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“So,” J’onn J’onzz says, pulling up a list on his phone. “Let’s start from the top.”
Astra In-Ze does not in any way look contrite. Alex Danvers elbows her. Astra attempts to fake contrition, ineffectively.
“Over the past week,” J’onn rumbles, “you have…thrown chemicals executive Simon Stagg into a swamp that his company polluted with dioxins…abducted the President of Brazil and left him at the South Pole…abducted author JK Rowling and left her inside Iron Heights prison, sparking an Anglo-American diplomatic incident…left Dutch xenophobes Geert Wilders and Thierry Baudet in the streets of Mecca in “I Hate Islam” shirts…spray-painted Senator James Inhofe purple and hung him by his ankles from an oil rig with a sign reading “I Am A Bigot And Knowingly Promote Destructive Global Warming For Profit” tied to his chest…thirteen times superglued a face mask onto President Trump in the middle of one of his speeches with your super-speed…sabotaged the President’s spray-tan supply, leaving him with second-degree chemical burns because the suspect chemicals in his bronzer reacted with your holy water…set the President’s toupee on fire…sabotaged the President’s Twitter account for no fewer than five days straight, presumably with the help of Mr. Schott, leading to international chaos as the President spammed no fewer than eight hundred thousand posts all composed of the word ‘covfefe’ repeated several times…kidnapped the CEO of Nestle and left him in chains in a Guinean cocoa plantation that used child slave labor with Nestle’s knowledge…stolen one hundred and fifty billion dollars from Jeff Bezos with the help of multiple DEO agents before dividing the money among Amazon factory workers…replaced the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom’s shampoo with depilatory chemicals…superglued Vladimir Putin to a rainbow-colored sign declaring him to be homosexual…painted Chechen dictator Ramzan Kadyrov hot pink and left him tied naked to a flagpole…destroyed three Chinese concentration camps for Uighurs, leading to another diplomatic incident…tarred and feathered no fewer than twenty-seven oil company executives…left Italian politicians Matteo Salvini and Silvio Berlusconi in the middle of the Sahara, leading to the hospitalization of both…am I missing anything?”
“The investment bankers,” Astra helpfully notes.
“Right. You exposed hundreds of investment bankers for bribing their way out of convictions for corrupt conduct in the 2007-2008 financial crisis, leading to the hospitalization of seventeen after angry mobs overran Wall Street.” J’onn lowers his phone with a glare.
“To be fair,” Astra points out, unrepentant, “Alexandra and Mr. Schott helped me with the oil company executives, bankers, Simon Stagg, and the Bezos insect.” Alex also told Astra not to do some of the other, more illegal things on that list. Except for the oil company executives. Astra is quite happy to know that the Human hates them as much as Astra does. Then she frowns. “Wait. I did nothing to his Twitter account.”
“If not you, then who, General?”
Alex clears her throat. “Um. That would be me, Winn, and Livewire.”
J’onn glares even more harshly. “Well, congratulations, General, Agent Danvers. The President—you know, the…” J’onn cannot force himself to call Donald Trump a man, and instead manages, “…bipedal individual who you two left with chemical burns—is beyond upset. Not that I blame you at all, but he is still the President, even if he gave classified information to the Russians and…well, everything that he’s done. So now he wants you deported, General In-Ze, and he probably has the power to do it.”
“…where, precisely, would I go?” Astra frowns.
“He wants to send you off-planet. And then build a wall in space, because that makes logical sense.” J’onn can’t hide his contempt for President Trump. “Unfortunately, you do not technically have immigration documents, so he has legal reason to exile you.”
“Wait a minute,” Alex blurts out. “We can’t let him do that!”
J’onn levels his gaze at her. “And how do you propose we fix this, Agent Danvers?”
“Well…” Alex flounders for a moment, then gets an idea. “Someone could marry her!”
“Marry?” Astra asks in confusion. She has never seen herself as having that potential. Daughter of the House of Ze or not, she is still just a twin. Just broken, damaged goods.
“If you’re married to a US citizen, they can’t do as much to you. It wouldn’t even have to be real!”
J’onn is nodding along now. “And there’s already speculation in the news that you and General In-Ze are involved, Agent Danvers. We can make this work!”
“Wait, what?”
The Martian nods, already visibly distracted by the need to plan. “CatCo magazine has a running column speculating on your love life, Agent Danvers. Supergirl told me in considerable detail. Yes, I think we can make this work. Fortunately, there is insufficient evidence to actually imprison you, General In-Ze. I think. We’ll see how this turns out.”
“Wait, CatCo cares about my love life?”
J’onn raises his eyebrow at her. “Apparently Cat Grant decided to capitalize on the popularity of pictures of you in the field. They call you ‘Agent Sentinel’. There are over fifteen thousand fanfictions on Archive Of Our Own about you being romantically involved with various celebrities and members of Supergirl’s social circle, about seven thousand of which involve General In-Ze. And ten thousand involving you and Supergirl.”
Alex makes a choked noise, and Astra shoots her a look of concern despite her sudden and inexplicable burning jealousy of Kara. “Involving me and who?”
“Your sister. Because you two hug after damn near every fight and the Internet interprets that as romantic.”
“Oh my God.” Alex looks dangerously pale, and Astra is torn between the irrational desire to confront Kara for something that isn’t her fault and the desire to hold Alex and rock her back and forth until she feels better. “Oh my God, does Kara know?”
“She writes G-rated fanfic about you getting hugged and taken on wonderful exotic dates by various famous actresses. Of course she knows.”
“Wait, what?” Astra and Alex say this simultaneously. Astra feels a sudden desire to abduct famous actresses to prevent them from getting their claws of suspect lineage into Alex (who obviously deserves far better, only the finest of partners is suitable for the agent. Even Astra is clearly insufficient—she is only of the Sixteenth House of Krypton, Alex deserves a bride of at least the Third, if not the First).
“Ask your sister, Alex. I need a fucking drink.” J’onn does not, as a rule, swear. Astra is mildly perturbed. “And if you decide to do research, I beg you, do not search ‘SuperAgent Omegaverse’ on Ao3. Neither Supergirl nor I will be responsible for helping you with the inevitable aftermath of that.”
Astra’s mind tries and fails to comprehend what that could possibly mean.
“Wait!” Alex calls. “What about the fake marriage?”
“I’ll talk to Pam from HR!” J’onn calls over his shoulder as he flees. “She’ll deal with the paperwork--be prepared for fake wedding pictures!”
“Oh, Rao,” Astra realizes.
“Kara’s going to go apeshit over fake wedding pictures,” Alex agrees.
***
“Get in closer! Not too close! Hands higher up! Perk up those smiles, you look forced!”
“That’s because my smile is forced!” Alex hisses through her teeth, her gaze going every which way. To be fair, so is Astra’s. Close proximity to her…friend? Roommate? Rao only knows—anyway, close proximity to Alex Danvers is making Astra’s heart thunder in her chest. Her palms are sweaty (though Alex’s seem to be, too), she can see every minute detail of Alex’s face and neck, and they’re both trying to simultaneously not look at each other and gaze adoringly into each other’s eyes as Kara insists.
Kara has, in fact, gone apeshit. Winn Schott, duly appointed fashion designer, spent six hours straight working with—really, swarming with Kara, and how exactly can two people swarm—all over Alex and Astra, hitting them with dress after suit after dress, before finally settling on a tuxedo for Alex and a classily cleavage-bearing evening gown for Astra. Even now, he hovers just out of the camera’s field of view with a handful of hair pins and a pile of discarded shoes and boots from that last-minute test, vibrating with artistic fervor even as Alex and Astra try to avoid hyperventilating at the sight of each other.
“Perkier smiles! And put some joy in those eyes!” Kara calls. She’s taken to her role like a drill sergeant. Apparently CatCo photoshoots have dictatorial directors. Cat Grant demands perfection like the capitalist exploiter she is, it seems (Astra discovered Karl Marx on her second week on Earth. It was a match made in Heaven, for certain understandings of Heaven). “You’re marrying the love of your life, where’s your spirit?”
“I wish I had stayed in the Phantom Zone,” Astra mutters.
“What, and not meet Alex? Not see me again? Put your lips into it! We’re trying to fool ICE here!”
“I blame her mother,” Astra offers.
“I blame myself,” Alex grumbles.
“Can you at least look each other in the eyes?” Kara groans.
Astra and Alex look each other in the eyes.
Kara takes a dozen pictures as their mouths fall open, time seeming to stop as they gayze into each other.
“Um,” Alex manages with an incredible amount of intellect.
“Ah,” Astra replies, a titan of oratory.
“Eyes,” Alex croaks, her lips twitching up.
“Beautiful,” Astra blurts out in Kryptonian.
“Now kiss!” Kara calls. “Lock lips like you mean it!”
They kind of stumble into each other while trying to leap apart. Kara’s camera snaps a dozen times as they go from faces mashing together ineptly to Alex slipping to her chin hitting Astra’s collarbone to Alex making a face-plant in the General’s cleavage.
“I think that’s all we’re going to get today,” Kara says as Alex and Astra stammer apologies at each other. “Well, at least these look good, I think. We can get the apartment sorted later, right now I have to go.”
“Go?” Alex and Astra say at once, holding each other’s arms as a blushing Astra helps a beet-red Alex up from her chest.
“Yeah, Leslie’s taking me to this, um, club. Or, well, technically I’m taking her, I mean she invited me but when we get there—uh, well, I’m supposed to be kind of the escorting type tonight. And Cat’s coaxed Lucy to come too. So, uh, its gonna be fun, I hope.”
“Club?” Alex frowns. “Should I—”
“NO!” Kara yelps. “Um, it’s a kind of…look, I still need to pick up my corset and heels—just…I’ll be fine, OK?”
Alex bites her lip. “A corset?”
“It’s a costume thing. Masks and, uh, toys. Look, just…just don’t be surprised if Lucy wears a turtleneck to work and doesn’t sit down tomorrow, OK? It’s perfectly safe and normal and actually it’s really therapeutic because I have to control my strength for it. Can we please just…move on?”
That raises far more questions than it answers, but Alex lets it go for Kara’s sake, unconsciously squeezing Astra’s hand as the General twitches with the desire to interrogate the blonde. “Um. OK. We’ll, uh…go and get started on the paperwork, I guess.”
“Wait, wait, don’t forget!” Winn cuts in. “Be careful with the clothes when you take them off, please! Especially the dress! I want to re-use the designs!”
“…can’t you make new ones?”
It’s Winn’s turn to blush. “Um. I’m dressing in drag for the CatCo Halloween party. I’ve been. Exploring some things. Look, just try not to wrinkle the fabric too much, OK? I’m on a budget and I blew a lot of it on this as a favor so funds are tight until Kara pays me back next month.”
Which is an absurd thing to say, but Astra knows that she and Alex are perpetually running on the edge of bankruptcy since Astra has no salary and Alex has to support them both as long as they’re roommates due to the President’s budget cuts destroying the DEO’s expense fund, so she does understand the desire to save the expensive fabrics for some other project.
***
They’re on the way to the airport to fly to Cat Grant’s private Tahitian beach for the fake “honeymoon” a full six hours later when Alex finally speaks up.
To be fair, Astra has been unable to formulate a sentence, either. She keeps running aground on Alex being exceedingly beautiful. In a totally platonic friendship way, as being romantically interested in another is un-Kryptonian and Astra has shamed her House enough already.
“I’m not sorry we fucked with Trump and Stagg and those other jerks,” the Human says, “but I am sorry we got caught.”
This shocks Astra out of her reverie. Alex is normally the one who insists on strict compliance with The Rules. But, Astra supposes, the imbecile in command of this nation and his craven lickspittles make it extremely difficult to not want to break the rules.
“I regret nothing,” Astra admits. “We should have done more to Trump, though.”
“Yeah. Maybe we should’ve thrown him into a lake.”
“Too ephemeral.”
“Point.” Alex sighs.
“Whatever happened to your strict moral code, anyway?”
“Donald Trump happened,” Alex grouses. “Fuck that guy.”
Fair enough.
***
There has been some sort of mix-up. Upon landing in Tahiti, Alex and Astra were informed that they have had a stretch of private, clothing-optional beach reserved for a full month, as well as a honeymoon suite at an exclusive boutique hotel owned by one of Cat Grant’s disgustingly vast conglomerates.
Astra, currently stuck on a beach with Alex Danvers while encumbered by a red-sun anklet to prevent her from fleeing (not that Astra would do such a thing, of course, but it’s the principle of the matter!), resents Cat Grant greatly for this, and not just because the woman is a ruthless capitalist and therefore technically Astra’s ideological enemy. No, Cat is clearly attempting to bribe her way into Alex’s good graces, which is wholly unacceptable—Alex is too good and kind to know the ruthless wiles of marriage-hungry women on the verge of becoming ekhrat (a Kryptonian term that roughly translates to “spinster”, but is somewhat more perjorative. Astra was written off as such almost from birth. Alura, to her credit, was never very happy about that).
Obviously Astra must keep Alex safe from Cat’s woman-hungry talons. Constant vigilance. Yes. Entirely for Alex’s benefit and not because the thought of the agent in a skimpy bikini causes Astra to zone out in a helpless gay mess. Because Astra is going to cling blindly to this last gasp of proper Kryptonian propriety, damn it, even if she’s thrown out nearly everything else. She’s not afraid, you understand, she is General Astra In-Ze and she fears nothing! But Alex deserves better and she is very, very pretty, and Astra has Emotions.
In any event, Astra and Alex spend the first two days sitting on loungers on a private beach in skimpy bikinis (because it seems that every single other article of clothing they have is missing and the entire island is mysteriously out of replacements, which is exceedingly suspicious and leads to both women swearing to never let Kara pack for them ever again), Astra making her way through Sick Puppy and quite looking forward to The Monkey Wrench Gang as Alex alternately tries to sleep and sends angry texts to Kara, who replies like clockwork with one “I’m trying to fix it, just stay there and everything will be fine!” at the end of each day, followed by a string of emojis.
By day three, they’re out of skimpy bikinis, and the hotel claims to be having laundry difficulties (though Astra can smell the detergent on the receptionist’s suit).
Alex sulks in their room in a bathrobe, and Astra, much as she would prefer the sun, stays under the covers in solidarity. At least the room service is generous and on Cat Grant’s dime.
She finishes Sick Puppy about mid-morning, taking perverse pleasure at the death of a fictional lobbyist at the feet of a rhinoceros, and hands it to Alex (who is bored and has nothing to do but slice fruit on her phone and send angry texts) before turning to The Monkey Wrench Gang.
“You know,” Alex says over a meal of fantastically expensive sustainably-raised rice noodles with fair-trade tomato sauce that night, “How fucked up is it that Jeff Bezos is still worth billions even after we stole and sold off his stock options?”
“It is terrible,” Astra concurs. “And there are several Russian oligarchs we failed to target.”
“And Elon Musk. And that Zuckerberg asshole.” Alex grimaces. “I hate to break the law, but…I don’t know. These guys are ruining the planet!”
“The bourgeoisie must be overthrown,” Astra agrees. “Even Cat Grant.” Though she probably won’t mind too much anymore. After a multi-month trip to a yurt in Mongolia, CatCo’s CEO has been known to call the ‘wellness industry’ a “titanic scam” and to go to Big Belly Burger on the advice of her assistant.
“I knew letting you read Marx and Bakunin was a mistake,” Alex mutters. “I’m so done with this shit. Every time I or J’onn go to DC to beg for funds so we can, you know, not have homicidal maniacs with superpowers escaping the DEO due to underfunded containment systems, it’s ‘oh, we can’t give you more of a budget’ and when Kara reports on stuff it’s ‘oh, we can’t afford to move off of oil’, but there’s plenty of money for tax breaks to Bezos and the oil industry’s bribery machine is slick as Hell. And half the green stuff on the planet is all for rich people. This fair-trade whatever we’re eating? D’you think a normal person can eat like this?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“True. And then people who can’t afford this crap get judged and blamed for all the pollution and global warming, when really it’s more like a hundred specific rich assholes ruining the planet.” Alex deflates with a sigh. “Some days I wonder if maybe you had the right idea.”
“You do not mean that.”
Alex meets her gaze, then looks away. “No. I guess I don’t.” She grimaces. “Myriad was still a bad move, but I see the appeal. Some days, I just want to do something. Even if it is criminal.”
“Well…” Astra weighs her next words. “We have access to Cat Grant’s private airplane. And Mr. Schott owes me a considerable favor. I can enlist his efforts while Kara is distracted?”
“Fuck it,” Alex sighs. “Let’s get our honeymoon shoot done and go do some crimes for the environment.”
***
Los Angeles, California.
“I’m so glad Winn managed to steal these tactical outfits,” Alex mutters as she plugs a jump drive into the chairman’s computer. “Can you imagine if we had to do this in bikinis?”
Astra coughs to cover suddenly choking on her saliva, then squeaks out a yes! in response to Alex’s worried look. The idea of Alex bent over that desk in one of those…sets of technically-clothing, runs down through Astra’s gut like a bolt of lightning. For a moment, Alex’s clothes seem to disappear, and her worried frown turns into a seductive smirk…
Astra turns away and clears her throat. “I must keep watch,” she manages.
“…alright.” There’s an unusual quaver in Alex’s voice, and her heartbeat speeds up. Astra risks a look back, and sees the Human blushing and focusing resolutely on the computer. “Alright, I’ve found…his porn collection…wow, straight guys are pathetic…”
“Alexandra?” Astra asks, glancing at her smartphone as she keeps one ear on the hallway. “This real-estate man whose office we are using donates to the Democratic Party, should we be stealing his money?”
“He spent twelve million in a year trying to bypass environmental regulations so he could build a strip mall where he wasn’t allowed to. Also he bribed the cheapskates in charge of this town with five hundred grand all told across five years to give his company building projects. Another Earth life lesson—even the “good guys” here are part of a big-tent coalition with corrupt assholes. This asshole’s daughter’s friend got into USC despite bragging about how she didn’t care about getting an education because her mommy bribed her way in. He has a hundred-million-dollar superyacht just because he can. Rich people operate by their own set of rules, and none of them are clean. Even the ones who aren’t crazy assholes like Lex Luthor are marinated in this crap. At least Cat Grant worked her way up, but she’s one of the last of a dying breed, and even she’s a high-strung asshole who’s rude to her employees for no reasons and insists on comically specific expensive foods and beverage. Though, to be fair, she is getting better after that yurt trip.”
“Oh.” Alex’s fingers click across the keyboard. Astra fantasizes momentarily about having those strong, slender digits playing across her backbone, then shuts it away with ruthless inner strength.
Ruthless inner strength that’s getting weaker and weaker day by day.
“Look, I’m just making it look like this asshole’s embezzling money from contractors while giving most of his money to the Sierra Club. Oh, and I’m selling his superyacht to a Russian oligarch who wants a masculinity substitute since he’s afraid to come out as a lady. Russia’s a shitty place to be transgender, see.”
“What about the contractors who must be paid with that money?”
“Anonymous checks showing up after they finish suing this douche canoe. Winn’s keeping track of them, since he’s got assistants at CatCo now to handle half his workload.”
“Assistants?”
“Apparently he’s in a queer club now and hired two of his friends from there to work for him. Wait, no, Winn said to use “they” for pronouns. Apparently they’re experimenting with gender or something. Long story, I only got part of it on the flight from Tahiti. Anyway, Winn can make sure we can make direct payments to anyone who loses their job in the interim.” She taps a key. “Hey, should I send this guy’s porn collection to his family?”
“That…may be unnecessarily cruel,” Astra posits, albeit with great reluctance.
“Fair. I’ll just scrub it…ooh.”
“What?”
“Just…uh…this one I’m saving for later. Um. Research purposes.”
“What?” Astra is at her side in an instant, and Alex flushes as red as a sunset. “What could—oh.”
The women in the picture are excessively beautiful, although not quite as beautiful as Alex, one auburn-haired in a leather corset that bares her breasts, holding a leash as she smiles down at the brunette in lacy panties and a collar that’s clipped to the other end of the leash. The brunette smiles upwards beatifically, transfixed by the auburn-haired woman, her legs splayed open, palms resting on her knees as she kneels, the corseted woman’s free hand gently tilting the brunette’s chin up.
It’s maybe a minute before a noise in the hall alerts Astra and she looks up sharply. “Movement.” She sees through the wall with a single squint. “A guard.”
“Right!” Alex clears her throat and her fingers, white silk gloves protecting her fingerprints, race over the keyboard. “Get the window?”
“Of course.” Astra opens the window, and a breeze flips papers off of the table. “I estimate thirty seconds.”
“Right.” Alex saves the picture to a jump drive, uploads her computer virus, and quickly sets the computer to reformat. It takes an agonizing twenty-five seconds. The security guard steps ever-closer. “Let’s go!”
“Hold on,” Astra murmurs as she sweeps Alex up in her arms.
By the time the security guard reaches the door, the window is closed. By the time he opens the door, Astra is a hundred feet up, Alex clinging to her as their hair is whipped every which way by the wind.
They get a room at a Motel Six in Monterey County, and Alex claims the bathroom immediately.
Two minutes later, Astra hears her name come from Alex’s lips. She turns, squints through the wall…
And looks away sharply, flushing again. But she can’t tune out the sound of Alex moaning Astra’s name into her forearm.
Astra waits until Alex has fallen asleep after their showers, and steals into the bathroom with Alex’s phone. She knows the code, of course. Alex gave it to her for emergency purposes, though this is clearly not such.
As Astra suspects, the Picture (and it’s capitalized now in her mind, she knows that somehow), presumably downloaded from the jump drive somehow, is the last that Alex looked at.
Astra is a proper Kryptonian woman. Touching herself for base sexual pleasure is against everything she was raised to believe.
She climaxes on her fingers, Alex’s name on her lips, the picture on Alex’s phone in her other hand.
For a moment, she imagines that the woman in the corset has Alex’s face…and that the brunette has Astra’s.
***
Kara calls them from a club the next night.
“Alex!” There’s loud music in the background. “Luce, sit down, precious. Hey, Alex, Astra, look, J’onn said that you stole a bunch of money and some porn from a real estate mogul?”
“No comment,” Alex says with a forced poker face.
“Right, OK. Knees spread, Luce. Be a good girl for Mistress. Alex, I’m worried—you’re supposed to be keeping Astra under control!”
“It was Alexandra’s idea!” Astra protests. “And should you not be concerned with faking our relationship?”
“And what’s this Mistress crap?” Alex demands. “You mentioned someone—is that Lucy, is freaking Lucy Lane there?”
“Um…” Kara clears her throat. “Confidence,” she whispers as if to herself. “Just like Ms. Grant said.” She clears her throat again. “I’m…sort of on a date. Well, it’s a BDSM thing…look, I can totally explain later, but basically, Alex, I’m pansexual, it’s a Kryptonian thing, I’m sure you can ask Aunt Astra, and it turns out that Lucy really likes it when I, you know, take the lead, and Leslie does too, and there’s…ugh, I can’t do this over the phone, and I’m rambling, I’m sorry, not for being me or exploring stuff, but for rambling—Lucy, stop laughing! Anyway, we can have this talk soon, but I just wanted to warn you two, POTUS is Tweeting a bunch of angry stuff again and we think he’s trying to find you. Be safe, OK? I got enough from the honeymoon shoot to convince ICE, I think, so just keep moving and stay away from the authorities. And stop doing crimes, for Rao’s sake!”
There’s a full ten seconds of silence. Then Alex chokes out, “You…women…gay…you…Lucy Lane…”
“Yes, Alex,” Kara sighs. “I’m into women. And men, but women too. Please don’t be mad.”
“No, I’m not mad, I’m not a bigot, I just…I didn’t know…I’m sorry. It’s just, that kind of thing…it loses friends, you know?”
“Oh.” Kara’s face shifts from fear, indignance, and worry, to something approaching grief. “Vicki.”
“Um…” Alex looks away, biting her lip.
“What are you talking about?” Astra asks.
“It’s complicated. You two should talk about it. We can have a family talk later.”
“Tell In-Ze that if Danvers hasn’t masturbated to the thought of her yet, I’ll eat my collar!” Lucy Lane’s voice filters through the speaker.
“Lucy!” Kara hisses. But all Astra can see is the blush consuming Alex’s entire visible skin. “Just for that, nothing but teasing tonight!”
“Yes, Mistress,” Lucy says breathily.
“Look, I gotta go, I’m sorry, please stay safe!” And Kara is gone.
Astra barely notices.
“Alexandra?” she murmurs, gently squeezing the Human’s shoulder.
“I…” Alex croaks. “I’m…”
Astra knows what she should say, though not why. “Who is Vicki, Alexandra?”
“My…my friend. From middle school. I…There was a sleepover. I wanted to kiss her. She called me a freak, and we weren’t friends anymore.”
“Oh, Alexandra.” Astra tugs her around. There are tears running down the Human’s beautiful face. “I am sorry for your pain. But I will not abandon you, I swear it.”
“Astra,” Alex breathes.
And then she’s lunging forwards, her lips meet Astra’s, and everything else in the world is gone for a full hour.
Naked and soaked in sweat on a bed at a Motel Six in Monterey County, Alex Danvers says, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m not actually surprised by Kara being a budding dominatrix.”
Astra In-Ze can only mmh-hmm in agreement.
“So,” Alex says after another few minutes of just enjoying the touch of skin on skin. “Am I crazy, or are we both thinking of going after President Trump again?”
“You are not insane,” Astra replies.
“Want to steal what actual money he has, give it to charities for trans kids, and superglue his feet to his shoes?”
“I see no reason not to do so.”
“Sweet. Let’s go be gay and do crimes.”
***
The effort to ruin Donald Trump’s life gets very far out of hand, and he ends up losing his re-election bid in a ten-point landslide when his plans for an outright coup are released to the public. He attempts the coup anyway, only to be kidnapped and left in the general-population holding cells on Rikers Island by a masked Kryptonian.
Alex and Astra come out of hiding the day the new President is inaugurated, and have a very long talk with Kara that ends up in a lot of happy tears and hugs.
Since they are technically legally married, there is not strictly a need for another wedding.
Nevertheless, Astra wears a sleek dress and Alex a crisp suit.
The re-wedding night is very entertaining for them both.