Despite appearances, Kara Danvers has spent a very meticulous decade memorizing rules.
Rule #1. Never Cry at Work. Ever.
The moment she's hired and standing in a soon-to-be-familiar desk, this is the first thing Cat Grant tells her replaceable assistant, glasses perched on her nose and annoyance cloaking her tone like an expensive perfume.
"I don't put up with emotional tantrums or insecurities. If you want someone to coddle you or hold your hand, go apply for the Oxygen Network. We don't have time for you to put feminism back 50 years in journalism, so if you want to cry, do it outside."
Despite a very confused Alex (or even more bemused Kal-El), Kara decides she likes Cat Grant. She likes her a lot.
From the time the alien crash-landed on a foreign planet she started memorizing time tables and laws of Science (that weren't…always actually accurate) to fit in. Kara Zor-El-Turned-Danvers memorized a Bible of tenets that Jeremiah set forth for her to blend into society and kept an even longer list in Kryptonian dictating the careful guidelines that would become the very strict parameters for her life. At first, her rule book started as a list of Earth's strange rules and customs-
Only speak English in America. It's ok to learn the rest of them (Languages are fascinating!) but don't speak them. People are really weird about Tagalog in Midvale.
Don't talk about stars outside of the Milky Way
Don't talk about Combinatorics over dinner with anyone but Jeremiah because Earthlings don't know about the 66th rule of Bent Dynamics, yet
But eventually the rules evolved into something far more careful and precise-guidelines on how to fit in. Guidelines on how to be perfectly normal-the opposite of a danger to people on Earth-a guideline, as Jeremiah once explained to her, stars highlighting the lines of his jaw like how they used to highlight the stark, bold lines of the mountains on Krypton, "to protect our family.''
Our family. became the title of several of Kara's rulebooks, protective in bold lettering and stark lines, even when Jeremiah left.
Rule #2. Cat Grant Always Arrives at 7:05 AM. (Wake up at 6:32 AM on the dot in order to go to Noonan's.)
Kara's shoulders sag as far down as her eyes might sink into her cheeks, circles highlighting dark pools of exhausted blue, coffee tucked against a hip as she perches next to an elevator. The ding rounds throughout the hall and Kara is waiting, chin tipped back to meet the faint surprise of her employer's gaze.
It's clear Cat Grant never expected her assistant to make it through the previous day, let alone come in for a second one, ready and knowing.
It's the worst day of her life, Cat intentionally trying to break her with every ridiculous command she can think of.
Kara Danvers likes a challenge and when she shows up for Day Three, it seems like Cat Grant likes one, as well.
It's the first time Kara sees her smile-a bare quirk of lips and an intoxicating crinkle at the edges of eyes- and she tries not to think about how it reminds her of the sunsets on Krypton, the faint chill causing wisps of breath to turn to ice in front of smiling lips.
If she went against the rules, she would put her family at risk (Alex most of all) and as soon as Kara learned to write with ink, Kryptonian symbols well-hidden and treasured from the planet that sought to expose her, the small girl kept a different list of tenets:
Don't squeeze Alex too hard. (Even when you really, really want to)
Don't fly unless Alex scouts you and it's between 4 am and 6:13 AM - ( On a notebook somewhere, tucked safely in an attic overflowing with paper, this bullet point exists with several scratched out marks inbetween two times, a series of tests ran and failed via Scientific Method by two very determined sisters).
Never, under any circumstances, run fast at track. A 9 minute mile is apparently just great. (Practice with Alex until you run just a little slower than her)
Rule #3. Latte, Skim/Non-fat.
Addendum - If dark circles underneath Ms. Grant's eyes, Two shots of espresso (Do not tell her). 2nd Addendum - Tea on Wednesdays. Try different blends. Note: Passion Tea. No classic. Two pumps of vanilla. **scratched out ** It makes her smile.
Tea on Fridays, after work. Decaffeinated. ( Seems Cat Grant is drawn towards the Himalayas? -try different coffee blends for home, too, to stock pantry. Dry beans only).
Rule #4. Never call out sick.
Kara is never sick, but Winn Schott Jr. is. She'll cover him before she knows what the word cover really means-bullets a foreign concept despite the fact that she knows she can deflect them with a flick of the wrist, Cat Grant a far more present threat in her life-becoming surprisingly adept at the art of misdirection for her boss by the end of her first month. When Winn comes back the next day to a knowing look from Cat and a relieved sigh from Kara, warning him to hide the sniffle of his sneeze in his elbow. A small form with the booming power of Rao in her voice bellows for the 'nerd guy' to fix her computer instead of firing him for his absence and somehow, Winn becomes Kara's best friend.
And eyes watching from across a sea of pristine halls and desks (kept spotless by a knowing assistant), glasses perched on the edge of a nose, become a dangerous threat to Kara's decade-long struggle for the appearance of normalcy.
Cat Grant, Kara knows, is under the assumption that Kara is not normal despite years full of insistence, and there's nothing that Kara can do from this point to argue her case.
What's more surprising is that Cat doesn't confront Kara about her heroism, only calls Kiera into her office and nods, nails clicking on the edge of her desk. "I don't fire people for being sick, Kiera." She notes, "I'm not a ruthless dictator. I fire them for not doing their jobs and causing the building to go into turmoil without them. Don't worry, it's not a concept you would need to familiarize yourself with. You're replaceable."
Kara searches Cat's eyes, oddly curious despite the curling of her fingers in front of her waist.
"And so is Mr. Schott. But today...you proved yourself useful enough to stay."
There's a long pause, Cat turning around in a way that makes Kara want to immediately prove her wrong about the both of them, an argument for her war buddy (they've both been through the trenches of Cat's fire together, now-an unbreakable bond) fresh on her tongue. But instead of reminding Cat that she is replaceable-ordinary-and that Winn is extraordinary…
She decides she'll show her, instead, in a 22 second mile of efficiency. Alex isn't here to overtake her, after all.
"How'd it go?" Winn asks when Kara leaves the office, voice quiet and eyes a little frightened, teeth chewing on the end of a pen that's seen far better days.
"Well...we're...not fired?" Kara guesses, tugging out a page and starting to write a list, eyes trained on Cat Grant in the corner of her vision the entire time, other hand curling along the edge of her desk. "So kind of the best I could ask for, with Cat." Winn's hand curls around her shoulder, smile wide an unassuming, nose still red from a cold.
"Come on, I'll buy you some Chinese. You love Chinese food, right? I see you scarfing it down-not that," His hands raise, "You scarf because that is not a compliment or something I should be saying to a girl." Kara's gaze doesn't drop, her pen stilling as she watches Cat turn towards the monitors highlighting blonde locks with silver trails of light. "Earth to Kara? Hey, I think your pen is broken…"
Kara blinks, looking up at Winn with a slow-spreading smile, tossing both the pen and the paper into her desk without a second thought, laughing a little. "Yeah, sorry. I guess I'm just...sort of surprised Cat didn't fire us."
"Well let's go cele-brate." His voice is light, breaking into a coughing fit in his elbow, Kara immediately moving to cover him from eyes she can feel piercing across the office.
"Let's go get you home. Oh my-Winn!" It's scolding, "You have a fever." Her hand skims down to pat his cheek, gently-gently-tugging him towards the elevators, ignoring the feeling of Cat's eyes on her back the entire time.
Winn's desk is literally fumigated the next morning, Winn banned from the office for the rest of the week until he can get a doctor's note to prove he's fine, not the reverse.
Kara's lips tug upwards at the edges everytime Cat steers clear of the desk by a near mile, refusing to even breathe the same air near it.
Dictator Cat Grant definitely isn't.
Addendum: Cat Grant is a genuine germaphobe.
By the time Kara had been with the Danvers long enough for Jeremiah to disappear just like the stars had from around her dying planet-just like Rao had left them and she had left Rao-the list was full of so much notebook paper that several boxes had been devoted to Kara's "Anal Contain-all" (As Alex eventually lovingly called it). Books upon books of lists with symbols littering their white pages, simple, memorized rules becoming an artform to a girl that hadn't quite learned to paint. Eventually Alex, just as kind but not quite as soft as age started to push them forward, became the guiding voice in her ear and Kara learned how to fit in and be just enough to be...normal.
'Normal'.
Rule #5. Keep all desks neat up to Cat Grant's desk. This includes all desks on the path from the elevator down the hall. (Clean Winn's desk when he is not looking and ignore all of the really awkward browser history on his computer)
Making very detailed, carefully-set, dignified rules was quickly the only thing Kara was allowed to truly excel at, even if her lists were always hidden away for no one in the world but her sister to see. Occasionally, Alex would tug out one of the lists and make her sister blow a gust of wind against faint ink, waiting until it filled in to practice her rare-used Kryptonian.
But there were some lists-some rules-that Kara never let stray too far from her fingertips.
Rule #6. Dry Cleaning every day. No exceptions. Pick up off desk chair at 7:05 AM, drop off at desk 5:17 PM. (This does not excuse from 7:11 AM debriefing...how does someone without superpowers do this job?)
The rules for working with (and surviving) one Cat Grant and CatCo was one of such lists. Kept carefully tucked in a desk and written in an ink only very, very 'perceptive' eyes might read, littered with notes and Kryptonian-perfected lines, were the 72 Rules of Cat Grant. Kara's pride and joy.
It's the Schindler of lists.
Without the Nazi's or...anything Schindler-related.
Rule #7. Arrange desk following diagram on back page (see section 2.B)
Addendum - Rule #8. Do NOT sharpen pencils prior to leaving them on desk. Ms. Grant likes to sharpen them in order to brandish at new employees or Maxwell Lord.
Rule #9. Do not let Maxwell Lord into Cat Grant's office under any circumstances. (Do not trust Maxwell Lord.)
She would attribute these rules to her ability to survive at CatCo underneath Cat Grant for so long and would, one day, attribute them to being underneath Cat Grant, at all. But the list didn't start off so damning. The list started simple, unassuming-a learning, living being to protect and guide a lost daughter of the House of El through her first real attempt at being extraordinary on Earth.
Rule #10. Ms. Grant likes 15 minutes in-between meetings. She will never ask for this, but she likes the time to prepare.
Kal-El warns and snipes and teases his cousin about her chosen workplace-he'd worked with Cat Grant for nearly a decade before she left to create her company, after all-but Kara never finds the harshness in Cat's eyes. Instead, she routinely finds familiarity-warmth. Something hidden at the edges like Kryptonian most wouldn't be able to read on a paper carefully tucked away in the corner of a desk.
Rule #11. Cat Grant never asks for anything. She demands. Accommodate her before she asks. ( See if Alex has any pseudoscience articles on telepathy?)
Addendum - Plot-twist, see if J'onn can help. (Note: J'onn says he is never looking into Cat Grant's mind ever again) - This note is added far later, ink fresher on the page than the worn notes before it
Days at CatCo turn into weeks-months-a year. Her intentionally unassuming outfits-safe and quiet and nondescript-find a layer of armor underneath them, ridges of a crest embossed and hidden underneath their fabric, and Kara still finds herself every morning at CatCo on the dot (Rule #2), coffee and smile in hand, eyes lingering on the way Cat's fingers curl around the cup.
Rule #12. Draw up manifestos for all clients/partners/etc prior to meetings and place on Ms. Grant's desk immediately after meeting. (She does not mind eavesdropping as long as there's no discussion or acknowledgment of the eavesdropping taking place. Exception to this rule: All conversations with Carter (Addendum: & Adam) are not to be heard)
Kara has secret meetings over the office of a boss she can hear pace back and forth. Kara writes down lists for likes and dislikes-Cat's favorite champagne and Carter's favorite comicbook store-and finds a half-life split between two worlds. She hides the list from Alex's prying eyes and never questions why, nights spent memorizing the barest flicker of gesture on Cat Grant's face like it holds the meaning of the world behind it.
Like Cat Grant is a painting Kara hasn't quite figured out the strokes to, yet.
Somewhen, Kara's fingers itch to draw her, (and she refuses to admit how creepy it is).
Rule #13. Do not coddle other crying employees. No crying tolerated, period. (Gently guide crying employee into nearby office to console. Ms. Grant does not go into offices that aren't her own and she won't mind that the desk isn't neat in the office she never sees)
Rule #14. When Cat's ex-husband calls, immediately put him on hold for an extra seven minutes before patching him through unless Cart is involved.
Kara is drawn more and more to an enigma-to a person whose list only grows in complications and bullet points-
Rule #15. Always keep spare change of clothes for Ms. Grant in office closet. Scared employees spills coffee and she is less likely to fire if she has a reason not to. Make sure the outfit matches her heels. (Dark blue is always a safe bet).
And the list only grows and expands until it has a life of its own.
Cat Grant might not get her name right, but she starts to wish her goodnight before she leaves, expecting Kara to always be at her desk before she goes (And Kara always makes it a point to be, whenever possible).
Rule #16. Attached is a honed system for schedule organization. ( Unsure if Cat was sarcastic or serious about request for a powerpoint presentation for procedure?...it's on the Google Drive if Winn needs it; See file: "I can't believe I actually made this I hope I still have a "; Give Winn a translation to this list in English. Or maybe let him learn Kryptonian.)
Kara starts to take over more and more pages with small notes and likes. And rules. Parameters for success to live by-codes of honor and conduct around and spoken by Cat Grant. She starts to become a personal assistant as much as a professional one, memorizing the way a pantry looks in an apartment uptown. She knows Carter's shoe size and that he has a crush on a girl in his third period class.
**Rule #17. Carter is more important than CatCo. Attached is a detailed list of his schedule (See section 3.C)
13.a: First weekend of the month - arrangements for Week with Dad (Make sure to bring Cat extra coffee all week. Bring coffee for all other people who deal with Ms. Grant, as well, they'll need it.) All other weeks: 13.b: Mondays/Wednesdays, Carter office-time. 13.c: Fridays, walk Carter home from school (Walk, do not take car) 13.d: Thursdays and Saturdays, tutoring. (Text him-always text him beforehand)
Rule #18. Only teach Carter Science. ( Call Alex and have her teach Carter Earth-Sc ience. Teach Carter Math).
"Do you remember when you and Dad used to nerd out about Math-what was the last one you-"
"Combinatorics, I think." Kara knows, but doesn't know the Earth-name for the last theoretical Math she'd discussed with Jeremiah before he disappeared, and never bothered studying into it.
"What are combinatorics?" Carter asks, brows knitting as he watches Kara's fingers gently scratch at the corner of a page of his homework, sighing. Her fingers rub over a temple, offering him a far-too-wide smile that she's learned (super-hearing) can kind of creep him out, every once in a while.
"Nothing. Alex-Hey, Alex!" Kara taps on the phone, a rather goofy, askew picture of her sister there to greet her, a grumbling voice on the edge of sleep greeting them, yawning over a cup of coffee at the D.E.O, a few miles away. "Can you explain that last one to Carter, again?" He's not getting it-she can tell by the small crease of his brow and the thin set of his lips. He looks exactly like Cat when she's frustrated, sometimes.
"My mom isn't paying you for this, right?"
"I wish." Kara grumbles. She's paid more than Kal-El would've ever thought-being the highest level assistant in a major corpration did have some benefits. Even if sleep wasn't one of them-but she's not paid for Saturdays. This is a volunteer mission, and one she doesn't want to seem too eager about, otherwise she can imagine Carter milking it.
"Why aren't you paying me again?" Alex snipes through the line and Carter chuckles, biting into a full fluff of pancake (one of the three stacks Kara had made, another two sitting on her own plate), the younger sister flicking the phone like a distracted ear be able to hear it.
"Alex, come on."
"Okay-okay-" Alex sighs and tries again, patient in the way she was twelve years ago, inches taller. Even though she's only looking at the picture on a phone, Kara still smiles-thankful and quiet-giving Carter a knowing look as she nods towards his almost empty-stack.
"As soon as you get the rest of the problems right, I promise we'll go do the laser tag thing."
"Promise?" Carter mouths over Alex's explanation.
"Promise."
An hour later, Kara lets Carter cream her at laser tag before they go over his Math homework and Cat, surprisingly, doesn't even look annoyed that Kara has overstayed her welcome (again) when Carter falls asleep on her shoulder on the familyroom couch, ambling in from another late-night hours later.
Cat (probably) isn't annoyed for the sole reason that Kara immediately holds up a cup of (miraculously warmed) coffee, dark eyes slitting as Cat looks between the pair and Kara just smiles as innocently as she can.
Rule #19. Do not accidentally kill Carter. Do not let Carter get injured. Do not let Carter get kidnapped. Do everything possible to keep Carter still, alive, and not running around on busses. Or trains. **or near Maxwell Lord**
Her world slowly expands further and further into Cat Grant's, even when a superhero (that doesn't feel Super) is always ready to burst from her chest, catapulting into the sky. Kara sends letters to far-off family members and feels the world change underneath her fingertips.
She changes Cat Grant's life as Kara Danvers, not Supergirl. The writer-the meticulous list-maker-not the superhero, and it has just as many repercussions.
Adam tastes the faintest way Cat smells after a shower and it churns Kara's stomach until she looks to the stars and remembers that she's here to be extraordinarily ordinary. Remembered in newslines and protection, not in the way Adam's eyes crinkle at the edges.
After that, it's difficult to watch the way Cat's knuckles clench so white around a coffee cup, dumping it in a trashcan on her way past Kara's desk.
Kara doesn't know what to do with Saturdays where she isn't tutoring Carter.
Even worse, doesn't know where to look in the office if she can't look at Cat Grant.
Rule #20. The next twelve rules are in accordance with attached documents (see section 4.D - 12A). Reference documents for all necessary procedures to keep CatCo from setting on fire when Crashing a cover. ( Really strong breath will not put these metaphorical fires out. Or literal fires. Do not let Becky from accounting near the Coffeemaker when stressed. There will be fires. Actual big ones.) . These rules are how Cat Grant's assistant keeps CatCo running as smoothly as possible.
Eventually she learns how to let the list unfold in a series of mistakes and hopeful breaths, not pre-emptive strikes. The anger and hatred-the betrayal and misunderstanding-are things Kara knows how to deal with…
Everything else? Not as much.
Everything-everything- changes with a little ball of red light.
Rule #33. Never, under any circumstances, ride Cat Grant's elevator.
A simple rule becomes a curse. A flash of red turns blood into fire and a tongue into a sword, chest burning with hatred and eyes brimming with things most of her lists were intentionally designed to prevent. An addendum to simplicity finds regret:
ADDENDUM: Never, under any circumstances, allow yourself to ride Cat Grant's elevator, again.
Heels click along carpet, sinking into plush, until a form-fitting dress slides dangerously close to a dark blazer.
"Oh, Catherine." A faint laugh trickles out of Kara's lips and curls around her heart-squeezing like an anaconda that just won't let up-a foreign sound. Something that she's sure Cat will recognize for what it is-something other than her usually smiling and accommodating assistant-and it's impossible to fight through the haze around edges. All Kara sees is red. The red of Cat's dress and the red of her cheeks-the red of the corner of her lips. Eyes are unfocused on the image of the red of a tongue, fingers curling at the want of it, strong in a laughing chest. The red at the corner of eyes, highlighting the dilation of two very familiar pupils. For the first time in a week, it's not the Kryptonite-it's Cat that's red. All red. "You still think I'm avoiding you because of your son? Maybe you are avoiding me. But..."
Kara's fingers skim along a shoulder and she feels Cat stiffen-can see the goosebumps rise up on the edge of light skin-can hear the gasp of breath with attentive ears. Can see the hair stand up on the edge of her neck and perfectly-manicured nails curl into palms, tight around the twirling stalk of an expensive champagne flute. Kara's hand settles on a hip, turning her boss around with far too much familiarity, blue eyes dark and rimmed with something far too dangerous to let go of. Like a static charge is building up behind eyes, red and light barely held at bay to keep from setting the world on fire.
Kara seemingly settles for letting her fingers cause the fire instead, humming a light, breathless tune while a hand unassumingly dances up clenching muscles to a wine glass, gently plucking it from a writer's hand and setting it on the mantel behind them, pinning Cat there along with it. She doesn't touch her-doesn't have to-and it's power to feel the way the world's most powerful woman shifts underneath an immovable smirk.
"If I was going after anyone with your gene pool, why would I settle for someone I didn't want?" It's a light question posed by an ear, voice rough and amused, like both of them knew this, already. Kara Danvers certainly knew this, but would never say this, and somewhere deep in a frothing cloud, the same girl desperately tries to push through the haze of emotion curling up lips. "You're always telling me to aim high. Adam's cute, but my pure," The self-deprecation is thick-taunting-like a bully tugging up a small, wounded child by their pinky before tossing the rag doll aside, "Little," The hand skims back down a waist, curling fingers around a hip, once more, "Weak heart just wasn't in it. Why fuck him," The word is foreign-out of place-on a tongue, cracking the air light electricity in a vacuum, an unstoppable force of nature existing somewhere it's defying the laws of the world to exist. Cat's breath quivers against Kara's lips and she can taste her, even with the distance between them. The faintest hint of bourbon and lipstick curls up around the back of Kara's throat and even now-even like this-she's intoxicated by it. "Just because I couldn't have you?"
It feels like tossing her off of a building, only to swoop arms around her at the last second.
The power of life and death beneath nails.
Their bodies mold far too perfectly against each other as Kara presses her tighter against the wall and there's something small and weak so desperately fighting against the pounding beat of a heart against a ribcage. The faintest hint of a woman she no longer is trying to fight against desire has no chance of winning a war.
But it's a valiant fight.
"I think you should go, Kara." But it's breathless-faint. Weak. It's the first time Cat ever says her real name and Kara will loathe the fact that she says it like this.
Their lips are close-so close-but a flash of outrage and betrayal in blue causes Kara to stumble backwards, breaking from the grace and elegance that's straightened a frame all week. Cat must notice and like a slow slivering crack through glass, it spreads, some form of strength tightening the bones in an executive's back until she's towering over Kara in her heels. Funnily enough, given Kara's significantly taller. The assistant simply straightens her glasses, letting out a slow, silky laugh that only causes Cat's eyes to search for answers that won't come.
Kara doesn't straighten the glasses in nerves-she straightens them like she's readying a gun at her hip.
"What happened to you?" It's even fainter, but there's a strength to Cat's voice-there always is-a hand raising up to gently skim along a jaw. It's the first time Cat's ever truly touched her and Kara pulls away further, straightening her dress with a hum, turning around on her heel.
The strangling feeling in her chest is suffocating.
"I woke up, Ms. Grant." She tosses casually over her shoulder, voice sing-song and hollow: "Have a nice night." Winking at the edge of a familiar passage that's closing all around her, nails skimming along wood like they're trailing down a spine, "I'm off to meet James. I know I will."
The door closes with a click but it's not much of a hide-away for a fortress made of glass and Kara's smirk only spreads when she catches the sight of Cat Grant sagging against her office wall.
But blue eyes flicker with something other than red, gaze trembling at the edges before it seals itself behind cement and resolution.
**Personal rule: NEVER allow yourself near Cat Grant when underneath the effect of any form of mind-altering Kryptonite. Keep her safe and far away from whatever...that was. You were. (Will I ever fix this?).**
"I...Ms. Grant." Kara stumbles over words, images burned into her mind with the fire of the sun-and she knows firsthand just how hot that can be-swallow barely a rasp. It's been the first time she's managed to get Cat alone all week without her boss snapping at her, and it feels like rubble between her fingers. Lost. Kara's spine feels like it's floating from her body, bones collapsing beneath the weight of her own trembling voice, and she wishes she'd tried writing what she was going to say-do-explain-before she'd come in here.
"Kara, unless pictures of Superman with his lover are on the floor, there's no reason why you should be staring at it like that." Kara's nose screws up at the mental image with a faint-oh, eww-lips parting and closing before they part, again. "My eyes are up here."
Fingers wring and lips part again before she faithfully looks up, not doing a good job of standing tall or being professional, two things she had sworn she would be this morning. Before her body had collapsed into her chair like a bag of marbles, anyways, scattered all over the place. Like the pieces of her life. "I'm sorry, Ms. Grant." A cleared throat-fingers fussing at the tight neckline of a button-up before moving up to glasses that aren't askew until she tries to right them, and then fusses with them again to fix the damage she's done-tongue darting out over lips.
She tries to speak, again, when no words come out, Cat Grant unfortunately giving her every single ounce of her attention. It heats her skin far more than a radioactive explosion ever might.
Which she would know. She's been in a lot of radioactive explosions.
Suns and explosions. A lot of those, this year.
Worse. This is worse.
"Are you going to talk, or just stare at me with that Bambi caught in the headlights-"
"I'm sorry." It tumbles out of Kara's mouth, entirely sincere and pleading, trying not to stumble as she rushes forward. "I've been trying to think of how I was going to say this all week and I want you to know that our relationship-I mean our professional, working relationship. No other relationship. Obviously no other relationship. We don't have any other rel-well, maybe almost friendship, not that I think you think I'm a friend or anything-I-" Cat's gaze is only hardening with each and every word-Kara can tell from the faintest twitch at the edge of eyes-and Kara takes a much needed breath, "Working here means the world to me. It means more than you would ever know and if I did anything to jeopardize that, I would never forg-"
"Of course coming into your boss' office-the CEO and founder of the very awe-inspiring building that you are standing in right now-and suggesting that you would much rather fuck," She uses the word like it's a lie within and of itself and Kara knows Cat couldn't possibly miss the way she recoils from it, wincing as she shrinks into herself, "That very woman rather than her estranged son who you had a very big, ungraceful hand in orchestrating arrangements to meet with would put an endlessly interesting spin on any working relationship, or lack thereof, wouldn't you think?"
"Cat, I-" Kara rasps, placing the papers she'd barged into the office holding down on a familiar table, "I wasn't myself. I can't explain why. I really do not have excuses, right now. I never will. None that I can tell you." That's the most honest she can be and Cat's chin quirks at it like a hound sniffing blood in the air, "All I have is my sincerest apologies and promise that it will never, ever happen again."
"It's funny," Cat continues like she hasn't even heard her, "I hardly blame you for finding me attractive. I mean, please, Kiera, you're not the first assistant-"
"Ms. Grant," Kara desperately (stupidly) tries to intervene, stepping forward, cut down with one look.
"I gave you a pass the first time when you barged in here, intent on talking. Do not interrupt me again." The tone brokers no sense of argument and a dusty swallow is the only response, heels clicking across familiar floors like a well-dressed shark treading through deep seas. Smaller than her own, the shadow Cat Grant casts threatens to swallow Kara whole. "Out of all of the idiotic ploys and even more idiotic things you've said over the almost two years you've been employed here, you're still standing here because, God help me, I have faith in you. While you're often too naive for your own good and dress like a back-page advertisement for Forever 21, there's been more than one occasion that I have stood behind you because you've showed prowess and wit behind that...endless amount of cloying sunshine that usually comes out of your mouth." Cat is in front of her, now, tone casual and measured-always measured-and Kara's chin trembles, shoulders rolling in to try to protect the whimpering rhythm against her chest. "Of course there were times I wished you would just pep up the step and stop hiding behind fumbling pauses and your 'girl next door' thing," A waving hand of gesture, "That you've used to charm everyone in this building, including my sons, because you have a habit of not saying what you're thinking. An annoying one."
A mouth parts to protest before Kara realizes she's been warned about this, mouth snapping shut underneath a cold, steel gaze.
"So imagine my surprise when you were uncharacteristically vocal about the one most horrendously inappropriate and wrong thing to be vocal about. Admitting you have a shameless little crush on me, however inappropriate, is understandable. Admitting you toyed with my poor son's heart out of some kind of misguided notion with the intent to rip out a relationship from underneath him-playing with his heart-is both surprising and indicative of your true character." Cat's chin barely trembles-Kara sees it. Sees hair stick up on the edge of wrists like they did the other night. Sees the way eyes barely dilate, but this time in dangerous reaction-the way a gun's trigger clicks before it fires, or a snake barely tips its skull back before firing forward. It's dangerous and Kara feels it down to her stomach-to curling fingers and locking knees. "However personal, that conduct-your conduct-in my office the other night is immediate grounds for dismissal." Cat spits and Kara closes her eyes, surprising her: "Give me one reason not to fire you. A good one. Now."
"Because it was true." The words tumble out of Kara's mouth before she can stop herself, hand slapping over a gaping mouth to stem any more from slipping out, like she can still feel tendrils of red curling over the thin fibers of her throat. Both Kara and Cat look utterly surprised at it and Kara tries her best to stand as tall as she can. "However...unprofessionally I represented myself, what I said was true." Quieter-honest, "Everything I said that whole week was true, in some small way, however much I hate myself for it. However much everyone tells me it wasn't my fault, there was some truth to it." A breath and, before long, she stands taller than she should be allowed, finding solace in the posture of a world that crumbled underneath her fingertips, like there's a house that strengthens her shoulders. Like she still belongs to a house. At least she can tell the truth, now. At least she can tell the truth about this, anyways.
"Then-"
Despite the earlier warning, Kara interrupts Cat before she can fire her, stepping forward, hand gently wrapping around a wrist before it drops like she even knows what being burnt feels like, hand swaying uselessly by a side like the arm of a clock ticking between them. "No. I dated Adam because he was...he was cute. And charming. He was funny and for a minute I felt like he was normal. Like I was normal, for the first time in my life, with a boy that just...liked me for me. I had this chance to bring a family back together and it was-I'm so glad I did. I'll never have any ounce of regret sending that letter, Ms. Grant, because everyone should know their parents. Everyone should have that connection while they still can." The stance seems a little more natural, brows furrowing behind black frames, "But the truth is...I broke up with him because there wasn't-isn't-there will never be a place in my life for something serious. It's just...it's not for someone like...me." The words strangle in her throat, far more truth in the things she doesn't say and the fear clogs her throat at the idea of Cat being able to hear them.
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Cat's voice is still harsh but her eyes are barely softer around the edges, an assistant stepping forward, still, tone desperate for a hint to find some familiar ground in a city that's come to loathe her heart for the truth that hides behind it. "That's what you came up with?"
"I want to be good." A swallow, brain reminding herself of Rule #1 out of habit, dangerous familiarity on her tongue. "But that's not all of me, Cat. There's this...this part of me that I hate that...that happened when my parents died." Rephrasing, "That...was created when they died. When everyone I knew-" A breath, "When I lost them. This part of me that's lost and scared and...and hates. It hates so much." The words are thick and quiet-trembling-and Kara can't look at her when she says it. "And I guess that part of me really showed itself last week and it's something that I'll...never be able to take back. That I'll have to live with and I'm okay with that. I understand that. I can live with the consequences of my actions." She can hear the way Cat's breath changes-can hear the way she shifts on her heels, fabric scratching and bangles dancing a symphony of bells as they clatter together, arms crossing. "But there was truth in it. I could have dated Adam, but he deserves so much more than me. I could never give him...all of me. The good and the bad. Not when my duty lies with this...with the city. With here." Trying to clarify in a way that isn't as heavy as the weight on her shoulders, "With...this job."
"With being an assistant." Cat drawls but there's none of the usual skepticism in her voice and when Kara looks back up to meet her gaze, there's something foreign there-some kind of quiet understanding.
It feels as heavy as the wind pushing against her shoulders when she flies, a sense of burden in liberation.
"With this city." Is all Kara repeats, chin tipping up to meet Cat's in challenge. "I'll never be able to have a serious relationship even though it's something I...I really want. It's just not in the cards for me. And that's something Adam deserves. It's something I know he wants and it wasn't fair to him. For me to lead him on. So, yes, I ended it before either of us wound up hurt. And...the part about you…"
"Of wanting to fuck me." Both of Cat's eyebrows raise and Kara suddenly feels breathless-claustrophobic-like the walls are closing in on her and tries to push the panic out from her chest. Tries to keep Cat from seeing it in her last defense left.
"Right. That." Another swallow and Kara sucks in a long, thin breath, feeling bolder than she ever should because it's not like she has anything to lose, already on the edge of jumping off a building without being sure she'll be able to fly, "Is it...so bad if that's true, too?"
There's a long moment of silence, Cat's eyes dark when she answers:
"Now isn't the time to ask me questions you aren't prepared to hear the answers to, Kara."
The use of her proper name doesn't help the dangerous, syncopated rhythm of her heart, and there must still be some red kryptonite in her lungs, turning the whole world red, because Kara steps forward, still. Her breath is quaking and honest but her shoulders and eyes are resolute-set. Regardless of the verbage, it's not a concept Kara thinks should be lied about. It's not how she was raised, lightyears away and honesty ingrained like lines on her tongue.
In this moment, fatigue is her downfall-she's tired-exhausted-of lying to Cat Grant. Especially about something she can't change, and wouldn't if she could.
"Okay," Kara acquiesces, nodding. It's not the time for uncertainty: "Then there isn't a question, I'm…" She can see Cat's fingers curl tighter into her arms-can hear it-even though her face doesn't ease, "Very attracted to you, Cat. But that has not, nor will it ever, get in the way of my professional or personal feelings towards you. You're my mentor and-though I'm sure I'm just as likely to get fired for admitting it-friend, and I would never let anything like that come between us or...get in the way of my career." A breath, "I'm sorry if the way I...displayed that attraction was...well, you know." There's no other word for it. "...Creepy. And very, very forward." Fingers fidget with glasses once more, the faintest crinkle settling between brows, "But I would never act on that...attraction," The word is drawled out in a way she can't help, "Besides, I'm all about consent. And I don't do casual...Uh," A swallow, waving a hand in gesture, "And I obviously am not doing long-term relationships. Not that I'm suggesting that. But attraction doesn't mean either of those things-it doesn't change anything." She argues, "So I'm sorry. I'm so sorry if you look at me differently, now, or don't trust me, but I couldn't let you fire me without knowing the truth. Or thinking that I intentionally would ever manipulate or abuse your, or either of your son's, trust. I'm..." A breath, eyes closing for a moment, glad for glasses that block the world from her view, "I'm just sorry."
When she's ready to open her eyes, Cat's there to greet her.
Cat's eyes search her face-search the set of her jaw-and most surprisingly, a small nod follows, leaning back into her desk as she looks Kara up and down like an article she hasn't quite finished editing, yet. "Good." Is what the woman settles on, enigmatic and powerful, and Kara lets out a slow breath. "But you can stop worrying about whether or not I trust you. That's not your job." It's even more enigmatic, settling further in a gut like lead words she couldn't see through and ate, instead. It twists in her chest like a green rock, curling vines of poison around her lungs. There's a long pause and a singular, second nod that punctuates that seemingly endless silence, "Thank you for telling me the truth."
"Does that mean I'm not fired?" It's not the time for relief-the first thing that's gone right in her life all week-and while it's probably the stupidest thing she could've ever asked her boss, she's even more relieved to see the faintest tick upwards on the corner of Cat's mouth. A smile.
A smile Kara's missed more than she's likely to admit.
"Not today." Cat supplies, turning back around, plucking up glasses from her desk and setting them on the bridge of her nose, a dismissal if there ever was one. "Oh, and Kara?"
The second use of her name wraps red along the green grasping hold of her, making a Christmas Tree out of her veins.
Kara stops at the door, turning around, clutching papers to her chest like a lifeline, "Yes, Ms. Grant?"
"If you ever decide to mess with any of my family's hearts again without taking in the full ramifications of your actions," Her voice is even-deathly-and Kara's heart picks up tempo at the sight of ice over the rim of glasses when their gazes meet, "Professionalism aside, you could be Supergirl, herself, and I would still find a way to kill you."
Knowing Cat Grant, she would. It's enough of a promise that Kara knows better than to add it to the rules-it's just fact.
"Yes, Ms. Grant." Kara nods and swallows, trying to get out of the office as fast as she can without creating a sonic boom. "Thank you."
It's not until much later, fingers curling around the frayed fabric of a blanket, emptiness swallowing her apartment, does Kara scan the lines of the stars out of her window and wonder if Cat was just talking about two boys with similar smiles, or if she was talking about the way hair stood up on both ends of an arm-of a neck-when the devil's breath trailed down Cat Grant's spine.
She wonders if Cat Grant would have thrust her hand into an arched chest and wrapped fingers around a desperately red heart if even the worst version of Kara Danvers had enough courage to kiss her.