The air in Cat Grant's CatCo office crackled with stress, a war zone of deadlines and demands. Empty coffee cups and papers were scattered across her desk-- a rare state of disarray for Cat. Her laptop dinged incessantly with emails, and her phone buzzed every few seconds with notifications. Cat leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples as she stared blankly at the ceiling. The sun had already set and the workday was long over, but there was still plenty of work to get done. It had been one of those days. No—one of those months. Deadlines missed, a key investor pulling out, a scandal involving one of her reporters.
In Cat's office, stress wasn't an unwelcome guest; it was a permanent resident now. And lately it was enough to make even the indomitable Cat Grant want to throw in the towel.
"Cat?"
The familiar voice made her jump slightly. She glanced up to see Supergirl hovering by the open door of her balcony, the house of El’s family insignia gleaming on her chest in the dim light.
"Supergirl," Cat said, her voice sharper than she intended and purposely avoiding her name.
‘Supergirl.’ Kara didn't need X-ray vision to see the layers of meaning in Cat's choice of words. It was a recognition of the boundaries they'd built, the walls Cat erected when the world became too much. And Kara, more than anyone, understood the need for those walls; the need to separate ‘Kara’ from ‘Supergirl’ sometimes.
Cat had long ago figured out Supergirl's identity, back when she was thrown from a plane and Supergirl saved her. After that happened, things quickly escalated into a relationship with her sunny assistant Kara Danvers.
The truth was that her interest in Kara went beyond professional curiosity, beyond mentorship, beyond even a fascination with her remarkable resilience. The truth that had finally exploded into the open that night in her office, amidst a whirlwind of confessions and a kiss that had left Cat breathless.
Afterward, 'Kara' became a sacred word, a private declaration of possession whispered against skin and moaned in the dark.
'Keira' was relegated to the boardroom, a necessary shield to deflect prying eyes and wagging tongues at CatCo. It was a performance, a carefully constructed façade to protect what they had.
Because Cat Grant, for all her power and bravado, knew that some battles were worth fighting in the shadows. And this love, fierce and unexpected, was one she would defend with every weapon in her arsenal, even if one of those weapons was a deliberately mispronounced name.
But right now, despite her formidable exterior, Cat was a creature of intense emotions.
When frustration gnawed at her and the world felt like it was closing in, the name 'Kara' became a liability. It was too close to the bone, too intertwined with the vulnerable, intimate side of their relationship. Calling Kara 'Kara' in those moments felt like cracking open a door to a part of herself she wasn't ready to expose.
'Supergirl,' on the other hand, was a safe haven. It was a title, a role, a symbol of strength and invincibility.
It allowed Cat to maintain a distance, to project her frustrations onto an image of unwavering power. It was easier to snap at Supergirl, to demand the impossible from Supergirl, than to let those raw emotions touch the fragile beauty of 'Kara.'
It was a defense mechanism, a way of protecting herself and, in a strange way, protecting Kara from the brunt of her own turmoil.
"Unless the world is ending, I really don't have time for—"
"The world can wait," Kara interrupted, her voice gentle but firm. She floated closer, those impossibly blue eyes filled with concern. "You, Cat, cannot."
Cat scoffed, gesturing at the mountain of paperwork threatening to avalanche off her desk. "Tell that to my shareholders, Supergirl. Or better yet, tell it to that gossip rag that's about to run a front-page exposé on—"
"No," Kara said, cutting her off again. She landed gracefully beside the desk, the movement surprisingly quiet for someone with superhuman strength. "No more. You're pushing yourself too hard, Cat. You haven't slept properly in days, you practically live on coffee and takeout, and that frown line," she reached out, her finger tracing the faint crease between Cat's eyebrows, "is starting to rival the Grand Canyon. Let me help."
Cat swatted her hand away, a flicker of annoyance mixed with a strange thrill at the touch.
"Oh, you'll be my assistant and my personal therapist now? Multitasking truly is your greatest superpower." Cat's words dripped with sarcasm, but her voice trembled just slightly, betraying her exhaustion.
More than familiar with Cat's moods, Kara took the jab in stride and continued to press. "You need to take a break. Even just a short one will help."
"A break?" Cat arched an eyebrow. "Do you have any idea—no, of course, you do. You have super-hearing. You’ve probably been eavesdropping all day."
Kara smiled sheepishly but didn’t deny it. "I could hear the stress in your voice from blocks away. Trust me, you need this."
Before Cat could ask what 'this' was, Kara swooped forward and, in one smooth motion, lifted her out of the chair, holding Cat tightly to her chest and the world suddenly tilted.
"Supergirl, you put me down this instant!" Cat shrieked, clutching at Kara's shoulders with a death grip as they soared out the open balcony.
"Not yet," Kara said, her voice light but firm.
The city lights blurred below them as they ascended quickly, the rush of wind nearly drowning out Cat's protests.
But as they climbed higher, something shifted within Cat. The wind, whipping against her skin, felt strangely exhilarating. The city, with all its noise and demands, shrank beneath them, becoming a miniature world of twinkling lights. A sense of detachment settled over her, a loosening of the tight knot of anxiety that had been her constant companion for weeks. It was unsettling, this loss of control, this surrender to the elements and to Kara's strength. Yet, there was an undeniable thrill in it too, a forbidden taste of freedom that made her heart race.
"Just trust me," Kara chuckled, the sound light and free as the wind.
"I am a Pulitzer-winning journalist, not a skydiving enthusiast," Cat screamed, but the edge of panic in her voice had softened, replaced by a flicker of something else, something akin to wonder. "This is not funny, take me down this instant!"
Kara only grinned. "Who said it was supposed to be funny? You need scream therapy," she said simply. "You're stressed and you need to let it out. Scream."
"Scream therapy? Are you insane?" Cat's voice rose with indignation. "I DO NOT scream."
"Really? Cause you could've fooled me about twenty seconds ago."
Cat gasped, her biting retort cut off as Kara shot upwards again.
The scream that burst from Cat was pure reflex, a mix of fear and outrage. Kara slowed down, hovering as the city became a patchwork of lights below them.
"There," Kara said, grinning. "Feel better?"
Cat's chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, "Are you out of your mind?!"
"Nope." Kara grinned, undeterred. "But you are stubborn." She cocked her head. "Want to go higher?"
"No!" Cat snapped, her heart pounding. "Take me back right now!"
But even as she demanded to be returned to solid ground, a strange sensation stirred within her. The city lights, usually so familiar, seemed distant and insignificant from this height. The wind whipped through her hair, carrying with it a hint of freedom, a sense of escape from the suffocating pressures of her life.
"Not until you let it out," Kara insisted. "I mean it, Cat. You’re carrying too much. You need to let go, even just for a minute."
Cat hesitated, her gaze drawn to the horizon where the city lights met the vast expanse of the night sky. Up here, above the noise and chaos, a sliver of doubt crept into her usual certainty. Could this actually help? Could screaming into the void somehow lessen the burden she carried?
"You're impossible," Cat growled, but there was less venom in her tone now.
Kara tilted her head, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sooooo... higher?"
"You wouldn’t dar—"
Before she could finish, Kara shot upward again, the wind whipping through their hair. Cat’s scream this time was less fear and more surprise, followed by a begrudging laugh she couldn’t quite suppress.
Then they steadied again; high in the sky the city became a tapestry of twinkling lights far below.
At this altitude Cat hesitated, a war raging within her. The idea of screaming into the void, of releasing all the pent-up frustration and fear, was both terrifying and strangely alluring.
"Fine," she finally conceded, her voice barely above a whisper. "But not here. Take me higher." Cat's gaze flickered between Kara's face and the stars above before adding as an afterthought, "If I fall to my death because of this, I'm haunting you."
"I would never let you fall," Kara whispered into Cat's ear, the sentiment heard before being carried away by the wind.
With a gentle hand on Cat's back, Kara propelled them upwards, taking her time now, soaring above the city until the twinkling lights looked like a scattered handful of diamonds. The wind whipped Cat's hair, the cold air stinging her cheeks, but she felt strangely alive.
"Higher," Cat urged, her voice gaining strength with every foot they ascended. "I want to be above the clouds."
Kara's lips curved into a knowing smile. "As you wish." Kara obliged, continuing skyward until they were enveloped in a soft, white blanket. The world was muted, the only sound the rush of wind.
Cat took a deep breath, the crisp air filling her lungs. She looked at Kara, a flicker of hesitance in her eyes.
"Ready?" Kara asked, her voice a soft caress.
Cat nodded, a steely glint returning to her gaze. "Ready."
Cat closed her eyes and let out a loud guttural scream. It started awkwardly, but as she continued, something inside her seemed to crack open. Her voice grew louder, more forceful, carrying every ounce of frustration, anger, and stress that had been buried inside her.
The primal screams were raw, unfiltered, and cathartic. With each scream, a weight seemed to lift from her shoulders, a tension released.
She screamed about the missed deadlines, the irate investors, the scandalous reporters. She screamed about the fear of failure, the pressure to always be perfect, the constant need to prove herself.
As she continued to scream, she felt a sense of freedom wash over her, a sense of release she hadn't experienced in a long time. It was as if the clouds themselves were absorbing her pain, her anger, her frustration.
When she finally stopped, she was breathless and exhausted, but also strangely peaceful. The weight that had been crushing her spirit had lifted, replaced by a sense of clarity and renewal.
Kara waited a few silent minutes with Cat held securely in her arms, Cat's chest heaving from the exertion, before she spoke.
"How do you feel?" Kara asked gently, her face full of affection.
Cat briefly looked away then back again. A hint of her usual sharpness returning to her gaze. Cat rolled her eyes. "Like I just embarrassed myself in front of the woman who already sees too much of me."
Kara gently tilted Cat's chin up, their eyes meeting in the dim moonlight. A slow, tender smile spread across Kara's face. "You're incredible, you know that?"
Cat's pulse quicken. "Kara," she whispered, the name slipping out before she could stop it. It was an acknowledgement, a confession, a plea.
And then, without a word, Kara leaned in and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, full of tenderness and understanding. As their lips met, Cat felt a surge of love and gratitude. This woman, this extraordinary woman, had saved her. She had given her a gift more precious than any headline or exclusive interview: the freedom to simply be for a few stolen moments in the sky.
When they finally broke apart Cat glanced at her, eyes shining. Then, with her signature coolness, she said, "Take me to the ground immediately, or I’m docking your pay."
Kara laughed but caught the small, genuine smile playing on Cat’s lips.
"As you wish," Kara replied, descending gently.
By the time they landed back at Cat’s office, Cat was back to her usual self, but Kara noticed a lighter energy about her.
"Thank you," Cat said softly, smoothing her hair and dress as she turned to face Kara. "But if you ever pull a stunt like that again without warning, I’ll—"
"You’ll what?" Kara teased, a playful smirk on her face.
Cat narrowed her eyes, but her smile lingered. "Just know you’re not invincible to my wrath, Supergirl."
"Noted." Kara leaned in, pressing a tender but brief kiss to the corner of Cat's mouth before floating backwards, and out the glass door connected to the balcony.
As Kara took off back into the night, Cat sat back at her desk, the chaos around her suddenly feeling less overwhelming. For the first time in weeks, she felt like she could breathe again.
And as she pressed her hand to the spot Kara had just kissed, she realized she was still smiling.