Archive of Our Own

It’s exactly eight months and five days when he returns to the precinct from his undercover mission, and his world is entirely flipped upside down from the change.

Of course, Mon-El expected change. He expected everyone to react differently to their time apart, expected the need to mend relationships because of lost time. But he did not, however, expect to learn these things about everyone, all in a row:

1.) Maggie got a dragon tattoo that curled around the entirety of her left arm.

2.) Alex and Maggie began dating three months into his leave (he kind of expected that, actually.)

3.) Winn grew a beard (which they all decided, promptly after Mon-El’s return, to hold him down and shave off themselves.)

4.) J’onn took over as captain (that was more than okay to Mon-El—Henshaw was a terrible captain anyway.)

5.) His desk was moved to the other side of the precinct.

and

6.) Kara and Jimmy broke up after their two-year anniversary.

That last bit is what surprises him the most.

The whole precinct had a bet going for the each important date of Kara and Jimmy’s relationship—them moving in together, their engagement, and then the subsequent date of their marriage. In fact, right before he left, Kara and Jimmy had just moved in together. He smiled softly at Kara’s bright face when she announced it, collecting the bank he had just earned for hitting the mark correctly, a small something thrumming within his heart.

Mon-El allocated the reason to leaving all his friends—hell, his family—behind for an indeterminate amount of time. This domestic playfulness he’d come to regard so highly was slipping from his grasp, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever get a part of it again. It seemed to be alright to him if that’s how he left everyone, knowing that he’d never forget them for a single moment, relishing in the memories he shared with them before staking off into the unknown world of undercover life.

And it’s a bitch.

Changing who you are, pretending like you are on the side of people who steal and think killing people is a source of enjoyment . . . it’s a drag. More importantly, it’s exhausting. It gets tiring having to respond to the name “Leo Balducci” and pretending like Italian food is his favorite and applying shit-tons of gel to style his hair and acting like he couldn’t give a single damn about the lives of the people around him.

But then he’s granted the opening he’s been dying to grab a hold of during his entire stint as an undercover cop. When the whole mob is gathered in one area together for a family reunion, a flood of police officers rush through the building, and he’s finally allowed to return home once again.

A tattoo. A new relationship. A beard. A new captain. A new desk. A breakup.

Things moved on without him. And instead of being paired up with Winn like always, he’s now Kara’s new partner in crime.

An interesting turn of events, yes.

He and Kara Danvers never exactly clicked entirely when working cases together during his time P.U. (pre-undercover; he’s really gotta come up with a better acronym for that.) She’s always had a fiery spirit and strong opinions, and when Kara Danvers makes up her mind, she’s set on it. That proved to be a quality meant to brilliantly clash against Mon-El’s own bull-headedness, and they always fought when working cases together.

But she was always a good friend to him when it mattered most and cared about him and saw him in a way that no one else did.

. . . Which is why the change in partners has become infinitesimally more difficult to adjust to.

He just doesn’t know what to think of Kara anymore. 

To be fair, he doesn’t think she knows what to make of him, either.

They’re primary partners now, so he actually has to spend time on learning Kara, a task not too unfamiliar with him now that change has breezed its way through the precinct. He’s gotta get back on his toes somehow, though, so worrying his mind over long-term itinerary items is the last thing he’s thinking of.

He’s already got plans to get everything back up and running for himself, and that starts with diving head-first into a case, just like old times.

//

“What was going undercover like?” Kara asks him the following morning after he’s returned, sliding a hot cup of coffee onto his desk. Mon-El leans back in his chair, pushing up the sleeves of his flannel.

“Uhm?” is the only response he can formulate, because truly that’s a loaded question. There’s a lot of answers he has to that because there’s not just one emotion behind it, not a single experience wrapped up in months of sub-rosa work.

“C’mon, what was going undercover like? What did you see? What did you do?”

Mon-El sighs, sliding his bribery coffee back over towards Kara, instead choosing to focus on the case files piled upon his desk.

“Alright, Danvers,” he uses her last name in a last-ditch effort to gain control of the conversation and hopefully avoid the topic at hand, “Is this your way of getting reacclimated to my return? Because I don’t care about that. I just want to go back to being a police detective like before.”

Kara rolls her eyes at him, nudging the coffee back with her fingers.

“No, I really want to know how that went.”

Mon-El finally sees it, that Kara spark that lights up in her eyes when she really wants something. He should’ve known it’d be of key interest for her—she was always a teacher’s pet, trying to do her best to stay at the top.

She’s jealous of him.

Well, he can assure her that going undercover is stupid as hell.

“You really wanna know what it’s like to go undercover?” Kara nods her head furiously, and Mon-El has half a mind to reach out and still the mug in her hand. “What do you want me to tell you, Kara?” She shrugs. Mon-El sighs. “Alright, fine. Here’s how going undercover is—it sucks.”

Kara tilts her head, brow furrowed.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. And it’s even worse when you know you could be trapped in this circuit forever with a group you never wanted to be associated with. You lose all sense of self and it becomes hard to wrap your brain around the life you once had because it begins to blend in with the life you have now. Next thing you know you’re Leo Balducci, a guy who gels his hair back on the regular and does hit jobs on the weekends but helps out with the local restaurant run by the mafia on weekdays. You painstakingly mark away the days on the calendar, counting up instead of counting down because you don’t know when you’re going to return home.

“And then,” he continues with a final breath, “You find yourself lonely, only you realize that it’s not different as it was back home. You have no one here and no one anywhere, and suddenly your ties to your old life become so fucking possible to break. And that, Kara, is what going undercover is like.” Mon-El steals a swig of coffee during Kara’s silence as she ponders over his words, her mind processing. Eventually her gaze meets his again, her electric blue eyes startling him. Her foot reaches out and gently nudges his leg, and he prepares for that pity-fest he knew would be promised on return.

It doesn’t come.

“You didn’t have to tell me. I’m sorry I pressed.”

And she’s genuine. Mon-El’s always appreciated that about Kara, but since his experiences undercover, her sincerity has rattled him a lot differently than before.

“It’s alright. You didn’t know,” he says, giving her a half-smirk. “Thanks for the bribery coffee, by the way.”

Kara snorts, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Of course, partner,” she tells him, and Mon-El can’t help but smile.

Partner. He likes that.

. . .

(A lot.)

//

Mon-El’s about half-way through a bag of Twizzlers from his secret stash when he finally cracks one of the B&E cases from the pile, standing abruptly from his chair and cheering triumphantly. Kara nearly falls out of her own seat, having long-since drifted to sleep (on accident, of course) since they had taken a night shift together.

“What? What’s up?” Kara sits upright immediately, wiping the drool from the corner of her mouth.

“I figured it out. Our perp was definitely the wife’s cousin. He had the motive, his alibi was fake, and just look at him. He’s a total sleazeball,” he replies, earning laughter from a still semi-drowsy Kara.

“Sleazeball?” she raises a brow at him.

“What, would you prefer the term ‘bozo’?” he asks.

“No one uses the term ‘bozo’ anymore. Where are you getting your lingo from? A 1920’s slang book?”

“Alright, Danvers, color me intrigued. What word would you like to use to describe him?”

Kara puckers her lips, thinking on it a moment before answering.

“Douche-canoe,” she decides. Mon-El stares at her a moment before bursting into a peal of laughter.

“Oh my god,” he says, “Never did I ever think that word would leave your mouth, Kara. Honestly, I was expecting something along the lines of ‘butthead’.”

Kara sighs, rolling her eyes at him.

“Alright, alright, Matthews. Let’s just go catch that guy already, okay? I need to get my beauty sleep.”

Kara walks back over to her desk, pulling out her top drawer and extracting the gun she lets rest there—a practice she only sticks to when she has no inclination to move from her desk. She places it into the holster at her side and Mon-El picks up his jacket, motioning for her to go on first. She offers him a tiny grin, exiting the bullpen and pressing the button for the elevator, filing inside once it’s made it to their floor.

And maybe, just maybe, Mon-El doesn’t mention to her what he was thinking when she said she needed her beauty sleep. Because he’s seen her when she’s gone days without rest, her eyes worn weary from need for slumber, her hair mussed up and her skin pale, and he’s certain of one thing—

Kara Danvers is beautiful, no matter the condition.

It doesn’t take rocket science to know that. But it does take guts to admit that to himself, and he doesn’t think he can, not right now.

Perhaps another time.

//

Taking the time to know Kara is like reading a book from your childhood—you have a vague idea of what it’s about going in years later, but then you look at it with a new mind, and suddenly it’s a whole other story from what you once thought.

That’s Kara.

Before, to him at least, she was Detective Hardass. She’d fight with him relentlessly about cases to the point where he’d have to shovel down ten drinks at the bar later in order to relieve stress. Kara always had this air about her where she always seemed ‘higher than thou’, and he hated that smug look on her face whenever she cracked a case before him.

She drove him crazy, to say the least.

Now he’s seen her in a new light and gotten to really know her.

She’s particular in her tastes and complex in the way she thinks, but her heart is made of pure gold, and it’s what stands out the most about her. She’s incredibly kind-hearted, and all she wants to do is protect everyone, but then she’s also stubborn as hell and unyielding in her opinions. And one thing that Mon-El never got to know about her before becoming partners with her?

She has her own secret chocolate stash in her desk, just like he has his own secret Twizzlers stash in his desk. They’re alike in more ways than he first thought, and it’s kind of becoming scary to him that he wants to actually be around her.

Even more than that now, they’re starting to trust each other.

On more than a handful of occasions, Mon-El’s let it slip to her bits and pieces of his experience undercover. And it’s not just the surface stuff, either. He’s confessed to her the situations he was placed with that still rub him raw with emotion, the things that still haunt his dreams and leave him waking up in the middle of the night with sweat dripping down his forehead in buckets.

Kara hasn’t let the things that bother her about her life slip as much, but they’re still there, ever-so-present, like the fact that she’s adopted, or the fact that she’s had a hard time fitting in her entire life, or even her recent break up with Jimmy, resulting in the termination of their partnership at the precinct.

Despite her reluctance to show Mon-El her true colors, she still shows them in little gestures, especially when Jimmy walks into the office with Winn after having caught another criminal, and he can tell that his bright smile has the ability to tear Kara down.

Which is why it’s not surprising when he finds her in the evidence locker during one of their voluntary night shifts, a bottle of wine in her hand and a sad look on her face.

Mon-El makes no motion to talk to her about what’s getting her down or look at her with surprise for breaking a precinct rule. Instead, he just plops down on the ground next to her, extending a hand out and waiting for her to allow him the cheap bottle of cabernet sauvignon. She relinquishes it after a couple more sips, leaning her chin on top of her knees afterward.

“We said it was amicable,” Kara says hoarsely, chewing at the skin on her upper lip.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want,” Mon-El offers her an out. She shakes her head.

“No, I need to. I want to tell you,” she corrects herself, her hand reaching out, asking for the bottle back.

“Alright, I’m here to listen.”

And she tells him.

Kara confesses how their relationship was doomed from the start (in retrospect), how it became more about being together because it seemed like the right thing to do. But then there was also the fact that he was two whole years of her life, and she imagined at one point what it would be like to be married to him and have kids with him. No matter how much it was the right decision, she still felt like Jimmy took a big part of her with him when they decided to end it, and it hurts her to see that he’s well and functioning while she has to sit in an evidence locker and drink her feelings down.

“Kara, I can guarantee you that Jimmy is just as bad off, if not worse,” Mon-El assures her once she’s done, her chest still heaving a bit from when it was wracked with sobs. Kara furrows her brow, glancing over at him when he says that, confusion apparent on her face.

“How can you tell?” she asks. Without hesitating or meeting her gaze, Mon-El drains the bottle, giving her his answer after, clear as day.

“Because he lost you.”

//

After their heartfelt conversation in the evidence locker, things have gone along pretty light and breezy. Well, at least they have for Kara. For Mon-El . . . it’s a different story.

He’s since realized that he’s in love with Kara.

And frankly, when hasn’t he been? Even before their partnership, she was always a nagging voice in the back of his head, telling him what to do. He pretended like he hated having her around, hated having her arguing with him over mundane things, but really those quarrels always gave him a rush unlike any other.

He became determined to get a rise out of her over everything and anything after that, just to feel that rush once again.

But now he wants to know her more. He wants to be able to talk to her about how their day went without worrying if he’s intruding in her personal space, and every once in a while his hand will itch with want to brush the stray hairs out of her face.

Needless to say, it’s getting pretty bad.

Even more so, he knows better than to make a move. Mon-El’s well aware of how recent it was that she and Jimmy broke it off and how much it affects her, so he’s not going to push something that he’s fairly certain she wouldn’t appreciate or be interested in.

There’s also the fact that not just their partnership but their friendship means the world to him, and he’s not about to mess up something good just because he’s caught a case of feelings for her.

In fact, he works a dozen more solo cases than usual in order to avoid working alongside her.

In a way, it’s sort of a good deal for him—working more cases means that he can really get into the swing of things fully once again. It had been a slow roll, but the small arrests tally up in the end, giving him the push he needs to get back in the game. But then Kara gets wind of his adamant want to work on cases by himself, paying him a visit during his lunch in the breakroom, pulling the seat out across from him and plopping down into it in a huff.

“You’ve been trying not to work with me,” she says, a statement more than a question.

“What? No,” he tries to deny, but a flicker of nervousness crosses his eyes, and Kara, ever the great detective she is, catches it.

“Mon-El,” Kara presses, then leans forward, lowering her tone, “Is this about the other night?”

God, has she caught him red-handed? Does she know that he can’t shut his fucking heart up for the life of him?

“No,” he assures her, trying his best to put on a believable façade, “I’ve just been trying to adjust still, you know? It’s . . . it’s been hard.” Not a lie. That has been a big part of his stress over the past couple weeks. Kara sighs, bowing her head for a moment and then reaching across the table, her hand settling on his after. Mon-El desperately tries to quell the erratic beating of his heart in his chest to no avail.

“Mon-El, you don’t have to be alone, okay? I know I won’t ever know exactly what you went through when you were undercover, but don’t count me out just yet. I’m your partner, and more importantly than that, I’m your friend. I want to be someone you can come to about your problems. Can you do that?”

Only the problems that don’t involve you, he says in his mind before raising his eyes, meeting them with as much of a smile as he can muster and nodding.

“Of course, Kara.”

She heaves a sigh of relief, a grin flashing across her face as she moves her hand away.

“Great! Then when you’re done with lunch, I want to go over a case, okay?” she asks.

“Sure.”

She beams one last time before rising from the table and disappearing from the breakroom.

Mon-El makes sure to not recall the feeling of disappointment the moment her hand left his, instead focusing on eating the rest of his leftover lo mein from the night before.

//

One night, after solving a big case together, the whole squad goes to their favorite bar to get drinks and celebrate, as per tradition. Mon-El loves being able to get together with everyone like this again, just like he did before he left, but instead of enjoying it, it just makes him nostalgic for the time he missed with all of them.

Mon-El sits at the bar, away from everyone celebrating and chatting animatedly, sipping at his pint of beer and thinking to himself. Apparently no one gets the hint that he wants to be alone, though, because Winn’s at his side nearly ten minutes later, ordering a beer and sliding into the empty stool next to him.

“Hey, buddy,” Winn greets him cheerful, “Everything been going okay?”

Mon-El shrugs.

“As good as it can be. How about you? Or better yet, how’s Jimmy been?”

Winn offers him a tiny quirk of the lips, picking at the bowl of peanuts on the bar.

“Good. Jimmy’s managing. He likes to tell me that he’s ‘totally fine’ with the whole thing, but I’m not stupid. Kara’s a great person, and he’d be stupid not to mourn over their relationship ending.”

Mon-El hums, agreeing.

“Sure is,” he says, stealing a swig of his beer. Winn’s eyebrow arches upon his forehead, as if he had just read an interesting factoid about the Star Wars universe he hadn’t before.

“How’s working with Kara?” Winn asks.

“Good. She doesn’t stop bothering me no matter what, but it’s all good.”

“Mhm, good. That seems to be your favorite word tonight,” Winn says, earning a side-glance from Mon-El.

“Yup, it certainly is an adjective,” Mon-El quips, finishing up his beer and pushing the glass forward on the counter for a refill.

“So, you’re certain there’s nothing bothering you?”

“I am certain everything is one-hundred percent peachy-keen.”

Winn’s beer appears as Mon-El’s glass disappears, and he slides the bowl of peanuts over to Mon-El. He shakes his head and declines the offer, his gaze trained on the polished counter, tracing the glass rings stained into the wood.

“And you’re certain that you’re not avoiding everyone because you have feelings for Kara?”

Mon-El’s brow raises, his eyes meeting Winn’s, wide with surprise.

“What?” he chokes out.

“Oh, you poor, sweet summer child. Do you think I, Winn Schott Jr., would never notice something like that? Dude, I’ve known you’ve had the hots for Kara since forever ago. I just didn’t pressure you about it because she was dating Jimmy at the time. And now she’s free as a bird and you’re being a scaredy-cat and pretending you don’t have feelings for her because it might “hurt your friendship”, when in reality you’re wasting time you could’ve spent with her. Am I right?”

Well, fuck.

“Look, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t make you answer that. But just remember—life is short. She’s not going to be free forever. We’re all cops, and we can’t really afford not telling people about our feelings, even if those people are our co-workers who just got out of a relationship a couple of months ago. If anything, do yourself a favor and tell her, okay? I hate seeing you all moody and angsty like a teenager.”

Mon-El grunts in acknowledgement.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Oh, and Mon-El? One more thing.” Mon-El perks up, listening to his friend after he senses the slight edge to his voice. “Kara asked for you to be her partner. She wouldn’t take anyone but you.”

Winn pats Mon-El on the back a couple of times before walking away with his beer in hand, returning to the rest of the group. Mon-El  contemplates what Winn said, his mind dizzy. He spares a glance in the direction of the squad, his eyes immediately locking onto Kara’s. She gives him a small wave and a smile and he returns the gesture before she reverts her attention back to the conversation she’s in the middle of, and Mon-El sighs.

Fuck this shit.

//

Stakeout duty was never Mon-El’s favorite thing to do. He has a constant itch to be in action, and just the idle waiting for something that may or may not happen drives him crazy. But tonight Kara’s with him, watching for their perps from the top of a dimly lit building, and he thinks he might just be okay with this.

Also, she brought a couple of thermoses worth of coffee and snacks, and Mon-El can’t really complain about that.

“Sunflower seeds?” Kara offers him the bag. Mon-El takes it gratefully before cramming a handful of them into his mouth, and she makes a look of disgust at the sight. “Ugh! Why can’t you take small bites of things like everyone else does?”

“What? I was feeling snacky,” he mumbles through the mouthful of seeds, finishing chewing them and then swallowing, clearing his throat after. “Don’t lie. You love it.”

Kara clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes.

“Can’t say that I do. Anyway, how long have we been out here?” she asks him. Mon-El pulls his phone out of his pocket, checking the time.

“Only three hours,” he answers.

“This is taking forever,” Kara leans her head back, groaning. Mon-El cocks his head at her.

“Why, did you have somewhere important to be?” He doesn’t miss the way her cheeks turn a bright red, even in the pale light, and he can’t help but be curious. “Wait, are you skipping out on like . . . a date?”

“. . . Maybe?” she says, grinning sheepishly. Mon-El doesn’t miss the way his heart pangs with a bit of hurt. What was it that Winn said the other night?

She’s not going to be free forever.

And it hits him—he’s going to have to tell her how he feels, isn’t he?

Shit.

“Kara,” Mon-El sighs, handing her back the bag of sunflower seeds, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Kara’s brow furrows immediately.

“What’s up, Mon-El?”

His heart thrums within his chest a million times faster than normal, and he feels his hands go clammy as if he were dealing with a high school crush or something. But this isn’t a crush. This is Kara Danvers, incredibly smart detective, kind human, loyal friend. She’s worth so much to him and she needs to know how he feels.

“I know it’s so soon after I got back and you broke up with Jimmy, but I . . . I wanna tell you." He breathes. "I like you. You know, like you like you. And I have for a while now, I just never said anything because I wasn’t going to intrude on what you had going on with Jimmy because it wasn’t my place to. But now I’m back and you’re my partner, and I just can’t stop being reminded of how great it is to have someone like you in my life. You’re a one of a kind person, Kara,” he confesses, the words just flowing off his tongue like diarrhea of the mouth. He glances back at Kara, his heart sinking in his chest like the Titanic when he sees her conflicted gaze. Then his name tumbles out of her mouth slowly like she had eaten food from her fridge that had just turned, and he can’t bear to face her anymore.

“Mon-El . . . I . . . I appreciate you telling me this. I . . . I just—” she tries to explain, but Mon-El decides to save her the trouble, holding up his hand to stop her.

“It’s alright, Kara. I didn’t expect you to feel the same way. I just thought you needed to know the truth, since you’re my friend. Right?”

The corners of her mouth quirk upward into a pitiful smile, and Mon-El restrains himself from sighing.

There it is. There’s more of the pity to add to his sad, pity fest.

“Of course. You’re always going to be my friend,” she agrees, pointing back over to the area they’re supposed to be watching after. “Now let’s get back to our stakeout. I doubt J’onn would appreciate us missing out on our perps because we were talking.”

Mon-El hums silently, not bothering to argue with her on that one, even if it’s a diversion tactic so that she can avoid talking about the prior subject any further.

Besides, he’d rather sit in silence than have to deal with the searing pain rupturing his heart.

//

Another month passes by and Mon-El’s met with an excruciatingly long hiatus in solving cases. He’s not sure the cause of the block, but he can guess it probably has to do partly with being off his game since Kara rejected him.

It’s not like that’s keeping him from doing his job or straining his relationship with Kara, though. The distance between them has gotten more palpable, much to his chagrin. But he’s getting over it, albeit slowly, and even though it has affected how Kara acts around him a little, they’re still a well-oiled machine when they work together. She’s still his friend, which is a relief to him.

That doesn’t make him any less in a slump, though.

Everyone on the force is aware of Mon-El’s slump, however, and everyone does their best to stay away from him when his bad luck starts spreading. It drives him insane—their evasion of him is just like if he was sick, and it certainly doesn’t help his spirits. He ends up spending most of his time at his desk pouting instead, mad that there’s nothing he can do to change his state of affairs and deciding to just ride it out.

That is, until Kara pops a giant case file on his desk, her arms crossed against her chest and foot tapping as she awaits his attention.

“C’mon, stop wallowing and get off your butt. You’re not going to fix anything sitting idly by. Let’s solve ourselves a case.”

Mon-El gets off his ass like Kara suggests, digging his heels into the case immediately alongside her. It’s an interesting case that she’s got for them, too—a series of robberies from shipments coming in off the coast, the items in the cases priceless jewels.

They spend a good half of the day investigating the apartment building across from the shipment dock, knocking on the doors and asking everyone in the building if they saw anything. It takes an exhaustingly long time, but they end up with a small lead in the end. Someone tells them they saw some men headed over towards the dock in the dead of the night the other day, and Kara and Mon-El thank them before convening after.

It leads them to another stakeout and Mon-El mentally prepares himself for the stakeout redux, praying that nothing of his dumb, stupid feelings comes up. He even brings the food this time as a peace offering. Then they settle together on the rooftop of the apartment building, watching and waiting.

. . . In silence.

And frankly, Mon-El hates it. He knows that it’s important to pay attention to the potential crime hotspot, but not even making small talk with Kara has him itching in his seat. So he deems it his responsibility to fix that.

With snacks.

“Want some food, Kara? I brought potstickers,” he says, pulling the container out of the thermal bag by his feet. Her eyes flash over to him, practically bulging out of her skull from excitement.

“You brought potstickers?!” she exclaims softly. He nods his head, grinning.

“Yup, and some club soda. You know, cause you like that stuff. Figured I should pitch in and get the food sometimes.”

He watches her melt, her smile reaching her eyes as she takes the potsticker container from him.

“That’s very sweet of you. Thanks, Mon-El.”

Mon-El doesn’t miss the way that Kara’s forehead crinkles, though, alerting him to some unsaid thing on her mind.

“You alright, Kara? You’re crinkling.”

Kara reaches up to the crease inbetween her brows and then her crystalline eyes meet his, the delicate blue hue of her irises a lot more melancholy than usual.

“How do you know me so well?” she asks him. Mon-El’s brows furrow, and confusion brews in his mind.

“I pay attention,” he answers plainly. Before Kara can continue, however, shouting erupts from across the lot, and both of them are on their feet almost instantaneously, rushing down the steps of the building to get to the dock as quickly as possible.

Kara allows Mon-El ahead first as they creep slowly towards the warehouse next to the dock where the shouting emerged, their guns clenched tightly in their hands. Mon-El inches up against the side of the warehouse and Kara gives him the signal that she’s going to head around the back, and he nods in response, his attention drawn back to the group of men at the entrance.

“Johnny said he’d be here in thirty minutes with the truck. Where’s Tony?” a male voice asks.

“He’s out back checking the inventory. A couple more loads and we’ll be out of here, boys,” another male voice says. Mon-El’s alerted immediately to the man’s words—

Tony’s out back.

And he remembers—Kara.

Before he can turn and go to the back of the warehouse to catch her, a third voice pipes up.

“Well, well, look who I found out back. A little pig, snooping around. Too bad she didn’t know I was there. I got her gun and everything.”

Mon-El goes still.

They have Kara.

Then another thing registers in his mind, the voice of the third man who appeared, Tony. His voice sends off a million red flags in his head, and he realizes why not a moment too soon.

Tony is one of the men from the mob he was a part of while undercover. He’s one of three men who escaped, and really one of the worst of them.

He won’t hesitate to kill, to say the least. Mon-El’s gotta think quick, and fast.

Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t have the time to, because the sound of a trigger being clicked into place becomes all too real. Mon-El decides in the end to toss his badge to the side and place his gun in his holster, making sure it’s out of sight before rushing onto the scene.

“Tony, stop!” he shouts, his hands up. The men around Tony lift their own guns, ready to shoot on command.

“Boys, put your guns down. This here is one of my boys from before the Ricci’s were put out of business,” Tony commands them, his own gun not leaving its spot on Kara’s forehead. “Leo, long time no see. You know this cop?”

Mon-El gulps, nodding his head.

“I do, Tony. I do.”

He’s aware Tony knows he was a cop (an ex-cop when he had joined, as per his undercover story.) There’s no reason that Tony should trust him, but he’s banking on him still holding a small amount of trust.

“Shoulda known you were the mole!” he laughs incredulously, “Never trust a cop, even if he claims he’s not one anymore.”

“No, you got it all wrong, Tony. I got out on bail by my ma after the reunion, not by a bunch of dirty cops. I just . . . this is my girl. From when I was a cop.”

Tony’s eyebrows shoot into his forehead.

“This your girl? Oh buddy, has working for the Ricci’s taught you nothing? I should just shoot her to save you the trouble.”

He shoves the pistol even harder into Kara’s forehead and she struggles underneath his hold he has on her, her eyes wide and panicked. Mon-El makes no sudden movements despite having to fight himself not to, keeping a level head.

“Tony, let her go. I was watching her to make sure she didn’t mess with what you were doing. I heard you were back into the smuggling business again and was trying to keep you out of trouble. I can take care of her, okay?”

There’s conflict in Tony’s gaze, as if he’s really contemplating Mon-El’s words and offer. Mon-El just prays he’s convincing enough.

“Okay, Balducci. I’ll let you have her,” he says finally, pushing Kara back over to him. She stumbles into his chest cowering against him. “Now shoot her. I know you got a pistol on you; you always do. So shoot her for us to prove that you’re on our side.”

Kara’s eyes glance up at Mon-El’s long enough for him to give her a tiny gesture with his chin, hoping she catches his drift and that she still has that extra gun on her that he knows she keeps for dire circumstances.

“You’ve got it, Tony,” Mon-El tells him, reaching at his back for his gun. He turns around quick to face Tony, holding him at gunpoint, ready to shoot.

“I shoulda known better than to trust you ya rat,” Tony spits, cocking his own weapon, “But you do realize that it’s just you with a gun, surrounded by all of us guys?”

Mon-El smirks.

“You said it yourself, Tony. You should know better to trust me. So why do you trust that I only have one gun?”

Kara whips out her own gun and shoots at the two men at Tony’s side, incapacitating them before they have time to register. Tony shoots off the weapon in his own hand and Mon-El does the same, hitting Tony square in the arm he’s shooting with. He drops the gun on the ground, stumbling as he grips his bleeding arm.

“Fuck you, Balducci!!! Or is that even your name?!” he grits out. Mon-El shrugs, walking over to Tony and kicking the pistol far from his reach.

“Depends on who you ask.”

Mon-El reaches down to cuff Tony, patting him down afterward for any more weapons he might have (and he’s not surprised—another gun and about three different types of knives.) He glances over at Kara who’s already cuffed the other two men, their weapons kicked out of the way, as well. She’s on the phone, already calling the precinct and then asking for an ambulance. As soon as she presses the end dial on her phone Mon-El is by her side, worry etched into his brow.

“You alright?” he asks her. She smiles up at him only barely, her face now worn from stress.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks to you. How about you?”

“Never better,” he says, placing his hands into his pockets. A slight pang suddenly shoots through his arm, though, and he winces, causing Kara to become fraught again. She stills him and begins combing over his arms until a tiny gasp escapes her lips, her eyes wide.

“You’re hurt!” she exclaims, her fingers gently prodding the recently acquired wound. Mon-El looks at it, sighing like it’s an annoyance more than anything.

“Oh, geez. Tony’s bullet must’ve grazed me,” he tells her. “I’ll be fine, no worries.”

“No, what we are going to do is go to the emergency responders when they get here and get that fixed up. I’m not about to have you go passing out because you’re an idiot.”

And Kara follows up on that right away, not even bothering to give J’onn the time of day as she tugs Mon-El towards the responders, waiting patiently as they stitch him up. Once they’ve finished, they tell Mon-El how to take care of his arm before giving him the all-clear to go meet up with J’onn.

“I see you found one of the missing three and solved the robbery case. Good job, detectives,” J’onn says as soon as they meet up with him. Kara perks up proudly beside Mon-El, but then gives his arm a gentle nudge with her elbow, smiling softly.

“Don’t thank me, it was all Mon-El. We wouldn’t have caught these guys if it wasn’t for his quick thinking,” she informs him. J’onn nods.

“Very well. Good job, Matthews. Making me proud, as always. Now do me a favor and go home and get some rest. I know the two of you have been out all night, and I certainly don’t want you coming in this week with your arm all injured like that. You should probably take the week off, too, Danvers. You two just worry about resting up first.”

“Got it, sir,” Mon-El acknowledges. “Have a nice night.”

As they walk off, J’onn yells,

“Make sure Matthews doesn’t drive, Danvers!”

Kara snorts, calling back,

“I won’t, sir!”

Kara sticks her hand out towards Mon-El, gesturing for the keys to his car. He reaches into his pocket and tosses them over to her, giving her a stern look meaning—

You better not wreck my car.

She shoots him a look back that says,

Wouldn’t dream of it.

//

She drives him home in silence.

It’s weird to Mon-El how she’s able to just tune out like that after so much happened within a short period of time. In fact, all he wants to do right now is talk to her about what happened, if she’s alright, but he can also sense when someone doesn’t want to converse. So he allows it, if just for the car ride to his house, promising himself that he’ll talk to her about it after they’ve slept on it and no later.

Kara sighs as they pull up to the curb outside his front door, and when she turns the car off Mon-El looks over at her, discovering her knuckles that have long-since turned white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. Without a word, he settles his hand on hers, pulling it carefully away from the wheel. Her eyes don’t move, but her fingers curl around his hand tight, her lips thinning.

“Kara, are you alright?” he asks. She shakes her head, peering down at her lap.

“. . . No, I’m not. I mean, part of me feels stupid for letting him get the drop on me, but the other part of me is just . . . so scared. I’ve never been in that kind of position before, Mon-El. His gun was pressed against my forehead, and I could just see my life flash before my eyes . . .”

Tears start trailing down her cheeks, and with his free hand, he reaches to wipe them away.

“Kara, you’re not stupid, and it’s perfectly okay to be scared. You know how scared I was when I saw that not only did that stupid bastard have a gun pressed against your forehead, but that stupid bastard was one of the guys that had escaped from the mob I worked with? I was terrified,” he admits, his brow furrowing.

“You didn’t look terrified,” Kara mutters.

“That’s because if I did, I would’ve let your life slip away in a matter of seconds. But fuck, Kara, I felt like we were gonna die right then and there over some dumb little robbery case.”

She smiles a bit over his bit of dark humor, leaning her forehead up against the steering wheel as she does so.

“But we’re safe now,” she points out. Mon-El nods his head, concurring.

“We’re safe now.”

Time passes slowly as they just sit in the car, not making a move to get out or even talk, but it’s alright to Mon-El. It’s a comforting stillness, them just existing, her hand in his not daring to let go. He’d like to just continue to live in this moment, but he can already see the sun peeking out over the horizon, the sky fading from orange to a light blue as night turns to morning.

They need sleep.

“Kara, why don’t you crash on my bed for the day, okay? I’ll stay out on the couch and rest there. I don’t think you need to be driving right now,” Mon-El suggests.

“Alright,” Kara answers, her voice barely above the whisper. He misses the warmth of her hand the second he lets it go, but he knows that their main priority is just going inside and crashing, not having to worry about work for the next few days. And honestly, that’s all he wants at this point, because having to deal with all that stress was exhausting.

They clamber up the concrete steps to Mon-El’s apartment and Kara hands him back his keys, watching wearily as he fumbles to find the one to his apartment. He eventually does, unlocking the door as fast as possible, gesturing for Kara to go inside first when he does get it open.

She files inside first and he shuffles along behind her, shutting the door and clicking the lock back, then brushing past Kara to lead her down the hall towards the main part of his house. He offers her food and she shakes her head, rubbing at her eyes. Mon-El leads her to his bedroom after that, the little room to the right and around the corner of the kitchen.

He flicks the lights on if only for a moment, an action that startles both of them, just for a split-second as they adjust. Kara takes a seat on the edge of the bed as he rifles through his dresser, fishing out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for her to sleep in, tossing them over to her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep here?” she asks him. “I mean, you are the one with the injured arm, after all.”

“I’m fine, Kara. Please, just take my bed tonight. It’s the least I can do,” he insists with no further argument from Kara. “Need anything else before I leave?”

“I’m good. Thank you for the bed and clothes and . . . really just everything,” Kara says. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t,” Mon-El agrees, “But I want to. Not just because you’re my partner, but you’re my friend. I want you to know I’m here for you if you need me, too. Don’t hesitate waking me up if you need anything, alright?”

“Got it.”

Mon-El parts with a small wave and a goodnight before disappearing behind the door, shutting it with a soft click.

Even after all they went through, Mon-El falls asleep without trouble, the restlessness inside his head calming down, allowing him to find peaceful slumber.

//

Kara ended up staying at Mon-El’s place the whole week. Mon-El couldn’t blame her—he was just as eager to not be alone after the incident as she was, but she was a little more shaken over what happened. He promised he wouldn’t let her be alone and allowed her to stay with him during their short break. And it was a great week, getting to know Kara even more and having fun just having her company. But it made him realize something.

Mon-El’s not over Kara.

Which is stupid, because how could he not be over her? She’s amazing and kind and everything he wishes he could be in life. She’s a one of a kind person, and he couldn’t imagine anyone not being able to fall in love with her. So once the week is over, he makes a promise to himself, not just for his sake but for Kara’s, too.

He’s going to try his best to move on.

Mon-El and Kara finally return to work a week after the incident, well-rested and ready to return to the field. To be honest, Mon-El enjoyed his break, but he’s never been one to be content with just sitting down all day.

He’s been itching to get back into action.

Of course, everyone in the precinct greets them happily once they show up, encasing them in tight bear-hugs. They don’t really start work until J’onn shows up to break up the reunion, his steel-cold gaze enough to get everyone back on track.

Mon-El wouldn’t have it any other way.

He and Kara also silently agree to work on their own today. As much fun as it’s been hanging out with her, they both like to be independent, too, so just for today they work on their own cases. But every once in a while Kara catches his gaze from across their desks and gives Mon-El a mischievous smile, and he returns it without a second thought.

Which is why Winn decides that they need to grab a drink after their shift has ended. Mon-El should know better by now than to dismiss Winn’s unrivaled observational skills.

“Alright, buddy. Spill,” Winn says once they’re at the bar and have ordered their drinks.

“Spill what?”

Winn shoots him a look of disdain.

“What’s going on between you and Kara? There’s gotta be something. I’ve seen the way she’s been looking at you all day long.”

Mon-El shakes his head.

“There’s nothing going on between me and Kara, Winn. I mean, she stayed over at my house all week if that’s what you want to know, but I already told her how I feel, a month ago to be exact. She’s not into me like that. Trust me.”

Winn quirks his lips to the side, his brow furrowed.

“She rejected you?”

Mon-El nods solemnly, taking a swig of his drink once the bartender’s placed it in front of him.

“Yup. Which is why I need to move on. I loved having her over at my place this week, but it just made me realize that I’m just . . . not over her. And I don’t need to be pining away over someone who doesn’t feel the same way.”

Winn pats him on the shoulder sympathetically.

“It’s okay, man. I’ve been there, done that. So how about instead of weeping over it, you actually make a move to get over her?”

Mon-El raises a brow.

“How so?”

Winn turns and gestures to the platinum-blonde girl at the other end of the bar.

“Ask her out. She’s been glancing your way this whole time.”

Mon-El considers it for a second, then sighs, finishing off his drink and standing up from his bar stool.

“You’re right. I’m never going to get over Kara by just sitting around and moping. Now wish me luck, Winn.”

Winn smirks.

“Of course. Good luck!”

And as Mon-El walks towards her, her eyes brighten up to a lovely, icy shade of blue, and hope fills his chest.

He can do this.

//

Eve is great.

Mon-El learns right away that she’s also a cop from a nearby precinct. Her favorite foods are buffalo wings (just like him!) and key lime pie, and there’s nothing she loves more than sitting down to read a book after a long day. She’s wonderful and Mon-El likes being around her. They do end up dating right away, but he doesn’t mind. He wants nothing more than to get to know her better.

For the first time in a long while, Mon-El feels pretty content with life. He’s found a good balance of work life and free time, and the stress he’d been dealing with for a while now just sort of melts away. He can work with Kara without having to recall his attraction to her, and for once he can just be friends with her. It’s a good life.

A month into their relationship, he brings Eve into the office. Everyone loves her, even J’onn. Her bright and bubbly personality brings a smile to all of their faces, and one of her favorite things to do for them is bring fresh bagels or doughnuts. He even gets a congratulations from nearly everybody in the precinct for finding such a great person. Everything seems to be going great.

. . . Until Mon-El realizes there is only one person that has not said anything about Eve—

Kara.

And he’s not sure why it bothers him that she hasn’t. She’s not obligated to, not by any means. The only reason he can come up with is that she’s truly his friend, and he wants to be able to talk to her about the things in his life. Him dating someone shouldn’t stop that.

He waits until they’re gifted with another late-night stakeout to confront her about it. It seems to be their thing to talk about serious things on stakeouts, after all.

“Hand me the bag of Doritos,” he says to Kara while they wait on a rooftop, watching the automobile garages across the street below them. She hands him the bag, her eyes not leaving the street.

“Here you go.”

He cocks his head at her.

“Should I have said please? I didn’t mean to forget my manners.”

She furrows her brow, her electric blue eyes flashing over to him, confusion-laden.

“No, of course not. Why do you ask?”

Mon-El shrugs.

“I don’t know. You’ve been awful quiet, and you’re not looking at me.”

“I am now,” she tells him.

“No, not just tonight. I mean lately. You don’t really talk to me much anymore, Kara. Is everything alright?”

Her eyes flash back over to the garages.

“Yes, of course,” she says, her tone betrays her words.

“Kara,” Mon-El presses. “Why don’t you like Eve?”

That throws her a curveball, too, and she glances back at him, an expression of offense on her face.

“I like Eve!” she insists.

“Then why do you always disappear when she’s at the office? Why don’t you ever talk about her with me?” he asks.

“Because we’re at work and we’re supposed to be working?” she grits out like it’s the obvious answer. Mon-El heaves an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, fine. Don’t tell me. Whatever.”

Mon-El’s own gaze focuses away from her and back onto the stakeout point, grabbing a handful of Doritos from the bag. His response seems to unnerve Kara, however, and she gains back his attention.

“Alright, alright,” she breathes out rubbing her hands down her face. When he looks, he notices conflict in her eyes, a hint of fear flickering in them, as well. “I . . . don’t talk to you about Eve. You’re right. And I do always leave the room when Eve arrives.”

It’s Mon-El’s turn to be confused.

“Why?” he asks her.

“Because . . . because I like you, Mon-El. I didn’t want to admit it for a while, but then after the week we spent together, I . . . I couldn’t ignore my feelings. And I was going to tell you that night we got back, but then Winn took you to the bar and . . . and he told me that you’d moved on. With Eve.”

For once, Mon-El doesn’t know what to say.

“I . . . what?”

“Listen, I didn’t tell you this because I hoped I could change your mind or anything. Your friendship means the world to me, and I’m really glad we’ve become as close as we have. I just couldn’t deal with you moving on, because it meant that I was too late because I was scared of my own feelings. I’m sorry, Mon-El.”

He’s quiet for a long while, trying to process her words. But then he remembers that he’s on the same page as her. Even though he’s moved on, he still wants to be friends with her more than anything. So he offers her his open arms, encasing her in a close embrace.

“I wish I could just drop everything and tell you I felt the same way,” he whispers solemnly, “But it wouldn’t be fair to Eve. And I really like her and want to try to keep a relationship with her. I’m sorry, Kara.”

She snorts, leaning her forehead into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, too. We can’t get things right, can we?”

“Not to save our lives,” Mon-El agrees. “You wanna get back to the stakeout now?”

Kara nods her head, smiling.

“Of course I do, partner.”

//

Eve dumps him two weeks later.

Mon-El’s not sure what happened, if he’s being completely honest. It was like a switch had been flipped and feelings changed without warning. She told him that it wasn’t what she was truly looking for like she thought and that she just didn’t feel as into the relationship as she used to. She boxed up her stuff she left at his apartment and handed over the stuff he left at hers, and suddenly it was as if they had never been together in the first place.

It sucks. It truly does.

What Mon-El hates even more is that as the days pass, he doesn’t really miss her as much as he thought he would. Was this truly the same girl he thought he’d be with for a long while? Or was he just trying to convince himself of that fact?

He may never know.

But he does know that he has amazing friends. Winn takes him out for food and drinks for a whole week, all on him. Jimmy brings him a box of doughnuts from his favorite shop over half-an-hour away. Alex and Maggie gift him a basket of goodies (including a certificate to his favorite wing place a few blocks away.) And Kara, ever herself, is there for him in just the perfect way—as his best friend.

Because that’s what she truly is.

She offers him a week at her own apartment to pay him back for the week he gave her. She makes them pancakes, eggs, and bacon almost every morning. They carpool to work and she allows him to pick what they listen to in the car (she’s always been touchy about that). And at night, when they’ve returned, they just rest on the couch and binge watch their favorite shows.

It’s a comfort Mon-El missed. In fact, it’s something he hasn’t been a part of in a long while, which is why he’s not confused at all when his heart kick-starts back into full throttle. Because Kara is always there for him, always has been. And now they are both single, and he can’t pretend that his feelings for her went away.

Which is why, Thursday night after he’s made this realization and they’re all settled in on the couch watching the Kiera Knightly version of Pride & Prejudice, he is extremely nervous.

He wants to ask her out on a date! He wants to be able to lean against her and cuddle while they watch movies. He always wants to be on her team, because it’s what they do best. So when Kara takes notice of his rigidness and silence, he knows he has to do something.

“Mon-El? Are you alright?” Kara asks him. “You look sick.”

“I’m fine,” Mon-El says, but not quick enough to be able to stop her from placing her hand on his forehead. “What are you doing?!”

“Feeling your forehead to see if it’s warm,” she answers like it’s a totally normal reaction. Except now she’s in his space, her nose almost brushing up against his. Her eyes are a brilliant blue, electric and inviting as ever. And for once Mon-El just says fuck it, because he’s tired of waiting for the perfect moment. He’s gotta just make his own path in life sometimes.

His hands gently cup Kara’s face, fingers threading through the loose, golden locks resting on her cheek. Mon-El leans into her, their lips meeting fervently. Fire ignites inside him, his neurons exploding from the lighting the kiss has caused in his mind.

This, this is what he’s been missing out on.

“Wow,” he breathes a moment later, his lips hovering over hers.

“You’re certainly warm now,” Kara quips, her mouth quirking upward into a puckish smile.

“Yeah, and I intend on staying that way,” Mon-El tells her before pressing his lips back onto hers, leaning her into the couch carefully. The television is still trilling in the background with piano music as Pride & Prejudice continues on, and Mon-El only barely catches Darcy’s line to Lizzie. Though he may as well be saying it to Kara himself.

“You have bewitched me in body and soul. And I love, I love, I love you.”

Mon-El couldn’t agree more.