The etal chair was unfortable. Not that Kara Zor-El cared much about fort at the moment. Her body still ached from the Kryptonite exposure—every muscle tight, her usually radiant skin cmmy with sweat. It wasn’t the kind of exhaustion she was used to. This was the deep, gnawing weakhat only Kryptonite could bring.
Her powers were still there—barely. She could feel them, like a distant hum beh her skin. But they were dulled, caged. Her body was fighting to burn off the radiation, healing slowly uhis world’s strange sun.
And now… she was in a box.
A S.H.I.E.L.D. interrogation room, to be precise. Dim lighting. crete walls. Surveilnce cameras tucked in every er. And, because someone had a sense of humor, she was handcuffed to the metal table.
Kara gnced down at the cuffs. She could snap them like twigs if she felt like it, even in her weakeate. But for now, she pyed along. She didn’t want to start an interdimensional i. Not yet, anyway.
The door clicked open.
In walked the most dangerous-looking woman Kara had seen in this universe so far. Sleek bck tactical suit hugging every curve, red hair tied ba a tight ponytail, and eyes like a predator’s—sharp, calg, and ready to kill.
Natasha Romanoff. The Bck Widow.
Kara had read enough dossiers bae tnize ae operative when she saw one. And this one practically radiated “I break every bone in your body, but I’ll make it look good.”
The folder in Natasha’s hand hit the table with a satisfying sp.
“So,” Natasha started, voice smooth but ced with steel. “You made quite the entrance.”
Kara leaned back, smirking. “Yeah, I have a fir for that. Did you like the crater?”
Natasha’s lips twitched—almost a smile, but not quite. “Not my first alien crash site. But you’re defihe loudest.”
Kara raised a brow. “I aim to impress.”
Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no hostility—just curiosity. She slid into the seat across from Kara, steepling her fingers.
“Name?”
“Kara Zor-El.”
Natasha jotted it down. “Species?”
“Kryptonian.”
“Purpose?”
Kara hesitated, then shrugged. “Survival. And… I guess sightseeing?”
Natasha didn’t blink. “We don’t appreciate unannouourists.”
“Bme the truck.”
Natasha raised a brow. “The… truck?”
“Space truck. Hit me. But it honked first.”
Silence.
Natasha stared.
Kara stared back.
“…Space truck,” Natasha repeated ftly.
“Space truck,” Kara firmed.
There was a long pause. Then Natasha flipped the page in her file, pretending like that made perfect sense.
Kara suppressed a grin. Oh, I like her.
The questioning tinued—basic details. Kara kept it vague. Krypton was gone. She had been traveling. Brainiac? Sure, he was a thing. She wasn’t here to invade, quer, or ensve anyone. She just wao figure out what the hell this universe even was.
But as the miretched on, something… shifted.
Kara noticed it first in Natasha’s body nguage. The sharp precision in her posture softened. Her shoulders rexed. She leaned forward slightly, elbows resting oable. Her eyes, once cold and assessing, began to linger.
On Kara’s face.
On her chest.
And lower.
Kara tilted her head, curious.
Natasha’s breathing ged—slightly deeper, slower. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. A faint flush crept up her neck.
Oh… oh no.
Kara felt it—like a faint buzz under her skin. Something new. Something stirring. Her body was adjusting to this universe, this sun. And it was doing somethira.
Natasha shifted in her seat. Her hand slid to her colr, tugging it slightly.
“So… Kryptonian,” Natasha murmured, her tone dropping lower—husky, almost sultry. “What kind of powers are we talking about? Strength? Speed?”
Kara blinked. “Uh… yeah. That. And… vision stuff.”
Natasha’s lips parted slightly, eyes half-lidded. “Vision stuff… sounds hot.”
Kara’s brain short-circuited.
“Uh… what?”
Natasha leaned closer—too close—their faces mere inches apart. Her perfume, subtle and deadly, hit Kara’s senses like a bomb.
“Is it just me,” Natasha purred, “or is it getting… hotter in here?”
Kara’s eyes widened. She felt her cheeks flush.
Oh Rao, this is happening.
Before she could respond, Natasha casually reached for her bat suit’s zipper—and pulled it down halfway. The tight fabric parted, revealing smooth, fwless skin and cleavage so powerful it might qualify as a superpower.
Kara’s gaze dropped involuntarily.
Cleavage firmed.
Her Kryptonian brain, capable of processing bat at light speed, froze like an outdated puter.
“Is… is this real life?” Kara muttered.
Natasha smirked, eyes lidded, cheeks lightly flushed. She traced her finger along her colrbone. “I mean… we don’t have to be so formal, Kara…”
Kara’s mouth opened, but words failed her. This wasn’t in any intergactic diplomacy handbook.
Before she could decide whether to lean in or scream, Natasha blinked hard.
The haze in her eyes cleared.
Realization dawned.
She looked down at her exposed chest, then up at Kara, whose expression hovered between awe aential dread.
“Wait—what the hell am I doing?” Natasha hissed, zipping up her suit with military precision.
Kara, trying desperately not to ugh, leaned back with her arms crossed.
“Wow. Tease.”
Natasha shot her a gre so deadly it could have melted steel.
“That… didn’t happen,” Natasha said firmly.
“Right. Of course,” Kara said, holding back a grin. “Professional interrogation. Got it.”
Natasha stood quickly, her usual posure cracked but still holding. She grabbed the file, but her hand trembled slightly. Her eyes lingered on Kara’s face for a sed too long before she turo leave.
Kara watched her go, fighting the urge to ugh.
The door smmed shut.
Silence.
Kara exhaled slowly. Her cheeks still burned. Her heart was rag—not from fear, but from… something else. Her body still felt weird, her skin tingling in ways it never had before. Her Kryptonian biology was shifting—adapting to this universe.
And apparently, it ting in some very specific ways.
She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers.
“What the hell is wrong with me?”
Her mind fshed back to Natasha’s flushed face.
…Not that she was pining.
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