Diana

He turned automatically, blinking at the tall figure stepping inside.

Diana Prince.

He didn’t know her as anything other than a stunningly beautiful woman whose boobs he fell into and who he fucked once. Which, actually, was maybe quite a lot. The effect she had was immediate. Her hair was dark and perfect around her shoulders, her striking features enough to make his mouth go dry. Tonight, she wore a fitted blazer over a silk blouse, sharp slacks, and heels that clicked against the floor.

“Oh, hi,” the pizza guy greeted, smiling politely. “Welcome. What can I get for you tonight?”

Diana smiled, her lips curved like she knew more than she should. “I’ll need a very long order. Seven pizzas total, all veggie, and perhaps… a few sides.” Her voice was smooth, deliberate, like honey laced with steel.

Kara stiffened at his side. She didn’t say anything, but the way her arm tightened around his made it clear she’d picked up on something.

“Uhh, right now, it’s the end of the day so I’ll have to check if we have everything in our inventory. Um, Kara?”

The pizza guy thought he could escape from her grip but damn. Girlie was strong. Kara apologized and let go. He ducked into the back, already muttering veggie toppings under his breath so he wouldn’t forget.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, the tension in the room shifted.

Kara narrowed her eyes. “Why are you here?” she asked, edged with irritation.

Diana was a woman of feigned innocence. “Why else? I was hungry. This is a pizza place, is it not?”

Kara crossed her arms, glaring. “Cut it out. You’re here because of him.”

That earned her the faintest, knowing smile from Diana. “He’s… interesting,” she admitted, glancing toward the kitchen. “Charming in his way. Innocent. It’s rare to find someone like that in Gotham.”

Kara’s cheeks flushed, though her jaw set stubbornly. “He’s not for you.”

“Not for me?” Diana raised a brow, her tone calm but smug. “That’s bold, Kara. Especially since, if I recall correctly… you’re not exactly honest with him, are you?”

Kara flinched, biting her lip. “That’s not the point.”

She had been taught by Clark to care about her identity. Whereas Diana, she had a couple and she didn’t care so strictly about it.

“Plus, unlike you, heh…” Kara put a hand on her chest, puffing it out proudly. “I’m way ahead. Human courting customs are easy for me now.”

“Are you now?”

Kara did not like the confidence in her nor what Diana said next: “His company is memorable, is it not?"

“Excuse me?”

Diana’s expression said everything and nothing at once. Kara didn’t believe it. She wouldn’t believe it. The blonde spectacled woman bristled, her fists clenching at her sides. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but he’s mine.”

“Is he?” Diana countered softly, leaning just enough for her words to press like a dagger. “Then you should be prepared to fight for him. Because men like him… they don’t stay unnoticed for long.”

The door to the kitchen creaked open again, and both women straightened instantly, masks of civility sliding back into place as if nothing had been said.

He returned with a notepad in hand, grinning like he always did when trying to get an order perfect. “Okay, so you want seven, right? We have everything so I’ll get started soon. It’ll take about two-ish hours.”

Diana smiled at him with practiced warmth. “Perfect.”

Kara lingered a second by the counter, her blue eyes flicking toward Diana with a little smirk that wasn’t quite polite. Then, without a word, she followed him into the kitchen.

“Where are you—”

Kara stuck her tongue out. She was being very immature and Diana suddenly regretted taunting her.

The kitchen was small, warm, and smelled like flour, cheese, and garlic. He was already reaching for a rolling pin, shoulders flexing under his work shirt.

“You know,” she started, voice light, “you work way too hard. Two hours? For one order? You should take… little breaks.”

“Oh, Kara! Um…you’re here too?”

“Just to hang out. What, do you want your date to be in her lonesome for two hours?” Kara leaned on the counter, pretending to just “hang out”. The sparkle in her eye gave away her real plan.

“R-right…” He looked away. She was too pretty for any guy. Glasses made her hotter, honestly. “If I take breaks, then people don’t get their pizza. And then they yell at me. Gotham people get real intense about pizza.”

Kara laughed softly, but instead of answering, she undid the first button of her blouse.

He turned back to his dough, dusting flour, completely oblivious. “Besides, this way I can get it all done fast and maybe—uh—” He looked up and nearly dropped the ladle in his hand. “—K-Kara?”

She tilted her head, innocent as a cat sitting in a puddle of milk. “Hmm?”

“It’s uh…”

Was she…not wearing a bra?

Her cleavage peeked playfully, her glasses slightly slipping down her nose. She pushed them back up with one finger, smiling like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

He froze, every cell in his brain screaming don’t stare don’t stare don’t stare.

Kara leaned closer over the counter. “Don’t worry, I like it this way.” She tapped the rolling pin he was holding. “Anyway… you’re cute when you cook.”

He fumbled, turning bright red. “I—I’m just making pizza. Not… not exactly romantic.”

“It is when you do it,” Kara teased, her voice low. She slid off her stool and moved behind him, her hand brushing his arm as she peeked over his shoulder. “Look at those hands.” She could break them with a tiny twitch.

“I, uh… I use them for dough,” he muttered, his voice cracking.

Kara giggled and leaned in until her chest pressed lightly against his back. “I can think of better uses.”

His ears went red. He dropped the rolling pin, and it clattered against the counter. “K-Kara!”

She only laughed again, looping her arms around his waist. He stiffened, unsure whether to melt into her or run into the freezer.

Out front, Diana sat perfectly still on the stiff chair by the window. To anyone else, she looked serene—her legs crossed, her posture immaculate, her face calm. But her ears caught every word.

Better uses… Kara’s voice echoed in her head, smug and sultry.

Diana’s jaw tightened. She was not a woman prone to jealousy. She was Amazon. Warrior. Diplomat. She’d faced gods and monsters without blinking. And yet… here she sat, **** to pretend to wait for pizza while the girl in glasses—Supergirl, no less—was allowed into the back with him. Allowed to touch him, tease him, laugh freely in his space.

And Diana could do nothing without looking like a prowler. She would look like a madwoman if she went in there. Her hands folded tightly in her lap, nails nearly digging into her palms.

In the kitchen, Kara had him backed against the counter, her grin radiant, playful, unstoppable.

“You’re blushing,” Kara said softly, her hand brushing against his jaw.

“I—uh—it’s warm in here. The oven,” he stuttered.

“Mhm.” Kara leaned closer, so close he could see his own stunned reflection in her glasses. “Sure it is.”

He swallowed hard. “K-Kara, I… I think maybe—”

But before he could finish, she pressed her lips to his cheek. A soft, fleeting kiss, like testing the waters. His eyes went wide, his heart hammering.

“Kara…”