Chapter Text
Kara scurried down Rue D’Antibes, trying hard to not get frantic and almost crashing into a number of impeccably dressed, probably-famous people strolling at leisurely paces down the boulevard. She was looking for the Chanel store, and was quite sure that Cat told her this was where it would be. Somehow, she’d failed to pack those beautiful black pumps with the gold heels that she’d left by the door and so Kara was stuck running out with Cat’s credit card for another pair before the evening’s festivities began.
Was that Martin Scorsese? she wondered as she zipped past a sharp-eyed, elderly man with white hair. It was entirely reasonable, after all. The sky was impossibly blue, the palms were swaying, the crowds were buzzing, it was May, and this was Cannes. Even in her haste, it was hard to ignore the beautiful, mild breezes coming off of the tourmaline-colored bay. This was her first May working for Cat, and she was still in slight disbelief that she was being allowed to accompany her boss. But Cat was insistent that she absolutely needed her assistant, and Kara was not about to turn down an all-expense-paid trip to the French Riviera, even if most of it was going to involve running around after her boss just the same as she’d be doing in National City.
To her relief, she found the shop, and walked in, suddenly wondering how in the hell she was going to communicate exactly what she needed, when an absurdly beautiful, stylish, tanned brunette greeted her with a smile, and asked “Puis-je vous aider?”, and Kara, to her own surprise, opened her mouth and answered, “Oui, je cherche une paire de chaussures noires au talons d'or?”
What the hell?
She was sure the bewilderment showed on her face as the salesgirl showed her a few different pairs that fit the description, Kara found the ones that were identical to the ones Cat had left in National City, and she conducted the entire transaction in French with no difficulty whatsoever. Boy, she was going to have some questions for her computer mom when she got home.
*****
She came running into the plush, gold and plum-toned lobby of the Majestic Barriére hotel, the Chanel bag dangling from her arm. Cat was still in the lobby, apparently trying to argue with the desk clerk about something to do with her suite. Kara went running up to her and breathlessly held up the bag.
Cat snatched it away from her. “Thank you, Kiera.”
“Is something wrong, Cat?”
Cat rolled her eyes. “I distinctly said that I did NOT want a smoking room and that I wanted the suite with the ocean views. I have a smoking suite with ocean views.”
“Well, you don’t have to smoke in it,” Kara ventured.
“Yes, but it smells like smoke,” Cat answered impatiently. “It reeks like Carter’s father after a bender.”
Kara turned to the desk clerk and began wrangling with him in French, and it took several minutes, but after some negotiating, they had come to an arrangement. Since there were no other suites available the weekend of Cannes, obviously, Cat’s belongings would be stowed temporarily in Kara’s single room one floor down, and the suite would be aired and cleaned, and whatever furnishings could be temporarily swapped from their supplies would swapped, and he was fairly sure they had a fresh mattress they could put in. It would not be a pristine non-smoking room but it would surely be bearable. And besides, the suite they had given Cat was one of the only ones with a hot tub on its terrace, surely madame did want to give that up?
It was … weird. But Kara was getting used to the fact that she was able to do it.
She turned around to announce her success, to find Cat looking at her with something like annoyance. Glaring at her in fact. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you spoke French?” she demanded.
Kara shrugged. She doubted Cat would believe, I didn’t know. “I forgot?” she answered unconvincingly. In the face of Cat’s clearly dissatisfied stare, she added, “I, uh … I took it in high school… I guess it just came back from hearing it, you know?”
A standoff followed that felt overlong, and Kara’s mouth grew dryer by the moment. Then she heard a low, smoky female voice, rich, lightly accented, and far too playful, from behind them: “Oh, come now, Cat, I’m sure whatever she’s done isn’t deserving of such a death glare.”
Kara saw the suspicion melt away as Cat, too, recognized the voice. Great, Kara thought, the one person in the world who gives me worse jitters than Cat Grant.
They both turned to see her standing there, that perpetually amused, feline look on her face, blonde hair looking sun-kissed and wind-ruffled, but as if the wind were an excellent French hairdresser who’d lovingly taken its time to get the breezy look just so.
In a heartbeat, Cat’s entire posture changed from rigid and put-off to relaxed and flirty. A hand planted itself on her hip and she tossed her chin. “Honestly, Cate, you have no idea.”
Kara struggled to make eye contact with Cate Blanchett, Cat’s old friend (and maybe more, if her suspicions were correct), without blushing furiously. She was pretty sure she was failing. “Hi Ms. Blanchett,” she managed, somehow, despite her mouth feeling like it was full of cotton. It wasn’t just the sheer star power; Kara had managed to hold it together around a number of her boss’s celebrity acquaintances. It wasn’t even the fact that Cate Blanchett’s performance in “Elizabeth”, which Kara watched for school when she was 16, was the first time she remembered specifically feeling attracted to a woman. It was that Cate Blanchett was the absolute worst, most brazen, most horrendous flirt on the face of God’s green earth.
“What did you do, you poor darling?” she asked Kara, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a look that made her feel like she was the only person in the entire room.
“Nothing, I just … I just fixed her room problem,” Kara told her weakly.
“In French!” Cat exclaimed, remembering that she was annoyed about it.
“Mmm, sounds dreadful,” Cate responded. She leaned in and stage-whispered conspiratorially, “If you ever want to get away from this slave driver, you know, I could use a competent assistant.”
Kara was ready to die, right there, where she stood, without so much as a “by-your-leave.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Cat shot back with a warning tone that was mostly, but not entirely, playful. “I had to search high and low for this one.”
They exchanged a long glare, which dissolved into smiles, and then an embrace, and then kisses on both cheeks.
“It’s been too long, Cat, darling,” Cate sighed, now seeming to forget that Kara existed as she looked warmly at Cat.
“Oh knock it off, Catie,” Cat shot back, but looking at her just as affectionately. “You actors are so dramatic. You saw me two months ago when you were in National City for that film junket.”
“Three months,” Cate corrected her, “and all you managed was a lunch. And it was interrupted by a … what was it?”
“An earthquake,” Cat supplied dryly. “Next time I’ll ask them to hold off till you leave town.”
Kara’s brain ached.. Surely there had to be some sort of local safety ordinances about how many hot blonde women with this much power and charisma were allowed in an enclosed space.
Cate Blanchett had visited Cat at the office in National City a total of twice since Kara had been working there, and had made a stammering, babbling mess of Kara both times, and it was clearly a source of irritation for Cat. But maybe the rules would be different at Cannes. Who knew?
Cat and Cate went off for an early dinner. Cate had extended a perfunctory invitation to Kara, but Kara was pretty sure she was supposed to say no, and politely declined, saying she had to do Ms. Grant’s schedule and make sure the suite would be ready for her by the time she returned from dinner. That was all true, anyway.
****
The hotel had actually done a pretty serviceable job, Kara thought with satisfaction, of getting Cat’s suite to something she could tolerate. She was pretty pleased with herself for having worked it out. She was stretched out on the bed in her room, and a moment of annoyance washed over her. Why the hell was she so bent on making Cat Grant happy anyway? But it quickly ebbed away, because she knew the answers and didn’t feel like dealing with them. They started with Cat’s wits and ended with her legs in a skirt and heels and there was a whole lot in between she couldn’t bear to dwell on.
Her phone buzzed, a text from Cat letting her know that she was back up in her suite and wasn’t to be bothered until the morning unless the hotel was on fire or something was wrong with Carter. Fine with me, Kara thought. I suppose I’ll watch some French television, since I apparently speak French.
Kara glanced up, though, and noticed that hanging on the back of the door, was Cat’s smallest bag, the one containing her essentials. Somehow it had gotten left behind when they brought her other bags up. She’d want that. Sooner than later. Cat had seen to it that Kara had a copy of the key to her suite, maybe she could just open the door and deposit it inside.
She went to Cat’s room and hovered outside the door for a moment, then reluctantly sighing, lowered the filters on her hearing to see if she could get some inkling of what was happening inside. If she heard the shower, or snoring, she could easily deposit the bag inside the door and scamper away and it would be a non-issue.
She listened for a moment, and heard nothing. Maybe Cat was a quiet sleeper. She thought she could hear some slow shifting of bed springs. Probably rolling around in her sleep. She very gingerly, very quietly, opened the door to the room. The lights were mostly out in the large, airy living area. She could see lights dotting the bay, ships floating dreamily on its surface. She glanced around and saw Cat’s other bags piled near one of the arm chairs. She floated quietly into the room with the intent to deposit it with the others.
But then she heard a low chuckle from behind the bedroom door. And she knew it wasn’t Cat. She froze.
I shouldn’t look, she thought. I really, really ought to just float right back out that door.
But she let the filters on her vision down, and let herself look through the wall of the bedroom. Just for a second, she promised herself, and then I’ll go…
She could see them, naked and half uncovered in the king size bed, and her ears picked up their quiet murmuring to each other in between hot kissing and a bit of rolling around. Kara wouldn’t have imagined Cate’s voice could possibly sound any sexier than it did normally, but damned if it didn’t. And Cat… Kara had never heard her sound quite like… this.
“You know,” Cate was murmuring as she lay on top of Cat, stringing little kisses down her neck, “I read that piece you did on Taymor’s ‘A Doll’s House’ and I think you’re fucking wrong.”
There was a pause as Cat drew a breath, Cate’s mouth hitting someplace sensitive that Kara couldn’t quite see. She saw Cat brace her leg to one side and push them over, rolling on top of Cate and straddling her waist for a moment. “Overstaged crap,” she heard Cat whisper back. “I stand by it.” She ran a finger down Cate’s cheek, dipped it into her mouth for a moment, and then continued tracing it down to her chest.
“Big staging doesn’t always have to mean overstaged,” Cate was sighing, without much conviction, as Cat’s fingers played over her breasts. Kara could see even through the wall that her nipples were stiff under Cat’s touch.
Cat began to slide down Cate’s body, dragging lips and teeth and tongue along her skin. She lingered at her ribs for a moment. “It always means that if it’s a fucking Ibsen play,” she whispered, and spent a moment sucking the skin there until she got the little moan she was looking for.
Kara had promised herself she would just leave, but she couldn’t stop watching, couldn’t stop listening. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest, hear her blood roaring in her ears, knew she should leave but couldn’t look away. They were exactly the way she’d have imagined them together, and it left her too turned on to think clearly. All she wanted at this moment was to keep watching, wondering which one of them she’d rather be. Listening to Cate’s low, sexy voice continue to poke at Cat with gentle criticisms and japes until Cat felt moved to shut her up, one way or another. She was getting wetter with each passing second, and feeling increasingly guilty, but she couldn’t stop now. She stood there, hovering soundlessly two inches off the floor, her cheeks flushed with arousal, watching the two hottest women she’d ever met in her life having the kind of sex she’d always wished she’d get to have someday, and she couldn’t tear herself away from it.
After some minutes of rolling around and more verbal jousting, Cate had found her way down the bed and had rested her head on Cat’s inner thigh, doing what looked and sounded like a pretty incredible of job of going down on Cat, if her moaning and back-arching and sheet-grabbing was any indication.
It was more than Kara could stand. Her hand slid into the waistband of her capris, and started touching herself, her hand unconsciously following the rhythm of Cat’s hips as she watched them through the wall. Her nervousness and tension and desire were so concentrated that they were like a drug, and rubbing herself quickly than she ever had, she came so fast she even surprised herself, convulsing in mid-air a few moments before Cat did.
Cat was a loud one when she came. Kara wouldn’t have figured.
She drifted back toward the door to exit the suite. What did I just do? she thought, suddenly horrified with herself. She had never, would never, use her powers that way. She needed to get out of here. She drifted quickly out the door and, in her haste, slammed it behind her.
****
Cate sat up, startled.
Cat pulled her back down. “It was probably just my assistant dropping something off. She’s the only one who has a key.”
Cate smiled a slow, mischievous smile.
Cat knew that look. “No.”
“Cat….”
Cat crossed her arms. “Absolutely not.”
Cate nudged at Cat’s thigh. “You want to.”
“I do not.”
“Cat, you get so jealous when I flirt with her. Of course you want to.”
Cat rolled her eyes. “I don’t even know if she’s interested in women.”
Cate shrugged, her lips pursed in a naughty curlicue. “Does it really matter if she’s interested in women? Even she wouldn’t pass on you AND me.”
“You have a point,” Cat acknowledged. “It’s still a terrible idea.”
“It’s a wonderful idea. She’s delectable. Adorable. Stop making excuses and get her back up here.”
Cat rolled her eyes. “Sleeping with one’s assistant, how cliche.”
“Opening up a young girl’s world,” Cate countered, her voice full of drama. “How inspiring.”
Cat folded her arms. “You’re crazy.”
“And she’s tasty.” She snatched Cat’s phone off the nightstand and handed it to her. “Get her back up here.”