help Carter set up a tent. You want to hear her laugh ring out as you grouse about how unrefined it is to use a sleeping bag, you want to sit on the shore with her and watch the shoulders of the waves rise and fall like the horses of a carousel. You're tentatively willing to admit to yourself that you want a whole life with her.
You place the book back in its place on the shelf and watch Kara’s eyes flicker down to your lips as you lean in close to her body. As much as you want more, you're leaving it up to Kara to take you both the rest of the way there. She's a CatCo employee, your assistant, your friend. She’s Kara Danvers and Supergirl and you won't risk what the two of you already have all for a moment’s whim.
No, it's up to her to move your relationship forward.
And you think she might just know this when she grabs your hand and tangles her fingers in yours, pulling you close enough to mix breath and body heat. And finally, finally, she presses her lips to yours deliciously, greedily, and wraps you up in her sturdy arms, Kara’s lean body an exquisite contrast of soft curves and strong muscles that leaves you wanting so much more.
You let your mouth glide against her warm, addicting mouth and you can't help but open your own mouth just enough to let her in. You've seen the sunset from a penthouse view a million and one times, and you breathlessly think that this first kiss with Kara is a better beginning than all of the day’s ends put together.
Bathroom
You let your hands grip the edge of the sink tightly enough to leave painful grooves imprinted in your palms, your knuckles white and fingers beginning to ache.
The mirror in front of you is harsh and unforgiving, reflecting every wrinkle, throwing every blemish back at you. Your hair is a mess. Your blouse is wrinkled. You hate the fresh tear stains on your cheeks. You wish you could jump in the shower and wash off the day, somehow go back in time to the previous weekend when Kara had held you in the bathtub and told you Kryptonian fables and fairy tales.
Your mother shouldn't get to you like this anymore. You're not a child, you haven't been for a long, long time, if ever. So why does it still burn like this? This is your home, your life, that your mother’s words are invading.
The heated floors of the bathroom warm your bare feet. Really, Kitty, two divorces and a string of boy toys later and you still can't see that the problem might just be...you? Kara’s pink and white makeup bag is sitting on the corner of the counter. Kitty, I really think your son would benefit from this boarding school, they do wonders for kids with his sort of...behavioral issues. The drinking glass next to the faucet catches your eye. Well, I suppose for some women, the responsibilities of marriage and maintaining a family just don’t come naturally .
You couldn't even defend yourself because no one but Carter knows about your’s and Kara’s relationship. You couldn't tell your mother that you've found someone who makes you want to hold it all together, someone who loves your son and looks at you with a warmth you've never known before, you couldn't tell her that you're truly, genuinely happy now, tell her that even if Kara does walk away in the end, you’ll always be able to point to the echo of this memory and say, Look, I did it, I had it, and that’s more than most people can say.
And what does all of this say about you and Kara? It's been months now and Alex Danvers, arguably the most important person in Kara’s life, still doesn't know about your relationship.
The tears well up even more because this isn't who you are, you're Cat Grant, the Queen of All Media, a trailblazer, a muse to the world, and with all of these thoughts swirling around your head, in a fit of sudden anger you snatch the glass off the counter and smash it against the ground with a heavy sob. The glass breaks with a pretty, glittering sound and the remnants on the white, tiled floor reflecting the white overhead lights remind you of the stars Kara fell from.
You stumble back, finally feeling the drinks you had earlier to make the dinner with your mother go smoother, quicker. As soon as your back hits the wall next to the sink, you slide down it until you're sitting firmly on the ground. You throw your head back against the wall with a small thud and shut your eyes, trying to get your breathing under control.
Just as your eyes are finally beginning to dry, you hear the bathroom door open. You don't have to look to know who it is.
“Cat, are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”
Kara’s voice is firm and concerned, but still filled with that usual warmth you've become so accustomed to. Your body stiffens as you shake your head in response. Opening your eyes, you see Kara donned in her Supergirl suit, body rigid and tense as she looks over you apprehensively. You know her well enough to know she's using her powers and checking your body for physical injuries.
“Nothing’s wrong. Go home, Supergirl.”
You look away, but out of the corner of your eye you notice Kara slowly sit down in front of you with her knees bent just like yours are. She brushes some of the glass away and before you can really register what's happening, Kara is wrapping her cape around your shoulders. The feeling that wells up in you at the gesture is nice and you have to wipe away a few rogue tears that escape.
The bathroom is quiet for a minute and you're grateful for the bit of space Kara grants you. You rest your chin on your knees and wrap your arms around your legs before something else catches your eye.
“My mother gave me that for my birthday last year. She’s not exactly subtle with her hints,” you gesture at a black glass weight scale sitting in the far corner near the shower. If Kara weren’t here, you think that would be the next thing you would break.
“Your mother is an asshole, Cat,” she scoffs before you visibly see the realization dawn on her. “You had dinner with your mom tonight,” she says, gazing at you with sudden understanding.
With a deep breath, you nod. You hadn't told her about the dinner, instead making up some flimsy excuse about a late business meeting. Admittedly, you didn't want to broach the subject, didn't want to pressure Kara into finally having the conversation about making your relationship public. The only reason Carter knows is because you had made it clear to Kara that you never wanted to needlessly lie to him, and she had readily agreed.
You can feel your chest tightening and a throbbing headache looming thanks to that last bourbon.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she finally asks softly, breaking the heavy silence.
You roll your eyes and push away a few unruly strands of hair from your face.
“It’s no big deal, Supergirl,” you respond weakly, “Don’t you have a kitten up a tree to save or something?”
But she doesn't leave. Kara never leaves, and you're not sure if it makes you feel better or worse that she's now shouldering your burdens on top of her own. It's not fair to her, but you’re too selfish to tell her to go with any real conviction. She’ll always find you and you’ll always want her to.
“Tell me what happened, sweetness,” she murmurs. The pet name is a playful one that has never failed before to make you smile, as much as you may try to chastise her for it with a roll of the eyes.
But you don't smile this time.
“Are you ashamed of us?” you finally push out, voice dripping with accusation as you meet her eyes and straighten your posture. Kara exhales sharply in surprise, eyebrows quickly shooting upwards.
“What do you- I- of course not!” she stutters, voice rising with complete incredulity, “What would make you think that? Did I- Have I done something wrong?
“While my mother,” you grit out distastefully, “was picking apart every aspect of my life tonight, she had the audacity to throw my past two marriages in my face,” you shake your head and break the eye contact, too overwhelmed to stare into those intense blue eyes. “She insinuated that I don’t know how to keep a family together. Maybe she’s right because it doesn’t seem that you want this thing between us to go any further.”
“Okay, hold on,” she shifts in place, and her Supergirl suit (minus the cape, you think, pulling it slightly tighter against you) is clinging to her in all the right places. If you weren't so upset, you think you'd be making use of the bathroom floor in a very different way.
You clear the out-of-place thoughts from your head as she continues, “We’ve told your son about us, I spend nearly all of my free time here, heck, we’re planning a surprise trip to Disney for Carter’s birthday together,” she puts a hand on your knee, then begins caressing your leg soothingly, her touch soft and gentle. “Why would you think I’m not serious about us?”
“You don’t want to tell your sister about us,” you snap.
To your utter annoyance, Sunny Kara Danvers’ response to that is a small laugh.
“That’s what this is about?” she moves to sit besides you as she asks, “Why didn’t you just say something, sweetness?”
This time, you can't hold back a smile at the ridiculous pet name. At your smile, Kara places her arm around you atop the cape that's acting as a security blanket for you in this moment. Usually it's Carter being tucked in with Kara’s spare cape on long nights when her Supergirl duties or family obligations keep her out past the boy’s bedtime. It's only fitting since you feel like such a child in this moment.
“Your sister is the most important person in your life,” you say with just a bit of hesitance, “I assume that if you wanted the two of us to meet, you would’ve mentioned it to me first.”
“Of course I want Alex to meet you, and to meet Carter,” Kara explains, her embrace giving you solace, “but I know family can be kind of a sensitive issue for both of us and I didn’t want to rush you.”
You pause for a moment, then allow yourself to fall into her. Reaching for any part of her you can find, your hand grasps at the suit against her abdomen and holds there tightly, anchoring you to her, to reality, and offering you a small bit of reprieve from the night’s emotional drainage.
“Well then, I suppose...that takes care of that issue,” you sigh against her neck and jaw, breathing in the younger woman’s smell. You know there's more to it though, and you know she knows that too.
So you continue, “I’m sorry, I just- When my mother began prattling on about how she always expected that by now I would have the picture perfect family with a husband and a child, all I wanted was to tell her about how happy you and I and Carter are, about how much you’ve helped my relationship with Adam, but then I remembered that I couldn’t.”
Kara presses a kiss against your cheek as you trail off and you're reminded once again that's she’s here.
“Cat, you could have told her, you have to know I wouldn’t have minded. I mean, of course my sister and Carter should be the first ones we tell, but I don’t care who knows about our relationship.”
The look on Kara’s face is one of genuine trust and you can't remember a time you've ever seen such an expression on any of your past lovers. She's serious about this, about you. And she has to know it won't be easy because you’ve never been an easy woman. On top of that, there are a multitude of other potential issues to account for; you're a public figure and you have a teenage son and Kara still works for you, to name a few.
But when you let that tiny optimistic voice in the back of your mind make itself known, you think this will work out anyway. Media attention always dies down eventually, and Carter has a healthier relationship with Kara than he does his own father, and if Kara wants to stay at CatCo, you’ll gladly step down as CEO in order to step out of the way of her journey.
You just want to be by her side through it all.
“How about,” she interrupts your musings and starts kissing that one particular spot beneath your ear (you know it won't be long until you're putty in her hands), “I go call my sister and set up dinner for the four of us tomorrow night, and then you and I head off to bed?”
“Bed first, then make the phone call,” you use a finger to lift her chin up and see your own desire reflected in her eyes.
You're not sure who leans in first, but in an instant your lips are pressed against Kara’s and her hands are wandering dangerously low on your back and you spend the next half hour kissing your girlfriend on the bathroom floor, never moving your lips from hers. You briefly wonder if she’s listening for the sound of your heartbeat, as it speeds up and stutters every time she whispers against your lips about how much she loves you, just loud enough for you to catch through the breathy moans.
You think she just might be.
Kitchen
At the look of pure anger and desperation on Kara’s face, you’re willing to admit that you’re starting to second guess your decision. But you know better than to let it show. What you did was for her and you would do it again, a million times over, if necessary.
She’s standing on the opposite side of the counter as you, her hands resting flat on marble island counter, and you briefly wonder if she’s finally going to walk out.
The penthouse kitchen is only dimly lit by the stove lights, the air around you strained with a leftover buzz from when you both stormed in only a few minutes earlier. Back at the DEO, once Kara had been cleared to leave, Alex and you had shared a look of understanding before she placed a kind hand on Carter’s shoulder and offered to let him stay the night at her place. You had mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ at her as Kara took your son’s face in her hands and murmured something too low for you to make out. It would have softened your heart any other time.
“I cannot believe you did that, Cat, do you know how stupid and dangerous that was?” Kara finally grits out, eyes shining with unshed tears.
You cross your arms in way you know is childish, but you are absolutely sticking to your guns on this.
“Well, your government employers were more than fine with my plan and it worked, didn't it?” you point out as you roll your eyes.
“I don't care that it worked and believe me, the DEO will be hearing from me too, but it was your idea and it was you who was put in danger,” she clenches her fists, jaw tight and hair mussed. She’s the picture of frustration and you start to feel slightly guilty as she questions desperately, “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I would do anything to save you, darling, and I know you would do the same for me,” you murmur, letting your shoulders drop as you feel the tension in your body give way to the fatigue that’s settled over you.
You just want Kara to finally get it. She’s a superhero, she saves people on a daily basis and never asks for anything in return. More than that, she’s saved you more times than you think even she realizes and as ill thought out as your plan may have been, you just wanted to save her for once.
Because while Alex may have faith that she can sway the DEO to allow her to go to nearly any and every length to save Kara from herself, you know better. They’re a government agency, not some philanthropic do-gooders; if it came down to a choice between stopping Supergirl permanently or letting a mind-muddled alien wreak havoc on the public, you’ve no doubt what they would choose. And you can’t let that happen.
“How are you not understanding this, Cat? You- You could have- I could have killed you,” she shakes her and presses her fists into her eyes, making you feel even worse.
“Oh, darling,” you quickly round the counter and take her into your arms. As she folds into you, her face pressed against your neck with the tears falling freely, you begin softly carding your fingers through her hair, whispering, “I trust you implicitly, my love, and I know for a fact that you would never do anything to hurt me, Kara.”
After a moment, she pulls away from you completely to run an unsteady hand through her disheveled hair, her gaze steadily avoiding yours. You watch her eyes travel around the kitchen and you can feel the fear clutching at your stomach, hot and distorted.
“We never should’ve started this relationship, Cat, not after the first red kryptonite incident.”
Her voice cracks as she speaks and you feel a heaviness you’ve never experienced before settle against your chest. You start to reach out to her, but pull back at the last second. She looks small, smaller than you’ve seen before and you can feel the fear radiating off of her in waves.
You know Kara well enough to know she’s going heavy on the self-blame and you need her to understand that you would do anything in your power to keep her as safe as she keeps you, Carter, Alex, the entire world really.
“Darling, no-”
Before you can even begin to make your point, she cuts you off.
“Don’t do that, Cat, don’t try to convince me it was no big deal,” she turns to look you in the eye finally, “Some z-list villain cooks up another batch of red kryptonite and uses it on me, and what does my girlfriend do, despite the fact that I threw her off a freaking building last time? She uses herself as bait to lure me out!”
“Kara, you may turn into quite the delinquent when you’re affected by red kryptonite, but you do not have an evil bone in your body,” you close the distance and take her face in your hands. “I knew that you wouldn’t hurt me, that’s why I suggested it to Alex in the first place. Besides, it’s not so different from when I lured out Leslie,” you roll your eyes again and press your palm firmly against her soft cheek.
“That wasn’t the same thing, Cat,” she practically whispers, looking both tired and defeated. “I was there to protect you when it was Leslie. This time- This time I was the thing you needed protection from.”
Before you can speak, she goes on with tearful eyes, “Cat, you could- you should be with someone normal, someone who can share the life you worked so hard for, who can share all of this,” she gestures around the kitchen, “with you and Carter, without you guys having to worry about your safety. I put you both in danger in so many ways…”
“Kara, I have never needed protection from you,” you state with as much conviction as you can manage, “Just tell me how I can help you forgive yourself, darling, and I will.”
You watch her think for a moment before looks at you with a sudden surety and asserts, “The DEO stores kryptonite just in case of emergencies involving rogue Kryptonians or Fort Rozz escapees, and I know Alex has access to the storage unit where it’s kept. I want you to keep kryptonite in the house for the next time something like this happens, to protect yourself from me.”
You raise an eyebrow and press your lips into a thin line. Your answer is already clear to both of you, that much you know.
Not only is Kryptonite too risky to keep in your home, but you can’t help but feel that it would put an emotional strain on both you and Kara. It would be a constant reminder to her of the red kryptonite’s influence and it would only frustrate you to think that she doesn’t trust you to know what’s best for you and your son.
No, keeping kryptonite in the penthouse is entirely out of the question.
But you know you need to tread carefully to convince her of that fact.
“I know you feel afraid and guilty, and I know your feelings are running so deep that it feels all consuming right now,” you move slowly into her space and brush away some of the leftover grime from her brow, “But you need to trust that I don’t need the kryptonite. If you can’t trust yourself just yet, Kara, then at least know that I have enough trust in the depth of your goodness for both of us.”
You can seen the wheels turning in Kara’s mind, but she doesn’t fight you any further and you’re willing to take that as a small victory. There’s too much bad in the world and both you and Kara are witness to it, victims of it, far too often and you’re not willing to give up this piece of happiness, of contentedness and pride, that you’ve both carved out for yourselves. You let your thumb rub against Kara’s cheekbone and press your body against hers, unable to hold back any longer.
Maybe it's selfish, but you’re not willing to let go of the woman who fills you with the echoes of the person you once were, but never thought you could be ever again. She's good for you and you think maybe, just maybe, you can be good for her too.
These thoughts though, this moment, are all sappy in a way that you know is decidedly not like Cat-Grant-CEO, but before you can make some ill-timed joke about being two lovesick fools, Kara presses her lips against yours in a desperate kiss. A small moan escapes the back of your throat at the roughness of Kara’s hands and mouth, and because you’re Cat Grant and you can give as good as you get, you take her bottom lip between your teeth and bite at it softly.
You think you hear the faint ticking of the wall clock off to the side, but it might just be the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.
Office
The foyer is dark as you enter the penthouse and you pause for a second where you stand. You can faintly hear the sound of the television coming from the living room, can smell that flowery candle that Kara loves to burn, see her keys hanging on the wall hook.
Sometimes coming home to a quiet home scares you; sometimes the immediate quietness (such a stark contrast to the busyness of the CatCo offices and the clamor of the National City streets) fills you with this irrational fear that with the next few steps, you’ll find that Kara has packed all her things and simply left without a word.
With a small sigh of relief, you kick off your heels uncaringly and throw your purse on the console table, too glad to be home to care about poise. The day was long, but productive, and you’re satisfied with the direction the magazine is headed and with the steady improvements the Tribune is making.
Kara isn’t your assistant anymore and while she’s making great strides in her junior reporter position, none of your latest assistants have even come close to anticipating your whims or providing you hot enough coffee as she did. It's become a little known problem that amuses Kara to no end and often results in her surprising you with caffeine and candy during work hours.
You make your way to your’s and Kara’s bedroom to change out of your work clothes, but before you can enter, you spot Carter at the end of the hallway coming out of your home office.
“And just what are you still doing up, young man? It’s late,” you admonish him with a seriousness usually reserved for witless CatCo employees, but his smile doesn’t falter even a bit. You’ll never admit it out loud, but deep down you’re glad that Carter isn’t intimidated by you, isn’t afraid of you, even when you’re trying (and sometimes failing) to discipline him.
“Sorry,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes at your thirteen year old's decidedly teenage response, “Kara and I were just talking in your study.”
At this, he looks away shyly and tugs lightly at the curly hair falling over his forehead. It’s a nervous habit he’s had since he was a child, but you know better than to think that any timidness regarding something between him and Kara is a bad kind of nervousness.
“Oh?” you keep your voice light and purse your lips slightly in curiosity, “What about?”
He rolls his own eyes at your prying. “I thought you just said that I have to go to bed?” he waves you off and starts down the hallway. “Goodnight, mom,” he throws back at you cheekily.
You shake your head with only the touch of a smirk at how much of a smart-ass your son can be, then head into your office where you know you’ll find Kara.
“Kara?” you call softly. You round the doorway and find her sitting in your leather chair with a grin on her face that rivals the sun.
The sleek, modern office is the product of years’ worth of tech trends, all sharp decor and light gray walls, but you know that Carter sometimes finds refuge in here on the nights that work keeps you away while the nanny makes overtime. You'd once thought of modeling this room after your father’s old home office, but you had decided you'd rather be steeped in coldness than sadness while you work.
Carter’s presence though, and now Kara’s, give it a warmth that’s been absent from this room, from your life, for all too long, like lighting a fire in a cave.
“Oh, there you are, Kara, what are you doing in here?” you ask airily. She turns her grin towards you as you place yourself firmly in her lap and wrap your hands around her strong shoulders. Her arms envelope your waist and you take a moment to indulge in the feel of her protective hold on you, just barely resisting the urge to bite the space where her shoulder meets her neck.
Kara glances at your lips then leans in to steal a long, soft kiss. You bury your hands in her thick, blonde hair and press your body to hers tightly enough to feel her chest rise and fall with every heavy breath. After a minute of hungry kissing, she pulls away, leaving you flustered and curious at her mood.
“Okay, what happened?” you ask, still slightly breathless.
“Nothing bad,” she grins again, “Carter was in here reading and he was feeling nervous about seeing his dad again and, I don’t know, I guess I just comforted him?”
Kara looks suddenly unsure of herself, and you know there must be more to it than she’s telling you. Carter and Kara may be thick as thieves, but they don’t keep secrets from you (aside from the plans for a small surprise birthday party they think you don’t know about) so you know that Kara just needs a moment to collect her thoughts.
“And what exactly did he say to put you in such a giddy mood?” you ask with the slight tilt of your head. “When I walked in here, you were grinning like you’d been offered an endless supply of potstickers.”
“He, um,” she clears her throat, a pensive look crossing her features now. A small bit of worry starts to creep in as you wonder if the subject matter is more serious than you thought. You start to play with the hair at the nape of her neck in an attempt to soothe both yourself and the Kryptonian whose lap you’re seated on.
“He told me I’m good at being a mom,” she finally admits with a small, hesitant shrug. The quietness of her voice reminds you of Carter and you fleetingly think of all the characteristics they’ve come to share despite not being blood related.
“Oh.” It’s an idiotic response, one you would certainly reprimand anyone in your employ for, but it’s all you can get past your lips for now. At your uncommon loss for words, she pulls you into her chest and tucks your head beneath her chin. You press your ear closer to her chest, try to find the melody of her heartbeat, try to memorize it, try to force your own heart to harmonize with it.
You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t considered Kara a second mother to your son before. But you've never voiced if aloud and to hear that Carter feels it too is slightly overwhelming. It makes you happy, though, that much is true. Carter's father is as good a father as he can be and really, with your track record, with Adam, you can't judge him too harshly for not knowing how to be a dad when you once didn't know how to be a mom. Your second husband hadn't even tried to take on a parental role, but you hadn't realized that Carter was looking for a second parent, a second person in the world, to understand him, love him, like you do. But Kara's here now and she sees him. That's more than enough.
The journalist in you is also incredibly curious to know just how that conversation came about, but you're willing to push it aside and let Kara and your son, her son, hold that special moment just between them.
Your mother’s most recent words wash over you for a moment without your permission, but if anyone can hold a family together, it’s Kara. You know it all the way down to your bones that no matter what becomes of your relationship, Kara will be there for Carter no matter what. She's his family now and she'll always be yours too. You think maybe you’ve always known that.
“Are you...okay?” Kara asks, breaking the silence. “I mean, is that okay with you that he said that?”
“Of course, darling,” you responds instantly, arms tightening around her as you suddenly realize that you’ve yet to ask how Kara feels about her role in this new development. “I should be the one asking you that. I know you're young and you didn’t sign up for this, so if he made you uncomfortable, I can speak with-”
“No, don’t do that, please,” she rushes out with a shake of her head, “I mean, I’m- I’m really okay with it. If you are too, of course. I would never want to overstep or anything when it comes to Carter.”
Apprehension is written all over Kara’s face like she's afraid you're going to take this away from her and you're reminded of just how much has been taken from her already in her young lifetime. Even if you wanted to, you would never force her to give this up.
“You’re not overstepping anything, Kara,” you assure her as you hide your face in her neck, breathing in the flowery smell of Kara’s skin. You then tentatively broach the implications of your son’s sudden bravado, “I mean, I suppose if Carter has gotten so attached to you that he thinks of you as a mother figure, then perhaps we should soon talk about the seriousness of our relationship and where we’re headed as a couple.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we could do that,” she says with a lightness and you can’t see it, but you know she must be wearing her signature Sunny Danvers smile as she continues teasingly, “I can tell you right now, though, on my end it’s looking pretty serious, so I hope you’re ready to be putting up with my alien butt for a lot longer.”
With the hint of a smile that you’re sure she can feel against her hypersensitive Kryptonian skin, you press a lingering kiss to Kara’s collarbone. The wind is whirring outside the partially open window, the breeze cooling your overheated skin, and it feels like another beginning of sorts.
“It’s pretty serious for me too, darling.”
Bedroom
“Are you finished yet?”
“Not yet, Cat, just hold still a sec. Y’know, for someone who spent years building a media empire, I would think you’d have a little more patience than this,” she giggles, the sound annoyingly endearing, even to you.
“Well, for someone who possesses superspeed, I would think you would be able to move a bit quicker than this, Kara,” you roll your eyes, letting yourself smile just a little bit at her gleeful antics.
You let out a quiet laugh as you watch Kara set down her paintbrush and examine the canvas in front of her with the utmost seriousness. You’re laying on the bed that you and Kara share, arms crossed at the wrists above just above your head on the pillows. You’re entirely naked save for the dark blue satin sheet that Kara draped over you before proceeding to very thoroughly ensure that it was correctly placed. You’re sure that your hair is a mess and you’re only feeling slightly bashful over the fact that you’re not even wearing makeup right now.
You were delightfully surprised and pleased when Kara requested that you pose for a painting.
You’re Cat Grant, you know you’re a desirable woman, but you’re also aware that you’re not getting any younger while Kara, well, she’s a superpowered alien whose only physical flaw seems to be that she has none. But the way she’s looking at you now, the way she’s been looking at you all afternoon, with her eyes dark as she runs her tongue over her lips every so often, it’s almost as if she’s overwhelmed by how much she wants you.
“You didn’t seem to have a problem with me taking my time last night,” the teasing lilt in her voice pulls you away from your self-conscious musings and sends a shiver through your body as you remember just how slow she was last night.
“Yes, well,” you clear your throat and press your thighs together beneath the sheets, “We both know that last night was much more... hands on than this, darling.”
She raises an eyebrow at you for a moment, then turns her attention back to the canvas. You haven’t even had a glimpse of the painting yet, but you’re completely confident that Kara’s artistic hands have at least made you look good.
“I guess you can come see it now,” she huffs, running a hand through her blonde tresses.
You pull the sheets close to your naked body as you push yourself off the bed, the cold of the hardwood floor chilling your feet. Kara watches you from where she’s sat on her favorite stool that she dragged in from the kitchen. She’s donned in nothing but underwear and a white sleep shirt that clings to her curves in all the right places and gives you a perfect display of the muscles in her superpowered arms.
The small paint smudge on her cheekbone reminds you of the disastrous attempt at using fudge sauce, marshmallows, and graham crackers to make smores in bed (the Kryptonian’s idea, of course). It had ended in you licking chocolate off of Kara’s sculpted abs as she tangled her hands in your hair and urged you lower with a breathy moan.
Kara clears her throat and peers at your figure up and down as you stop to stand a few feet away from her.
You chuckle and tilt your head at her obvious ogling, “Darling, you know you’re staring at me with that goofy look on your face that our son always makes fun of you for.”
The heated expression on her face turns into a look of adoration and joy. And you know why.
Our son. You and Kara share a son together, are raising a child together, something you could never imagine doing with anyone but her.
It had also been in that same room that Carter had first called Kara ‘mom’ and much by accident, too.
Kara had been in a nasty fight with a rogue alien and hadn't come home until the early morning hours of the following day while you waited at home in an anxiety fueled daze. Carter, who you had jointly decided to tell about Kara’s alter ego for his own safety, had stayed up with you through the night while panic gripped your heart. When Kara had finally made it home safe and alive, the three of you piled into yours and Kara’s bed while she gathered you both in her arms and simply held you close.
As she pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and rubbed Carter’s shoulder, he had mumbled into Kara’s shoulder in a small, childlike voice, “You really scared us, ma."
You had felt her stiffen while your own eyes went wide with surprise, but before you could even consider doing damage control, she relaxed beneath you and began carding her fingers through his curly hair as she whispered back, “I know. I’m sorry, buddy.”
You can't help but smile at the memory that holds so much bittersweetness. Kara is your son’s other mother and you're in this together now. Unable to hold back your affection for her any longer, you wrap your arms around Kara’s neck from behind, the sheet still wrapped snugly around your torso.
“What do you mean the look that ‘he’ makes fun of me for? You both like to make fun of me for being a sap,” she turns her best pout on you and it's all you can do to not laugh at her.
You coax Kara’s head towards yours with a finger beneath her chin and kiss her tenderly, breath hitching when she almost immediately gives your tongue access to her warm mouth. You slowly pull your lips away from hers after indulging for a few heated moments and rest your chin on her shoulder, finally taking in the painting in front of you. You give a small gasp as you study the piece for the first time.
“Wow,” you breathe out, “Kara, I knew you were something of an artist, but I didn’t know you were capable of something like this.”
The painting is glorious and you can't help the minor disbelief that this is how she sees you, the reverence shining through brightly. Your eyes seem to be the main focus of the painting, the green hues bright and shining with something untouchable, but your pink lips are slightly parted and the curves of your body have been accentuated, giving the painting a sensual touch. It's beautiful.
“You like it, then?” she asks almost timidly, cheeks dusted pink. “I know you were hesitant to let me paint you at first, but-”
“I love it,” you kiss her again, harder this time in a way that leaves no doubt that tonight you’ll show her just how much you love the painting. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe you actually see me this way,” you whisper, unsure if you even want her to hear you or not.
“What way is that? Gorgeous? Headstrong? Brilliant? Ethereal?” Kara turns to face you, and while her tone is slightly teasing, you read nothing but honesty on her face.
“Oh, shut up,” you laugh, swatting at her arm playfully.
“I’ve always seen you like this, Cat. You’ve always been the human embodiment of everything good in this universe and every other one, even when you try so hard to hide behind snark and sarcasm.”
You tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear and look away slightly, murmuring, “Yes, well, I think it’s safe to say you’re quite biased, darling.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she shakes her head with a smirk, “My bias doesn’t make it any less true, sweetness.”
You roll your eyes and smile at the ridiculous pet name, but let the silence simply wash over you for a long moment. You glance around the room and just barely hold in a laugh as you remember the time Kara came home from a night out with Alex at that one alien bar, drunk as you’d ever seen her.
You had been in bed already, sleepily watching some late-night show on mute when Kara made her failed attempt at tip-toeing into the room. Somehow, after a few minutes of drunken proclamations of her love for you, she had managed to convince you to help her move all the furniture around, from the bed to the television stand, citing the need for a home renovation as soon as possible with only the hint of a slur. After pushing the dresser into the corner and halfway through unnecessarily helping Kara push the bed towards the opposite wall, you’d both given up and fallen into bed together, tangled in the mess of pillows and sheets, kissing and laughing at your own antics. It was absurd and illogical and you’d spent the entirety of the next morning amusedly watching your hungover Kryptonian as she pushed all the furniture back into place.
But you were happy.
And not just that, but you’re still happy. With her. You’ve never voiced it in aloud so many words, but Kara gives you something that you’ve never had before: a contentedness that you think could finally last. You think she knows this without you having to say a word though, because when it comes to you, she seems to have a sense for that sort of thing. Kara is a gift that you don’t think you deserve, but you’re willing to do whatever you need to in order to keep earning her love.
“So, does this count as an early wedding present?” you ask teasingly.
Your fiancée grins at the question and turns around on her stool to face you completely. She reaches her hands out to place them on your waist then pulls you into the space between her legs, your lithe frame standing taller over her for once. The close quarters of your bodies makes your stomach flutter and your head swim, but they’re pleasant feelings.
“It could be if you want it to,” she tugs you down closer until she can press her lips to yours, taking your bottom lip between both of hers to nip gently. After a minute, she pulls away enough to mumble against your mouth, “And in return, maybe you could finally show me your wedding dress?”
“Nice try, Supergirl,” you taps a palm against her cheek playfully, smirking down at her, “We may be an unconventional couple, but one tradition we will definitely be following is no seeing the dresses until we’re walking towards each other down the aisle.”
You shift your weight and lean into her until you're hugging her tight to you, but for once, you’re not afraid to let go. You know Kara will still be there. She wraps her own arms around your back and hugs you to her, and the loving sensation of her body against yours floods through your senses. From over her shoulder, you glance down at your own hand where the diamond ring is fitted comfortably around the third finger of your left hand. You can feel Kara tighten her hug almost imperceptibly, careful as ever with her strength, but you’re sure she’s basking the same sorts of memories as you are, know she’ll always remember all the small moments the same as you will.
And you think you’ll remember them well.