( being a superhero comes fairly easy to kara. well, the hero part comes easily to her, at least — the billowing cape, the selfless application of skill and strength for the betterment of her city (and country, and even her planet, lately), and the courage to do the right thing even when it hurts. it's the super part that trips her up. being a public figure, one with no privacy, no right to have a bad day or a mess-up, has always been the challenge for kara.
she's been lucky enough to have cat grant in her corner. catco has always protected supergirl in the media, dissuaded the lowbrow paparazzi-fueled stories that would paint her as anything less than the good girl they've cast her to be. supergirl is the bronzed heroine of their digital age, practically the stuff of legends. her place is in national city, defending the helpless and protecting the weak.
so it comes as a bit of a surprise to kara to find herself summoned to new york city out of the blue one summer afternoon, the address in her dossier leading her to the gleaming glass front of avenger tower. supergirl isn't exactly inconspicious, but at least arriving from the air brings her to the flight deck rather than the ground-floor level; as much as she doesn't mind taking pictures or signing autographs in her cape and skirt, sometimes it's nice to have a quiet entrance for a change.
not that the quiet lasts very long, because it never really does for her. no, the quiet lasts only for a moment, because as soon as she pushes open the doors, there's a high-strung woman in a suit greeting her, talking a mile a minute and guiding her with a tentative hand to her arm into a small conference room where, judging by the sudden hush that falls over the room, it's clear she's the last to arrive.
the meeting itself is brief, almost clinically straightforward; kara can only listen with increasing flustered expressions as the public relations representative explains exactly why the avengers — technically, s.h.i.e.l.d., but "the semantics aren't important here" — have requested supergirl via interagency loan. the public's perception of "superheroes" has reached a critical low. they need a public relations boost, and after intense research and investigation, they've found the simplest option will be the best: love. not real love, though. fake love. pretend love. it works for celebrities. the public eats it up. they don't care if it's real or not, they just want to believe it.
and with that, kara's left alone (or rather, they're left alone) to resign herself to the reality of her situation, to review the copy of the dossier she hadn't bothered to read yet. she'd assumed there would be time to read and voice her objections upon arrival; if she'd taken the time to read before flying, she might have had a chance to protest to j'onn. now, though, it was too late — his signature as her supervising officer was already there, black and white on the faxed copy, and with it, her fate was sealed.
whether kara liked it or not, she was going to date steve rogers. or, rather, supergirl was going to date captain america. starting that day, because time was apparently of the essence, and they had a photo op in a park to create. )
I know you said 'don't be a stranger', but I didn't think this is what you meant.
To say that the mood in the conference room is tense would be an understatement. To the casual observer, it would appear that Captain America has been doing his level best to maintain that tension since the moment he arrived. And the truth is, that casual observer would be right. Steve understands that The Avengers need this, that it's even bigger than his team; he's seen the statistics, the polling data, the cable news punditry all pointing to an all-time low in public opinion on superheroes. He still disagrees fundamentally with what S.H.I.E.L.D. and the D.E.O. have proposed as a solution. But Fury knows just how to work him, because his briefing packet contained irrefutable evidence of the correlation between superheroes' abysmal approval ratings and rising hate crimes against enhanced individuals.
Few of the incidents have been widely publicized, as is so often the case with crimes against a politically vulnerable population, but S.H.I.E.L.D. has collected enough data to convince Steve of the urgency of the situation. Hostility against the enhanced will continue to rise until the public mood on superheroes shifts, and the people who will be most affected don't have time to wait for Steve to come up with a better solution. It's his discomfort versus the safety of hundreds, if not thousands, of civilians. So he agrees. But he makes sure that every S.H.I.E.L.D. and D.E.O. agent in this conference room is well aware of his disapproval. He can only hope it motivates them to come up with something better the next time they face a public perception problem.
Fury knew better than to show his face today, so he's glaring daggers at Maria Hill when Supergirl is escorted into the room. His heart sinks when he realizes she has no idea why they've called her in. He had the benefit of a heads up from Natasha, but not everyone has a Black Widow in their circle. He doesn't know how he would have reacted without advance warning, he just knows he couldn't have maintained his composure half as well as Supergirl ultimately does.
When the agents leave, Steve remains in his seat at the opposite end of the conference table, staring down at the folder in his hands and listening to the soft rustling of pages as she flips through her own packet. Suddenly, it occurs to Steve that she might think that he was in on all of this from the start, and he needs her to know that he would never have approve this plan, nor is he a fan of the execution, but before he opens his mouth to speak, she's diffusing the tension with a joke. His shoulders sag in relief; he couldn't express how grateful he feels to her in that moment if he tried.
"It really wasn't," he promises. "Fury's always had a unique way of bringing people together. I can't even say for sure that this is a first for S.H.I.E.L.D." He tries to tone down the bitterness in his voice before adding, "I'm sorry you got dragged into this."
"You know, if you wanted a different partner, I'm sure my cousin's available."
But she's teasing, the slightest hint of a smile curving up the corners of her mouth as she pushes back her own chair. The call to tidy up after everyone is irresistable; among the scattered chairs and abandoned coffee cups, there's the inevitable mess of papers and folders left behind by uninterested parties only present for logistical reasons, so Kara has plenty to do while Steve fidgets with his own dossier. She feels more capable this way, with something to do — it reminds her of days that feel like a lifetime ago, when she was just Cat Grant's assistant, always rushing to clean up some mess while preventing the next.
Eventually, though, he rises from his own seat and joins her, and she lets him guide her out of the conference room down the hall to where the elevator awaits. She doesn't have clearance yet — her own SHIELD badge will come later, after a meeting with one of the Koenig brothers, so Steve's will have to do for now. The hallway is, at least, blissfully empty. There may be microphones in the tiles, but they're alone. That's something.
"Steve." Her voice drops, now, barely above a whisper as she steps a little closer. "This isn't the mission I would have signed up for, but... it could be worse, right? We can do this."
They'll have to, in any case. But they should try. They should at least try to sell this to the public. A hand, held out in his direction, is a good first step.
Steve can only hope that his nervous laughter comes off as good-natured, because otherwise it'll seem like he's uncomfortable with the very suggestion that he would fake date Superman, and the reality is more complicated than he cares to explain. He doesn't mind the joke at all, he's just overthinking every potential response that comes to him. This sort of light banter is dangerously close to flirting, which has never been Steve's strong suit. And if he's honest with himself, he needs to start compartmentalizing right now, because the last thing this mission needs is for him to lose the ability to differentiate between fake feelings and real ones.
"I had a lot of objections today, but none of them had to do with who my partner is." He says this with as much sincerity as he can muster, because he really doesn't want Kara to get the impression that spending time with her is his problem with all of this. If anything, he's more outraged on her behalf than on his: unlike him, she has a full life of her own, with more than enough on her plate already.
He recognizes the impulse to busy oneself with whatever is on hand, so he doesn't bother telling her that someone on Stark Industries' payroll is undoubtedly standing by to clear the conference room once they've left. When she's done, he leads the way to the elevators, trying his very hardest not to worry about his ability to pull this off. He'll have to ask Natasha to coach him, lest he look unconvincing for the paparazzi. He may hate this idea, but he believes in the cause, so failure isn't an option.
Super soldier that he is, Steve hears her whisper clear as day. The elevator chimes its arrival and, without thinking, he takes Kara's outstretched hand in his and steps on. "We can do this," he agrees with a decisive nod. Instead of releasing her hand, he laces their fingers together, hoping it will feel more natural by the time they get to the park. "I don't love the idea that lying to the public is the best plan that two intelligence agencies could come up with, but that doesn't mean that I want this mission to fail. And I have no intention of letting Supergirl come out of this looking bad."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
☀️ it's called 'public' relations for a reason.
she's been lucky enough to have cat grant in her corner. catco has always protected supergirl in the media, dissuaded the lowbrow paparazzi-fueled stories that would paint her as anything less than the good girl they've cast her to be. supergirl is the bronzed heroine of their digital age, practically the stuff of legends. her place is in national city, defending the helpless and protecting the weak.
so it comes as a bit of a surprise to kara to find herself summoned to new york city out of the blue one summer afternoon, the address in her dossier leading her to the gleaming glass front of avenger tower. supergirl isn't exactly inconspicious, but at least arriving from the air brings her to the flight deck rather than the ground-floor level; as much as she doesn't mind taking pictures or signing autographs in her cape and skirt, sometimes it's nice to have a quiet entrance for a change.
not that the quiet lasts very long, because it never really does for her. no, the quiet lasts only for a moment, because as soon as she pushes open the doors, there's a high-strung woman in a suit greeting her, talking a mile a minute and guiding her with a tentative hand to her arm into a small conference room where, judging by the sudden hush that falls over the room, it's clear she's the last to arrive.
the meeting itself is brief, almost clinically straightforward; kara can only listen with increasing flustered expressions as the public relations representative explains exactly why the avengers — technically, s.h.i.e.l.d., but "the semantics aren't important here" — have requested supergirl via interagency loan. the public's perception of "superheroes" has reached a critical low. they need a public relations boost, and after intense research and investigation, they've found the simplest option will be the best: love. not real love, though. fake love. pretend love. it works for celebrities. the public eats it up. they don't care if it's real or not, they just want to believe it.
and with that, kara's left alone (or rather, they're left alone) to resign herself to the reality of her situation, to review the copy of the dossier she hadn't bothered to read yet. she'd assumed there would be time to read and voice her objections upon arrival; if she'd taken the time to read before flying, she might have had a chance to protest to j'onn. now, though, it was too late — his signature as her supervising officer was already there, black and white on the faxed copy, and with it, her fate was sealed.
whether kara liked it or not, she was going to date steve rogers. or, rather, supergirl was going to date captain america. starting that day, because time was apparently of the essence, and they had a photo op in a park to create. )
I know you said 'don't be a stranger', but I didn't think this is what you meant.
no subject
Few of the incidents have been widely publicized, as is so often the case with crimes against a politically vulnerable population, but S.H.I.E.L.D. has collected enough data to convince Steve of the urgency of the situation. Hostility against the enhanced will continue to rise until the public mood on superheroes shifts, and the people who will be most affected don't have time to wait for Steve to come up with a better solution. It's his discomfort versus the safety of hundreds, if not thousands, of civilians. So he agrees. But he makes sure that every S.H.I.E.L.D. and D.E.O. agent in this conference room is well aware of his disapproval. He can only hope it motivates them to come up with something better the next time they face a public perception problem.
Fury knew better than to show his face today, so he's glaring daggers at Maria Hill when Supergirl is escorted into the room. His heart sinks when he realizes she has no idea why they've called her in. He had the benefit of a heads up from Natasha, but not everyone has a Black Widow in their circle. He doesn't know how he would have reacted without advance warning, he just knows he couldn't have maintained his composure half as well as Supergirl ultimately does.
When the agents leave, Steve remains in his seat at the opposite end of the conference table, staring down at the folder in his hands and listening to the soft rustling of pages as she flips through her own packet. Suddenly, it occurs to Steve that she might think that he was in on all of this from the start, and he needs her to know that he would never have approve this plan, nor is he a fan of the execution, but before he opens his mouth to speak, she's diffusing the tension with a joke. His shoulders sag in relief; he couldn't express how grateful he feels to her in that moment if he tried.
"It really wasn't," he promises. "Fury's always had a unique way of bringing people together. I can't even say for sure that this is a first for S.H.I.E.L.D." He tries to tone down the bitterness in his voice before adding, "I'm sorry you got dragged into this."
no subject
But she's teasing, the slightest hint of a smile curving up the corners of her mouth as she pushes back her own chair. The call to tidy up after everyone is irresistable; among the scattered chairs and abandoned coffee cups, there's the inevitable mess of papers and folders left behind by uninterested parties only present for logistical reasons, so Kara has plenty to do while Steve fidgets with his own dossier. She feels more capable this way, with something to do — it reminds her of days that feel like a lifetime ago, when she was just Cat Grant's assistant, always rushing to clean up some mess while preventing the next.
Eventually, though, he rises from his own seat and joins her, and she lets him guide her out of the conference room down the hall to where the elevator awaits. She doesn't have clearance yet — her own SHIELD badge will come later, after a meeting with one of the Koenig brothers, so Steve's will have to do for now. The hallway is, at least, blissfully empty. There may be microphones in the tiles, but they're alone. That's something.
"Steve." Her voice drops, now, barely above a whisper as she steps a little closer. "This isn't the mission I would have signed up for, but... it could be worse, right? We can do this."
They'll have to, in any case. But they should try. They should at least try to sell this to the public. A hand, held out in his direction, is a good first step.
no subject
"I had a lot of objections today, but none of them had to do with who my partner is." He says this with as much sincerity as he can muster, because he really doesn't want Kara to get the impression that spending time with her is his problem with all of this. If anything, he's more outraged on her behalf than on his: unlike him, she has a full life of her own, with more than enough on her plate already.
He recognizes the impulse to busy oneself with whatever is on hand, so he doesn't bother telling her that someone on Stark Industries' payroll is undoubtedly standing by to clear the conference room once they've left. When she's done, he leads the way to the elevators, trying his very hardest not to worry about his ability to pull this off. He'll have to ask Natasha to coach him, lest he look unconvincing for the paparazzi. He may hate this idea, but he believes in the cause, so failure isn't an option.
Super soldier that he is, Steve hears her whisper clear as day. The elevator chimes its arrival and, without thinking, he takes Kara's outstretched hand in his and steps on. "We can do this," he agrees with a decisive nod. Instead of releasing her hand, he laces their fingers together, hoping it will feel more natural by the time they get to the park. "I don't love the idea that lying to the public is the best plan that two intelligence agencies could come up with, but that doesn't mean that I want this mission to fail. And I have no intention of letting Supergirl come out of this looking bad."