“Explain this to me again.”
“Right!” Winn spins around in his chair and fires finger guns at her, grinning too wide and too bright. “So, there’s this super cool–”
“Super evil,” Kara chimes in.
“Right!” Winn says againn. “Totally evil, super cool, ridiculously hot bad guy who goes by Roulette.”
“I got that part,” Sam says dryly, arms still folded over her chest and eyebrow still reaching upwards. She glances over towards Alex, who’s carefully not looking at anyone and is wholly focused on the tablet in her hands.
“And she’s having a poker event,” Winn goes on.”
“A themed poker event,” Kara says.
“A themed poker event where the theme is it’s women’s history month and men are garbage,” Winn carries on. “We need to make our way in, but Lena is already on the docket as having no date–”
“Which is offensive,” Lena says with a sniff over the video chat.
“–and Kara has to be on the perimeter in case she does anything shady like imprison a bunch of humans to be slaves on alien planets–”
“I’m sorry, what ?” Sam says sharply. “I have a daughter, you know, I can't wind up on another planet.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Alex rushes out, a hand shooting out to settle on her wrist. “Promise.
“–and Alex is the only one with the clearance to infiltrate, since she’s gone undercover at a Roulette event before, so she needs a date–”
“Partner!” Alex hisses, free fist slamming into his shoulder hard enough for him to squeal.
“Partner,” he amends quickly. “And we know and trust you, you have nifty invulnerability, and–”
“I’ll do it,” Sam says. Her hand covers Alex’s, still on her wrist, and her eyes lock onto Alex’s. “Just let me know what you need from me.”
In the background, Winn and Kara trade high fives when Alex flushes almost the color of Kara’s cape.
“Here we go,” Sam says, pulling in a deep breath. She fiddles nervously with her fake wedding ring, presses a hand to her ear without meaning to, feeling for the earbud, and Alex wraps a hand around hers and pulls it away from her ear.
“Don’t poke at them,” she says softly. “It’s conspicuous.”
“Right,” Sam mumbles. “I knew that.” She takes another deep breath, shakes her arms out, and offers a crooked elbow to Alex. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” Alex says with a small smile. She hooks her hand through Sam’s elbow and follows her down the block to the entrance. “You look good, by the way. Great, even.”
Sam clears her throat self consciously, free hand tugging gingerly at the lapel, straightening the drape of her jacket, the sharp edges of her tie. “Thank you,” she says, words coming out heavy. “You look amazing in that dress.”
She does, the dark green a warm compliment to her eyes, and Sam pushes her chin higher as they stride past the doorman into a too-bright club and immediately looks for alcohol. She can handle this, so long as this continues to be just Alex in that dress, Alex’s hand on her arm, the intimidatingly hot woman in the red dress prowling around the edges of the crowd and stalking towards them with her gaze set firmly on the long expanses of skin that Alex’s dress leaves open–
Oh, no. That can’t be good, that flare of heat building behind her sternum, growing as the woman makes her way indirectly towards them.
“You okay?” Alex says softly, one hand careful at her elbow and the other offering her a drink.
“Yep,” Sam says too quickly. She swallows half of the scotch in one go. “All good.”
“You seem tense.” Alex’s hand tightens around her elbow, pulling against her momentum and swinging her carefully around until they’re face to face, Alex’s heels giving her enough height to almost meet Sam’s eyes without looking up. “We don’t have to do this.”
“I’m okay.” Sam forces her shoulders to relax and her mouth to go soft, shoulders curving towards Alex automatically and mouth dipping towards her ear. “I promise.” The woman in the red dress closes in on them and her hand skims along Alex’s lower back, cutting off any reply from Alex and pushing her spine ramrod straight.
“And who might you be?”
“Alex.” She holds out her free hand with an insincere smile, the other curving around Sam’s waist and pulling her close. “This is my wife, Sam.”
“A pleasure, the both of you,” Roulette says, shaking first Sam’s hand, and then Alex’s. Her hand lingers around Alex’s, eyes holding on the sharp lines of Alex’s collarbones and the neckline of her dress, and Sam swallows the swell of anger in her chest, pushes away the edges of the Kryptonian strength in her muscles aching for the opportunity to punch Roulette through the floorboards. “I trust you’re having a good time.”
“The best,” Alex says warmly. Her thumb moves obviously over the material of Sam’s shirt, tracing up towards her ribcage and down towards her hipbone. “We don’t often get out together these days– work, you know– so it’s wonderful to get to be out and about on a date night.”
“What do you both do?” Roulette captures two flutes of champagne off the tray, offering one to Alex and keeping one for herself. Alex smoothly hands hers off to Sam and claims the second for herself, leaving Roulette with empty hands.
“Oh, you know,” Sam says with a nod and a sip of her newly claimed champagne. “I work in finance, Alex works in technology. Hardly any time for ourselves.”
“It’s lovely that you find the time,” Roulette says, disdain not remotely hidden. “Please excuse me, a friend of mine has just arrived.” She shoots an uninhibited glare towards Sam before spinning on one stiletto and heading off. She pauses to look over her shoulder, and Alex pushes up onto her toes to whisper into Sam’s ear.
“Keep it up,” she says softly. “The more distracted she is by us, the more likely that Kara can catch her off guard.”
“In that case.” Sam leans closer, fingers fanning out over Alex’s lower back and pulling her closer to press a kiss to her cheek and glance past her to where Roulette is welcoming another guest, disgruntled but charming. “Should we dance?” She pulls back enough to hand her champagne glass to a waiter and holds her freed hands out to Alex, one eyebrow up.
Alex flushes and clears her throat, stumbling momentarily before discarding her own glass and following Sam out onto the dance floor.
“You’re a natural, you know,” she says, arms curling around Sam’s neck as she presses closer.
Sam swallows against the dryness in her throat and narrows her focus to keeping her arms respectably loose around Alex’s waist, holding her pulse to a reasonable level to match the familiar calm rhythm of Alex’s heartbeat.
“What can I say,” she says after a moment. “Some things come easy.” She raises an eyebrow and spins them around another couple and dips Alex for a moment, the still-alien strength in her muscles minimizing any offer she might have once had to put into it.
“Somehow I’m not surprised,” Alex says, pressing close enough out of the dip that Sam can feel the seams of her dress pressing through her jacket, her shirt, her pants. “Of course being charming and suave would come easy to you, miss I-run-the-largest-company-in-the-world.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sam forces a light air to her words and guides them around another couple, further away from Roulette and closer to a neglected corner of the dancefloor. “So, what’s the plan?”
“More of the same,” Alex says softly. Her fingers press softly against the back of Sam’s neck, and a shudder roars down Sam’s spine. “Recon. We let Kara know when and where Roulette leaves so she can intercept.”
“In that case,” Sam says. She lets Alex out into a twirl and then pulls her back in. “What are the federal government’s rules about drinking on the job? Because there is some really nice scotch at that bar.”
“The rules are strict, Miss Arias.” Director J’onzz’s voice crackles through the earpieces, sudden and sharp enough to make Sam jump. Alex rolls her eyes and winks, fingers sliding through Sam’s and tugging her towards the bar. She points at the bottle and holds up two fingers with her free hand, her other still occupied with holding tight to Sam’s.
“Relax,” Alex says quietly as the drinks are offered to them. “You don’t have any responsibility here. You’re just here to get me into the party, so have a drink and enjoy yourself.”
“Right,” Sam mumbles. She throws back the scotch like a shot of cheaper whiskey, glaring at the bartender’s offended wince, and motions for another one. “In that case, can I just have the bottle?”
Alex laughs softly and curls into her side, an arm around her waist and body pressed to Sam’s from ribs to knees, and pours them both another drink. Sam throws it back as well, focusing on the burn in her chest instead of the warmth of Alex at her side or the fact that she’s just there as a decoy.
“So,” Sam says, slow and thick, pushing through the edges of intoxication. “How’d we do?”
“Awesome,” Alex mumbles. The building is emptied out of all the guest, save for Roulette in handcuffs in another room, looking highly offended at Kara and J’onn question her, and the collection of DEO agents milling around. Sam and Alex have been relegated to the main room, out of her sight, in case their cover needs to be reused, and it’s left them alone with the full bar. “We’re a totally badass team. You would make a great secret agent.”
She pours them both another drink, pouting when the last of the absurdly expensive bottle of Balvenie drips into her glass. Sam rolls her eyes and trades her fuller glass for Alex’s.
“To fake dates,” she says with only a moderate slur.
“Fake dates,” Alex echoes, glass clinking against hers and whiskey sloshing about precariously. “You’re the best fake date I’ve ever had.”
“That can’t really be that high a bar.”
“Still,” Alex says, breathy and indignant. “You were the best. Cool and charming and a great dance and super hot–”
“Super hot?” Sam blinks dumbly at her, scotch halfway to her mouth and mouth hanging open.
“Um,” Alex mumbles.
“You think I’m hot?”
“I mean.” Alex flaps her hands around for a long moment, then sighs and slumps further down onto her barstool. “You’re totally hot and I can’t even act like you aren’t. Especially in the suit.”
Sam tugs at her tie, fingers missing the edges of her loose tie momentarily and fumbling to find them. “I mean,” she says after a long moment. “You’re like–so beautiful, you know? And super cool, and a total badass. So I mean, I don’t know what you’re–”
“You guys!” Kara yells from the other room. It bellow through the empty air between them and crackles into their earpieces, and Sam giggles into her hand, too loud and too drunk. “I can hear you!”“
“Sorry!” Alex whisper-shouts in the general direction of the other room. She yanks her earpiece out and nearly falls off her stool leaning forward to retrieve Sam’s, one hand falling onto her leg for balance. She flings both of the earpieces over the bar and sticks her tongue out towards Kara, hand still on Sam’s leg and shoulders still tilted towards her.
“We should go to your place,” Sam murmurs, fingertips tracing up from Alex’s wrist to her elbow and back again.
“Yeah,” Alex breathes out. “We really should.” She latches onto Sam’s wrist and pulls her off the barstool towards the door, hesitating only when Kara yells out “ I can still hear you, you know!”.
It would be enough, normally, to make Sam blush, but instead she just winks brazenly and lets Alex drag her out of the building and into a taxi. They make it to Alex’s apartment in record time, probably because Sam’s hauled Alex into her lap and probably because of Alex’s mouth on Sam’s neck and almost definitely about Sam’s hands reaching for the hem of Alex’s dress, but just barely quickly enough to avoid them moving too far past the point of irrevocably embarrassing themselves. Barely.