Pink Rabbit Productions

#WEAPONIZEDCANCER

(my ko-fi, if you’re so inclined)

Oh my God. You’re in love with her. 

Alex shows up at Catco three hours after the fight where Supergirl went down. Cat’s nerves are fried. Normally on a day this bad, Kara would appear and offer her M&Ms before she got a chance to pour herself a drink. Even now, Kara a reporter and no longer her assistant, she always managed to arrive just before Cat stood up to head to her bar in the middle of the day.

She wasn’t here this afternoon, though, so by the time Alex gets there, Cat’s two drinks in, trying to hide the way her hands have started shaking.

“Agent Scully, finally,” Cat says. “Can we quote you for a story on Supergirl’s condition?”

“She’s fine,” Alex says, closing the door to Cat’s office behind her.

Cat doesn’t believe her. “Surely you don’t mind if I could hear that from the hero herself?”

“Cat. She’s fine.”

Except Kara fell out of the sky.

Cat has been pretending all day like the sight didn’t stop her heart dead in her chest. She’s been yelling at employees, demanding a source, demanding eyes on Supergirl before any other news outlet. She’s been making it seem like it’s about the story instead of the girl.

She can’t simply believe she’s fine.

“When can we expect her back in our skies?” Cat asks. She’s rearranging things on her desk like she’s looking for a document, but what she’s actually doing is avoiding Alex’s eyes. “How long do criminals only have to outwit the NCPD instead of Supergirl?”

“She told me to tell you her article will be finished by tomorrow,” Alex says. “Though she claims Snapper will throw it in the trash anyway.”

The papers Cat is holding flutter to the ground.

Of course she knows Kara is Supergirl. She’s known, of course she has known. It’s clear, even, that Kara knows she knows, but they’ve never addressed it. Not directly. And here Alex is, talking about Kara’s assignments. Talking about Snapper. Alex would never do this if Kara didn’t insist–which means Kara is okay, must be, okay enough to have pushed this plan on her sister.

Cat sets her palms flat on her desk, pays no attention to the papers scattered around her feet.

“Good,” she says. “I’m glad to hear that.”

She still hasn’t looked at Alex, but something must cross Cat’s face, because the other woman lets out a harsh breath.

“Oh my God,” Alex says. “You’re in love with her.”

Cat flinches.

On any other day, she’d have a better poker face. But she flinches, and her fingernails scrape against her desk, and she’s sure that’s all Alex needs to know.

“She’s probably right about Snapper,” Cat says like Alex never said anything. “But someday she’ll write something he’s actually willing to publish, I promise.”

“Tell your staff you’re leaving for the day,” Alex says.

Cat finally looks at her. “Excuse me?”

“You’re coming to the DEO,” Alex says. “You and Kara need to talk.”

“About what?”

Alex levels her with a look like she’s an idiot. 

I don’t know why I’ve been obsessively thinking about the concept of “gaydar” 

but I have. 

Actually no it’s because a straight family member used the term like 

“oh I have really great gaydar” 

and it made me feel really gross 

and it took me like a full hour to realize why. 

When heterosexual people say that, 

it feels like they’re bragging about their ability to clock us, you know? 

like a straight person is telling me that they can spot us queers at 50 paces 

and i’m immediately going to be uncomfortable with that, 

whereas when other queer folks talk about being able to spot each other 

it’s a tool for survival. 

Like here’s the thing right? 

being able to tell is important sometimes.  

Here’s an example: 

A couple summers ago I was in a very very small town in Nova Scotia, Canada 

(like 6 buildings small) 

and I met a woman in the library who was probably a little older than my actual mother. 

She was there most days using the wifi 

because she lived across the street in an apartment without internet. 

We sat at the same table a few times and spoke briefly about life in passing 

and after a few of these not-talking-about-gay-stuff convos I was pretty sure she was a part of the lgbtq community 

and I slipped in a casual pronoun re: an ex 

and she just looked at me, 

stopped completely 

and said “oh thank fuck, I thought so.” 

and instantly started talking about her girlfriend, 

it was like this huge wave of relief washed over both of us 

because we were in a small rural town and both hovering in this really queer space and unable to talk about it. 

Anyway she was really rad and took me to the closest big town to buy me a tim hortons coffee 

because she found it reprehensible that I had been in canada for more than 3 weeks already and hadn’t ever had it. 

Almost instantly it was like 

“oh okay we have this thing in common that other people may not be cool with 

but we can actually exist and not hide shit without the fear of violence or anger”

but when it’s a straight person

they’re pretty much just letting you know that they can spot the fact that you seem “abnormal” to them 

like great