When you first started ‘dating’ Kara Callaghan, it was to prove a point to some primeval apes that called themselves gentlemen. Then it grew, and grew, until you were in some ways living a double life – the life people saw, where you were in a loyal, steadfast relationship with your peer, who helped you in all your endeavours and funded your schemes to make CatCo an international, multimedia empire with a never-ending reach, and the life you believed you lived: where your best friend is mislabelled ‘girlfriend’, and you’re scraping in quarters to pay for the tiny flat that you, your best friend and her son live, while also taking out big, massive loans that, if fall through, you will never be able to pay back for generations to come.
Of course, CatCo succeeds, and of course, you, Kara, Kalven and then eventually Eva and Carter live to tell the tale. By the time CatCo is branching out to Europe, you live in a penthouse, surrounded by your family – the family you made for yourself, that your mother sneered at and said would fall apart in the blink of an eye. Kara is your best friend, she is more than your best friend, she isn’t actually your girlfriend.
She isn’t actually your girlfriend.
Sometimes you have to repeat that in your head, several times a day, and gulp down a mouthful of Scotch that burns your throat and burns thoughts from your mind in seemingly no time at all.
You know Kara’s an alien. You wonder if she has a power that she doesn’t know she has – one that causes pretty young things to flock to her and pressure her into a fake dating routines. You eye Kalven – Kal, Kal-El, Kalven Callaghan-Grant – and decide your theory is bullshit, because Kalven doesn’t have that innate sunshine that Kara does, no, Kara’s sunshine is all Kara, and you both hate and love it, your opinion on her demeanour a never-ending cycle of hate, distaste, enjoyment, love, weariness and then again and again. It’s what drew you to her, at first, that little circle of gold and happiness she exuded, until the day in the bar when an endless line of men were hitting on you, and she came swanning up, asking if you wanted to dance, nerves hidden behind a thin veil of confidence, that little circle different and absolutely green with jealousy.
You took her hand, then, not even hesitating before pulling her into a kiss. As the guys moan and groan that you’re a fucking dyke, should have known, you trail kisses on her neck to her ear, whispering “Play along.”
Kara never stopped playing.
And neither did Cat.
Kal-El grew up on a planet of green and blue, and short brown blocks and tall shining skyscrapers. The yellow rays of the sun powered him far more easily than food did – though food was always welcome – and the stories his mama told him of Krypton didn’t make him homesick like they did with her. That’s how Kal-El knew that he and his mama were different. Earth was his home, and Krypton would be hers.
But when Kal-El grew up, he realised that his mama’s home? It had moved. It lived in the woman that he called mommy and mom, the woman with sunlight in her hair and white-blue fire in her eyes. Wherever his mommy went, so did his mama, and wherever his mama went, so did he. The pain of her lost home- their lost home, it never decreased, but Kal-El knew, knew in his heart, even if his mama didn’t, that Krypton wasn’t her home any longer.
Eva was his baby sister, when she was born, her daddy not wanting her as much as he thought he would when it turned out she wasn’t an Adam, and when her eyes were too far apart and her fingers too soft. Kal-El was a big boy when Eva was born – he went to kindergarten in the day-time! With his help – and a lot of his mama’s help – his mom could work and be a mom to Eva too, and Kal-El wondered what might have happened if his mama hadn’t been there. It was a scary idea.
Kal-El is older still when Carter is born, more informed about the world and about his mothers’ relationship, confused when Carter’s hair is a dark, dark brown, much like his own. He doesn’t still quite understand why they said they weren’t together, when they so clearly were, but he didn’t speak his thoughts aloud, instead just nodding and holding Carter softly, before passing him to Eva, who his mama sits behind to make sure her arms didn’t slack under his tiny weight.
Kal-El grew up on a planet of green and blue, and short brown blocks and tall shining skyscrapers. And he knew his mothers were in love with each other, even if they didn’t.
Eva likes to twirl on the grass in N-City Park on Sundays. She’ll twirl and twirl and get dizzy, and then she’ll giggle and stumble about until mama rushed over and picked her up, spinning her in the air before placing her on the picnic blanket to lie down. Carter is young, he knows, but he doesn’t understand how his mama can pick her up. Why is she so strong?
“Mama’s an alien,” is what Kal-El whispers to him. “So am I.”
“And me?” Carter asked, and when Kal-El laughs and nods, only for mama to quickly scold him in Kryptonese, he wonders what’s so wrong with being an alien. If he’s an alien, then Eva must be too, and mommy and mama were always going on about how special she was, how well she’d done at this or that. His mommy had talked to him about Eva before – told him that Eva was a different kind of different, and they treated Kal-El much the same way when he was her age. Carter figured she must be more alien then.
Crawling over to where his mama now lays beside Eva, he flopped onto her belly, mumbling Kryptonese about aliens and their family, and how mommy must be the only human out of them all.
Mama laughs a little, body thrumming into Carter’s, before she replies softly, only loud enough for him (probably) to hear.
“Your mother is the most exceptional human I have ever met – I think that counts.”
With that in mind as he turns his head so he can see the duck-pond, and Kal-El as he tries to keep a football balanced on his head, Carter decides that his alien family is the only thing keeping him tied to Earth.
Alex loved her godmother very much, and her godbrothers and godsister too, and Cat. Cat was real nice, sometimes, but Alex still loved her godmother the best. Kara seemed to have been around forever. She was there when she first started walking and talking, on her first day to preschool and middle-school – she’d missed kindergarten, but that was okay, because Alex had just moved house anyway, and it was a couple hours away from National City, and Alex knew that it was a bad idea to wake anyone at the wrong time in the Callaghan-Grant household.
She says Callaghan-Grant rather than simply Grant because, despite being the best godmother in the universe, Alex knew Kara was dumb as rocks when it came to Cat. Alex knew they weren’t already married and giving her more godsiblings because Kara was stupid, and couldn’t see things for what they were even when they were right in front of her face.
Her mom and dad didn’t agree with her, when she asked them together, but when asking them each separately, Alex got the pretty answer from both sides of the fence that was: Kara is silly in love. Having heard the phrase before, Alex had rolled her eyes before stomping off, muttering about silly godmothers and thoughts on how much a diamond ring would cost if she bought it.
“I call this meeting to order,” Eva banged the plastic hammer on the table-top, cringing at the noise it gave off. Alex was the first one to speak, looking to Kal-El.
“It’s gone on far enough. They need to get hitched already.”
Kal-El scoffed, “No, they’re blind to each other’s feelings – and how would we managed to get them engaged anyway?”
Eva banged her plastic hammer, “Shush, Kal. I’m the leader, so I speak.” She glared at everyone around them. “Mama and mom are silly, so we need to make them kiss, like in Disney.”
“Real life doesn’t work like that, Eva,” Carter said quietly. Eva looked at him, frowning, before Alex spoke up again.
“I like that idea – put your hand up if you want to make them have a big old Disney smooch.” She put her hand up, as did Eva. Alex looked over at Kal-El, and his friend he’s brought over. “Well?”
Kal-El glanced at his friend, about to ask what he thought when he saw his friend’s hand up. “Oh. Okay then.” He put his hand up too, causing everyone to look to Carter.
“We’ve already won the vote, Carter, might as well,” Alex chirped, before Carter slowly put up his hand. “Awesomesauce, unanimous vote. So, how do we make them-”
“Oh, fuck it!” Exclaimed a familiar voice suddenly, before the sound of pounding feet echoed through the house. Kal-El jerked in his seat, eyes going wide, before his mouth dropped open. Eva got up, grabbing his lapels.
“What is going on?”
“It’s- it’s mom…” Kal-El flushed. “I think she heard us.”
Alex looked at him in confusion, “You aren’t making sense, cous.”
Kal-El pinned her with a horrified look, “I mean, they’re making out right now and proclaiming their love for each other, and I really don’t want to hear this- gah!” He brought his hands to his ear, cringing. “Making out sounds so…wet.”
His friend patted him on the back. “You’ll get used to it, trust me.” Kal-El glared at him.
“When have I ever trusted you, Luthor?”
Lex smirked. “Well, you told me you’re an alien, didn’t you?”
“YOU DID WHAT?!” Came a shout from upstairs. Kal-El cringed.
1983, National City University Campus
She peels away from you as soon as you turn the corner, turning to you with a bland smile.
“Thank-you,” she says, before holding out a hand, “Cat Grant.” You blush – you know her name.
“Kara. Kara Callaghan,” you shake her hand, squeezing it lightly.
“Those tepid examples of masculinity were being quite bothersome. I owe you for helping me rid myself of them, but we do find ourselves in something of a predicament.” You furrow your brows at her words – predicament? “If we don’t continue this charade, they will continue to bother me, and you will be harassed for your sexuality.”
“I’m harassed anyway,” you murmur, which only gains you a pitying look you don’t want.
“Yes, well, I’d rather not be bothered by droves of insipid baboons wishing for the privilege of dating Katherine Grant’s daughter,” her voice is bitter, and you sort of know the feeling, remembering Krypton, and the adults who had tried to become your friend, so as to use you as a stepping stone to your mother, or father as the case might be. “So, Keira-”
“Kara,” you correct.
“-I would request you continue this charade with me.” It’s not a request, but you’re still confused as to what you will – because you would – agree to be doing.
“What?”
Cat rolls her eyes, stepping forwards and kissing you. It blanks your mind, before you try to reciprocate, but she’s already pulled away.
“That.”
“…oh.” You whisper, before realising she’s asking you to date her, or rather, not date her, rather, fake dating her. “Of- of course. It’d be an honour.” She sneers slightly at that, and you fall a little further. She can never know.
“Of course it’s an honour – I’m Cat Grant.”
That, she is.
She can never know.
Sometimes you have to repeat that in your head, several times a day, and look down at Kal-El and tell him stories about Krypton. She can never know. It’s a mantra that takes you more than a few years to break after you finally get together – after you finally stop fake dating, and even get married.
(It’s the wedding of the century, and only fifteen people attend.)
She can never know.
Except she does.
You both know.