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It was the loud bang of a door that woke Kara up.
Disoriented, hazy, and slightly hangover, she slowly blinked herself to consciousness and immediately felt the telltale signs of a growing headache.
She groaned in displeasure, slumping on a heap on the floor where an inconsiderable amount of pillows and blankets engulfed her like a cocoon.
The apartment was in a state of chaos post-'Danvers Sisters'' movie marathon mania where Harry Potter DVDs lay scattered haphazardly across the coffee table, a bowl of popcorn turned over with bits of the snack littering the carpet, and beer bottles stood upright parallel to one another in chaotic order.
Sleep was starting to embrace Kara once again when Alex exited from the bathroom in purposeful strides towards the relaxed lump on the floor.
"Kara." She nudged the dead lump with her toe, carding her fingers through her newly styled hair.
"Kara."
Alex sighed in irritation when the youngest Danvers refused to move.
"Kara!" She yelled sternly, putting as much steel in her voice to wake the girl.
The blonde jumped in fright, blue eyes wide and confused until they landed to her sister's posture; left hand on hip, right hand clutching a ringing phone, lips down turned sternly.
The effects of their splurging last night hit her like a truck. She groaned in consternation, both hands rubbing her forehead to alleviate the somewhat growing pain.
"Yeah, hit you like a bitch too, huh? Anyway, your phone's been ringing nonstop." Alex handed her two pills of aspirin wordlessly, in which Kara gulped down gratefully, letting the medicine smoothly go down her throat without the help of water.
The ringing ceased, cloaking the apartment in quiet stillness, something Kara thanked the heavens for. She couldn't stand the grating device whilst her head continues to pound painfully.
Alex chucked her phone at her, successfully hitting Kara on the forehead which elicited a loud "Fuck!" from the blonde. Alex snickered, "Someone named 'Snapper' left a ton of voicemails." She stated on her way to the door, adjusting her messenger bag on her shoulder, before completely leaving the apartment with an offhanded, "Good luck with the hangover, sis!"
How Alex manages to seem unaffected after countless bottles of alcohol the night before?
Kara doesn't know.
But she has an inkling it has something to do with Alex's nightly rendezvous when she was in college.
Oh, how she wish she has the same alcohol tolerance.
Remembering the offending device that hit her forehead, she retrieved it from where it lay between two pillows. She laid down in her cocoon, posture relaxing, before opening her phone only to be greeted by twenty missed calls from her editor and an array of texts staring angrily back at her.
She flinched when she read the first one.
'PONYTAIL!!!!'
Even by text, she can hear Snapper Carr's loud yelling of his nickname for her; cadence coated in venom, exasperation, and perpetual disappointment. She groaned out a sigh, closing her eyes firmly before bracing herself for the next onslaught of texts.
'WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING MY CALLS?!'
'WHERE WAS THE ARTICLE I ORDERED YOU TO WRITE?!'
'GET YOUR ASS IN HERE IN THE OFFICE!!!'
'20 MINUTES AND CAT GRANT WON'T EVEN STOP ME FROM FIRING YOUR OFFENDING PONYTAIL!!'
The last message was what made her scramble out of her comfortable fort.
She hurriedly typed out an apology and a promise to show up at CatCo as soon as possible.
Her feet got tangled in the mess of blankets on her way to the bathroom, she huffed and kicked the material, successfully tripping herself instead.
She groaned in frustration.
This is certainly not her day.
ten minutes later and Kara is found walking at a snail's pace towards the elevators of her apartment building. The last vestiges of sleep still clutching her in its vice grip while the pounding in her head minimised into a dull hum. Not quite eliciting pain but always nagging her of its presence. Her feet dragged behind her as she walked, shoulders slumped and heavy, phone dangling dangerously from her hand. Despite the comfortable cocoon she and Alex shared during their movie marathon, she can still feel the heaviness and strain from sleeping on the floor for a long time.
She pushed the elevator button and waited patiently for the car to arrive. She can feel her eyelids drooping, vision doubling, and the need to lay down for a nap. Not even Snapper's threats to terminate her from her job could awaken Kara's being.
She really should've invested those precious five minutes it took her to leave her comfortable apartment to make coffee.
She sighed in relief when she heard the elevator's resounding 'ding!' and blearily walked in the metallic box.
Quite thankful she lives on the 15th floor, she used those precious few minutes while the elevator was descending to take a nap.
Without the help of coffee, sleep and consciousness waged a war against her; not letting subconsciousness fully take her. Her mind is somewhat awake yet her need for a nap tugged at her vehemently.
It was the worst position to be in.
Minutes ticked by and Kara blearily opened her eyes. She noticed she's three floors up before the ground floor and slowly counted in her head.
Maybe it was her sleep addled brain or her niggling hangover and the memories of the film still sitting at the back of her mind.
Whatever it was, Kara still burns in embarrassment whenever she remembers the scene that plays next.
Because as the indicator above the elevator doors showed the number '1' she was suddenly overcome by the need to speak.
To say a word that absolutely embarrasses her til this day.
She didn't even do it consciously, it was like a reflex after binge watching four consecutive films of the same franchise.
It was this reason she still rationales that she shouldn't be faulted for blurting out a word that normal adult people wouldn't normally say.
Bleary eyed, sleep coaxing her brain into a false sense of security, and body heavy with exhaustion and strain from last night's sleeping arrangement; the indicator showed 'floor 1' and whatever unexplainable force prompted her to hold out her wrist and flick it languidly before muttering, "Alohamora."
The man standing slightly behind her sniggered loudly in response.
Kara suddenly felt the tendrils of sleep completely letting go of her and felt the tips of her ears burn in embarrassment. Her blue eyes widened in horror as she glanced at the man next to her who was still laughing silently to himself.
She didn't even realise there was someone with her in the elevator.
Two someones.
She felt her whole face burning red, skin flushed in utter embarrassment.
And because she's Kara and she's a perpetual awkward, seemingly seeking-to-be-embarrassed person, she looked at the elegant woman standing beside– with considerable we're-strangers-so-stay-away-from-my-personal-space amount of distance between them– the still sniggering man.
But instead of mocking laughter, the woman rolled her light green eyes at the gentleman, met Kara's blues and smirked knowingly.
"Muggles." She whispered with a shake of her head, smirk still gracing her blood red lips.
And just like that, Kara felt herself fall in love.
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Two weeks later, Kara is found sitting in front of her 32-inched flat screen TV. Coffee table littered with stacks of Harry Potter DVDs, a bottle of wine, two boxes of pizza, and a glass with two different shades of lipstick staining its rim.
But instead of Alex sitting beside her on the couch full of fluffy pillows..
It was Lena and her smiling dimples and twinkling green eyes curled at her side.
Who knew casting a spell on an elevator would win her the woman of her dreams.