Completely inspired by/contributed to by @of-suns-and-guns, blame her for everything. NSFW.
Kara’s apartment is empty when Alex arrives, not that she’s expected differently. There’d been a call right before Alex had finished changing out of her uniform, a nasty three-car accident on the highway.
She’d known Kara would respond and perhaps she’s a little relieved Kara will be late. There will be less chance of Kara swinging back by the DEO and exchanging any sort of gossip—which suits Alex just fine.
She hums to herself as she lays out the takeout and paper plates, taking the time to make sure everything is neat before she turns the TV on.
Just as everything is prepped and she’s begun serving herself, Kara arrives.
“How’d it go?” she asks without looking up from adding rice to her plate.
Kara’s boots thud softly against the ground. “Could have been worse. Everyone got to the hospital in record time, at least.”
“That’s good news. Every second counts,” Alex agrees. She pushes a piece of chicken back from the edge of her plate with a fork.
There’s a few quick gusts of wind, and then Kara is taking the seat next to her.
“So how was your day, Alex?” Kara asks.
Alex’s senses go on high alert. Kara hasn’t picked up a plate. “Fine. Chill, even.”
“Is that so? I heard you caught a live grenade. That doesn’t sound very chill to me.”
Published
Question of Smoke 