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gldngrl7 · 7 years

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Karamel Fic: Ruination (3/6)

Title: Ruination

Author: gldngrl7

Started: January 5, 2017

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 6

Chapter: 3/6

You know just how to make

My heart beat faster

Emotional earthquake

Bring on disaster

--Hailee Steinfeld/Gray – “Starving”

Her skin is hypersensitive to the slightest touch and Supergirl’s suit hugs her like a second skin in most places, leaving her overheated and tingling to the point of generating static electricity. Two seconds after pulling on her tights, she tears them off, unable to tolerate the tightness encasing her legs. Kara opts to simply wear the red boy-shorts beneath her skirt. Between the length of her skirt and the over-the-knee height of her red-leather boots, it’s unlikely anyone will notice her lack of tights.

It’s unlikely anyone has ever noticed that she wears them at all.

Kara flies to the DEO, landing in the main foyer on the floor of the building, just before Alex was about to call her.

“You’re late,” Alex accuses, though her tone lacks and sort of sting or reprimand.

“I’m sorry,” she replies. “I’m sorry. Did something happen?” Kara’s eyes dart about the room, people bustle about the Command Information Center, but she involuntarily seeks a certain welcoming grin.

“No I was just worried,” Alex answers.

“There’s no need to be worried,” Kara reassures, mechanically, as though she’d said the words a million times before.

“Oh my God,” Alex realizes, shock blooming on her face. “You’re looking for him, aren’t you?”

Kara slumps, caught in the act. “I just wanted to talk to him about…things. Have you seen him?”

“He checked out an hour ago, something about offering to help M’gann at the bar. Since he’s immune to the Medusa virus now, he’s one of the few people that can help with the Hazardous Materials protocols. Obviously the US government isn’t exactly keen on providing a HazMat team for the bar, but the entire place has to be decontaminated from top to bottom, every nook and cranny, before they can re-open. It’s also a bonus that he can use his super speed, so maybe the bar will be able to re-open in days instead of weeks. She even offered to pay him for his help.”

“That’s great!” Kara gushes. She’s truly happy for him, that he’s found a way to make some money, at least in the short term. And she’s proud of him for stepping up to help a person in need. But a part of her is disappointed that he’s not here for her. She needs to see him, to feel his hands on her, to ease this ache throbbing in her skin.

“Are you okay, Kara?” Alex asks, her countenance shifting to concern. “Your face is flushed.”

“Pfffft,” Kara waves her off. “I’m fine,” she says, downplaying her sister’s concern. “I’m just excited that Mon-El is helping M’gann, that’s all. It could be the start of something good,” Kara says hopefully.

“Or it could be because the alien bar is the only place that serves alcohol that can actually get him drunk,” Alex counters. Kara pins her with a glare that has her wondering if she’s on the menu at a barbecue. “All right,” Alex says, holding up her hand. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to give him the benefit of the doubt. For you.”

“Thank you,” Kara nods. “If you expect the worst of people, Alex, they’ll rise or fall just enough to meet your expectations.”

“Dad used to say that,” Alex bows her head, eyes suddenly drawn to the tips of her combat boots.

“I know.” After a moment of consideration, Kara tells Alex, “I can’t push him to be some perfect vision of a hero that I want him to be, so instead I think I’ll let him be a man who lost his whole world and is now trying to find his own way in this one. Eliza and Jeremiah—and you—gave me the space and the time to work through all that when I first arrived. At the very least, Mon-El deserves the same understanding.”

“I guess I never thought of it that way,” Alex says. Perhaps instead of judging her sister’s paramour based on some of his less savory actions, she should re-examine the fact that some of his decisions were made with the mind of a person who had experienced unimaginable trauma.

“He smiles and jokes, and to look at him you would think he didn’t have a care in the world,” she informs her sister. “But there’s nothing left of everything that he used to know, and that can’t be easy. Just maybe cut him some slack.”

“I will,” she decides. “But only for as long as it looks like he’s making an effort.”

“Fair enough,” Kara agrees. “Now where is this group of trainees I’m supposed to be pummeling?”

“Training room,” Alex replies.

“I hope this is as fun as training Team Arrow and the Legends.” Kara’s shoulders shrug upwards and she grins in a show of excitement, her hands rubbing together in anticipation. “Good times.”

“They’re baby agents, Kara. Try not to kill them.”

“Me?” she asks, faux offended. “I would never. Just going to blow off a little steam is all.” With a sharp pivot on her heels, Kara turns away, heading in the direction of the training room, and practically skips away. Alex watches her go, shaking her head with an endearing chuckle.

An hour later the training room floor is littered with the bodies of groaning agents in training, while Supergirl stands over them, arms akimbo. “Raise your hand if you’re really injured.”

“I think my arm is broken,” comes a muffled voice from a prone body near the wall.

“Ooh…Sorry,” Kara winces and apologizes while a supervising agent helps the man to his feet.

“It’s okay, Supergirl,” the injured man replies, his voice strained with pain. “It’s not your fault I didn’t stick the landing.”

“Let’s get you to the infirmary,” the supervising agent proposes.

“Good idea,” the trainee nods. Kara notices that he’s limping as well.

“Who wants to go again?” she asks the room. In unison, the trainees respond with a groan that she thinks is a negative answer. Just as she’s about to ramp up a rousing speech about not giving up and how the villains will never go as easy on them as she does, Kara’s super hearing detects a commotion at the CIC. “Be right back guys,” she says, distracted by the hustle and bustle down the hall. “Feel free to take five.”

“Yea,” an anonymous voice from somewhere near her feet groans.

Before she can even reach the control room, she’s met by Alex who is rushing to retrieve her. Before Kara can even ask what the commotion is about Alex is laying out the situation.

“A few moments ago a LifeFlight chopper suffered catastrophic engine failure and lost altitude on approach to the Carl Ferris Memorial Children’s Hospital. We assume the chopper crew is a total loss. But it slammed into the hospital’s long term care wing, and there have been at least two secondary explosions in the aftermath. Kara…just so you know…there will be casualties. Fire and Rescue will meet you there.”

Kara nods, her mind already conjuring the carnage that can be caused by an air-to-ground collision, and sends a prayer to Rao that she can save as many people as possible. Alex hands her a comms device, which she places into her ear.

In the air before her sister can say anything more, she flies at top speed to the burning hospital, arriving only moments after departing the DEO. Only one firetruck from a station at the other end of the block has arrived, but has yet to hook their hoses into a water source.

Before she can greet the Fire Chief she’s distracted by an all too familiar voice. “Supergirl!”

Her stomach does an extended series of flip flops and double back layouts before she even turns in his direction. Surprised by his presence, Kara changes her direction and floats to the ground, landing softly in front of him. “Mon-El, what are you doing here?” she asks.

“I was at the bar and I heard the crash,” he replies. “It’s just a mile away. Where do you want me?” he asks, his eyes on the raging fireball engulfing four of the hospital’s twelve stories.

“What?” she asks, momentarily taken aback by his question.

“What can I do?” he rephrases.

“Oh, right! Uhhh…I’ll start with the fire. Can you…help evacuate?”

Mon-El nods sharply. “I’ll check the hot zone first, see if there’s anyone that needs rescuing.” With that, he is gone, zipping away and leaping the seven floors to the hot zone, and for a moment all Kara can do is stare

Already pouring out of the hospital, some evacuees carry gowned patients, while others push wheelchairs and even a few gurneys. Her ears tell her that more fire engines and ambulances are only moments away. She turns to the Fire Chief before he can reach her and orders, “Start a triage!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.

Kara takes a deep breath, filling the substantial capacity of her lung before taking flight. She hovers near the raging flames, burning hot from the choppers diesel fuel and spewing forth thick, choking black smoke. Gathering her strength, she focuses and releases the icy breath from her lungs directly into the heart of the flames.

It takes several attempts to douse the hot blaze completely, and when the fire is out, Kara is better able to see the crater left behind by the chopper’s crash. Alex had been right when she’d said there would be casualties, and it wasn’t just the flight crew.

When she’d said the chopper struck the long term care wing, she meant children in comas, children on life support, and children with special needs so intense they couldn’t live outside of a hospital. The smell strikes her like a wave from a Kryptonite blaster and she has to fight to keep from going to her knees.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, tears streaming down her face, before he’s lifting her off her feet, slipping one arm under her knees and the other around her back to carry her from the charred room. Kara places her arms around his neck and tucks her head into his shoulder. Mon-El carries her far away from the crater, avoiding other people so that no one can witness her weakness. She’s shaking when he sets her down in an abandoned waiting room in another wing of the hospital, her legs wobbling beneath her.

“Supergirl,” he says, at first, before dropping his voice to a more intimate tone. “Kara. You’re okay.”

“But those…,” her breath catches and her throat clamps open and shut. She swallows to gain control, but still has to fight her heaving breath. “Those babies….”

“Were gone in an instant,” he tells her. His words are pragmatic, but his eyes are filled with compassion and empathy. “They felt no pain. And there was nothing anyone can do. They were gone before we even got here. You know that, right? Look at me and tell me you know that.”

She gazes into his eyes, as his thumbs swipe away that tears that fall from hers. “I know that,” she croaks with an almost imperceptible nod.

“Good girl,” he says, half of his mouth lifting into a crooked, joyless smile. He pulls her into his arms, stroking down her back until her breathing begins to normalize.

It’s then that she realizes he isn’t wearing a shirt and she pulls back to look at him. The fire had burned off his t-shirt and jacket, but left his jeans mostly intact with the exception of the bottom half of one leg. “What happened your clothes?” she asks, though she already knows.

“Yeah,” he scoffs as though reading her mind. “I stood up to the fire just fine. My clothes, however, did not.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Right as houses,” he answers, eliciting a quirked eyebrow from her. “Or is it safe as rain? I can never get those right.” After a moment, an unabashed grin spreads across his face.

Despite the tragedy on the other side of the building, laughter bubbles up inside of her and spills out before she can stop it. She covers her mouth, but can’t take her eyes off him.

“There’s my sunshine,” he whispers.

Her breath catches her chest and her laughter dies a quick death. His wistful smile disappears as well, as he wonders if he has overstepped. The words slipped out before he even had a chance to realize they were on the tip of his tongue.

He has little time to worry about the ramifications of his slip-of-the-tongue, because the next thing he knows her mouth is on his, her arms wrapping around tightly his neck. Unlike most of their previous kisses, this one is confident and sure, without the tentative hesitation he’d seen before. In the past, she’d let him lead, needed him to lead, but now she’s taking his lesson to heart and demanding what she needs – which seems to be her tongue in his mouth.

“Mmmm,” he moans, giving as good as he gets. Blindly, his hands find her hips and pull her closer together wraps his arms around her waist, under her cape and pulls her body closer to his, heating up the space between them.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his mouth when she retreats for her breath.

“For what?” he asks.

“For being here. For me.”

“No place I’d rather be,” he confesses, swooping back in for a kiss.

“Hey guys! Could you knock it off? You’re still on comms.” Alex’s voice filters through Kara’s earpiece. Considering his proximity to Kara, Mon-El has no difficulty hearing Alex’s stern command, flavored with a small amount of perturbation.

Like a flash of lightening, a mortified Kara is tearing her comms device from her ear like it’s a hot ember and turning it off, practically crushing it in the process. “Oh my God!” she cries, dropping her head into her palm.

Disappointed by the end of the kiss, Mon-El thinks it’s for the best, because there’s still work for Supergirl to do here. And he knows that, as much as he’d like to, he can’t allow this relationship (is it a relationship?) to move forward until he tells her the truth about what he discovered the night before.

“The floors affected by the fire have been cleared, including four people trapped in an elevator,” he apprises her. “I loaded kids up on hospital beds and jumped them to ground.”

“Seriously?” she asks, not too sure about his methodology.

“They enjoyed the ride,” he shrugs, modestly. “I was careful and they were too excited about the evacuation to be worried about the fire. Kept begging me for another go.”

“They’ll never forget you now.”

“Yeah, well,” he begins, but looks away. He doesn’t know where to take the conversation from there. It was exciting saving lives, but this was just a fire which is something he can handle, even if his clothing can’t. But going up against another villain like Parasite, is not an idea he relishes. “I did what I could.”

“Yes, you did,” she praises. “And today it was exactly what I needed.”

Her choice of words has his head snapping up, his gray eyes gazing into her blue. He’s hopeful when sees a spark of pride there. Mon-El gaze drops down to her lips and more than anything he wants to kiss her again, but knows that wouldn’t be the best idea. “Just glad I could help,” he says. “You should let the Rescue team know it’s safe to enter the building.”

“I will,” she nods. The tug her body feels towards his is visceral and overpowering, the way a positive charge is drawn to a negative. It’s magnetic. She knows that if she steps any closer to him she’ll be drawn inexorably into his gravity, and now isn’t the time or the place for that.

“If you don’t need me for anything else…I’ll head back to the bar. There’s still a lot of work to be done.”

“Okay,” she responds, wishing she had an excuse to keep him near her. “You should change into something…more. Try the laundry room, they’re usually in the basement. Hospitals usually keep extra scrubs around for…clothing emergencies.” It occurs to her suddenly that he might not be familiar with the term and opens her mouth to explain.

“I know that term!” he says, before she can explain. “From the show with all the doctors having sex. Thanks for the advice. You’re sure they won’t mind?

“I’m sure they’ll consider it the least they could do.” He lingers before leaving, as though not quite ready to part from her yet. Kara interprets this as a good sign and decides to jump on the opportunity before he’s gone. “Will I see you later?”

What she wants to ask is ‘will we have sex later?’, but she’s not quite courageous enough for that. She doesn’t want to appear over-eager like one of those girls so clingy the guy practically has to peel her off of him, all while rolling his eyes in disgust. Her insides hit the pause button while she waits for his answer.

Mon-El wracks his brain debating what to say to her. Without a doubt, he wants to see her later, but there’s the small matter of the obstacle in his way, namely the serious discussion about her future sex life, or lack thereof. It’s a discussion they need to have sooner rather than later, and for her sake, it should be down away from the prying eyes and ears of the DEO.

“Hey…do you like ice cream?” Mon-El asks.

“I love ice cream.”’ she gushes. “Who doesn’t? I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!”

She’s effervescent, he thinks, like that first fizzy taste of Champagne when the fine bubbles dance on your tongue and up your nostrils just before the flavor hits. Her everyday joy is the anchor that keeps him together, keeps him from exploding into the cosmos like infinite particles of stardust. He doesn’t know how it happened so quickly, but it would kill him to lose her.

“There’s an ice cream shop on Becker, across from the park close to the DEO…”

“I know the place,” she nods, her smile suddenly shy again.

Kara wipes her palm against the skirt of her suit and Mon-El notices for the first time that she’s not wearing her usual darkly opaque tights. She’s just bare skin between the hem of her skirt and the top of her boots. His body reacts to the realization in an entirely inappropriate manner.

“I should be done for the day around 5. Would you meet me there?”

“Yeah,” she replies, breathily and almost too quickly. Then she corrects herself with the more formal and certain, “Yes! I’d like that. It’s a date.”

“See you there…sunshine.”

A knot in her chest releases then, unfurling like a flower in spring, as if she’d been holding on to that tightness since the first time he called her that. “Can’t wait.”

The breeze of his departure wafts through her hair and her body instantly feels the void of his presence. He had held her up when she had teetered on the edge of a full breakdown. Coaxed a smile when the darkness around them promised to swamp her.

He had told her everything was okay and, somehow, his presence had made that true.

TBC

#karamel #karamel fic #hanging on letting go series

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