Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The apartment thrummed with a low, ambient hush. Outside, the city buzzed faintly beneath a night sky on the edge of dawn. Inside, Kara lay stretched across Alex’s couch, dressed in DEO sweats and one of Alex’s hoodies, sleeves shoved to her elbows. An old action flick crackled on the muted TV, long forgotten. Neither of them had bothered to turn it off.
Alex sat on the floor beside her, back against the couch, legs loosely crossed, the final dregs of her drink sweating in her palm. The silence between them wasn't comfortable—it was charged. Humming with everything unspoken.
Kara broke first.
“You ever think…” Her voice was soft. “If I hadn’t crashed into your family’s field… would we have still met?”
Alex didn’t look up. Just circled the ice in her glass. “I hope so. I don’t know who I’d be without you.”
Kara’s eyes didn’t leave her. “I think you’d still be the woman who makes me feel like this.”
Alex looked at her then.
That look.
The one Kara gave her when she forgot to pretend. Raw. Needing. Like Alex was the only gravity Kara answered to.
Alex exhaled, low and uneven, and turned toward her, arms braced on the couch. “Kara…”
“I’m not drunk,” Kara said quietly, reading the tension in her brow. “Just so you know.”
Alex’s voice caught. “I didn’t ask.”
“You were about to.”
A crooked smile ghosted across Alex’s lips. “I was.”
Kara pushed up onto her elbows, gaze steady, voice softer. “Do you want me to stop?”
It should have been a yes.
It should have been.
“No,” Alex whispered.
Kara rose to her knees in one smooth motion, close enough now that their knees brushed. Her hand found Alex’s shoulder, thumb grazing the strap of her tank top. The other hand trailed down to her forearm, light as breath.
Then—her lips brushed Alex’s. Barely a kiss. A question.
Alex didn’t pull back. Didn’t breathe.
Kara kissed her again. Firmer. And that was it—Alex moved like a dam breaking.
They collided—mouths open, hands grasping, breath shallow and frantic. The glass fell from Alex’s hand, shattering somewhere behind them. Kara climbed into her lap without hesitation, straddling her like she belonged there.
Alex’s hands slid under the hoodie, seeking warmth. Kara gasped as fingers spread across her bare back, her body arching into the touch.
“You’ve been killing me for months,” Alex murmured, mouth grazing her jaw.
Kara’s laugh was soft and breathless. “You think it’s been easy for me?”
That was all it took. Alex surged forward, flipping them with one fluid motion. Kara landed on the cushions, breath knocked out in a stunned gasp. Alex hovered above, hair a mess, eyes gone dark. They undressed in pieces. Hoodies lifted, sweatpants shed. Hands charted new territory, learning each other's shape in silence and breath. Every kiss felt necessary. Every brush of skin a confession. Her hand paused at Kara’s waistband.
“Tell me no,” she whispered. “If you don’t want this… I need to hear it.”
Kara reached up, fingers tangling in the back of Alex’s neck, pulling her close. “I want this,” she breathed. “I want you.”
Alex’s hand slid under the cotton, slow and reverent, before sliding her panties off. Kara’s breath hitched, her hips shifting instinctively. When Alex’s fingers slipped lower, she found undeniable proof of Kara’s desire. Kara whimpered, her face pressing into the crook of Alex’s neck.
Kara trembled when Alex touched her again, deeper now, more certain. Her back arched, muscles taut, fingers clutching at Alex’s shoulders. Alex kissed her sternum, her shoulder, the curve of her neck—grounding her, adoring her.
“Still with me?” Alex murmured, her voice ragged.
“More than I’ve ever been,” Kara whispered.
Alex pressed two fingers inside her slowly, giving Kara time to adjust, to meet her gaze and nod her trust. Kara’s arms locked around Alex’s shoulders, her thighs tightening around her hips. The feeling was overwhelming—full and intimate and right. She clung to Alex like a lifeline, breath catching on every slow, deliberate thrust.
Alex moved in time with Kara’s breath, letting her guide the rhythm until it deepened into something rawer. The pace quickened. Kara’s moans broke into the air, soft at first, then desperate.
“You feel—God—Alex—don’t stop.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Alex growled against her mouth.
Alex thrust faster, harder, driven by love and years of hunger. She drank in Kara’s cries, her whispered pleas, her body trembling and alive beneath her. She pressed kisses to Kara’s throat, her collarbone, her lips, everywhere she could reach, each one a promise—I’m here, I’ve got you, you’re everything.
And then, the words came. Unbidden. Undeniable. “I love you,” Alex whispered. “I—God, Kara, I love you.”
Kara’s breath stuttered, hands fisting in her hair. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
Kara shattered—arched and gasping, a rush of everything she’d held back spilling free as Alex held her through it, murmuring low promises into her skin.
Alex didn’t stop. Not right away. She slowed, drawing out Kara’s climax and chasing her own edge grinding on Kara’s thigh with careful precision until it took her—sharp, quiet, inevitable. Her body curled protectively around Kara’s, as if shielding her from the whole world.
They lay tangled in the aftermath, breathless and undone.
Alex pressed her forehead to Kara’s, voice hushed. “We crossed the line, didn’t we?”
Kara smiled—soft and wrecked. “There’s no going back.”
The Next Morning
The first thing Kara registered was the warmth. Not from the sun—though light was beginning to spill through the half-closed blinds—but from the body wrapped around hers.
Alex’s arm draped across her waist, firm and protective even in sleep. Their legs were tangled beneath the blanket, bare skin pressed to bare skin, and Kara could feel the steady rise and fall of Alex’s breath against her back.
She didn’t move. Didn’t want to. For one perfect moment, she let herself exist in this quiet. The sheets smelled like Alex—clean and sharp, tinged with last night’s sweat and the ghost of whiskey. Her muscles ached in a way that made her smile, lips curving softly as she blinked at the morning light.
Then the clock on the nightstand came into view. DEO briefing in less than an hour.
Kara’s smile faded. She closed her eyes again and pressed herself back into Alex, selfishly stealing a few more seconds. She felt Alex stir behind her, a sleepy hum escaping against her shoulder.
“You’re awake,” Kara whispered.
Alex’s arm tightened. “I was trying not to be.”
They stayed like that for a few more breaths—neither wanting to acknowledge what came next.
Eventually, Kara rolled gently to face her. Alex’s eyes were heavy with sleep, her hair an absolute mess, but the look in them was clear: She didn’t regret it. But she was already preparing to pretend.
“I should go,” Kara said softly.
Alex nodded, her fingers trailing a line down Kara’s arm, reluctant to let go. “You know the protocol.”
“Don’t worry,” Kara said, forcing a smile. “I’ll fly out the window. No one’ll know.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Alex’s voice was quiet. Heavy.
Kara hesitated. “Then what did you mean?”
Alex looked at her—really looked. As if memorizing her. “That I wish we didn’t have to pretend.”
Kara leaned in and kissed her. Not hungry like last night. Not desperate. Just soft. Lingering. Her hand cupped Alex’s jaw, thumb brushing over her cheek.
“I’m yours,” Kara whispered. “Even if no one else knows it.”
Alex exhaled shakily, and leaned up kissing the blonde deeper. Kara pulled back, slipping from the bed. Her clothes were scattered—sweatpants by the door, hoodie on the chair. She dressed quietly, hair still wild, skin still marked with Alex’s touch.
Before she left, she turned at the window.
Alex sat up in bed, the sheet falling to her waist, looking like a secret Kara was never meant to have and would die to keep.
Kara gave her a small, wistful smile. “I’ll see you at work,” she said.
And then she was gone—just a whisper of wind, a flutter of curtains, and the emptiness left behind.