Supergirl Defender Of Love

Kara woke to the soft hum of the sun against her skin, her body soaking in every ray like it was liquid gold. She stretched, feeling her power swelling within her, growing sharper with each day under this universe's sun. There was a point, she knew, where she'd have to consciously start holding back. That point was approaching fast.

Yawning, she rolled out of bed and padded into the kitchen, where Natasha was, as always, already there. Coffee brewed. A tablet open with S.H.I.E.L.D. reports. She wore her usual off-duty outfit—black tank top, dark jeans, hair tied back in a loose bun. Efficient, lethal, and, to Kara, hot as hell.

"You live here now," Kara teased, leaning against the counter, arms folded across her chest.

Natasha didn't look up. "Security protocol."

"Right. Security." Kara grinned, biting into an apple. "Ever notice how there's no more guys on the security detail? Or is it just me?"

That made Natasha pause, if only for a fraction of a second. Her eyes flicked up, then back down to her tablet.

"Men are unreliable," she said smoothly. "They're probably off drinking somewhere."

Kara raised an eyebrow, but let it slide. She liked having Natasha around, regardless of her increasingly obvious territorial instincts. Besides, the idea of men being incompetent enough to disappear didn't sound that crazy.

Natasha sipped her coffee calmly. Beneath the table, her foot nudged a duffel bag filled with freshly soiled gloves and a shovel—tools from her late-night work in Kara's backyard. A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent had gotten a little too comfortable the night before, hanging around Kara's perimeter after his shift. Natasha had corrected that mistake. Permanently.

The ground near the tree line behind Kara's guesthouse was starting to look a little too freshly turned. She'd need to cover it with some new plants soon.

Her phone buzzed. Gwen.

Gwen: "Harry's hosting Thanksgiving dinner. You should totally come. We can hang out after ;)"

Kara grinned. Gwen was getting bold. She liked that.

"Gwen invited me to Thanksgiving at Harry's place," Kara said casually.

Natasha's coffee cup stopped halfway to her lips. Her eyes narrowed, barely perceptibly.

"Where?"

"The Osborn penthouse. Fancy. I guess Harry's trying to make an impression."

Natasha placed her cup down with precision. "I'm coming."

Kara smirked. "Security protocol?"

"Security protocol."

Kara didn't argue. She knew Natasha's possessive streak was only growing, and she was enjoying every second of it.

As Kara typed out her acceptance to Gwen, her ears picked up something else—an elevated heartbeat across the city. Norman Osborn, alone in his penthouse office, was talking to himself. Well, to part of himself.

"No… not now. I'm still in control…"

"You're weak, Norman. They all want to take what's yours. Your board… your son… even that alien girl. You see the way she laughs? She mocks you. They all do. Kill them."

Kara stirred her coffee lazily, tuning in and out of the Goblin's growing dominance over Norman. She could fly over there, rip his armor apart, heat vision him into dust. But where was the fun in that? This was better. Watching the slow unraveling. She didn't need to intervene. This was Peter's story to handle. She was just here to enjoy the show.

Another buzz. A message from Harry.

Harry: "Can't wait to see you Thursday. You'll be the most beautiful girl at the table. Don't tell Gwen ;)"

Kara laughed out loud. Natasha's eyes snapped up.

"Harry," Kara said. "Flirting. He's really trying."

Natasha's grip on her cup whitened her knuckles. Her jaw tightened, but she smiled—dangerously.

"I'll handle it."

Kara raised her hands in mock surrender. "Easy, wifey."

Natasha didn't deny it. She didn't need to. Her mind was already running through scenarios: a warning glare, a discreet threat, a gun pressed to Harry's temple if necessary. She'd eliminate the problem if it persisted. That's what wives did.

Later that day, as Kara strolled through the city, she caught the scent of desperation. A man—mid-thirties, confident but a little too eager—approached her outside a bakery.

"Hey," he said smoothly. "I couldn't help but notice you. Maybe we could—"

Kara smiled politely. "Not interested."

He persisted, leaning closer. "Aw, come on. Don't be like—"

He never finished. Kara kept walking, but as she turned the corner, she saw her.

Wanda, dressed in civilian clothes, leaning against a lamppost like she'd been there forever. Her eyes met Kara's briefly—a faint smile. Kara kept walking.

Behind her, the man clutched his chest and collapsed into the alley. Heart failure. Or at least, that's what the coroner would say.

Wanda turned and walked in the opposite direction, red tendrils briefly flickering at her fingertips before fading.

Natasha buried bodies. Wanda made them disappear with a whisper.

No men would get near Kara. Ever.

That evening, Kara settled into her couch with Natasha beside her. The TV was on low—another J. Jonah Jameson rant about the "alien menace." Kara didn't care. She was more amused by the fact that there were still no male agents in sight.

"You know," Kara said, stretching her legs out across Natasha's lap. "I swear I haven't seen a guy on my detail in, like, a week."

Natasha didn't flinch. "I told you. Men are unreliable."

Kara raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because Fury's been assigning—"

Natasha cut her off smoothly. "Probably in a bar somewhere."

Kara shrugged. She didn't really care. But something in Natasha's tone—too calm, too prepared—made her curious.

Across town, Fury sat in his office, flipping through personnel files. He tapped his pen against the desk, frowning.

"Where the hell are all my men?"

Kara lay in bed later that night, staring at her ceiling. Her phone buzzed again—Gwen this time.

Gwen: "Goodnight <3 Can't wait for Thursday!"

She smiled, replying with a quick goodnight. Gwen was sweet. And crazy. And hers. She liked it that way.

In her room across the city, Gwen whispered softly to Venom. "Harry won't last long. Neither will the Widow. She's mine."

Venom purred in agreement.

Natasha lay in her quarters, but her mind was elsewhere—on the weight of her gun, the precise location of the Osborn penthouse, the best way to drag a body through Kara's backyard without being noticed.

And Wanda? Wanda watched from the shadows, patient, but her fingers ached for Kara's hand.

Kara closed her eyes, grinning to herself.

This universe was perfect.

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