Chapter Text
Alex dropped to one knee just as the alien leveled his weapon at her head. She swept her leg out, knocking him off balance, then surged back up, ripping the blaster from his grip and leveling her own gun at him. Within seconds, agents swarmed in, cuffing him and snapping a power dampener around his neck.
“Get him into holding,” Alex ordered, already scanning the warehouse. The place was wrecked from the firefight—blackened walls, shattered crates—but, mercifully, no casualties.
A soft whoosh stirred the air behind her. Alex turned to see her sister touch down, boots clicking against concrete. Supergirl stood with hands on her hips, golden hair windblown, eyes shining.
“We got them all, Alex. It’s over,” Kara said, breathless.
Alex’s pulse jumped—like it always did when Kara was near. On the battlefield, it was easy enough to blame on adrenaline. But Kara always heard it. Always. And secretly, she prayed Alex’s racing heart mirrored her own—though Alex could never know.
Holstering her weapon, Alex brushed past with a clipped nod. “Maybe next time stop them before they nearly take out half my men, Kara,” she deadpanned, stepping into the chopper.
Kara lingered, watching the helicopter rise into the night sky. She exhaled, shoulders slumping. Alex would never understand the countless things she did to keep her safe.
———
Back at the DEO, the captured alien was escorted through the lobby toward containment. Kara streaked in moments later, landing hard on the balcony. The steel and concrete foundation shuddered under the impact, but J’onn had reinforced the structure to withstand Kryptonian force. She never needed to hold back here.
The containment wing was buzzing as agents hauled the alien down the corridor, his dampener sparking faintly as he fought against it. Alex peeled off toward her office, already tugging her gloves loose and shoving them into her jacket pocket.
She barely made it three steps inside before Kara was there—boots clicking on the floor, cape brushing the doorframe as she followed.
“Alex,” Kara said softly, closing the distance. “You’re bleeding.”
Alex glanced down at the slice on her shoulder. She hadn’t even noticed. “It’s nothing.”
But Kara was already there, warm fingers gently grazing the wound. Alex’s pulse spiked instantly, traitorously. Kara didn’t even have to look up to know—she heard it, she always did. Her thumb brushed against Alex’s skin as she frowned at the cut, lips pressing together in that way that made Alex’s chest tighten.
“I can take care of myself, Kara,” Alex muttered, pulling back.
Kara’s eyes flicked up, sharp. “Can you? Because from where I was standing, one second later and—” She cut herself off, jaw tense, words strangled by emotion.
Alex folded her arms across her chest, trying to wall herself off. “That’s the job. You can’t shield me from everything.”
“I don’t want to shield you from everything,” Kara shot back. She took a step closer, too close, her voice low. “I just don’t want to lose you.”
The words hung between them, heavier than any firefight, charged and dangerous. Alex swallowed hard, forcing herself to hold Kara’s gaze even as heat rose in her cheeks.
She broke first, brushing past toward her desk, needing space. “You should… go debrief with J’onn. I’ll handle things here.”
Behind her, Kara exhaled shakily. For a moment, Alex thought she might actually press the issue. But instead, Kara nodded, voice quiet.
“Right. Of course.”
The soft rustle of her cape, the whisper of displaced air—and Kara was gone. Leaving Alex staring at the floor, fists clenched, heart still hammering.
——————
Alex winced as she tugged her jacket off, the motion pulling at the bandaged graze along her shoulder. She dropped it on the back of the couch and sank down, exhaustion heavy in her bones. The silence of her apartment felt foreign after the chaos of the day.
A familiar whoosh stirred the air, and Alex didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
“I brought dinner.” Kara’s voice was soft, almost tentative, as she set a takeout bag on the coffee table. The smell of Alex’s favorite Thai dish filled the room.
Alex arched a brow. “Bribery?”
Kara shrugged, flashing a quick grin as she perched on the arm of the couch. “Call it… checking in.” Her eyes drifted to Alex’s shoulder, the smile fading. “Does it hurt?”
Alex rolled her eyes. “It’s a scratch, Kara. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Kara didn’t buy it—she never did. She moved closer, kneeling on the rug in front of the couch so she could see the bandage. “You always say that,” she murmured, reaching out. Her fingers brushed Alex’s arm, featherlight, careful. The contact sent a shiver through Alex before she could stop it.
“You don’t have to hover,” Alex muttered, pulse jumping in her throat.
Kara’s gaze flicked up at the sound, her expression softening in that way that made Alex feel unmoored. “I’m not hovering,” she whispered. “I just… I need to know you’re okay.”
The air between them thickened, heavy with things unsaid. Alex swallowed hard, forcing a smirk. “You’re ridiculous. Sit down before that food gets cold.”
Kara hesitated, then pushed herself up onto the couch beside her. Their shoulders brushed as Kara handed over the container, close enough that Alex could feel the warmth radiating off her.
For a while, the only sounds were chopsticks clinking and the faint hum of the city outside the window. But Alex couldn’t shake the way Kara kept stealing little glances, or the way her own heart betrayed her every time their knees brushed.
It felt too easy, too dangerous—like home and fire all at once.
—————
The food was long gone, empty containers stacked on the coffee table. Alex leaned back into the couch, an arm draped over the cushion, exhaustion pulling at her features. She tried to hide it, but Kara noticed everything.
“You’re falling asleep sitting up,” Kara teased gently.
Alex smirked, eyes half-lidded. “That’s because somebody decided to show up uninvited with pad thai. Which, by the way, I didn’t ask for.”
Kara gave her a look, equal parts fond and exasperated. “You didn’t have to ask.”
Silence settled between them again, soft but charged. Alex shifted, biting back a wince when her shoulder protested. Immediately, Kara was closer—too close—fingers brushing lightly against her arm as she checked the bandage again.
“Kara,” Alex warned, voice low. “I said I’m fine.”
“And I said I’m not leaving until I know for sure,” Kara countered, her jaw set. But her voice wavered at the end, threaded with something more than protectiveness.
Alex’s breath hitched. For a heartbeat, Kara didn’t move, her hand still on Alex’s arm, her eyes searching hers like she wanted to say something—needed to. The warmth of her skin seeped through the thin fabric of Alex’s shirt, grounding and overwhelming all at once.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Alex muttered, suddenly restless.
“Like what?” Kara’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Like I’m going to break.”
The words hung between them, raw and heavy. Kara didn’t answer right away, but her thumb brushed once, absently, against Alex’s arm before she finally pulled her hand back. The loss of contact was sharper than Alex expected.
“You should rest,” Kara said quietly, rising from the couch. She hesitated, cape brushing the floor, clearly torn between staying and going.
Alex forced a smirk, even as her chest tightened. “Don’t you have a city to protect?”
Kara lingered one second longer, eyes locked on hers, before she finally exhaled and moved toward the window.
“I’ll check in tomorrow.”
And just like that, with a rush of air, she was gone—leaving Alex alone in the silence, heart pounding, her apartment feeling emptier than it had before Kara walked in.
The apartment was still humming with the echo of Kara’s departure, curtains swaying in the rush of displaced air. Alex sat motionless on the couch, staring at the spot where her sister had just been.
Her pulse hadn’t slowed.
She dragged a hand over her face, frustrated with herself. This wasn’t new. Her heart always betrayed her whenever Kara was close. She’d told herself it was adrenaline, that it was just the natural edge of working alongside someone so powerful, so impossible. But tonight… tonight she couldn’t lie to herself.
Kara’s hand had been warm against her arm, steady and careful. Alex knew exactly what that hand could do. A Kryptonian’s grip could crush steel, tear through reinforced concrete, end a life in less than a second. And yet Kara had touched her like she was made of glass—gentle, soft, almost reverent. That contrast rattled her.
It wasn’t just fear. It wasn’t just awe.
Alex leaned back, staring at the ceiling. She thought of Kara’s laugh, bright and careless even when her uniform was scorched and her hair windblown from battle. She thought of watching her lift off into the sky—how the city lights reflected off her, how Alex’s chest always ached when she became nothing but a streak of red and blue against the night.
Some part of Alex had always known. She could deny it in the middle of firefights, bury it under duty and discipline, but here—in the silence of her apartment—she couldn’t unfeel it.
Kara wasn’t just her sister.
Kara was the center of gravity she could never pull away from.
And Alex’s heart, traitorous and wild, had stopped pretending otherwise.
The truth settled over Alex like a weight she didn’t know how to carry. She sat forward, elbows braced on her knees, staring at the half-empty glass of scotch on the table as if it might anchor her.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Her chest tightened. She’d spent years telling herself her job was enough, her duty was enough—that there was no space for anything messy, anything that could crack her control. And now here she was, pulse racing like a teenager’s, because she couldn’t stop thinking about her sister’s hand on her skin, about the way Kara looked at her like she was the only person in the room.
Alex stood abruptly, pacing the small stretch of living room. This was insane. Dangerous. Impossible. Kara was… Kara. Her family. Her partner in battle. The one person she couldn’t risk complicating things with.
But still—still—her mind replayed it. The featherlight brush of Kara’s thumb against her arm. The earnest worry in her voice. The way she hovered in Alex’s orbit like she couldn’t help it.
Alex pressed her palms to her face, groaning into them. “No. No, no, no.”
And yet the denial rang hollow.
Because deep down, she knew. She’d known for longer than she wanted to admit. Every spike of her heartbeat around Kara, every sharp ache when she flew away, every surge of warmth when their eyes locked across a battlefield—it wasn’t just adrenaline.
It was her.
It had always been her.
Alex sank back onto the couch, pulling her knees up, trying to make herself smaller against the enormity of it. Panic fluttered under her skin, but beneath it was something quieter, something that terrified her even more.
Longing.
The realization wasn’t just that she loved Kara. It was that she couldn’t imagine her world without her. And if Kara ever knew… if she ever felt the same—
Alex shook her head hard, shoving the thought away. She couldn’t go there. Not tonight.
But her heart, traitorous and relentless, kept whispering the truth anyway.