It’s Saturday night. It’s Saturday night, and Alex is out, at dinner, with Sam once again. It’s happened every other Saturday since they separated Sam from Reign, since Sam was ready to go home to Ruby, since the Arias family’s life had returned to something resembling normal. First because Sam felt she owed Alex her thanks, then because she owed her guilt, and this time because she owed Alex whiskey and a stressless night.
The fact that Alex hasn’t gotten laid in ten months, three weeks, and four days is not on the radar at all. Just like the fact that Sam has the lean muscular build of an Olympic pole vaulter, the smile of a makeup model, and the brain of a Rhodes’ Scholar is not on the radar at all. Neither is the way her long fingers wrap around her wine glass, not the teeth that close around her bottom lip, nor the enormous kindness in her heart Alex has seen time and again since Ruby stumbled into her at the waterfront.
None of that is important. Not at all. Because this is not a date, and Sam is not into women, and Sam has been through massive trauma and needs nothing but stability and support and a happy and healthy daughter.
Dinner ends late, as it always does, and Sam steals the check, as she always does.
“Lena pays me an outrageous amount and you know it,” she says, nimble fingers yanking the folder out of Alex’s grip, and Alex coughs past her suddenly dry mouth. “Besides, I’m the one who asked you to dinner. It’s only fair.”
“Yeah, but–”
“Nuh uh.” Sam whips her credit card out and levels a look across the table, accompanied by a pointed finger, and Alex shrinks back into her seat with her hands up.
“Can’t argue with that,” she says, toasting with her mostly-empty glass and draining what’s left of it.
The restaurant is fancy, the building dark and quiet and the waiters carefully absent almost the entire meal, and the valet appears the moment they step outside. He whisks the ticket out of Sam’s hand and disappears, leaving them to wait in the cooling air that draws a shiver out of Sam.
“Hold on, here,” Alex says, shrugging out of her jacket automatically and wrapping it around Sam’s shoulders. “I’m suddenly glad you insisted on driving. This would have been terrible on a motorcycle.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sam says. She burrows into Alex jacket, tugging it tightly around her shoulders, and leans closer to Alex. “I know you have an actual car. The bike is just for show.”
“What can I say? I like to act like I’m cool.” Alex shoves her hands into her pockets and crooks her elbow out for Sam to wrap a hand around. “Your kid thinks I’m awesome.”
“You are,” Sam says softly, hand tight around Alex’s elbow. There’s a weight to her grip, pulling Alex around to face her, and in the next moment Sam’s lips are on hers, warm and soft and confident, Alex’s mouth moving easily against hers in a way that is hasn’t since Maggie, since an engagement, since saying goodbye.
Alex wrenches back, an exaggerated step pulling her out of Sam’s orbit and nearly dislodging the jacket draped over her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have–”
“What?” Sam stares dumbly at her, shrinking into the jacket, cheeks too red even for the cool fall air. “Why are you– I’m the one that– I kissed you.”
“I shouldn’t have– you’re not interested in me– I didn’t meant to presume,” Alex rushes out, hands shoving further into her pockets. “I’m so sorry.”
“Alex,” Sam says slowly. “Did you think I wasn’t going to kiss you eventually?”
“What?” Alex blinks back at her, the chilled air on her arms forgotten.
“This is the third date, I thought– I’m sorry if it’s too fast, I know that after Maggie–”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Alex says hurriedly. “The what now?”
“Third date,” Sam draws out after a long moment. “We went to the burger place on the water, and then the Italian place last weekend, and then this.”
“Those were dates?”
Sam stares at her, eyes widening slowly and jaw going slack. Her cheeks go dark and she slaps a hand over her mouth. “I thought– I asked you out, you said yes, I thought that you knew I was– you didn’t know?”
“This was a date?” Alex squeaks out, the tips of her ears going hot, and she wishes briefly for an alien to attack the whole block right that moment to give her a reason to disappear for maybe forever. “You were– those were dates?”
Sam sucks in a deep breath, and then another, and pushes her way up to standing more straight, shoulders more sharp, pulling her way up to her full height. “I asked if you wanted to go out to dinner sometime. And you said yes.”
“I thought you meant as friends! I didn’t even know that you were gay!”
“I mean, I’m not, for whatever that matters,” Sam says with a wave of one hand. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not into women, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean I’m not into you.”
“Oh, God,” Alex mutters, hands pushed against her cheeks and stomach twisting around itself. A black hole opening up under her would be so convenient right now. “I thought that you were just–friendly, and scared of being back in the world.”
“I like you,” Sam says slowly. “Romantically. And this is the third date we’ve gone on. At least by my count. Not counting every time you came to my house to hang out with my kid and crashed on our couch after drinking with me until two in the morning.”
““Oh, God,” Alex mumbles again. “I can’t believe– I just assumed you weren’t into me, I thought you were just being nice because Maggie and I broke up–”
“A year and a half ago,” Sam says drily. “I like you. And want to date you. So can I kiss you again?”
“Oh,” Alex says, voice weak and faint, just like her ankles and knees and entire spine, to be honest, because Sam is within arm’s length again, being tall and beautiful and composed like she always is, being smart and eloquent and Sam and talking about how she wants to kiss Alex again. “Yeah. Let’s try that again.”
“Great,” Sam says softly. Her hands curl around Alex’s hips, palms warm against her chilled skin, and her chin drops when Alex’s arms wind around her neck and then they’re kissing, again, for real, lips moving warm and easy against each other, soft and calm and weightless against the history of everything they’ve fought through. It’s easy and real, kissing Sam, and Alex pushes closer and holds tighter, not ready to let go yet.
“Um, Kara?” Alex bit back a laugh as she watched a hacked security camera’s footage. “Did something happen to your usual costume?”
On screen, Kara halted mid-punch–much to the bank robber’s very visible relief–and glowered. “It’s Halloween, Agent. Isn’t it your planet’s custom to dress up?”
Alex didn’t bother fighting off her snort of derision. “Kar, you never even trick-or-treated. The time for playing dress up for candy is long over.”
Kara dragged the robber toward his buddies, bound them all together, and took off as the police arrive to clean up. Alex lost visual, but Kara’s voice still came in clear through their audio connection.
“Look. I… Can we just let this go?”
Alex leaned back in her chair. “Maybe. Or maybe this is too juicy to just let you get away with. What’s with the cat ears?”
Finn and Rey see some pilots doing the push-ups with their friends on their backs, and they’re like “THIS IS THE BEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN,” so they immediately try it themselves, but it always devolves into Finn trying to make himself as heavy and inconvenient as possible on Rey’s back while shouting stuff like “no come on I believe in you!!! don’t let anyone tell you your weak arms can’t do this!!” as Rey lies face down on the ground helplessly giggling
If they ever get far enough along to switch roles, Rey’s a merciless and cruel tickler. It’s entirely possible they have never completed one single push up.
Kara knows they’re dating—obviously, she couldn’t be dating Cat if she didn’t know they were dating, that’d be ridiculous—but she still doesn’t exactly know what that means. She doesn’t know what’s allowed and what’s not allowed and what’s only allowed when other people can’t see. She knows better than to try to kiss Cat in public, doesn’t even reach for her hand even though she’d really like to.
They’ve been together almost a full month by this point, long enough that people know they’re dating—photographers have staked out a couple of their dates, which is really weird, and has made sneaking off for Supergirl business more difficult than usual. There’s no photographers in sight today, which makes sense, given how far they are from the city. Kara can hardly believe she gets to tag along with Cat and Carter on their annual trip to a pumpkin patch, but here she is, next to Cat on a hayride of all things. Kara spread a jacket over the hay bale before Cat sat, or perched, really, on it. Carter is sprawled over the bale next to his mom, and Kara saw Cat twitch when he plopped himself down, probably at the thought of hay burrowing into his clothes and eventually her car. Kara would really like to hold Cat’s hand, or maybe rub her back gently, bring her mind away from germs and itchiness and whatever is making her tense on the edge of the hay bale and back to the present. But she doesn’t know if it’s allowed.
“Hey,” she says quietly, and Cat stops scrutinizing Carter and looks over. “Thanks again for letting me come.”
Cat smiles, and Kara’s stomach does that flip it does every time she makes Cat smile. “Are you going to thank me every time I want to spend time with you?” Cat asks gently.
“Would that get annoying?”
“Just a little,” Cat says, still smiling, and Kara can’t help but smile back, trying not to let her grin get too big.
“What kind of pumpkin are you going to get, Kara?” Carter asks.
She and Carter get into a heated debate over whether round pumpkins or oval pumpkins are better, and out of the corner of her eye Kara sees Cat relax, even sitting back a little more solidly on the hay bale.
–
“That might actually be a perfect sphere,” Kara says about Carter’s pumpkin.
Carter laughs. “Yours isn’t.”
Kara’s isn’t close. Kara’s pumpkin is misshapen and covered in warty bumps. She adores it.
Cat got a nice oblong pumpkin; taller than it is wide, sitting nicely with a good amount of space to carve—though Kara’s not sure if Cat carves pumpkins or is just getting it for decoration. She doesn’t want to push her luck and invite herself to carving. She’s happy enough just getting to pick out pumpkins with them.
Carter insists on carrying his pumpkin around with him instead of putting it in the car. Kara hoists both hers and Cat’s, and takes Carter’s from him when he regrets carrying it halfway through the corn maze.
“You look ridiculous,” Cat says. She’s trailing Kara through the maze, refusing to make any decisions about directions because if we get lost, Kara, it’s not going to be my fault.
Kara considers trying to juggle the pumpkins to make Cat laugh, but she’s super strong, not super coordinated, so she doesn’t take the risk. She flexes her biceps a little more than necessary instead. Even though they’re hidden under a sweater, Cat seems to appreciate it.
–
Corn maze completed, pumpkins finally in the car, Carter waits his turn to go down a giant slide on a burlap sack. Kara kind of wanted to do it, too, but Cat suggested they get cider and watch from a nearby picnic table, and that sounded too good to pass up. Kara doesn’t regret the decision at all. Cat’s hands are curled around her cider cup, her shoulders hunched a bit against the chill in the air, and Kara sits closer than she would otherwise.
Cat scooches even closer. “What good is your supernatural body heat if you’re not going to keep me warm?”
Kara risks it, wrapping her arm around Cat’s shoulders. Cat’s sweater might be the softest fabric Kara has ever touched. Alarm bells are going off in Kara’s head—you’re in public, she’s your boss, you’re in public, she’s your boss—even though Cat’s not anymore—but Cat burrows into Kara’s side instead of pulling away.
Question of Smoke 