Stay ◇Karamel◇

34. pack your bags

____________
// Kara Danvers \\

"Why do you own a pen with pineapples on it?" I asked, holding it up in front of Mon-El's face. "You barely own anything except clothes, but you have a pen with pineapples on them?"

"I got it at a craft fair," Mon-El defends himself. "I love pineapples."

"Okay, then," I mutter. I put the pen in a box, and walked to the other side of his cot.

We were at the DEO, collecting Mon-El's things. We had a few boxes set up to pack, but he had a shortage of items. The DEO had given him a few shelves for when he bought clothes or other belongings, but the majority of the things he had bought in the last two months were at my apartment.

I approached a second set of shelves by his cot, looking at his objects. They were random odds and ends, things you buy at gift shops or in the seen on tv section at the supermarket.

I wasn't sure how Mon-El had half of this stuff, considering he hadn't often gone to places that I were popular enough to support gift shops.

"You have so many knick knacks," I observed.

"They all have some sort of meaning to me," Mon-El informs me. I picked up a plastic rose, sitting on the top shelf.

"What's this one mean?" I asked.

"It reminds me of the roses that Mxyzptlk left in your apartment the night we got together," He explained. "I wanted to remember it, and I knew the actual roses would die, so I went to the local wall and got a plastic rose."

"Local wall?" I repeated. "Ohh, do you mean Walmart?"

"Oh, yeah," Mon-El giggled. "Walmart."

"That is so sweet," I hummed. "I, uh— I kept the roses. They died a while back, but they're pressed into a notebook I found."

"You did?" A smile rose up on to his face. "That's amazing."

"Thanks."

I found myself giggling.

"Do you always keep things?" Mon-El asked.

"Sometimes," I scoffed, still giggling. "Only when things are important to me."

"Does that mean I'm important to you?" He smirked.

"I guess," I coughed, still giggling. I coughed, trying to stop the fit. "Sorry."

"For what?" Mon-El questioned.

"Being nerdy," I sighed. A small smile was on my lips.

"I don't think you're nerdy," He whispered, brushing my hair behind my ear. "I haven't seen you like this in a long time. It's adorable. I love it."

"Oh," I hummed. "Then, I guess, the flower goes to our apartment."

"It does," Mon-El nods.

___________

"Alex is on her way over," I informed Mon-El, as he placed his knick knacks in their places. "Maggie might be coming, I think."

"Sweet," He exclaimed. "I could make us dinner."

"Please don't," I smirked. "I want to order potstickers and pizza, and I need an excuse for me to do it. You not being able to make dinner is perfect."

"Okay," Mon-El laughed. "I'll call the restaurant, then."

"Thank you!" I sing.

I made my way to my—our —bed, and began to pull the sheets up over the pillows. I listened as Mon-El ordered extra potstickers, and discreetly asked for more fortune cookies.

I turned my head when I heard a knock at the door. I dropped the blanket, and ran towards it. Mon-El's forehead creased. He kept the phone to his ear.

"Hi!" I exclaimed, when the door revealed Maggie and Alex behind it.

"Hey!" Alex laughed. "Sorry, we're early. Traffic was better than expected."

"Yeah, it's no problem," I smiled. "Come on in!"

I brought Alex in for a hug, and squeezed Maggie's hand (with human strength). Mon-El set down the phone, walking over to us all.

"Hey, Alex!" He smiled widely, hugging her. He did the same with Maggie.

"I heard you moved in," Maggie smirked. "Congratulations."

"He offered to help, after I didn't get the job at National Broadcasting," I explained.

"Well, that's sweet, Mon-El," Alex coos.

"The food should be here within a half hour," Mon-El informs us.

"Really, Kara?" Alex frowned. "Takeout? Again?"

"Yup," I sighed. "Mon-El decided he didn't want to cook tonight. I'm sorry, I know how much you like his chicken fried rice."

"Like?" She stuttered. "I think you mean love. The man is a culinary genius."

"What does culinary mean?" Mon-El asked. Maggie laughed from beside us, watching the encounter.

"You're obsessed," Maggie muttered.

"With multiple things," Alex whispers back. "Both you, and the chicken fried rice."