Chapter Text
Kara is late. Again.
Cat contemplates inquiring after her whereabouts, but that would create the distinct impression that she cares, and seeming to care twice in one week is unacceptable. She waits five minutes, then ten, and as she walks towards Widget, she tells herself that she isn’t upset, and she certainly isn’t worried by her assistant’s recent erratic behaviour. Annoyed perhaps, but not worried.
Kara shows up just in time to save Cat the trouble of speaking to the IT gnome. She’s wearing a too-plaid, too-plum dress and a hideous grey cardigan that should be burned and then buried, just to be safe. Her hair smells of burnt rubber and there’s a barely noticeable grease stain under her chin. Cat glances at one of the monitors in the bullpen. The weakened props that threatened to collapse under the new mall construction site have been completely stabilized, thanks to Supergirl.
Kara holds out Cat’s coffee and smiles that sunny, guileless smile, as if she has not just spent the morning saving hundreds of people from certain death.
“Sorry, Miss Grant. The line at Noonan’s was really long for some reason.”
Cat takes the coffee from her with an indifferent “Hmm”, turns on her heels, and saunters back into her office.
Of course she knows that Kara is Supergirl. She’s known since that moment on the balcony.
Cat is tempted to fire her for deception and insubordination, and hiring a clone or whatever smoke and mirrors trick she used to pretend there were two of her. She comes close to firing her after the whole-milk incident and that ridiculous farce with the tears. It strikes her later that with Bizarro, and the double, and the crying pod-person, there’s a lot of wool that’s supposed to go over her eyes. She doesn’t like being taken for a fool.
But then, Cat remembers that break of desperation in Kara’s voice when she said, “I need you now, more than ever,” and those earnest, Disney princess eyes, and Cat thinks that if Kara fights so hard to keep her under-paid, lowly assistant position, then there must be some truth in her desire to stay.
Cat tells herself that she keeps Kara around because it would be hell to train some other witless schoolgirl to run errands and make photocopies. It makes sense, she concedes, that the most powerful woman in National City would have a superhero on call.
She doesn’t particularly like the compromise. It goes against every one of her instincts. But then again, so does being infatuated with her 25-year old assistant.
And so, Cat watches her carefully, the way an artist might study the specific quality of light at the hour just before dusk, or the way a woman might watch her sleeping lover, tangled up in sheets and early morning sunlight. She watches the way Kara frowns and chews on the end of her pen as she scrolls through Cat’s diary and shuffles around appointments to make Cat’s life run smoothly, the way her face changes in a second, from focused and serious, to elated as she smiles at something James Olsen says when he leans over and points at something on her computer monitor.
Cat knows she’s romanticizing it, attributing poetry to every movement, music to every sentence. She knows it, but allows it anyway, because it’s been years, maybe even decades since she’s had a… a flutter.
It embarrasses her at first, because god, Kara’s young. She might as well buy a red Corvette with a bumper sticker that says ‘Midlife Crisis’. The embarrassment annoys her because Cat doesn’t do self-doubt, or any of that tortured soul nonsense. It gnaws at her at two in the morning while she’s looking over SEO reports written by morons, during important press calls with politicians who claim to be making the city better while pushing for anti-alien laws, and always, without fail, in those few quiet seconds just before the elevator dings open and the daily bustle begins. It embarrasses, annoys, gnaws, until she concedes that everyone is allowed at least one dirty little secret (lord knows Lois Lane has her fair share).
And then, there’s Adam. Adam, who should have dated Kara and made this whole situation better, made it logical. If Kara Danvers had dated her son, then all of these feelings, could be construed as nurturing and, and maternal, and… the false justification of it all makes her cringe. Adam was an excuse to be more. On his own, he’s strong and he’s beautiful and he’s her son, the incarnation of everything she’s ever done wrong and everything she’s ever done right. And she loves him without reason or measure. But with Kara, he was an excuse.
Her reaction to Kara after Adam is harsh; she won’t deny it. Kara is supposed to be different. She’s supposed to fix everything that Cat has broken. But, Kara disappoints her. She doesn’t do her job. She saves the city, saves the day, plays the hero. And Cat tells herself that she pushes her, hurts her because she wants her to fight back, wants her to show a little backbone, to yell and say, “I did put other people first, I did want Adam to stay, I don’t want this to be strictly professional.”
She doesn’t fight. In the end, Kara walks away. Just a girl, Cat thinks. Why did she ever expect to be saved by a girl?
Over the course of the following week, Cat becomes astoundingly successful in keeping their relationship “professional”.
She calls her Kiera, Karla, Klara and one morning, when she’s feeling particularly inspired, Linda. She doesn’t look at Kara when she barks out orders, doesn’t offer advice, doesn’t share her opinions. Cat gives Kara impossible tasks and watches her get through them all without breaking a sweat. Twice Cat forgets herself and says ‘thank you’.
The morning of the construction accident, Cat sends Kara out on a coffee run. The drink in question is nearly impossible to pronounce, let alone make. When Kara gets it wrong, she’ll demote her, Cat decides. She’ll send her to the front desk, or have her transferred to the Tribune offices – anything to rid herself of the constant flutter that seems to have taken residence somewhere behind her rib cage.
In the space of the twenty minutes it takes for Kara to complete her mission, Supergirl breaks up a riot that erupts outside of City Hall and prevents a minor collision on the freeway. She comes back with a button of that hideous grey cardigan undone and Cat’s fingers clench around her mouse, itching to correct it.
Kara puts the steaming coffee cup down and waits patiently. “Will that be all, Miss Grant?”
Strictly professional.
“For now.” Cat waits until she’s left before she sips her coffee.
It’s perfect.
__________
Kara hums absently as she shovels the last of her Pad Thai into her mouth. It’s the first full meal she’s had all day, and her body rejoices. She may not be susceptible to pain or injury, but comfort food is definitely a thing.
It’s a good end to a long day, settled on her favourite chair, with the evening news on mute and Alex on the sofa across from her, looking as content as Kara feels.
It’s easy, on nights like these, to forget about what happened with the Black Mercy, or to pretend to forget. It’s even easier during the day, when the sun is bright and yellow and makes her feel warm and strong, or when Winn shows her some ridiculous YouTube clip just to make her laugh, or James winks at her in that way than makes her heart beat just a little bit faster. It’s easy when she’s around the people who remind her of what home means.
There are the moments, when the sun is down, and Alex is gone, and the city is safe and asleep, that aren’t easy. Where Kara feels like every breath on this planet is strange and wrong, and her lungs, for no reason at all, struggle to take it all in.
She taught herself to sleep when she was thirteen. A deep, meditative state that made her feel normal, made her feel like she was like the rest of her family. Now she wishes she didn’t develop the habit.
She sees her mother when she sleeps, clearer than she’s been in years. Sometimes it’s Astra, or both of them at once, the way it sometimes is in dreams These are the nights that Kara wakes up sobbing. The narrative, the images flee within seconds of lucidity, but the smell of her mother’s hair when she wraps Kara up in a hug, the sound of her father’s voice as he helps her sculpt the perfect prism bird - they stay with her until the sun comes up, and she feels strong again.
“You know that speed-eating is one of your more attractive powers.” Alex wrinkles her nose, and watches Kara with amusement.
Kara’s retort is muffled by her stuffed cheeks and she uses her socked foot to point to Alex’s half-eaten fried rice on the table between them. “You gonna finish that?”
Alex shakes her head and pushes the carton forward, earning a victory grin from Kara.
“Oh, hey. I called your phone today. Winn picked up.” Alex takes a sip of her wine and Kara stops, noodles dangling precariously from the ends of her chopsticks.
“Everything okay?”
“DEO stuff. We handled it.”
She nods and chews. “Sorry. I forgot it at the office. Between that stupid protest at City Hall and running errands for Cat, I feel like I’ve barely touched the ground.”
Alex leans forward and refills her glass. “He mentioned something about a latte run?”
“It was more like a triathlon. Noonan’s was out of organic almond milk, and the only other place that steam-treats their almonds is in Central City, but I couldn’t exactly give Miss Grant a Central City cup, so I had to transfer it into a Noonan’s one, and…” she trails off with a shrug.
“She really should be paying you more.”
“I’m just glad I’ve still got a job.” Kara sets the empty food containers on the coffee table and draws her knees up to sit cross-legged on the chair. “Not that I’m not grateful that Hank covered for me, because I am. It’s just -”
Alex’s eyes narrow as she tilts her glass up to drink. “Was she meaner than usual? Because while I can’t technically arrest her for being mean, I can-”
“No, no.” Kara says quickly. “No arresting. She wasn’t mean, just sort of distant.”
“Which is better than when she suspected your secret and had you under a microscope.”
“Yeah.” Kara sighs. “Better.” The sudden heaviness that settles in her stomach has less to do with the two portions of Thai she’s just inhaled and more to do with the memory of Cat, barely speaking to her, looking past her like she was nobody.
Alex leans forward. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s... it’s stupid.”
“Okay. Tell me anyway.”
Kara scrunches her face up as she considers her words. “When I said that CatCo isn’t just a job for me, it wasn’t just because of Winn and James. I like who I get to be there, Alex. I like that I’m excellent at my job, and that Miss Grant values, valued me.” She pauses and then in a softer voice, “Now, it’s beginning to feel like I’m losing that and I...”
“Hey,” Alex waits until Kara lifts her head to look at her, “if Cat Grant doesn’t see you as anything other than a subjugated minion,”
Kara snorts and rolls her eyes.
“-then that’s her loss. Besides, it’s not like you’re going to be her assistant forever. Another year or two and you might actually get to work for someone with a beating heart.”
“She’s not that bad.” The defence comes automatically. It’s immediate and surprisingly fierce. “I know she pushes me, not just as Supergirl, but as Kara. And she’s tough, and sometimes impossible and stubborn.” She’s smiling now, thinking of Cat with her hands on her hips, in the middle of her office, dictating a string of commands and stopping in the middle of a sentence to tell Kara to make sure she stays well-hydrated and to wear something warmer than that awful cardigan for God’s sake, because Donald in editing is already down with the virus that’s going around and she doesn’t want to have to fire anyone else for their faulty immune system.
“She’s smart,” Kara continues wistfully, “and dedicated, and she truly believes in what she’s doing, and in her own way, she’s making the world a better place.”
“I think you might be overselling her better qualities.” Alex says it lightly, but she’s watching Kara closely, with a frown that Kara doesn’t seem to notice.
“I just can’t help feeling like I let her down, or disappointed her somehow. With Adam and, and not being here when-”
“Okay, you know none of that is your fault. You had no control over what happened while you were under that thing.” Alex avoids saying its name like it’s a dirty word. “And Adam…” She sighs. “Look Kara, you’ll find a way to balance it all.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I know you. And you’re new at this duel identity thing. Your cousin’s been doing this for years, and from what you’ve told me, he’s still figuring it out. It’s not always perfect.”
“He’s got Lois,” Kara says, as if this makes up for everything.
“And you’ll have someone who gets the craziness of your life, someone who fits into it. Someone-”
“Attainable?”
Alex laughs. “Yeah.” Kara smiles back at her.
“Although,” Alex drops her voice as though she’s about to share a state secret, “From the way James looks at you, unattainable isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”
“James?”
Alex raises her eyebrows. “Pulitzer-award winning photographer? Hot, smart, thinks you personally hang the sun every morning.”
“James!” Kara laughs awkwardly. “James who has a girlfriend. A girlfriend whom I like, by the way.”
Alex tilts her head and looks at Kara with suspicion. “But you weren’t talking about him.”
“What? Yes, yes I was.”
“No, no you were talking about someone unattainable. It can’t be Winn, because he’s, well… Winn.”
Kara winces.
“And we’ve ruled out James.”
“Let’s not rule out James.”
“It’s not Adam because you ended things there,” she continues as if Kara hadn’t spoken. “But it must be someone you know, someone you’re around, who for some reason or other is...” Alex’s face goes from amusement, to disbelief, to horror. “Kara. No. No, please tell me you don’t mean-”
Kara's only reply is an exaggerated grimace.
“She’s your boss! And she’s, she’s…” Alex flails and Kara covers her face with her hands.
“I know! I know! I thought it was just admiration and, and respect.” She lowers her hands and looks up with an expression so helpless, so pitiful, that Alex sighs and motions for Kara to sit next to her.
Instead of sitting, she starts pacing between the coffee table and the couch. “Then this last week, it’s just been awful, Alex. And not because she’s been mean, but because she won’t talk to me, or look at me and I miss her. I mean, I see her every day, but I come home and I miss her. Is that weird? And of course I know it’s impossible. She’s, she’s… powerful and experienced and not gay-”
“Are you?” Alex interrupts in a small voice.
“I wasn’t the last time I checked,” Kara shrugs, “but there might be some weird, alien-Kinsey scale that I don’t know about. I can’t exactly call Clark up and ask if my recent attack of homoerotic feelings is a Kryptonian thing or a me thing. All I know is, this is the first time I’ve actually said it out loud and it feels right, but also crazy, because it’s Miss Grant. Cat Grant, Queen of All Media and I’m… I’m,” she finally flops down with a groan and rests her head on Alex’s shoulder, “... confused.”
Alex scoots closer and puts an arm around her. “Are you sure this isn’t just a mentor thing? Like you said, you respect her, you admire her, you-”
“Want to kiss her.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“Well,” Kara sits up at the sound of Alex’s problem-solving voice. “I guess you just wait until it blows over.” She watches Kara’s face carefully, and she continues in a softer voice. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Kara. Or god forbid, lose your job. And, I know you,” frowns as she struggles to find the word, “care about Cat, but I also know you’ve been through a lot recently, and I just think some of this might be projection. You’re latching onto something safe because you know you’ll never have to act on it. I don’t want you to fall for someone who can’t give you what you need in return.”
Kara’s heart clamours up to her throat, and stays there, making it difficult to swallow.
“Just give it time and everything will go back to normal,” Alex says, and Kara realises that she doesn’t necessarily want things to go back to normal, whatever that means. She wants more. But the idea of more with Cat is terrifying and exhilarating and impossible. She can’t tell Alex that.
“And until then?”
“Until then, act cool. Which I know, might be hard for you.”
Kara whacks her on the arm. “I’m cool.”
“Sure you are, Supergirl.”
Alex leaves half an hour later, with a hug and a “Are you sure you’re okay?” and Kara employs the one lie, the only lie she’s ever been good at telling.
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
That night, she dreams of Astra.