Squack I’m A Bird

Natasha's hand finds yours under the table, squeezing your fingers briefly before holding them there. It feels like the whole atmosphere in the room suddenly shifts—all that warm, happy air slowly draining away until everything just feels lukewarm. You meet Natasha's eyes. She's giving you a small smile, but her eyes are swimming with too many thoughts for you to pick out.

"I'll get the door."

Natasha's hand slips out of yours. Your fingers instinctively chase hers. Maybe subconsciously, you know who's at the door too. And maybe, more than anything, you wish Natasha would just stay and protect you from it. But she's already sitting up and walking away.

Wanda's hand cups your cheek, gently turning your focus back toward her. Her eyes are full of a deep understanding.

Understanding of what? you can't help but wonder. Your thoughts are finally beginning to shake off the thick syrup that was keeping them down. It's usually frustrating not being able to think clearly, but today, with Wanda and Natasha taking care of things for you, thinking for you, it finally felt like you could breathe calmly instead of gasping for air.

"I can turn them away," Wanda offers, her voice holding a gentle tone that eases the panic in your chest for a second. "It's Kate and Yelena."

Your hands find their way to the tops of your thighs, rubbing them against the fuzzy fabric incessantly. What do I do? The thoughts consume you, your gaze drifting down to the container in front of Wanda. Clearly Wanda and Natasha know them. What if this situation is making things difficult for everyone?

"I—" you start, but the sharp sound of the front door swinging open makes your mouth snap shut.

Wanda's hand slides smoothly off your cheek. Steps sound heavily in the foyer behind you. The sudden scrape of Wanda's chair as she stands up makes you jolt, your shoulders going tight. She steps around the table, positioning her body right behind your chair like a shield. Her fingertips press firmly against your back—the same way she did in the office when you were struggling to stay afloat.

It's Natasha who speaks up first, her voice cutting through the space from the doorway. "Do this another time. She isn't feeling well."

Her tone is firm. You can hear the underlying annoyance vibrating in her voice, but with your head spinning, it's hard to tell if that annoyance is directed at you or at them. You keep your gaze locked hard on Wanda's takeout container, your fingers tightening into the fuzzy pants until your knuckles ache.

"She can speak for herself, Natasha. Unless she wants to act like we do not exist, the same way she has for the past few years," Yelena snaps back. The Russian accent in her voice is heavier now, bleeding through her words the way it would grow back in high school whenever she would complain about her grades.

"Lena, stop. You said we wouldn't handle it like this," Kate murmurs from somewhere beside her. It was always like her to be the pragmatic one, trying to hold the line.

Wanda's fingertips gently stroke your back the second she feels your muscles tense up.

Natasha's voice raises, her tone becoming noticeably harsher. "I don't know if you realize where you are, but this is my house. I'm not asking you to do this another time. I'm telling you."

You hear Natasha shift her weight, like she's about to turn around, but she stops short when Yelena speaks up again.

"Yeah?" Yelena scoffs out in disbelief. "And when were you going to mention that you knew her?"

You slowly turn your head, Wanda's fingers moving subtly against your back as you peek past her torso. You meet Kate's wide, blue eyes immediately. Her gaze darts back and forth between you and Natasha, like she's desperately debating whether she should just let this go or push through. The resolve in Kate's expression grows when she looks at your face, but it fades the second she glances back at Natasha.

"I talked about her all the time when you and I reunited," Yelena continues, taking a step forward. "I described her, told you so many stories about her, I even told you what her favorite food was. You are going to stand there and act like you did not have any clue? Bullshit, Natasha. You notice when the picture frame on your desk is moved by a millimeter."

"I haven't known her for that long. I'm sorry your long-lost friend wasn't the first thing to come to mind," Natasha bites back, her voice lethal.

"Oh, sure," Yelena huffs, her chest rising with anger. "You have not known her that long? Then why is she in your house? And wearing your pants? Why did you call her detka last night? The only person I have ever heard you call that is Wanda."

Yelena's voice rises with every single question, the hurt breaking through the anger. You quickly turn your head away when Yelena's cold stare finally snaps down to you.

"Or do you want to answer that?" she calls out to you.

"Yelena," Wanda warns, her hand pressing a little harder against your back.

"Stay out of it," Yelena warns back, her voice dropping coldly.

Natasha's tone is dangerously calm, but it's that calmness that makes shivers run up your arm.

"I've been letting you get away with a lot, but talk to Wanda like that again and see what happens."

Yelena scoffs, her voice instantly turning condescending. "Wanda, stay out—"

"Nat—" Kate gasps out.

A sudden flurry of movement sounds behind you, the friction of fabric and heavy steps forcing you to twist around in your chair. The collar of Yelena's shirt is curled tightly inside Natasha's fist. They're standing nose-to-nose, their faces so close together that you can see Natasha's breath moving the stray strands of hair across Yelena's forehead.

Kate already has her hand wrapped around Natasha's forearm, her fingers straining as she tries to get Natasha to let go. Neither of them is blinking. Both of them staring daggers at each other, and looking at the tight line of Natasha's jaw, it feels like it's only a matter of seconds before things truly get physical.

Wanda steps forward and then hesitates, her fingertips releasing your back for a moment before returning to press against your spine.

You're the one stopping her from helping. This situation is all your fault.

Natasha grips Yelena’s collar even tighter, her knuckles turning white as she pulls Yelena slightly off the floor.

"I warned you," Natasha says, her voice dangerously quiet.

Yelena's hand whips around in a blur, grabbing the lapel of Natasha’s blazer and yanking downward, forcing Natasha to lean even closer into her space. "Do something about it then."

The sharp, defiant smirk on Yelena's face is painfully familiar. It's the same look she used to give you during all your petty high school arguments. The expression she'd reserve for the moment she said something she knew would wind you up.

Natasha's free hand raises. Kate’s eyes widen in panic. Yelena just continues to stare up at Natasha with that goading smirk, treating her threat like a joke.

Wanda takes a decisive step forward, her hand finally falling away from your back.

You wrench your head away, turning back toward the table. Everything feels like too much. The appearance of Kate and Yelena. Being in Wanda and Natasha's home. The immediate shift in the air when the doorbell rang. Your fingernails dig deep into the sensitive, newly healed skin of your palm, your heart beating painfully fast.

"Natasha, don't—" Wanda says suddenly.

Wanda’s voice is the final crack that forces you to break your own silence.

"Stop!" you shout desperately.

The sound breaks raw from your chest, echoing loudly through the luxurious space. Your hand instantly flies to your throat, your fingernails clawing at the skin of your neck from the burning pain radiating through it. You hadn't raised your voice like this since you were a little kid on the playground, screaming and running around with your friends.

It wasn't painful like this back then. Your shoulders droop.

"Can I talk to Kate and Yelena alone?" you whisper, the warm breath passing through your throat sending sharp stings that linger.

You hear Wanda step back, her hand suddenly squeezing your shoulder. "Darling, you're not feeling well. Maybe you can talk to them another time?" She's using the sweet, sugary tone that normally would make you want to concede. To listen to her so that she'll praise you.

But you know this conversation will just continue to get pushed forward. Chasing you until you can't run anymore.

Well, now you can't run. Not with the exhaustion in your limbs holding you to this chair. Not with the two people you hoped you wouldn't have to see again so you wouldn't have to explain anything. You'd already hit a dead end without realizing it.

Shuffling sounds behind you, followed by a pair of quiet steps. A second hand drops onto your other shoulder.

"Wanda's right. I can send them out," Natasha's raspy voice sounds from right beside your ear.

You let out a long sigh. Whether it's from relief that Natasha and Yelena aren't at each other's throats anymore, or from the suffocating fact that you know this conversation is about to happen, it's difficult to say. You shake your head slowly.

"No. I want to talk to them," you say resolutely.

You don't. It feels more like you're trying to convince yourself rather than anyone else in the room, but you don't let your voice waver.

Natasha squeezes your shoulder tightly, holding it there for a long moment before she finally releases her grip. Her fingers slide reluctantly over the fabric of your sweatshirt. You hear her shift to face Wanda.

"Let's go upstairs so they can talk."

"Natasha, you really think this is—"

Natasha cuts her off before she can finish the thought. "It's her life, Wanda. Her decisions."

Wanda lets out a defeated sigh. Her hand falls away from your shoulder, too, leaving you feeling alone even with the two of them still standing right beside you.

"We'll be upstairs," Natasha directs toward Yelena and Kate. She turns back to you, her voice softening noticeably. "Call us if you need anything."

Wanda's fingertips brush gently over your cheek one last time before you hear them finally walk away, their quiet steps fading as they head up the stairs.

Movement sounds behind you. Kate and Yelena appear in your vision as Yelena pulls Wanda’s empty chair around, dragging it across the floor to set it down directly across from you. They both sit down. You drag your eyes up, glancing between them. Your heart aches at the sight of them.

Kate’s hair is pulled back into her signature ponytail, the shorter front strands framing the sides of her face. Her eyes are rimmed red. You know it’s your fault. Guilt churns in your stomach, but then you notice the small white bandage stuck to the right side of her chin. It almost makes you want to smile. Kate's still the same clumsy girl you knew in high school.

You shift your gaze over to Yelena. Her blonde hair is shorter than it was when you last saw her, the longest strands ending at her chin. Delicate, purple bags color the skin just below her eyes—she must not have slept well because of your ordeal. You close your eyes briefly, then force them open, biting the inside of your cheek. She's wearing the same vest she used to brag about constantly, the one she saved up for and modified just to her liking.

Beneath the crushing guilt, you realize the ache in your chest isn't just about how sorry you feel.

You missed them.

You missed their chaotic energy, and laughing with them over absolutely nothing until you couldn't breathe. You missed meeting their eyes across the crowded gym floor, through hundreds of other students, and instantly feeling relief wash over you. Your best friends.

The only two people who made your life at home bearable. The ones you looked forward to seeing at the crack of dawn, the three of you dragging yourselves to first period with your eyes barely open. The two who would confide in you about anything and everything, knowing their secrets were always safe with you.

And you had told them everything, too. Except for the one thing that was actively tearing you apart.

"Are you feeling better?" Kate asks softly.

It's such a simple question. But her voice makes your heart clench from how it mirrors the times she would baby you back in school whenever you were sick, your parents unwilling to come pick you up.

"I'm feeling a little better," you murmur, meeting her gaze as she scans your face with nothing but gentleness.

"That's good," Kate responds, letting out a soft breath of relief. Her gaze drops to her lap for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing in contemplation before she looks back up to meet your eyes. "Can I ask where you've been all this time?"

You take a quick glance at Yelena. Her jaw is clenched tightly, her lips pursed into a hard line as she stares at you. You can tell she's fighting the urge to speak—her mouth opens slightly, then closes, before she lets out a heavy, frustrated breath through her nose. You're grateful it’s Kate asking the questions right now. Yelena was always too direct, always targeting the root of an issue instead of trimming the branches.

"I…" you start, desperately calculating what's safe to say. "I attended community college after we graduated. I got my associate's there, and now I'm in my first term at university."

Kate nods slowly, her eyes flitting around in thought before she continues. "How come you didn't tell us you weren't coming with us after graduation?" Even with her trying to keep her tone light, you can hear the betrayal lingering beneath the words.

"Things happened too quickly to tell you guys," you respond automatically. It wasn't exactly a lie.

"Bullshit," Yelena speaks up. The daggers she's sending your way force you to slowly turn your focus to her. "Too quickly to even send us a text? You even changed your phone number," she scoffs, shaking her head.

"Lena, she's not going to want to talk if you keep acting like this," Kate murmurs quietly, but the words still carry across the small distance between the chairs.

"And you think we are going to get any real answers with the questions you are asking?" Yelena raises a sharp brow at her. Kate looks away, her lips pulling into a thin line. Yelena was always alarmingly fast at reading a room.

She levels her cold gaze right back to you. "Tell us why you suddenly threw us out of your life," Yelena demands, her voice flat and level.

"I… I didn't throw you guys out of my life."

"Wrong," Yelena says with a heavy sigh, as if she had expected that answer. "Then tell us why you suddenly changed your plans. We always said we would go to the same university together."

"I already said things happened too quickly to tell you guys," you respond, your voice beginning to waver.

"You did. But that does not explain anything. What exactly happened too quickly?"

"My… my decision was quick. Too quick to tell you."

"You realize how weak that sounds? You still could have informed us after the fact," Yelena says, her voice beginning to raise again. "Then tell us why your eyes were so red on graduation day. I saw the cuts on your hands."

The sudden shift in her questioning makes your head spin. Your hands shake violently beneath the table, your pulse thrumming painfully against your skin. What else did she notice back then?

You look over at Kate. She's staring at Yelena, her bottom lip sucked in, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Back then, Kate would always instinctively side with you whenever you were arguing with Yelena. She knew your habit of passing things off with a bright smile or a fake laugh, even when your expression never truly matched how you felt. Right now, her eyes are squinted the exact way they did when she was about to jump in and defend you from a fight—but she breathes out slowly instead, keeping her mouth shut.

She wants to know the truth, too.

"I was emotional because we were graduating. The cuts…" you trail off, your tired brain failing to invent a passable excuse.

"I have never seen you shed a single tear in the entire time I have known you. Have you?" Yelena asks Kate, her voice laced with cutting curiosity.

Kate shakes her head slowly, her eyes drifting down to her lap.

"Okay, fine," Yelena huffs, leaning forward. "I will make it easier for you. Does it have anything to do with the fact that you suddenly ran for student government in our junior year, even though you absolutely hate public speaking?"

Your gaze drops instantly, the memories swirling viscously in your head. Your parents had demanded you run for student body president because it would look good on your university applications. They had barely conceded when you begged to run for a smaller position, but you had ended up winning vice president anyway. Other students would stop you in the hallway to ask you questions. You would stay after school to handle council work, then sprint to track practice right after. It wouldn't be until you finally unlocked your front door near sunset that you would get to drop that exhausting, mechanical smile from your face.

"Or does it have anything to do with the fact that you started falling asleep during first period, even though you were always a good student?"

After getting home back then, you would always eat the quick dinner your mother curated for you, shower, and then study. It was a continuous, brutal cycle. You would study until just before midnight, but even when you turned off the lamp, your mind wouldn't shut down. All the things you needed to complete the next day would race through your head. The suffocating weight of everyone's expectations made you feel like you should get out of bed and do even more.

"What about your leg constantly bouncing?" Yelena pushes, her voice level but relentless. "Kate would remind you to stop, but you would start right back up again a minute later."

Junior year was when the sudden jumps in your heart rate had started. They would come out of nowhere, usually in the middle of class when the room was at its quietest and the teacher was droning on about something in the textbook. It was that suffocating feeling where your lungs couldn't seem to expand fully, your breaths coming out quicker and quicker. Dread would blanket heavily over you, your teeth digging deep into your inner cheek until it bled, though you could barely feel the pain.

But you were in class. You needed to pay attention. You had to be a model student. To be perfectly put together. To be anything but the complete mess you felt like inside. So, you would force your expression to stay neutral. You stared at the teacher even when your focus wavered, forcing your brain to zone back in even when it completely exhausted you later.

"How about when you started to lose weight rapidly?" Yelena asks, her voice becoming thick with emotion. "Or when you stopped being able to hang out with Kate and I after school? Or maybe... why every single time we asked you about your family, you would immediately change the subject?"

Yelena lets out a heavy, ragged breath, finally falling silent.

Under the table, your hands are completely still now. Your skin feels ice-cold, the blood coursing beneath moving quickly. You stare blankly at the empty space on the table right in front of them, your thoughts racing a million miles a second.

They knew. They've known this entire time.

The dining room is dead silent. It feels like you've stopped breathing. Every single inhale you take feels stuck, held tight inside your lungs until it burns and you're forced to shudder out an exhale.

Nobody moves for a long time. It's like time itself is standing still, except you can't predict when it'll start moving again. You don't even know which choice is safer anymore—to stay like this, frozen in terror, or to find out what happens next.

"We're not interrogating you," Kate murmurs, her voice watery and thick.

A couple of tears drip onto the table right in front of her. Staring at them steadily fall makes your own vision begin to blur, the edges of the room turning soft and pixelated. It isn't until you finally blink, and a hot tear trails down your cheek, that you realize the blurry sight is coming from your own eyes.

"I missed you… I missed you so much." Kate's voice breaks. The quick, shallow breaths she takes between her sobs make it hard for her to even get the words out. You hear her exhale harshly in frustration, trying to drag her own breathing back under control, but her chest still shudders heavily as she forces herself to continue.

"Even if you weren't right next to me," she cries, her teary gaze locked onto yours. "Even if you became friends with someone else, somewhere where I couldn't see you… the idea that you were happy somewhere was enough for me."

She brushes the tears about to drip down her jaw shakily, but fresh tears replace them instantly.

"But then you appeared in front of us again like a dream," she breathes out shakily. "Thinner than when I last saw you, so tired looking, about to collapse on the sidewalk… how am I supposed to let you go now? How am I supposed to just not talk to you when I know you're here?"

Her voice begins to rise, cracking on the syllables. "What should I have done for you to stay in my life?"

You hear Yelena take in a sharp, shaky breath. The sudden moisture in her eyes finally becomes apparent to you, the tears glimmering under the bright daylight coming through the dining room windows. She tries to blink them away quickly, her face morphing into a grimace when a single tear slips free anyway.

But it’s the way their shoulders are hunched inward, like they're both trying to protect themselves, that finally makes something inside you break. It's the hurt in their eyes that makes you release a heavy, trembling breath that shatters your composure. And it's Kate, unable to hold back the heavy sobs clawing their way out of her chest, and Yelena trying to quickly wipe away her tear before either of you can notice, that finally rips your heart wide open.

Because it's on you.

It's on you that they're hurting. You thought that after you walked out of their lives that they'd move on easily. You'd be a passing memory of that girl they were once friends with in high school. It'd be like all the other stories.

You remember her? Yeah, I wonder what happened to her. Guess we'll never know.

It was supposed to be that simple. But it's that flawed thinking that lead you here. Because you remembered them all this time. You missed them all this time. You loved them all this time. So, why did you think they wouldn't feel the same?

It's hard to see anything in front of you anymore. The room is just shifting blobs of color that clear for a moment when you blink, only to turn blurry again a millisecond later.

You're a wreck. You're sitting inside your bosses' home, swaddled in their clothes, your throat burning, your body aching with exhaustion. Tears stream relentlessly down your cheeks, sliding down your jawline to your neck, wetting the collar of the sweatshirt Wanda lent to you. It's the kind of appearance you would usually hide away immediately, frantically swiping the moisture off your face before your parents could see that their words had actually left a mark.

But right now, you just cry.

Because you've felt so alone for the past two years, wishing you could turn to them to talk about how hard work is, but when you'd turn your head, there'd be no one there. You chose that.

And when you realized the feelings beginning to bloom inside you in Natasha's office, the look Natasha and Wanda shared, you just wished you had your best friends there to confide in. To tell them how confused you felt. That you felt lost because this never felt like an option. But instead you cried under Wanda's jacket.

"It's not your guys' fault," you start shakily, your voice cracking. "I… I didn't want to part ways with you guys either. But at the time… I needed to leave."

"But why?" Yelena whispers, her voice quieter than you've ever heard it.

Why?

Where do you even start? The answer isn't something you can just pass off with a quick yes or no.

Most of all, it’s something you haven't even fully confronted yourself yet. You haven't spoken to the person who started this in a long time, even if she didn't intend for the aftermath. And it's the reason why, when Wanda asked you why you smelled like smoke, you couldn't tell her a single thing.

Because you don't even have all the answers yourself.

"I can't tell you why. Not right now," you whisper back tiredly.

The heavy, sudden thud of Yelena slamming her fist onto the table makes you jolt in your chair, the plastic takeout containers between you shifting slightly from the force.

"Do you understand how bullshit that sounds?" Yelena yells angrily. "Not right now? I have been waiting since we saw you collapse last night for real answers, and this is it?"

She scoffs, leveling you with a freezing glare. "Natasha told me you are just an intern at her company, but that is not how she is treating you," Yelena pushes, her voice dropping. "Do not be fooled. Others have been in your position before, and now they are nowhere to be seen."

She grabs Kate's wrist, pulling her up and dragging her around the table past you.

"Lena, hold on," Kate says frantically, trying to find her footing.

The sound of their footsteps stop right at the front door, but Yelena doesn't open it. Instead, you hear her shout in the direction of the stairs.

"Natasha, I know you were listening," Yelena yells, but her tone is dangerously calm now. "You may be my sister but, ona tebe ne prinadlezhit."

You try to follow along with what she says but the last phrase is completely foreign to you. It's what she says in the middle that sticks with you.

Sister.

The same sister from Natasha's story? You try to replay what she told you last night, trying to find the details but a thick fog hovers over your thoughts, making them too difficult to find.

The front door swings open, but before it slams shut, you hear Kate's rushed, breathless voice.

"We'll talk soon."

And then it's quiet.

You expect dread to creep up on you at her words, but instead you feel painfully relieved. You'll get to see them again. It's such a selfish thought, but the shame of that realization never comes.

You look down at the surface of the table where your phone rests. You'd never talked about your situation regarding your parents, your sister, and how it all culminated into where you are now. Frankly, you never wanted to. It would be like touching a hot stove.

But seeing Kate and Yelena hurt over your decisions, thinking they didn't do enough, makes you wish you could just tell them everything.

There was one person you needed to talk to first before that.

You grab your phone off the table. It feels noticeably heavier in your hand than usual. Perhaps it’s just the fading adrenaline from the conversation, or your sickness finally making itself known again as the fever crawls back up your neck. Or maybe it’s the weight of what you're about to do.

You unlock the screen and open your text history with your older sister, finding an unread message sitting at the bottom.

I know you aren't coming home again for Christmas, but can we at least meet for dinner before then to catch up? I miss my little sister. Please let me know soon.

You blink down at the glowing screen, the tears that had clouded your vision finally having dried up, leaving your skin feeling tight and exhausted. You know you need to do this right now. Before your resolve breaks and you're too tired to think anymore.

Okay, let's meet. Maybe at that diner we would always go to? Let me know what day works best for you.

You hit send before you can think twice. You shut off your phone immediately, placing it back down. Your eyelids droop heavily, your body slumping as a tidal wave of fatigue washes over you. Static plays on repeat in your head, your mind completely spent. Your body reaching its limit.

You don't know how long you sit there, trying to force yourself to stay awake. This isn't your house.

"Darling." Wanda's quiet, soothing voice sounds from beside you. You don't even have the energy to be surprised or maybe it's the gentleness in her tone that keeps your heart rate steady.

You hear her take steps until she's right next to you. Her hand finds your cheek, cupping it before turning it toward her. Her eyebrows furrow immediately, concern washing over her features. Her thumb rubs over your cheekbone, smoothing the skin as if she can magically remove the dried tearstains herself.

"One moment," she says, her hand dropping from your face and walking toward the kitchen. You stare down at your lap blankly, finding your hands rubbed raw and indents from your fingernails in your palms.

Wanda clatters about in the kitchen for a few moments, the sound muted and distant, before she finally returns to your side.

"Close your eyes sweetheart," she instructs quietly. You let your eyelids flutter shut at the instruction. Warm, soft fabric touches your eyelids, Wanda rubbing away the evidence of you crying. You sit quietly, basking in her touch while your mind breaks through the static, trying to fight with you.

The fabric is finally removed and you open your eyes slowly. Wanda's standing there, smiling softly down at you while holding a towel.

You let out a shaky breath. "I…I should go home. I've taken up too much of your time and my study material are in my room."

You look away from her, letting your gaze drop back down to your hands to hide your expression. Wanda crouches down next to your chair, tilting her head up to try to catch your eye. Her hand finds yours, her thumb rubbing over the indents that are already becoming dark and angry against your skin. You hear her suck in a breath like she’s about to speak, but it's Natasha's voice you hear behind you instead.

"Baby girl, you're not feeling well. Can't you stay here until you feel better? I promise it's not a bother in the slightest."

You hear her take the last few steps down the stairs and then it becomes silent again. Suddenly she's standing at your other side. Yelena's voice echoes in your head.

Sister.

"I—I'm sorry for making things difficult between you and Yelena," you apologize shakily, the guilt eating at your chest until it hurts.

Natasha cranes her head, forcing herself right into your line of sight while Wanda continues to rub your palm, her steady breathing keeping your thoughts from spiraling further. Natasha shakes her head.

"Nothing is your fault, detka," she says resolutely. "Even if I knew you were Yelena's friend, I would have acted the exact same way."

"That's not—" you start, but you breathe out a harsh sigh instead. It's not true. You aren't faultless.

You sniffle lightly, the heat in your face starting to build again along with the rest of your aching body. You need to go home. You've only created messy situations for them to clean up since the moment you met them.

You lift your hand up shakily, pressing your palm into the surface of the table to force yourself upright. But your arm feels like it's made of jelly, folding beneath your weight immediately.

Natasha's hand finds its way atop yours, holding it there steadily. "Pretty baby, Wanda and I were feeling a bit lonely. Will you do us a favor and keep us company?" she asks, her bright, green eyes searching yours.

You're not stupid. You know what she's trying to do, but then you see the metal spoon on the table. That warm, comfortable bubble. Wanda feeding you spoonfuls of soup, Natasha's eyes brightening when you called her Natty.

You want that again. But your brain fights with you even in it's weakened state.

"Please, sweetheart?" Wanda asks, looking up at you from the floor with wide, pleading eyes.

You look down at where Wanda is gently rubbing your palm with her thumb, then look back up into her eyes. "Just… just for a little," you concede quietly.

Wanda's eyes brighten immediately, a wide smile taking over her entire face. "Perfect!" she exclaims, before quickly reigning in the volume of her voice. "Thank you, honey."

You nod at her with a completely serious expression, trying to maintain your dignity. Wanda lets out a light chuckle, the sound filling the small space between you, and you instinctively send a tiny pout her way.

"I'm just laughing because I'm thankful, sweet girl," Wanda says innocently.

Natasha's hand squeezes yours, turning your focus back to her side of the table. "Baby, how about we watch something on the couch? You can take a nap if you're tired."

She's using that bright, slightly higher-pitched tone. The one she used on you before you went to sleep earlier. You know you should probably feel insulted by how much she's babying you, but right now, that gentleness is the only thing keeping you upright. You nod at her, accepting her hand as she helps you up out of the chair. She walks you across the floor until you reach the large, plush couch you had seen when Wanda carried you downstairs.

Natasha helps you sit down right in the middle of it. The soft material gives way slowly as your weight sinks in. It envelopes you the moment you lean back. The cushions give just the right amount of support against your aching spine. Natasha looks down at you, her eyes observant, but there's an aching softness in them that makes you look away shyly.

When the silence stretches and she doesn't say anything, you speak up. "What?" you ask defensively.

Natasha chuckles brightly. "Nothing," she says, holding her hands up in surrender. "I just thought you looked cute all snuggled up."

You look back at her, trying to read her face to see if she's telling the truth, but it’s her change in outfit that catches your attention instead. She's changed into a red sweatshirt and fuzzy pants that are the inverse of yours. Red with white hearts. You peek up, meeting her eyes.

"We match," she whispers, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your cheeks instantly heat up, your heart warming through the fever. You look down at your lap to hide the small smile that forms involuntarily on your lips.

Wanda takes a seat to your right, her thigh pressed firmly against yours. She leans forward, grabbing the remote control from the coffee table before turning on the large television screen in front of you. She navigates to a familiar show, one you've watched hundreds of times before.

"We were on a break!"

Wanda lowers the volume slightly. You hear Natasha moving behind you, over in the kitchen. With Wanda pressed beside you, the thought of Natasha matching with you, warmth envelopes you.

But one thing stops it from comforting you completely.

Others have been in your position before, and now they are nowhere to be seen.

"Am I…" you start, your usual filter broken from the tiredness threatening to drag you down. "Am I going to be gone soon?"

It's a terrible, clumsy way to word the question, but right now, through the thick fog in your head, this is the best you can do.

Wanda shifts instantly, turning her whole body to look at you. You force your head to turn slowly, even though you're terrified to hear the answer. You need to know.

Her eyebrows furrow deeply. "I hope not," Wanda says slowly, the confusion evident in her voice. "What do you mean, darling?"

You blink slowly before shaking your head, turning back to face the glowing screen as your eyelids begin to droop. "It's nothing," you whisper, your throat—which had briefly been mended by the hot soup—beginning to radiate that sharp pain all over again.

"I hope you'll always be here," Wanda murmurs. She slips her hand into yours, squeezing gently.

You close your eyes, listening to the familiar dialogue of the show playing in the background. Something about the way she said it makes the tiny, hopeful part of you actually believe her.

You feel your consciousness beginning to slip away, but something inside you won't allow you to fully fall. You force your eyes open, squinting to your left.

"Natty?" you call out quietly, trying to locate her.

She appears at your side a second later, a steaming mug in her hand and a heavy blanket tucked under her arm. "I was just grabbing you some warm water and a blanket, princess. I'm right here," she says softly. She sets the mug on the coffee table before sitting down beside you.

She drapes the blanket over you, the warmth seeping past the fabric of your clothes.

It's like your body knows it's okay now, your eyes shutting immediately. Your head droops, falling gently against Wanda's shoulder on your right. You try to lift it back up, not wanting to be a bother to her, but her hand releases yours, reaching up to softly guide your head back down against her shoulder. Her fingertips begin to comb through your hair like you're something incredibly precious. Her fingernails drag soothingly against your scalp, applying just enough pressure not to be ticklish.

"Remember," you mumble out, the words barely coherent. "Just for a little."

Natasha chuckles softly beside you, keeping her tone low. "I promise I'll take you home after your nap."

"Mmm…" It's all you can manage in agreement. Wanda begins to hum that same tune she did in the bathroom when she was setting up your bath.

With her fingernails dragging pleasantly against your scalp and her soothing hum, you can't help but remember you mother.

Back when you were much younger, laying in bed right at your bed time. Her kneeling next to you, combing through your hair with her fingers and humming you a lullaby to help you sleep.

The memory makes you smile. It was a time before she began forcing you to call her "mother" instead of the childish shorthand. Before she began ripping her fingers through your hair instead. But right now, all you can think about is before then.

"Ma…" you start, but your brain is shutting down too quickly for your lips to finish the word.

The last thing you hear is Wanda inhaling sharply, and the last thing you feel is Natasha stiffening completely beside you as you lose consciousness. — A/N: Oof tough conversation. Now I just have to figure out what Natasha's going to be called. I don't speak Russian, just English and Korean so please don't come for me if the Russian is incorrect! (I did my due diligence but I could still be wrong)

if you're a bit impatient about the smut like I was and others, I wrote a one-shot that takes place in the Choosing You universe called "Sweet Girl". Thank you guys for being patient, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

I always appreciate the comments and likes, especially at times when I'm unsure about my writing, so thank you so much! — Taglist♡: @kawaiipeacemusic @toe19 @tomy5girls @nrlvr @imaginemeandwho @sweetmissnothing @scarlettbitchx @three3ofswords @truthindreams @beggingonmykneesforher @justheretoreadgl @digitalsnoww @silverstarr13 @ira-16 @czechsooth @aspenlovescinema

She stood near the sandbox, tall enough to stand out even in a crowd. Dark hair swept back, one arm folded across her chest while the other a sleek, mechanical, unmistakably well-engineered prosthetic hung stiffly at her side. A little boy darted circles around her legs, laughing to himself as he searched the ground for...something.

Sevika had broken bones without flinching. Given birth with zero pain meds. But walking over to say hello to you, an attractive stranger?

Impossible.

"You're ridiculous," she muttered under her breath. Her son, Billy, looked up.

"What?"

Sevika shook her head, rubbing a calloused hand overher jaw. "Nothin' kid."

"You talkin' to yourself again mama!"

"...No."

Billy gave her a suspicious look, his little brows wrinkling the exact same way Sevika's do before wandering off again.

She hadn't expected this. One glance across the park, and there you were reading beneath the shade of an old oak tree, smiling faintly at something on the page. Peaceful. Comfortable. The kind of person who made the world seem quieter just by existing.

She'd felt something twist unexpectedly in her chest. Now every attempt to introduce herself dissolved before it reached her mouth.

"Hi." Too short.

"Mind if I sit?" Too forward.

"My name's-" No.

She rubbed the back of her neck. This was pathetic. A 40 year old woman and she couldn't even find the guts to say hi to a prettything like you...

Before she could force herself to move—

"Mama!" Her little boy sprinted past. "...Wait."

It was too late. In the spur of the moment Billy changes direction and he was charging directly toward you with all the unstoppable determination only a six-year-old possessed.

You looked up just in time to see him skid to a stop right in front of you. "Hi!"

"Hello there." You greet the little boy with a friendly, warm smile.

"I got wormies!" Without waiting for permission, he proudly thrust a glass jar into your hands. Inside were several earthworms wriggling happily through damp soil.

"...Those are impressive wormies." You nod with a... hesitant smile.

His grin stretched ear to ear. "I found five!"

"Five?" You rest your arms on your knees, looking at the jar with intent interest.

"And this one's the biggest." He pointed enthusiastically to the fattest worm of the five, wriggling around the jar edge. "I think he's the daddy."

You leaned closer with genuine curiosity. "He could be, looks like it huh?"

"I named him Noodles."

"Excellent name."

From several steps away, Sevika closed her eyes. "I'm going to dissolve into the ground." She muttered and despite her mild annoyance and rising anxiety in her chest... She finally forced herself over.

"Billy." Sevika stood there, imposing as always, arms folded over her chest.

He looked up, his brows farrowing like her with annoyance that his mama had the audacity to interrupt his worm conversation. "What?"

"You don't run up to strangers." She gestures to you- without making eye contact.

"But she's nice! She thinks Noodles is the daddy worm too!" He said it with absolute certainty, that it was a fact you were nice. Not an opinion, not a suggestion. A fact.

You looked between them, noticing how alike the two were. From a mile away you could tell he was her kid. "I hope that's not causing trouble."

Sevika rubbed her greying temple, a habit she really has gotten into since being a mother. "No." A beat passed. Then another. She realized you were waiting. "...Sorry."

"It's okay, I get it."

Sevika sighs, finally meeting your eyes. "He gets excited. Likes to make friends and doesn’t have no sense of stranger danger at all- not that you're a danger or anything..."

"I can see that, he's very sociable, I'm assuming you're not the same way." You give her a small smirk, one that makes Sevika's heart rate pick up a few beats too fast.

Then Billy tugs your sleeve, trying to pull your attention away from his mama. He found you first, you were his new friend first. Wanna see where I found 'em?"

Sevika sighed, rubbing her jaw again. "Buddy."

"What?"

"Give people a chance to answer before dragging them across the park."

"Oh." He cconsideredit, thinking about why he would need to ask, but he agrees anyhow. "...Okay." Billy looked at you again, tugging lightly on your sleeve. If anyone could say no to that face they must be evil. He was too damn cute for his own good. "So... you wanna? We can find new wormies."

"I'd love to."

Sevika knew right then and there that maybe, just maybe she'd fallen in love with you. At first sight? Possibly. But the way you handled Billy and his... enthusiasm so naturally was endearing and she knew if he was to ever have a second mama... she wanted it to be you.

She understood the stares, of course she did you were fucking stunning. Curvy and chubbed up in all the right places, soft and smooth all over with your skin glistening in the sun, hair tumbling down your back effortlessly looking like a model... she understood. Didn't mean she had to like it.

"You gonna put on the cover up I brought you love?"

"Why would I do that? I need to tan Sevika. Tan. I'm too pasty."

Right... tanning. Her fists clenched at her sides, unsure as to why. It could be the group of men a few feet away staring at you- or the fact that her girl looks so fucking edible she can't wait to get you home and spread you open.

"...take if off! Take it off!" Snapping back to reality from her daydream of feasting on you later her head whips up to the group of men that have started cheering at you to take off your bikini...

And there you are. Unphased. Unbothered. Completely ignoring them.

That's her girl.

As they approch you dont blink an eyelid, used to Sevika scaring people off with one look though these guys are either stupid or just really fucking brave. Either way it wouldn't last long.

"Yo pretty thing why don't ya take that-" growing closer to you Sevika stands, her own body glistening -despite her adamant refusal you forced her to wear sunscreen- with sweat dripping off her. One look was all it took for the group of men to scatter like startled kittens.

"Fucking pathetic." You giggle at her annoyance as she plops herself down next to you, pulling you into her lap with your thighs bracketing hers on either side. "You scared 'em off baby, good job."

No matter how long you've been married for, no matter how many time you say it... praising her always brings a burning flush to her cheeks which she'll always deny. "Yeah yeah, whatever." Her little huff against your neck is adorable as she buried her face there, arms around your waist like steel bands. So what if she's a little protective? It's her duty as your wife, right?

Your face twitched before you looked sideways at him. “I didn’t think you frequented back alleys, Mr. Wayne.” Thick smoke exhaled through your nose. “Didn’t seem your style.”

“I like to keep people on their toes,” he said with a polite smile. “Celebratory smoke?”

“I put a man on death row,” you huffed. “Not much to celebrate.”

Bruce could agree with that. You were becoming notorious among the criminals of Gotham for putting anyone and everyone on death row. It had started with a low-profile killer that had escaped Arkham and had committed again. If you were to ask any criminal their thoughts, they would say you were dangerous. A threat. And no one tolerated a threat.

Yet the average person seemed to approve, if not outright worship you. As far as they were concerned, you were keeping violent criminals off their streets. Things none of the corrupt cops or vigilantes could consistently manage. Each win in the courthouse gained you further notoriety and adoration amongst the crowds.

Bruce didn’t like you. He respected you, but he didn’t like you.

”I think there’s a burgaler on trial next week,” Bruce said slowly. “Is he next on your list?”

You scoffed. “He’s a petty thief.”

”Doesn’t seem to stop you.”

”If you believe that then you don’t understand.”

”Explain it then,” he countered. You looked at him with an unimpressed raise of your brows. “Like I’m a child.”

You turned until your body faced him. He wouldn’t lie; it was intimidating.

”I’ll explain it to you like the intelligent adult you are,” you said. Slender fingers gripped the forgotten cigarette from your mouth and dropped it into the empty, rusted dumpster to your side. “I find no pleasure in sending people to their deaths, but I will not allow them to terrorize my city.”

”I was under the impression you came from Metropolis?” He asked.

”But born and raised in Gotham.” You gestured your head to the side. “Down by the docks.”

Bruce’s mouth opened instantly to refute your claim. There were no housing projects near the docks. Slowly, his mouth closed as you maintained steady eye contact. There were no housing projects near the docks. A local dock rat. Few of you made it to adulthood. Even fewer still made it out of the city and made something of yourselves.

Perhaps he had underestimated you.

”I’ve seen too many people murdered by those who escaped Arkham. Those who were given a second chance and blew it for a bit of instant gratification.”

”Everyone deserves a second chance,” Bruce argued.

“But not a third.”

You refused to break eye contact. Something he could respect. But you were wrong.

”People can change,” he continued.

”You must be more simple-minded than I thought,” you huffed. “Not everyone gets better. Not everyone can be rehabilitated and put back out into society like nothing ever happened.”

”You feel strongly about this.”

”You don’t?” You asked. “Joseph Chilton shot your parents in front of you. You think he could change?” A pause. “Was he finally rehabilitated in the end?”

Bruce fought the shiver going down his neck.

”Or was he just another thug looking for an easy out?”

He was understanding why Clark was so concerned for your safety.

Bruce lazily gestured to you with an open palm. “And you think you can do something about it?”

”Someone has to,” you said with arms out. “Our “heroes” let them go too easily and give them chance after chance. Look where that gets us.”

Frustration welled within Bruce’s chest. He would never consider himself a hero, but Batman was a symbol of Gotham. A symbol that there was always someone out there willing to fight the hard fight and get justice for his people.

“Yet, you’re just a counselor,” he said with a shrug.

“And I keep going,” you said quickly. “They keep escaping and killing whether I’m a hero or a nobody.” Your finger jabbed him gently in the chest. “Whether I’m tired, or hopeless, or afraid.” A tired sigh. “The world keeps going, Mr. Wayne. And so do I.”

You placed another cigarette between your lips and flicked your lighter open, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.

Clark’s request echoed in Bruce’s head. “You’re going to become a target.”

Your head turned, and Bruce finally noticed the exhaustion dragging your shoulders down. Dark bags hung under your eyes. The skin on the corner of your mouth was red and agitated underneath the loose cigarette that burned closer and closer to your face. Dry, shaking fingers repositioned your smoke.

Clark’s concern was more than justified.

“Then I’ll be a target,” you said with a shrug, “and they’ll go to death row like everyone else.”

Acceptance sparkled in your eyes as you turned and walked off down the back alley. Bruce noted you walked with a confidence that contradicted your casual demeanor. He waited until you were out of sight before pulling his phone out and making a call.

You were going to keep him busy.

———

Kara was tired.

Being back under a yellow sun was rejuvenating, but it did nothing to help her exhausted mind. She wanted to walk through the door to her apartment and flop onto the bed. If she could sleep for the next three days then maybe she would feel better.

Hopefully Krypto would let her.

The floor creaked underneath her feet as she approached her apartment. It was a comforting sound, something reliable that signified she was home. Her chest warmed at the thought; almost home to her dog. Her Krypto. One of the few things in the universe that could bring her true peace.

Her boots stopped right outside her door. It was open. Inside was deathly silent. Kara’s eyes rapidly looked left and right as she cautiously stepped through the doorway. Who had entered? She couldn’t hear Krypto’s usual barking and chaos when she approached. Her heart hammered in her chest as she looked around the corner to the living room…

Feathers lay scattered around the room, leaving a fluffy white coating over every surface. On the floor was a pile of pillows - some miraculously still intact - encircling two peacefully sleeping bodies. One was the perpetrator of the crime, with feathers stuck to his beard and mouth.

The other was you.

She couldn’t tear her eyes from your body. Your arm rested over Krypto’s side, his back pressed tight against your front. Feathers stuck out of your hair, easily making you look more ridiculous than anything Kara had ever seen. Only one shoe remained on your feet, the other somewhere across the room.

When had you come by? Kara’s sense of time was hazy at best, but she knew she had been gone at least a few nights. The door had been opened, surely you hadn’t been there for long. You weren’t stupid enough to leave a front door open; not when Gotham should have quickly taught you otherwise.

A whispered groan came from somewhere in your vicinity. Slowly, your body shifted, unconsciously pulling Krypto closer. He allowed it. Kara fully believed she could have stood there watching you for the rest of eternity. Serenity was all she had ever wanted, and she could see it in you. It made the apartment feel more like a home.

Her brain felt like it would explode.

Kara stalked her way over to where you were laying and watched your face for a moment before nudging you with her boot. You groaned again, so she nudged you again, harder that time. Krypto stirred in your arms, and Kara took the opportunity to lean down and roll you over.

”Fuck off,” you complained, sleepy eyes prying themselves open just enough to see who had disturbed your deep slumber. “Kara?”

”Stay in Gotham too long?” She asked as Krypto wriggled out of your arms. “Trying to get me robbed?”

”People don’t get robbed in Metropolis,” you argued without pause. “What do you mean?”

”You left my door open, dumbass.”

”Teach your dog to close it since he’s the one dragging people in.”

Krypto barked, finally awake enough to notice she was home. His claws scratched new lines in the hardwood floor. Another repair job. Maybe she could convince Pa Kent to help again; he seemed to like her well enough.

”How was your trip?” You asked, pushing yourself up to a sitting position and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

”It was fine,” Kara lied effortlessly. Not guiltlessly. “When did you get here?”

”This morning,” you said. Your hand reached out and Kara effortlessly pulled you to your feet. She hoped you didn’t notice.

“How did you get in?”

“Clark made me a spare,” you shrugged.

Of course he did, that bitch.

“Had to check on you since you stood me up.”

Kara froze until Krypto grabbed her pants and pulled her feet from underneath her, sending her crashing to the ground.

“I didn’t stand you up,” she defended as she did her best to push Krypto away.

“Our date was supposed to be three nights ago, Kara.”

Oh. Oh shit. No, it couldn’t have been three nights ago, it was only Saturday, that was why she had come back in the first place. She left… Wednesday? Yeah, that sounded right, and she was only gone for a few days. You were wrong; that was the only explanation.

“No it wasn’t,” Kara defended, “it’s tonight.”

“It’s Tuesday.”

Krypto barked.

Fuck.

You should have been mad. Furious even. If you walked out and never talked to her again, she would understand. Hell, she would have walked out on you if you had done the same. Kara didn’t put up with that bullshit. You shouldn’t either.

“I took a few days off work,” you said with a small smile. “If you wanted to make it up to me.”

Fuck you. Fuck you and your understanding nature, it was offputting and Kara didn’t know how to react to it. Yelling, screaming, throwing hands, maybe even a weapon or two if you were feeling spicy; that was all something she knew how to handle. Not this… bullshit.

“What did you have in mind?” Kara asked against the pounding in her chest.

You swayed gracefully from foot to foot. ”Order in and watch a movie?” Your hand dug mindlessly in your pocket before you pulled out what looked like a USB. “I’ve got the library.”

Right. Kara usually tried to forget you had any real association with Gotham. It eased the pain behind her eyes to believe you were from somewhere safe, like Metropolis. Until you forced her to face the facts; you may be a lawyer, but you were loose with the law.

”I get to pick the movie.”

”Then I get to pick the food,” you countered.

A tough decision. Kara didn’t trust your taste in movies or food. Your food choices were questionable at best, usually from the sketchiest parts of town. She actively remembered twice that you had gotten food poisoning from the gas station sushi you had picked up on the way back to Metropolis. And your movie choices? Trash movies at best, you seemed to favour “undiscovered talent” that was really just shitty acting.

But the look on your face was rather convincing.

“You pick the movie,” she caved.

You bounced up and down and clapped your hands too quickly. It wasn’t that exciting. The energy in the room got to Krypto, who started spinning in circles and barking at everything he could find. God, he was a bad dog. Kara would lay down her life for him.

A few hours later, Kara found herself sitting on the couch with your head in her lap and Krypto curled by your feet. She couldn’t even watch the movie you had taken half an hour to pick. Something “action packed,” in your words, but it was almost as boring as Clark. It didn’t matter, her eyes never left the serene look on your face. The weight on her lap was comfortable, grounding.

Moments like this reminded Kara of the good parts of staying on-world. Off-world led to more adventures and lots of alcohol, which she did thoroughly enjoy. It was a place to let off some anger without risk. She could get drunk and only have to worry about if she made it back to her ship or not. Those were all acceptable things to happen off-world, and she was under no obligation or desire to give it up.

But she enjoyed having you close. Feeling your warmth, your breath on her skin, your fingers drawing patterns on her knee. It was an annoying sensation and incredibly overstimulating, but there was something about the repetitive patterns that calmed her down. Your very presence left her fingers tingling and her chest full.

”I‘m not contagious,” you mumbled. Kara looked down at you even though you never took your eyes away from the TV. “You can touch.”

Oh. Kara’s face flushed and she was grateful for the darkened room. She supposed you had a point. Her arms were spread out on either side of the back of the sofa, as far away from your body as she could possibly get. Her stomach dropped.

So gently it was almost painful, Kara let her arm rest on your waist. She knew her strength; knew how to keep herself in check back on Earth. Sometimes she needed to focus harder than others, but she wasn’t an idiot. Until it came to you, and she wouldn’t deny she was… hesitant to initiate touch.

“You’re like a space heater,” you chuckled. “And I’m not made of glass.”

You shifted until you were laying on your back and looking straight up at her. God, your eyes could bore a hole into her soul. No wonder you had such a high win percentage at work, that stare was enough to make anyone cave. She squirmed underneath you.

”If you’re not a touchy person, just tell me,” you said softly. The movie played in the background. “I know I’m a bit pushy.”

A correct statement, just change the “bit” to “very.” All you did was push; grabbing her hands whenever you wanted, pulling her close if she was “too far away,” keeping your shoulder pressed against hers every time you walked together. You pushed and pushed and Kara wasn’t used to all the physical attention.

”I don’t mind,” she said against her racing thoughts. “Just not used to it.”

You grabbed the hand that was now resting on your stomach and linked your fingers through hers.

Pushy bitch.

You’ve been moping on your couch by yourself, listening to soulful jazz ballads about heartache in low lighting all evening. Yes, you are leaning into the melodrama of it all somewhat deliberately, but it helps. Kara disappeared into space over a week ago now, after the worst fight the two of you have had since you got together.

It started, as these things often do, over something that really shouldn’t have been such a big deal. Then someone said something that grated in exactly the wrong way, the defensive response followed, and before you knew it you were both screaming the apartment down. Then you said something that you knew immediately was a step too far. The way she fell silent when you said it has been replaying over and over in your mind since she left. Kara was good at controlling her emotions, only showing what she wanted to show, but you’ve spent enough time in close proximity to start to read the micro-twitches in her brows and at the corners of her mouth. You know that what you said wounded her deeply. Part of you wished you could take the words back in the moment when you saw it, but another part knew you had spoken honestly, even if cruelly. You could tell that she was choking something back, and she couldn’t even look at you. After what felt like an eternity of silence, she walked out. No goodbye, no nothing, and you haven’t seen her since.

You hear a light knock on your door, jolting you out of your reverie. You turn the music down and open it to see Kara’s cousin, Clark, standing at your door.

“I, uhh, I hope this isn’t a bad time,” he says, lifting some snacks and sodas into view, “thought you might like to talk?” “Shouldn’t you be out saving the world, or kittens, or something?” you ask. “Well, the world isn’t in danger right now, and I’m sure the kittens can wait an hour.”

You wave him inside. You’ve always gotten along well with Clark. You tend to avoid men where you can, but Kara’s trust in him goes a long way, and he’s just so damn pleasant that it’s hard to turn him away. He opens the items for you before handing them over, and it’s only then that you clock that he’s brought some of your favorite treats.

“How did you know I like these?” “Kara told me.” Your eyes go wide, and you feel panic start to build, wondering if she sent Clark here. “Is she back?” “No, I mean she told me months ago.” “She did?” “You’re all she ever talks about.”

Kara isn’t exactly subtle about her affection for you, but for some reason, it still surprises you to hear that she talks about you when you’re not around. Especially that she does it so much and in such detail as to get down to something as minor and mundane as snack choices.

“So, how are you doing?” Clark opens. You sigh, rolling the question around in your head for a few seconds as you consider how to answer. “Honestly? Completely shitty.” Clark laughs at your forthrightness. “I kinda got that from your choice of music,” he said, pointing to the speakers still quietly pumping out your sad jazz playlist. “I think I blew it, Clark,” you huff, forcing your best approximation of levity. “I don’t think so. I’m not gonna say she seemed good when she took the ship, but I don’t think you’ve blown anything.” “She’s never left like this before. And the fight we had, what I said to her, I...” You drop your head into your hands and let out a muffled groan. “I don’t know. I think I really hurt her.” “Maybe. The thing is... Kara can be jumpy. She’s used to avoiding her problems, and it might take her a while to kick the habit. But, she’s never stuck around this long before.” “I don’t know if I can be with someone who’s going to run off like this.” “Hey, that’s up to you, I’m not here to tell you what to do. I’m just here to listen, and offer my perspective about Kara. What I’m trying to say is that, since she first came here, she’s spent a lot more time off Earth than on it. Good gosh, I’ve tried, I mean I’ve really tried to get her to stick around, build some kind of a life for herself here. She never listened until she met you. You haven’t seen her take off like this because she stays for you.”

You hadn’t really considered it before, but now that you think of it, Supergirl had been seen around Metropolis a lot more in the last eighteen months; starting roughly around the time that you and Kara met.

“I think she might just be scared. Maybe scared of losing you. I don’t mean to say she’s some delicate little flower on the inside, because boy howdy, she’s not. She’s tough as nails. But,” Clark explains, his voice softening, “she’s also still carrying all the weight of Krypton’s memory on her shoulders. It’s maybe the one thing I can’t help her with, because she won’t let me.” “She doesn’t talk to you about Krypton?” “Nope,” Clark said, as he sipped his soda, “I think she tried to at first, or at least wanted to, but I never knew Krypton. I guess it just felt like she was talking to a human, so she stopped.”

You don’t respond, and Clark gives you time to process. You suddenly wonder if, as crazy as it sounds, Kara has talked to you about Krypton more than she’s talked to him. You always assumed that it was something they shared, but now you wonder if she’s been holding her grief alone this entire time. You think back to the argument, what you said that made her leave, and a pit forms in your stomach as you start to realize what you’ve done.

“Did she tell you? What we were arguing about? Why she took off?” “Not a thing. And I didn’t ask because that is none of my business. But, I know Kara. She plays it pretty close to the chest, but I do know her. I also know that you would never do anything to intentionally hurt her.” “Just accidentally, I guess.” Your brow furrows, and you turn your eyes away from his. “Look, when it comes to things Kara personally cares about,” Clark raises his hand all the way above his head, “there’s Krypto,” then he lowers his hand an inch, maybe two, “there’s you,” then he lowers it to his chest, “I think somewhere kinda in the middle, maybe, there’s me,” then finally lowers it to the floor, “and then there’s pretty much everything else. So, if you’re worried that she’s not gonna come back, don’t be. She will. Just give her a little time. And if it turns out that this fight, whatever happened; if this is it for the two of you, if that’s what’s right for you, then all I ask is that you let her down gently.”

If someone had told you six months ago that you’d be sharing soda with Superman in your apartment while he gave you relationship advice about Supergirl, you would have called them crazy. Even though you’ve known for months now, you still have trouble seeing Superman when you look at Clark. Superman always seemed like the kind of hero that old legends would be told about, more of a children’s fable made manifest than a real person. Someone so heroic and virtuous that flowers bloom in their wake. But Clark was just Clark. Just your girlfriend’s cousin, visiting to make sure that you’re alright because he’s worried about both of you.

Maybe that was the secret. Maybe Superman was just a costume that Clark wore. Maybe, because he was mostly seen in those split second, life-or-death moments of absolute chaos, because of the kind of hero that he is, people built up their own image of what kind of person he must be when he isn’t wearing the suit, and whoever that person was probably wasn’t anything like Clark. So, when they look at Clark, even though he very visibly has the same face as Superman, they think there’s no way that this could be the real answer. They think that Superman must still be Superman when he’s not wearing the suit, when the truth is that Clark is still just Clark when he is wearing the suit.

It’s easier to see it with Kara, at least for you. She had always seemed larger than life — brave, strong, resilient, and goodhearted — even before she told you. Once she let the truth out, you felt like maybe you saw a part of her that nobody else did. In a way, Kara never got to show anybody her real self, not like Clark. He was born Clark Kent, and he only had to put on the suit and puff up his chest a little more to be Superman when he needed to. Nobody except Clark, at least nobody on Earth where her identity was a secret, ever got to meet the real Kara. Kara Danvers wasn’t the real her, and in a lot of ways, neither was Supergirl. When she told you the truth, she didn’t reintroduce herself as Supergirl, she reintroduced herself first as Kara Zor-El. The real Kara, the secret identity that she had shared with you that day, was the girl born and raised on the dying remnants of Krypton who had her family, her people, and her home ripped away from her only after she was already old enough to know what she was losing. She wasn’t like Clark, who had never known Krypton or what it was like to live without his powers. You start wonder if, maybe to Kara, all of the incredible things she’s capable of are just a constant reminder of everything she had to leave behind.

After you’ve spent a while longer talking to Clark, he wishes you luck and takes his leave. You spend the next week looking up at the sky through every window, just on the off chance you might catch a glimpse of her. You think about what Clark told you, about the argument with Kara, and you think about what you’re going to say to her when, and if, you see her again. One evening, while you’re at home, still considering what you’re going to eat tonight, you hear a hesitant knock on the door. You open it and see Kara standing there, shuffling her feet.

“Hey,” she says. “Hey,” you reply.

She seems like she doesn’t quite want to make eye contact yet, but she starts to pout a little and fidget with the door.

“Can I come in?” Kara asks, her eyes finally meeting yours.

The moment your eyes connect, you realize just how badly you missed her, but it also feels like there’s still a wall between you that’s keeping you from diving into each other’s arms.

“Sure, come in.”

You step aside to let Kara in. She sways on her tiptoes a little as you follow her through the apartment, and turns to you a couple of feet from the couch. While she seems to be trying to find a way to begin, you notice that you don’t smell any alcohol on her.

“Were you drinking?” you ask, doing your best to keep accusation out of your voice. “No,” Kara shrugs, “I wanted to, but I told you I would lay off it, so...” “What were you doing out there?” “Thinking. About what you said.”

The memory pierces your chest again, stinging at your heart like a poisoned needle.

“Because you’ve got something actually good, Kara! We have something good! But you’d rather drown yourself in grief and whiskey over the life you had than try to have one with what’s standing right in front of you!”

Silence hangs between the two of you like the sword of Damocles, and you brace yourself in case she’s about to tell you that you aren’t going to be seeing her again.

“Kara, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” “You were right.”

The way she interrupts you stops you in your tracks, and you get the impression that she’s been building herself up to say something for a while.

“I don’t... I don’t know that I’ll ever stop mourning. But, I do know that hiding in dive bars and drinking myself blind isn’t what my parents wanted when they sent me away. My father told me that I’m not just my own life. I’m my mother’s life, and his life, and I...” Kara trails off, her eyes drifting away from you for just a moment before she steels herself again, “and I should carry those lives in a way that makes them proud, and I don’t think I’ve been doing that.” “Kara... do you not talk to Clark about Krypton?” “How could I?” Kara’s voice starts to break and her eyes become misty. “He may not have ever known Krypton, but he’s still Kryptonian. How could I give him all of this pain, knowing what it does to you, just because it might make me feel a little better?”

Always protecting everyone else, even at the cost of herself. Your lips quiver a little at the thought, but you understand her reasoning.

“You still deserve to be able to share that part of you with someone,” you tell her, “it kills me to think that you’ve been holding that all by yourself.” “The one person who might understand is the one person that I can’t share it with. I’ve made my choice about that, and I’m okay with it.” You see the resilience behind her eyes again, and you know that she’s resolved about this. “The point is, my life didn’t end on Krypton. My parents’ last wish was just for me to live. So, I’m going to do that,” Kara steps forward, and takes your hands in hers. “and I would like to do that with you, if you still want to.”

You see her eyes sparkle when she looks at you, and the hopeful little smile on her face almost makes the emotions you’ve been trying to keep hold of break loose.

“Kara, of course I still want to. All I’ve been able to think about since you left is when you were coming back.” “All I’ve been thinking about is getting back to you.”

Smiles start rising on both of your faces, and you lean in to embrace each other. Kara breathes deep, as if she’s trying to take in everything about you while you hold each other.

“So, we’re okay?” Kara asks as she lets you go, her open expression inviting you to say anything else you might need to. “We’re okay,” you answer. “Just, please promise me you won’t leave again if things get hard. I mean, leave the apartment or whatever if you have to, just don’t leave the whole planet. Otherwise, how am I gonna show up at your door with a big surprise gesture to apologize when I mess up?” Kara laughs, and you know that everything is going to be alright. “I promise.”

You’re relieved, but you still have one more thing to say, something you thought of a couple of days ago and have been waiting for the right moment to bring up.

“One more thing, I have a favor to ask,” you say. “Anything.” “And you’re allowed to say no, and I won’t be upset.” “Just tell me.” “Can you teach me to speak Kryptonian?”

Kara’s face drops. For a moment, you worry that you’ve put your foot in it, but it quickly becomes clear that it’s just surprise on her face. You watch those micro-movements in her brow and her lips that she habitually tries to hide become bigger, and her eyebrows curl upwards as she looks into your eyes and sees that you’re being sincere.

“R-Really?” she asks, her eyes softening as she looks into yours. “Yeah. I just thought, you know, it might be nice for you to get to speak it with someone again. If you don’t want to, or if it would make you too sad, it’s okay. I just—”

Kara leaps forward, wrapping her arms tight around you and burying her face into the crook of your neck. She’s still trying her best to stay restrained, but it’s clear that she’s crying from her ragged breathing.

“Yes, I would love to teach you Kryptonian.” “You know I just want to make you happy, right?” you say, putting your arms around her waist as much as you can manage while she’s got you held like this.

Your clothes bunch up in Kara’s hands as she grips onto you tighter, and you lean your head against hers as you quietly let her pull you into her until she begins to relax.

“Missed you, ducky,” she mumbles. “Missed you too, ratgirl.”

They’re just silly, affectionate nicknames from the early days of getting to know each other that happened to stick, but hearing yours from her and saying hers back feels like finally exhaling after you’ve been holding your breath for two weeks since she walked out. Kara lets go of you, and before you can even think about saying or doing anything else, she leans in to kiss you. Despite the fact that nothing in this world could so much as scratch her skin, she has the softest lips you’ve ever known, lips that still make you melt in seconds every time.

Before you know it, you’re tangling yourselves up in each other, hands snaking under clothes, fingers trailing across skin, drawing gasps from one another until you’re both hot and flush with exhilaration.

“So, I keep hearing that make-up sex is supposed to be really good,” Kara pants, her hunger for you clear in the way her voice turns husky, “wanna show me?”

You nod your assent, and Kara lets you push her onto her back on the couch so that you can get on top of her. She lets you do that sometimes when she’s feeling playful, because she knows she’ll have you pinned and crying her name within the next ten minutes anyway. She puts her hands on your hips and your breath hitches, a moan spilling from your lips and into her open mouth as you suddenly find that you find that you can’t lift your hips at all, you can only grind into her.

“There’s my girl,” she growls, close enough that her lips still brush against yours as she speaks.

Once you found out who she really was, the two of you negotiated at great length about what she could and couldn’t do with her powers in the bedroom, and her using her strength to hold you where she wanted was placed very enthusiastically in the ‘Yes’ column. The heat of her breath and yours blend together as you ride her, then suddenly the world falls out from under you.

“Kara!” you yelp, now hovering four feet above the couch, only Kara’s grip and that fact that you’re mounting her keeping you in the air.

Flight was one you were nervous about at first, but when you tried it, easing into it a few slow, cautious inches at a time with some very careful and attentive encouragement from her, the thrill was undeniable. Usually she warned you first, but sometimes her impish nature took over and you were in the air before you even realized.

“Don’t worry,” she croons, kneading your ass and nibbling softly at your neck, “I got you.”

She knows exactly what she’s doing, and all you can do is cling to her while she makes you helpless and squeezes pleasured, increasingly feverish moans from you seemingly at will.

“Tell me what you want,” Kara teases, drinking in the sight of you writhing on top of her. “Kara, oh f-fuck,” you groan, whatever response you might have been about to work up crumbling from your mind as she starts playing with your weak spots again. “I hear my name, which I like, but I didn’t really get that second part.”

You try again, and she doubles the attention from her hands, her lips, and her teeth. ‘Kara’ and ‘fuck’ are about the only two words that manage to escape your lips fully formed between gasps and moans.

“Oh, I get it,” she teases, “you want me to take you into the bedroom and fuck you until you black out, is that right?”

She means it, she has the stamina, and it wouldn’t be the first time. The inflection of your involuntary pleasure sounds bends upwards towards something in the affirmative. She starts drifting lazily to the bed with you still firmly in her grasp, and lowers down onto it once it's directly underneath, spinning slowly as you reach the mattress so that she lands on top of you. Seconds later, you’re both naked, Kara has got you face down and pinned to the mattress with one hand, while she uses her other hand to see how many different ways she can make you scream her name. If there was any part of you left that still had the inclination and wherewithal to check a clock, you would see that it had been about nine minutes since you pushed her onto the couch.

You would’ve never thought running into the star hockey player on your first day of college would lead you to this moment: her on her knees in front of you on her bed.

It’s been a month of late nights spent in Abby’s room giggling incessantly over stupid Instagram reels, walking to classes with your hand brushing hers, doodling on each other’s paper as you studied in the library. And every second you feel like you’re getting hockey shoved down your throat. 

She started slowly, mentioning practice whenever you’d meet up or text; exaggerating how tired she was or how some of the freshmen were acting as if they were better than the rest of them. Then it turned to her sending you her practice schedule so you knew when and when not to call her, not because she wanted you to be aware of the event that was happening on September 24.

Only after you got the calendar invite did she start dropping hints as to when the Wolves' first game was. She’d say how hard coach was grilling them because, in his eyes, the first game set the tone for their entire season; she’d ask if you had any white because they had announced earlier that the student section theme was white-out; she’d mention how a few of the team’s girlfriends were coming to support her teammates. 

However, you seemed to be oblivious to her insinuations, always simply nodding along whenever she would bring up hockey. So, Abby thought it was finally time to ask you point blank the Sunday before the game. 

The two of you had set up camp in the library; you had a quiz tomorrow, and Abby had a mound of homework she had been procrastinating until the very last second, like she usually did. You weren’t paying too much attention to her rambling, focused on the words in the textbook in front of you.

It was only when she nudged you that you finally looked up for the first time since sitting down. “What?”

“Did you hear me at all?”

“Uhhh no.”

She sighed, closing her notebook and placing her hands on the table, “I asked you if you were busy Friday night.”

“Don’t think so, why?” 

“You wanna come to the game?”

“What game?”

“The game that I’ve been talking about for like a month now.”

You blinked at her, “Oh. Right. Uh, I dunno, Abs. I’m not a huge hockey person.”

“You don’t have to be! I can give you a crash course or I’ll have Dina sit next to you and she can explain everything.”

“Abs…” She pouted at your hesitant tone, that cute, adorable pout you had grown to love and typically succumb to, but your uneasiness outweighed it this time. “I’ll think about it, but do not get your hopes up.”

For the next three days, you’d get a text, or she’d show up to hang out and would always start by asking if you would come to the game. You were lucky if that was the only time you’d get the question that day.

And that’s what led you here, to the night before game day with Abby kneeling in front of you, hands pressed against your thighs as she all but begged you to come to the game. “Please please please please please. I’ll even give you my jersey! We can match.”

You stared down at her. “What do I get if I go?”

Abby froze, mind racing a million miles an hour at the possibilities of the things she could get or give you for coming to her game, “Ice cream?”

“You’ll need to do better than that, Abs.”

“I- I’ll buy your textbooks next semester!”

“No way. I don’t even know if I’ll need textbooks next semester.”

Her lip jutted out, her list of ideas now running out. She waited a few seconds before she spoke again, eyes lighting up with a new suggestion, “I’ll let you take that hoodie you always ask me for and two more.”

“I get to pick the other two?”

“Yep.”

“Free range?”

“Yeah.”

You paused, “Fine.”

Abby jumped up from her knees, letting out an excited yell, “Yes! I knew I would get you to come to the game. Ellie owes me twenty bucks.”

“You bet on whether you could get me to come to a game?”

“Well… yes, but I did genuinely want you to go.”

You glared at her before relenting, flopping backwards on her bed. She lay down beside you, poking your nose, “You’ll wear my jersey right?”

“Do I have to?”

“No… but I’d like you to.”

You stared at her for a second. “I suppose I will. It doesn’t smell gross, does it?”

“No! I washed it.”

“Unlike some other things you wear.”

“Hey!” 

You giggled at the offended look on her face, blocking your stomach as her hands came up to tickle you, “Abby! Stop stop! I’ll wear it.”

She grinned, “Good.”

You watched as she got up and walked to the closet, grabbing it off the hanger and handing it to you, “Here you are, your majesty.”

“Thank you, good sir.” 

“You’re welcome, m’lady.”

“You do remember I said I know nothing about this sport, right? The best I can give you is a go team.”

“Go team?”

“Yeah, at least I’m being supportive of everyone.”

“How about you just cheer me on?”

“You think so highly of yourself don’t you?”

“Yep.”

𓍼

You were not prepared for the number of eyes you were going to have on you walking into the arena. Sophie and Dina flanked your sides, talking back and forth as you self-consciously glanced around you at everyone staring at the name across your back.

“Dina?”

“What’s up? You okay?”

“Why is half the campus population looking at me like I just committed a crime?”

She smirked at your question, “You’re wearing Abby Anderson’s jersey; surely you didn’t expect people not to look at you.”

“I mean, I guess I thought about it, but I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal.”

The three of you settled into your seats, shivers running through you as you tried to grow aclimatized to the colder temperature in the arena. You weren’t really paying attention to warm ups, going through your text messages, swiping away notifications you couldn’t care less about. Though, when the girls behind you filed in, you overheard their conversation, plucking away your focus.

“She’s one of those girls isn’t she?”

“Who?”

The girl sat directly behind you gestured in your direction, “Paid an obscene amount of money to get Abby’s name plastered on her jersey.”

You tensed at the mention of Abby, glancing between your roommate and Dina, who had seemed to aslo be eavesdropping on the conversation. You weren’t going to say anything, it didn’t mean anything to you. You weren’t dating Abby, you didn’t even like her, at least that was something you were telling yourself as the days went on.

So when you saw Dina turned around, a fake smile on her lips, you stiffened even more. 

“You know, it isn’t a good habit to make assumptions.”

The girl only rolled her eyes, “It’s obvious, Abby never gives her jersey out to anyone, you know how many people in this arena alone have tried to get it from her?”

“I’m sure lots, but this lucky lady did it in the matter of four weeks, didn’t you, y/n?”

You looked up, looking over your shoulder, “I guess?”

“Ellie told me she had to practically beg you to wear it.”

That seemed to make the girls eyes widen. Everyone knew Dina and Ellie were dating, it was as much common sense as the sky being blue. “There’s no way.” One of them murmured.

“It’s true. So stop saying things when you don’t know the truth.” Dina turned back around without another word.

“What did they mean?” You whispered, confused.

Your newfound friend deflated like she had never wanted to tell you what she was about to say, “Abby was a huge player last year, don’t ask me how many people she slept with, but. Anyway, a lot of girls tried getting her jersey to wear to games but she never let them… some of them resorted to ordering a customer jersey with her name on it so people would think they finally got it.”

“Oh.”

You didn’t say anything else, shifting your gaze to the ice where the girls were still warming up. Your eyes found Abby immediately, standing near center ice as she talked to one of the members on the opposing team. 

Once she skated away, she scanned the crowd and found you almost immediately. When your eyes locked, you felt a sudden warmth flow through you, a tiny, shy smile making it’s way onto your face. She smirked back at you, waving, which caught the attention of several teammates and people in the crowd.

It was then that you heard a snicker from behind you again, “Can’t believe Abby gave her jersey to her. I could name a hundred other people who should’ve gotten that jersey instead.”

𓍼

Everything Dina explained to you about hockey went right over your head. She tried explaining offsides and icing, tried to explain the penalties, tried explaining what players were doing at certain times, but you were retaining no information other than Abby was a defenseman and Ellie was a center. 

Throughout the game, you could hear snide comments from everywhere around you; the girls behind you making it their personal mission to antagonize you, people surrounding you as you waited in line for the bathroom or to get food, etc. 

You tried not to pay attention to it, you did, focusing on Abby when she was on the ice and trying to understand the logistics of the sport, cheering whenever the team did something good and booing whenever they did something bad. 

So when there was three minutes left to go in the third and the Wolves holding a comfortable lead over their opponents, you sighed in relief as Dina nudged you and grabbed hold of your elbow, “C’mon, we can meet them in the tunnel.”

The three of you pushed through the crowd of students and Bridgehaven fans, you and Sophie trailing after Dina as you attempted to calm your nerves; something about meeting Abby after the multiple side-eyes and comments were thrown at you all night made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

Your hands fidgeted with your rings, twisting them back and forth, focusing on the faint sounds from the rink as the game continued. It wasn’t until you heard skates tapping across the floor of the arena that you looked up, seeing Abby’s wide grin.

You squealed softly as she wrapped you in a hug and picked you up, twirling you around slightly before setting you down. “You came!”

“I told you I would, you doof.”

“And you're sporting the best jersey in the world, I see. Wonder where you got it from.”

By that time, Dina had left once she laid eyes on her girlfriend, and Sophie moved away from the two of you to give some sense of space. 

“I think I remember someone threatening me to wear it.”

“I did not threaten you.” She glared, “I asked nicely.”

“You were being a pest.”

You jumped when multiple members of her team clapped her on the back, walking towards the locker room, each shouting their own form of congratulations or good job with the occasional whistle or teasing remark about how they had never seen her smile that much since they met her. 

“What’s all that about?”

You watched as she flushed a deep shade of red, but chalked it up to how hard she had been working throughout the game, and it was only now catching up to her. She shook her head, “Nothing, they’re just being assholes. You okay?”

Abby must’ve noticed the uncomfortable look on your face, tilting her head as if trying to figure out what had happened to cause you to feel that way.

“I’m fine.” You gave her a weak smile in return.

“Lies. C’mon, tell me.”

“I just- people were making comments.”

Her face hardened. “What kind of comments?”

“Nothing big!” You tried to reassure her, “They were surprised I was wearing your jersey, that’s all. I promise.”

“You swear that was it?”

“Yeah.”

She took a deep breath before nodding and moving on, “You comin to the after party, right?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I’m kind of tired, Abs. Plus, I used all my energy trying to muster up the courage to come to the game.”

She pouted but nodded anyway, “Fine. But tomorrow I definitely expect you to be at the party.”

“That I will agree to.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” You smiled before kissing her cheek and walking off, linking arms with Sophie as you headed back to your dorm.

Abby went the whole way back to the locker room with a stupidly love-sick smile on her face, plopping down on the bench next to one of her teammates and untying her skates. Her teammate nudged her, “What’s with that look? Has Anderson finally found someone to obsess over?”

“What! No! I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Bullshit!” Ellie called from across the room.”

“Ellie.” Abby scolded, her voice firm enough that it should’ve deterred anyone from continuing the conversation. However, her teammates were not just anyone.

“You’ve gone soft.”

She rolled her eyes, “I have not gone soft. You’re imagining things.”

Her captain finally but in, eyes narrowed, “They’re not lying, Abby. You’ve been… different.”

What Abby failed to notice was the quiet fondness her captain held in her voice, like her personality change was for the better and not for the worse. But Abby was always one to jump to conclusions, and if her teammates thought she was going soft and it was affecting her game? Then she was going to fix it.

She made quick work of changing out of her uniform and taking a shower, throwing on the clothes she had stashed away. Once freshly clean and changed, she sat down on the bench, phone in hand, fingers flying over the keyboard before finally shutting it off and throwing it in bag.

ⓘ BRIDGEHAVEN UNIVERSITY NOTICEBOARD UPDATE ˎˊ˗

@lacyfemmes @possessedmagpie @faewhispers309 @jomamaonthebeat @pensfairy @theultimateultralesbian @notevenela @womanl0ver @lizzygrantloverrrr @ichokedonmyoreo @unicornprincess-27 @krisziestmblr @gl1tter-ang3l @hopefulmiffy @abysmin @fernezuki @rue-guard5 @hi-imjusthere @bumasslesbian @faiiie @abbys-gf @sixgramsofsammy @atlantiqves @loveedbug @skinnyyvanillax0 @itzmnne-3-111 @xoxxxoooxxo @lexib00 @s1nn-amon @sparklyl0tus @whimsywitchess @eclipscee @patycake101 @conniepuff @snoopisa @strictlyfrozentoad @shotdeer @marinayadayada @sugarandsideeye

₊⊹ Eventually, she starts to become bolder. Her hands will find their way to yours, she'll have an arm around your shoulders when you're resting together, and she'll find any little excuse to be touching you.

₊⊹ And that's because, despite her bluntness with everything else, Toph wouldn't outright confess her feelings right away. If anything, to spare herself from the shame (and heartbreak) if you happen to not feel the same way. She'd test the waters first and allow her actions to speak for themselves, and if you answer in kind, maybe then she'll say something.

₊⊹ But it's also not a secret that Toph is not good at expressing her feelings verbally, so be prepared for a rather awkward and nervous confession, which will probably end with her finally asking you out.

₊⊹ After the feelings are finally out there, you'd better be prepared to handle a Toph who will not stay more than a couple hours away from you.

₊⊹ She is clingy, touchy, and very shameless about it. You'll find her arms around your waist and her lips on your neck way more often than not. Got a moment away from the Gaang while you're out on the road, even if they're just looking the other way? Toph will be pulling you into a kiss. You're getting ready to sleep under the stars? You bet she won't even open her sleeping bag. You're sharing one! Someone dared to even try to flirt with you while she's around? She'll have an arm around your waist quicker than lightning, bringing a hand to your chin and turning you to her so she can pointedly kiss your lips for all to see.

₊⊹ Yes, she is possessive! What's hers is hers, and you're now the most important thing she has, and she has no problem showing it.

₊⊹ She's also a big tease; never to the point of making you uncomfortable, but be prepared to have her constantly having her fun with you, just because sensing your body react to her is enough to leave Toph breathless.

₊⊹ Toph is also very protective. Not overbearing, but if you're in a fight together, half of her focus will constantly be on you and on your heartbeat (which she knows the rhythm of by heart, already), making sure you are okay at all times. And jumping straight to defend you if needed.

₊⊹ You become the only person allowed to touch her hair. And it secretly becomes a sacred time for her when you brush and braid her long hair at night. She'll nearly purr as she leans into your touch.

₊⊹ Showers also become something you'll rarely take alone from now on. Toph loves the soothing warm water on her muscles, and she's definitely gonna make it even better by having you by her side in there.

₊⊹ Toph is a very thoughtful partner, even if she doesn't admit it. She never forgets a special date and is always making little gifts for you. And that's literally, she will choose a smooth piece of rock and bend it into different shapes for you to wear as a necklace, for example.

₊⊹ One of her main love languages is definitely physical touch. So, when in bed/during intimate moments, Toph is a sucker for full-body contact, she loves to feel your body completely against hers; pulling you closer than humanly possible, her strong arms firm around your waist while her mouth explores your body, eagerly.

₊⊹ Toph adores to feel you melt in her hands. But she also melts in yours just as quickly.

Krypto certainly didn't behave like this. For a moment, she even wondered if this was the same Krypto who would chew a pillow at all hours of the day and shake it constantly so that the feathers inside would fly everywhere in the apartment or on her ship.

But regardless of how strange it was, she was happy. After all, it just meant that Krypto loved her girlfriend as much as she did. And that shouldn't be a problem. At least, she thought so.

¯¯¯¯¯¯*¯¯¯¯¯¯

The evening lights of Metropolis, although dim, filled your apartment with enough light.

You loved evenings like this. It was one of those times when no evil threatened the peace of the city that would require the intervention of heroes. Furthermore, it was peaceful, so you could quietly enjoy every moment of the pleasant evening.

Especially now that Kara was there.

The smell of dinner was in the air, even though you had both finished eating half an hour ago.

You were just wiping the last plate over the sink, which was just waiting to be put in the dishwasher with the other already cleaned plates after a thorough wiping.

Kara was sitting not far from you, more precisely at the table. Her eyes followed your figure, watching every small movement of your hands.

A strange feeling always filled her at such moments.

The whole atmosphere was so intimate, almost domestic. It was almost funny to think that a few years ago she would never have imagined herself in such a moment, but now she was the one sitting there, watching your every move with an almost adoring gaze.

A smile tugged at her lips at the thought. It wasn’t too big, maybe not even noticeable if you didn’t lean closer, but it didn’t matter. Because it was exactly the kind of smile that comes to your lips in the midst of the most tender and loving thoughts.

Although she loved looking at you, her thoughts still wandered for a moment.

She stood up from her seat, then in an instant she was behind you, her arms tightly but still gently wrapped around your waist.

You were surprised for a moment, then a smile appeared on your lips, and you turned your head a little to the side so you could see her face better.

“You’re done, right?” Kara's voice came out, sounding really soft after the few moments of silence. The grip of her arms tightened a little as she tried to pull you closer to her.

You could hear the need in her voice. She hid it well, but it was clear to you now. It was a solid, small way of letting you know she wanted your attention. Although Kara wasn't the kind of person who didn't say what she thought, in such intimate moments she sometimes tended to show a much softer side of herself, hiding her feelings or thoughts behind much gentler words and requests. And you loved that you could see this side of her too.

"This was the last plate. I'll run the sink and I'm yours." you finally answered and your gaze turned back to the plate from which you had wiped the last food stain.

Kara just hummed in response, but she didn't let go of your grip.

Her hair, which was still slightly uncombed, fell lightly over your shoulders, which gave off a slight ticklish feeling.

Her eyes watched your hands for a moment, then she pressed a small kiss to your neck. It was softer than her usual kisses on your neck, but there was still that kind of desire in them that just wanted you to be as close as possible to each other.

"I was thinking we could watch a movie before we go to bed." You said, placing the last plate next to the ones you had cleaned earlier.

"Mhm." Kara hummed, and you couldn't tell if she heard what you said at all, which wasn't likely, after all, she had super hearing, or if she just didn't care too much because she seemed more interested in hugging you and pressing small kisses here and there on your neck.

"Kara..." you breathed out softly, and she just hummed again. "Did you listen to what I said?"

"Something about movies." she said lightly, as if it was the most obvious thing to say, but she seemed more interested in showering more kisses on your neck.

You sighed softly, though it was more of a loving sigh.

You turned in her embrace, wrapping your arms around her neck. You felt her hands tighten slightly around your waist in response.

You saw that slightly smug grin that you knew so well begin to appear on her face. It was the kind of grin that said you were where she wanted you to be and had achieved what she wanted.

"Stop being so smug about yourself." you said playfully, and the grin on her face only grew bigger.

"I don't know what you're talking about." she teased as her hands slid under your clothes and lightly stroked the smooth surface of your skin.

You were about to speak again when you heard a really loud and determined bark.

You both looked to where the bark was coming from, only to see Krypto wagging his tail really enthusiastically and his gaze following your form.

"Come on, buddy." Kara growled softly at the for dog interrupting the moment.

Unlike her, you didn't seem that annoyed as you removed your arms from around her neck, much to Kara's chagrin, and moved closer to Krypto, who seemed even more excited.

"What is it, Krypto?" you asked the dog, who just barked again, seemingly unable to decide whether to start running around the house again or simply fly away.

For a moment, you saw his gaze fall to the leftover dinner on the counter.

Now you understood.

Kara sighed. "No, Krypto. You can't eat it. I already told you."

Krypto just barked in displeasure in response, but he didn't look like he really cared. Instead, he kept his gaze on you, looking at you almost questioningly.

"Let him eat it, Kara. It really isn't much." you said, then you took the plate from the counter and placed it on the floor for the dog, who immediately started eating.

Kara just looked at the dog boredly, then grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom.

Well, at least while Krypto ate, you could be alone.

A sigh left your mouth, and after a moment, you lay down on the bed. Your thoughts wandered over various movie ideas, but it was interrupted when you felt a weight weigh on you and a pair of beautiful blue eyes look into yours.

That smug smile appeared on Kara’s face again as she scanned every inch of your face. It seemed her thoughts weren’t filled with the flood of movie choices.

“I guess you’re not thinking about movies.” you noted with a small grin, and Kara chuckled, then leaned closer.

“I thought of something much better than a movie.” she said, almost whispering in your ear, then leaning back against your neck.

Your breath hitched again when you felt her lips begin to press kisses to your neck again. These, however, were much firmer and less soft than the previous ones, but still just enough sensuality to emphasize the not-so-hidden meaning behind her words.

Kara's lips began to search for the more sensitive spots on your neck and when she successfully found them, she pressed a firmer kiss that took your breath away again.

"Kara..." you breathed out and you felt that smug grin on your neck.

She loved it when you made sounds like that. She knew you enjoyed it and it made her want to continue.

Her lips moved slightly up and aimed for the area under your chin. At first they were just soft kisses, but as she moved further, they became firmer.

Your hands rose to her face and you pulled her up a little and kissed her. Kara's grin was still palpable, but as the kiss continued, she tried to get even closer.

Just as you pulled away and Kara was about to lean in for another kiss, the mattress next to you sank and a loud bark filled the space.

Krypto moved excitedly on the bed, and in a moment he was near your face, licking it happily.

The transition was quick, but laughter left your lips as Krypto’s fur lightly tickled your cheek and his tongue licked the side of your face.

“Krypto, stop!” you half-shouted, but the laughter interrupted your voice, only encouraging the dog to continue to pile you in his love.

Kara groaned in frustration.

Krypto managed to interrupt you a second time. At this point, she seriously wondered if it was intentional or just great timing.

“Come on, buddy, not again.” she growled and tried to push him off of you, but it was clearly proving harder than it looked.

Hearing the frustration in Kara’s voice, you tried to pull yourself together and tried to push the affectionate dog away, which ultimately proved successful, as Krypto backed away, though only enough for you to sit up normally, and his tail was still wagging, indicating that he still had plenty of energy left.

“Krypto, get off the bed.” Kara spoke again, which she intended as a command, although it came across more as a whine and a plea.

Krypto looked at her for a moment, his tail stopping wagging, but continuing almost immediately, then a whimper left his throat and he lowered his head into your lap.

Your hand automatically went to his head and you slowly stroked it, which only made him lean more towards you.

Kara’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Rude, she thought to herself as she watched you so effortlessly shower him with love.

"He can stay for a while." you suggested, though it sounded more like a question, and your gaze met Kara's.

Kara knew you wouldn’t send Krypto away now, and she knew she wouldn’t say no to you, no matter how much she wanted to continue what you both were doing before being so rudely interrupted.

She let out a resigned sigh and lay down on the other side of the bed, trying to get as close to you as possible, which was difficult, after all, Krypto’s body formed a slight barrier between the two of you.

Kara’s eyes glanced at the dog again, as if telling him to move away, but he was adamant. He seemed to be enjoying himself too much in your lap and had no intention of moving.

Kara let out another sigh, then grabbed the remote control that was on the bedside table.

"Okay, let's watch a movie then." she said a little frustrated, but she couldn't really get too angry when it looked so beautiful, the way Krypto was almost in your lap and basking in your love.

By the time the movie was over, you and Krypto were both asleep. The only thing that had changed was that you were lying on your side and Krypto was snuggling up to your chest, breathing softly.

Kara could only watch the situation idly. Normally, you should be snuggling up to her side or chest right now.

She sighed many times by then, but finally she settled herself on the bed too. Her gaze scanned your sleeping face, which seemed so peaceful. She glanced at Krypto for a moment, who was so strange to see so calm. As if he was a completely different dog.

Despite this, she still closed her eyes and finally fell asleep.

¯¯¯¯¯¯*¯¯¯¯¯¯

The next morning, when Kara woke up, she was a little surprised to see that Krypto was still snuggled up to you, but he was already awake. Despite that, it didn’t look like he was going to pull away from you anytime soon.

Kara narrowed her eyes.

“Krypto, let me there finally.” she whispered to him, and the dog only moved, but made no attempt to pull away.

Kara was competitive, and so was Krypto.

Although Kara really wanted to pull Krypto away now, she didn’t want to wake you up, and she suspected the dog didn’t want to either.

“Come on, buddy, please.” she begged him this time, which seemed slightly more effective than her earlier attempt to appear firm.

Krypto whined in response, but not loud enough to wake you up.

Kara thought. Krypto didn’t want to pull away, but she wanted to cuddle with you. If she wanted to make any progress, she had to compromise with the dog.

"Okay, if you let me there, you can have the leftover from the dinner for a week. Sound good?"

Krypto's ears pricked up, and Kara knew she had finally won. And although it took a few moments for him to actually pull away, he finally did.

Krypto didn't get off the bed, only moved to the end of the bed and instead curled up at your feet. His gaze fell on Kara this time, waiting for her to move closer to you.

Kara didn't hesitate.

In an instant, she was next to you, her arms wrapped around your waist and holding you tightly. The movement didn't wake you up, but you snuggled closer and pressed your face into the crook of her neck.

A smile appeared on Kara's face, then she pressed a small kiss to the top of your head.

Her gaze fell back to Krypto for a moment, who was still looking at the two of you from your feet.

Kara had come back from another bender, ready to crash on Clark’s couch until he forced her to get back out into the world of the humans. She always felt safe enough to get some actual rest after those trips, eager to get back to Clark’s apartment where it almost felt like something she could call home. Perhaps she would even check in on you in a few days when she didn’t look quite so homeless. She had mentioned one evening that she might ask you for coffee, and Clark had to ruin it all.

”She moved to Gotham,” he had said in his stupid, too cheery voice. “She thought there was a better chance to do something good.”

Good. Such a stupid word. And what a useless waste of time in Gotham. You could do so much better somewhere else, somewhere like Metropolis. What could have possibly possessed you to make such a move? Kara swore you said moving away from Gotham had been the best decision of your life. Now you moved back?

Now she was stuck sitting in a grimy courtroom that smelled of cigarettes and bleach, both of which barely concealed the hint of dried blood. Everyone around her was shouting at the judge, not listening to anything that was being said. You stood at the prosecutor’s table, hands slamming on the wood to emphasize whatever point you were trying to make.

Kara could hear you over the yelling; her ears were fine-tuned to the sound of your voice. That didn’t mean she was listening. Just the frequency of your pitch was enough to leave her chest warm and full. It was a weird feeling that she wasn’t particularly upset about.

“-and may God have mercy on your soul.”

Kara’s ears perked up.

The yelling turned to screaming, and Kara could barely stand up before she saw the gun whip across your face. The crack bounced off the inside of her skull and she froze. Kara Zor-El, commonly known as Supergirl, last survivor of Krypton, froze. Officers quickly grabbed the defendant and retrieved the gun. Her eyes glued themselves to your face and the blood dripping from your nose.

Any remaining patrons milled out of the room, heads down and speed-walking to leave the almost-crime scene. The nerd beside you at the table shook your hand and followed suit, leaving you behind to shuffle papers and wipe the snotty blood from your face.

Kara’s boots clacked against the uneven wooden floor. Your stained hands looked wrong against the crumpled papers you were so gently filing into a neatly organized black binder. How you could be so calm after having a gun shoved into your face was a mystery. Kara would have snapped.

Then again, that was precisely what had drawn her to you.

”What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” You asked with a killer side eye.

”I could ask you the same thing,” Kara answered.

”Cute,” you said with a smile, finally standing tall with the binder tucked under your arm. You gestured your head toward the door, and Kara happily followed you out of the building. “How was your retreat?”

Right. She forgot that’s what Clark often called it when talking to humans. It wasn’t like he could say she went off planet; not when you had no clue she wasn’t from Earth. A ridiculous notion that she took off on retreats all the time but she couldn’t argue that it was better than the alternative. You could get hurt if you knew who she was. After all, look at poor Lois.

Gunshots rang through the back alley.

Perhaps you weren’t much safer.

“It was fine,” Kara answered. “But what’s all this about?” She asked. “I leave for a few weeks and you move to Gotham?”

”It was three months, Kara,” you quickly retorted. “A lot can happen in that time.”

Her feet stuttered before she quickly fell back in step with you. No way it had been that long. Clark hadn’t even mentioned it, and he was good at unintentional guilt trips. Why hadn’t you gotten a hold of her in that time? She was just expected to come back to you having moved to a dangerous city without her?

“I thought you were running for DA in Metropolis,” Kara said softly. “What happened to that?”

You shrugged. “I lost.” Then, with a small frown, “really bad.”

In the distance, sirens raced to reach an unknown crime. Knowing Gotham, probably a mugging. It was a disgusting city. Garbage bags littered the streets, and that was miles better than the free trash that drifted in the wind. Kara swore there were more homeless people than housed. Each one you passed, you handed a crisp $50 bill.

”I thought you would have made a good DA,” Kara insisted.

You scoffed. “Not in Metropolis. Have you seen the Supers? They set the bar too high for regular people.” You opened the door to an apartment complex and held it open for her. “Gotham is more my speed.”

Kara walked in with you, waiting for you to lead the way. She liked when you skipped over all her disappearances. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right, and you had every reason to cut her off and move on with your life. But you didn’t. Time after time, you silently forgave her and opened your door and welcomed her like an old lover.

You opened the apartment door - after a five-story walk up - and ushered her in, swiftly closing and locking the door behind you with three locks.

”Want some coffee?” You asked, your words almost drowned out as you dropped the heavy binder on the small, wobbly kitchen table.

A grunt in the affirmative was all Kara could muster. She was too busy looking through your things that were littered all around the small studio apartment. Newspaper clippings were tacked onto a cork board that took up nearly half of one wall. Each clipping contained pictures, and each picture was of her. Of Supergirl.

”A little obsessed, aren’t you?” She asked.

Your calming laughter filled the space. “I think she’s cool. She’s not perfect, but she’s good.”

Good. Not a word Kara liked to use for herself, but she could grow used to it if it came from your pretty lips. Her eyes lingered on the clippings for a little longer before moving on, smiling at the framed pictures. Some were of you and Clark, others were of you and her and Clark.

Her favorites were just the ones of you and her. The ones where she was smiling like she hadn’t survived the extinction of her people. Where she looked like a normal girl, spending time with her crush. Crush. That was the right word, wasn’t it? She wasn’t sure, she didn’t spend enough time on Earth to really learn the lingo properly.

”We need some new pictures,” you said softly, appearing out of nowhere beside Kara. “I think the last one is a year old.”

A year. That didn’t sound right. Though, if she continuously took months to get wasted then maybe you were accurate. It wasn’t a comforting thought. Her chest tightened and her throat closed.

”Gotham is beneath you,” Kara said, completely changing the subject and taking the chipped coffee mug from your hand. “You should come back to Metropolis.”

”Miss me?” You asked with a smile. A small sigh fell from your lips. “It would be less stressful.”

”Then come back,” Kara said hopefully. “I’m looking for my own apartment, you can just move in with me.”

Instantly, your face flushed. “I… don’t think I’m ready to be saddled with  Metropolis insurance again. Besides,” you looked at her with a raised brow, “I’m not paying both halves of the rent when you decide to go flying off to another country for months on end.”

”I could stay,” Kara replied too quickly. “I could take job hunting more seriously. We could live out of city limits and carpool.”

The blush raced down your neck. Selfishly, Kara hoped it was due to her words. It wasn’t right for her to ask you to move again, not when she had given you no reason to stay. As far as anyone knew, she was a flight risk, mentally unstable, and reckless. You seemingly had a stable job here and a cute little apartment.

But she wanted you to stay with her. 

In Metropolis. She meant she wanted you to stay in Metropolis.

”I can’t, Kara,” you said softly. 

Your fingers brushed against her hand that was hanging at her side. Every time Kara asked Clark about the weird feeling when you touched her, he described it as lightning or electricity. She disagreed. It wasn’t as big as that. It was a warmth that crawled its way up her fingers, reaching desperately for her chest. She wanted to pull away, but simultaneously wanted you closer.

Kara let herself linger on your hand before looking back at the picture frames set neatly along the wall. In every picture, some part of you was touching. Your arm around her shoulders, pulling her further into frame. Heads pressed together until your smiles covered most of your faces. You looked happy. She looked happy.

So why couldn’t you be happy with her in Metropolis?

Her eyes fell to an old, crumpled picture sitting crooked in a splintered frame. For a moment she couldn’t recall when it was taken. You had her hand clasped between yours, pulling as you supposedly walked backward. It wasn’t like the others; Kara was barely smiling and had a sad look in her eyes. Your smile was gentle and more reserved than usual.

Kara tilted her head and studied the picture harder.

”It’s nice to meet you, Kara.”

Your hand looked fragile hanging in the air between you. Kara was half-convinced she would break it if she so much as reached out to grasp it. Her eyes drifted over to Clark who, without hesitation, nodded in the direction of your hand. With abated breath, she reached out and placed her hand in yours, refusing to grip it. Your skin was soft.

“What’s the plan, ladies?” Clark asked. His stupid camera hung around his neck, always ready to snap a picture at a moment’s notice.

“The waterway is pretty,” you mused, still holding Kara’s hand. “Or the park, I think they’ve got-,” you grasped Kara’s hand with both of yours, pulling her ever so slightly closer, “-the sky walk!” Your eyes glimmered when you looked at her. “Are you afraid of heights?”

Kara would have laughed at the ridiculousness of the question. Instead, she just shook her head.

You squeezed her hand tighter. “We have to go, it’s the most gorgeous sight in the world.”

With a gentle grip and a powerful tug, you pulled Kara by her hand. She could have stood her ground, refusing to budge. You weren’t her friend. Truthfully, you weren’t even an acquaintance. You were Clark’s friend, and that didn’t extend to her. But there was a sparkle in your eye and a mischievousness to your smile.

The sky walk would, undoubtedly, be the second most gorgeous sight in the world.

The memory hit Kara like a truck.

”That’s my favorite picture,” you said beside her. “I realised later that I may have come on a bit strong.”

You had. You had come on horrifically strong. Constantly holding her hand, dragging her around the sky walk while Clark snapped picture after picture. It was infuriating and as much as she should have hated every second of it, she didn’t. Your hand was warm in hers, and just a little sweaty, and you subconsciously squeezed her fingers when you were pointing out your favourite things.

”You did,” Kara confirmed with a smirk. “Overbearing, honestly.”

You bumped her shoulder and mumbled, “shut up.”

Something linked around Kara’s finger and she looked down. Your pinky was gently wrapped around hers, linking you together in such a hidden, scandalous way. Unlike the rest of you, your finger was cold. At least she assumed so since you were shaking.

”You should visit more,” you said softly. “Gotham’s not as bad as you think.”

”It’s pretty disgusting,” Kara scoffed. Her brain froze as her stomach turned at what she would say next. “I’ll need a good reason.”

Kara’s face felt hot when you turned your body to face her. You were so close. She liked it. You were a pretty touchy person with everyone, but Kara liked it more than she cared to admit. It left her desperate and almost on her knees to keep you close.

”You need a reason to visit me?” You asked.

No.

”Yeah,” she answered. “It’s hard to compete with Metropolis. No one comes here for fun.”

You hummed and nodded slowly. Shit. She fucked up. That was not the response she wanted. Now you were going to have something quippy to say that would probably hurt her feelings. All because she decided to-

-your hands grabbed Kara by the face and pulled her into a kiss. Her brain malfunctioned. She didn’t know what to focus on. Your nails lightly scratching her jaw, or your breath on her cheek. Soft lips. So soft. Her heart jumped into her throat.

Your lips pulled away far too soon.

”Think that’s a good enough reason, Kara?”

Kara opened her eyes and looked into yours. There was a spark. A spark she constantly searched for. A spark that reminded her of a home she would never forget. It left her speechless. Happy.

”I can work with that,” she answered breathlessly.

one time randomly, you asked out loud if krypto wants braids too and he immediately whined from his spot but still didn't interrupt your work. what a respectful puppy. so, after you were finished with kara, you went to krypto to see if it's even possible to braid his short white furr.

it was a challenge for sure, especially that krypto got so excited about his first little braid that he went to fly in the air of your apartment. kara had to try and explain to him that you can't do it when he is levitating over your head. but anyway, both of you somehow managed to get him braided for whatever space task kara had to get done.

it would've ended like a very cute story right here, if it wasn't for one particular evening at clark's. you and kara were sharing a smoke outside on the balcony, when you heard clark start to laugh or more laugh through tears inside. going to see what's going on as his tries with krypto where always hilarious, you didn't expect to see that. krypto was standing on two paws, besides clark and eating his hair. kara immediately got the memo that the puppy is trying to braid clark's hair.

the first thing you notice is the cold. not the cold of the room.

no, the central heating kicked in around two in the morning, the way it always does when abby gets up to pee and decides you deserve to be warm.

you stir, reaching across the mattress, palm flattening against sheets that have long since gone cool.

empty.

your eyes crack open. the bedside lamp is on, dimmed to its lowest setting, and there's a folded piece of paper on your pillow where abby's head should be.

be right back. don't move.

you snort, already rolling your eyes, but you don't move.

you're too comfortable, too warm, too wrapped in the particular kind of softness that only comes from sleeping next to someone who loves you.

so you wait. five minutes. ten.

you're about to get up and find her yourself when you hear it. the careful creak of footsteps on the stairs, the muffled curse when someone stubs their toe on the third step from the top.

the door nudges open.

abby appears, balancing a tray that's frankly too large for her to be carrying one-handed, but she's stubborn and she's proud and she's wearing that soft smile that makes your stomach do something embarrassing even after all this time.

"good morning, birthday girl."

your voice comes out scratchy, sleep-warm. "you made me breakfast."

"i made you everything." she sets the tray down across your lap, and your eyes go wide.

there's a stack of pancakes so tall it's almost architectural, drizzled with honey and scattered with fresh berries.

a small vase with a single rose she must've cut from the garden.

a mug of coffee, made exactly the way you like it—she knows, because she's been paying attention for three years now. and tucked under the edge of the plate, another note.

"what's this?"

"read it later." she's already climbing into bed beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. "eat first. you're gonna need your energy."

you raise an eyebrow. "that's ominous."

"that's a promise."

the day unfolds like something out of a movie you didn't know you were starring in.

there are notes everywhere. tucked into the pocket of your jeans when you get dressed.

taped to the bathroom mirror. slipped under your phone case so you find it when you check your messages.

each one is handwritten in abby's careful, slightly messy script, and each one makes your chest ache in a way you're not sure you'll ever get used to.

you looked beautiful this morning. i know you think you look messy when you wake up, but you don't. you look like home.

the way you laughed when i dropped the pancake batter? yeah. that's my favorite sound. don't tell anyone.

you have a little freckle behind your left ear. i noticed it the first night we spent together. i think about it more than i should.

you're standing in the kitchen, holding the third one, when abby comes up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist.

her chin hooks over your shoulder, breath warm against your neck. "you're gonna make me cry," you say, and your voice cracks a little.

"good." she kisses your shoulder. "happy tears only. that's the rule."

"since when are there rules?"

"since i decided your birthday deserves a rulebook." she spins you around, palms flat against your lower back, and presses a kiss to your forehead. "now come on. we've got places to be."

"we do?"

"we do."

she takes you to the farmer's market first, even though it's a tuesday and you both have things to do.

but abby called out of work—called out for both of you, actually, because she'd already cleared it with your boss weeks ago.

and now she's holding your hand as you wander between stalls, pointing out the good strawberries, buying you a bouquet of wildflowers from a woman who smiles and says your girlfriend has good taste.

"she does," abby agrees, and squeezes your hand.

you get lunch at the little italian place you've been wanting to try for months, the one with the red-checkered tablecloths and the old man who sings opera between courses. abby ordered ahead.

of course she did—and there's a slice of tiramisu with a single candle stuck in it when the plates get cleared.

"make a wish," she says, and her eyes are so soft, so full of light, that you almost forget to close yours.

you wish for her. you always wish for her.

the afternoon is lazy. deliberate. she takes you home and draws you a bath with the fancy salts you bought on a whim and never used.

and she sits on the bathroom floor beside the tub, reading to you from the book you left on the nightstand three weeks ago.

her voice is low and steady, and you let your eyes drift closed, let the warmth seep into your bones, let yourself be taken care of in a way you rarely allow.

when you're done, she wraps you in the fluffiest towel she could find and leads you to the bedroom, where she's laid out a set of lingerie you've never seen before.

something lacy. something expensive. something that makes your breath catch.

"abs, when did you—"

"doesn't matter." she's already behind you, fingers working the towel loose, lips brushing your bare shoulder. "you like it?"

"i love it."

"good. put it on. we've got time before sunset."

sunset is a drive out to the overlook, the one where you had your first real kiss, the one where she told you she loved you for the first time three months later.

she's got a blanket in the trunk and a cooler full of snacks and a bluetooth speaker that plays your playlist, the one she secretly added to without telling you.

you sit between her legs, back against her chest, and watch the sky bleed from gold to pink to a deep, bruised purple.

her arms are wrapped around your waist, her chin resting on your shoulder, and she's humming along to a song you don't recognize.

"this is perfect," you say, and your voice is quiet, almost lost to the wind.

"you're perfect." she says it like it's fact. like there's no room for argument. "happy birthday, sweetheart."

you turn your head, catch her lips in a kiss that tastes like the salt of the ocean and the sugar of the cake she made you eat for breakfast.

she smiles into it, and you feel it in your chest, warm and bright and entirely hers.

dinner is homemade. she kicks you out of the kitchen with a kiss and a glass of wine and strict instructions not to peek, so you sit on the counter because you're a little bit bratty and you know it annoys her.

and watch her move around the stove with the kind of confidence that makes your stomach flip.

she's wearing one of your aprons. the frilly one. you bought it as a joke. she wears it better than you ever could.

"you're staring," she says, not looking up.

"you're pretty."

"i'm cooking, baby."

"same thing."

she laughs, shakes her head, and you catch the way her ears go pink. you file that away for later.

the meal is ridiculously good.

steak, medium rare, with a red wine reduction that she learned from a youtube tutorial and perfected over three practice runs you never knew about. roasted vegetables.

a side of pasta that's so good you actually moan, which makes her grin like she's just won something.

"you're a menace," you tell her, mouth full.

"i'm your menace." she reaches across the table, wipes a smudge of sauce from your lip with her thumb, and sucks it off without breaking eye contact. "save room for dessert."

dessert is not cake.

dessert is her, laid out beneath you on the bed you share, the lamp casting soft shadows across the planes of her stomach, the curve of her hips.

she's wearing nothing but the strap and a look that says i've been thinking about this all day.

"come here," she says, voice low, and you do.

she takes her time. she always does.

her hands are warm and steady as she guides you, as she finds the rhythm that makes your breath hitch, as she watches your face like it's the only thing in the world worth seeing.

"you feel so good," she murmurs, and her thumb finds your clit, circles slow and deliberate. "you gonna cum for me, bunny?"

you nod, words lost, and she smiles that soft, dangerous smile.

"go ahead. i've got you."

and she does. she always does.

after, when you're boneless and trembling and tucked against her chest, she presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"one more note."

you lift your head, blinking. "what?"

"in the nightstand. your side."

you reach over, fumble until your fingers close around a folded piece of paper. it's heavier than the others.

when you open it, something falls into your lap—a key. small, silver, unfamiliar.

the note reads: i know you've been looking at that little bookstore downtown. the one with the apartment above it. it's ours if you want it. no pressure. but i figured—if we're gonna build a life, i want to build it with you. happy birthday, pretty girl. i love you.

you look up, and abby is watching you with that nervous, hopeful expression she tries to hide.

"abs—"

"you don't have to say yes. i just—i wanted you to know that i'm serious. about us. about forever." she swallows. "you're perfect for me."

you kiss her. hard. messy. perfect.

"yes," you say against her lips. "yes, yes, yes."

she laughs, bright and relieved, and pulls you closer.

"happy birthday, sweetheart."

"best one yet."

"they're all gonna be like this from now on."

you believe her.

─── 🏹 CONFIDENTIAL ENDING MEMORANDUM: hello my angels. i hope you enjoyed. if you would like to see more like this, turn on your notifications and join the taglist. stay safe and get more gay. xoxo, the sacrificial lamb.

𝐦𝐚𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 (13/50): @iadorefineshyt @pretty-u @y1ppeeyur1 @ryuwifes @almadellie @unicornclit666 @ajs-blogz @webwand3rer @un1c0rntam3r @blackdykegirlblogger @hopefullydoingokay2 @mermaidslament @dearbaes