Chapter Text
She’s oh so straight
Kara had spent three days sulking in her apartment, replaying the fire over and over in her mind. She saved everyone—every single teacher, every single child. But not him. Not the firefighter who had stayed back, trying to make sure no one was left behind. She had almost had him. Almost.
Alex had finally lost patience.
“You’re coming with us tonight,” she had said, standing in Kara’s doorway with that no-nonsense big-sister stance.
Kara had tried to argue. “Alex, I—”
“No. No ‘but I’s. No excuses. You need to get out of this apartment before you start merging with your couch.”
Kara had sighed, rubbing at her temple. “It’s a lesbian bar, Alex. I’d stick out.”
Alex had smirked. “It’s not like there’s a gay dress code, Kara. Besides, the bar isn’t just for lesbians. It’s just… mostly lesbians, and other queer people.”
Kara groaned, already feeling the battle slipping away. “Alex, I’m really not in the mood to go out. And I’m straight and super boring.”
Alex smirked. “Perfect. That means there’s no pressure—just a good time, no expectations.”
Kara exhaled, long and dramatic, but she knew further resistance was pointless. “One drink. That’s it. Then I’m going home.”
Alex grinned, looping an arm around her shoulders. “Sure, sure. One drink.”
And that was how Kara had ended up here, watching as Alex and Kelly were welcomed with open arms, showered in hugs, and handed drinks before they even reached the bar.
Kara had to admit, the warmth of it all made something settle in her chest. Alex had always been so guarded, always the tough one. And yet here, she had people who loved her for who she was, people who got her.
Kara hadn’t even been sitting before the teasing had started.
“Oh, Alex, you never mentioned your little sister is such a gorgeous specimen,” one of Alex’s friends had drawled, smirking at Kara over the rim of her beer.
“Such a shame you’re straight, darling,” another sighed dramatically before taking a slow sip of their cocktail.
Kara had rolled her eyes and laughed, her protests drowned out by the cheerful music and the clink of glasses.
She had been hit on a few times again after that, all in good fun, but it was never serious. And honestly? It was kind of nice to just be here, no expectations, no pressure, just people having a good time.
The party was already in full swing, laughter spilling from every corner of the bar. Alex and Kelly were somewhere near the pool table, surrounded by friends, and Kara was comfortably settled at the bar, nursing a beer. It wasn’t like she was waiting for someone.
And yet—
When she walked in, it was like someone had turned down the volume on everything else.
She wasn’t loud. She didn’t make a scene. But somehow, the moment she entered, people noticed.
Kara noticed.
She wasn’t even sure sure why.
Maybe it was the way the dark green jumpsuit hugged her frame in all the right places, or the way the sharp, thin Louboutin heels made her legs look endless. Maybe it was the way she moved through the room—smooth, effortless, knowing exactly how much space she took up and exactly how to command attention.
Or maybe it was the way her lips curled, painted deep red like something dangerous, when she laughed at something someone said.
She wasn’t in a hurry. She took her time, greeting people as she passed, her smile easy but never careless. Calculated, almost—like she knew exactly the effect she had and wielded it effortlessly.
Kara swallowed.
She wasn’t even drinking alien alcohol, and yet suddenly, she felt a little dizzy.
The woman finally reached the bar, lingering only a moment to scan the options before slipping onto one of the free barstools.
The one right next to Kara.
Kara straightened instinctively, shifting in her seat as she tried very hard to look at something—anything—other than the graceful way the woman crossed her legs, or the way her jumpsuit dipped just slightly at the neckline, revealing smooth skin and the soft, tempting curve where bare met fabric.
The bartender didn’t even ask.
“Usual?” they said, already reaching for something behind a hidden cabinet.
The woman hummed her approval, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against the bar. “You always remember.”
The bartender smiled as they pulled out the bottle, a top-shelf whiskey Kara hadn’t seen them offer to anyone else. “Hard to forget.”
That earned a quiet chuckle. The bartender poured a glass of rich amber liquid and slid it across to her, no questions, no hesitation.
Kara watched as she took the glass, her fingers delicate against the crystal.
Only then did she turn, facing Kara fully for the first time, and—God.
Piercing green eyes. Sharp, clear, intentional in the way they held Kara’s gaze.
A flicker of heat curled in Kara’s stomach, unexpected and unsettling.
And then, without meaning to, she heard it.
The slow, steady rhythm of her heartbeat.
Kara tried to ignore it—she never focused on things like that, not in casual interactions—but for some reason, it stood out. Unhurried, unshaken. As if the brunette never let anything rattle her.
The woman smirked, tilting her glass slightly before bringing it to her lips. “So,” she mused, her voice rich and smooth, “are we the only two sober ones left?”
Kara blinked, taking a second longer than she should have to respond.
“Oh—uh, yeah. Looks like it.”
The woman’s lips twitched, eyes still on her. “Lucky me.”
Kara let out a soft breath of laughter, shifting in her seat, but her fingers tightened around her glass. Her grip could shatter it if she weren’t careful. “Yeah, well. Alcohol doesn’t really do much for me.”
That arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “That so?”
Kara nodded, forcing herself to look away, but it didn’t help. Her own pulse had picked up, and her senses—usually so easy to tune out—were suddenly locked onto her.
The faintest rustle of fabric as the woman shifted against the barstool. The warmth of her skin radiating in the small space between them. And her scent—God, her scent.
Kara had smelled thousands of scents before, cataloged them all in the back of her mind. But this one—warm and deep, something dark and spiced with a hint of vanilla—wrapped around her like a slow burn. It was intoxicating in a way nothing had ever been before.
She swallowed.
“Alien biology,” she added, clearing her throat.
Most people reacted when she said that. Usually, there was at least a blink of surprise, a brief hesitation.
The woman didn’t even flinch.
Instead, she leaned in slightly, just enough that Kara caught the soft exhale of her breath, the faintest shift in her heartbeat—just a little faster now, like she was aware of the space between them.
And then Kara saw it—so brief she might have missed it if she hadn’t been paying attention.
The woman’s pupils dilated, just a fraction, just for a second.
Her eyes flicked over Kara’s face, assessing, considering.
“Convenient,” she murmured.
Kara exhaled a quiet laugh, though it came out softer than she intended. Something about the way she said it—low and knowing—sent a shiver down her spine. “For some things.”
The woman took another slow sip of her drink, eyes lingering for just a second too long before she finally extended a hand.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, voice like honey and smoke. “I’m Lena.”
Kara stared at the hand for half a second longer than necessary before shaking it.
The touch was steady, deliberate. Lena’s fingers were cool at first, but the heat between them rose fast, burning through Kara like a wildfire.
She almost pulled away too quickly but stopped herself at the last second.
“Kara,” she said, a little breathless.
Lena’s fingers curled slightly before she let go, as if dragging out the moment just a little longer.
And for a second, Kara swore she heard it—Lena’s heartbeat stuttering, just the faintest skip, so fleeting she wasn’t sure if it had happened at all.
“Kara,” Lena repeated then, red lips curling slightly.
And maybe it was the way she said it, slow and smooth, like she was testing how Kara’s name would sound on her tongue later.
Maybe it was the whiskey-warm rasp in her voice, or the way those sparkling eyes lingered, just long enough to make Kara wonder if she was imagining things.
Or maybe it was the way Kara’s senses—so sharp, so attuned—had locked onto her without permission, as if her own body had already decided something she wasn’t ready to admit.
But suddenly, straight felt like a label that didn’t quite fit the way it used to.