Kiss it better (karamel AU)

6

He remembers. Fuck. He remembers. It's a little hazy and blurry and confusing, and he wakes up with only a vague understanding of it all, but he remembers. From Kara's arm around his waist, to her caring tone, to her gentle touches, to her patient eyes, to the hesitant brush of her lips against his own; from start to finish, missing a few puzzle pieces indeed, the previous night comes back to him bit by bit.

The morning has passed him by — it's already noon when Mon-El stumbles out of his bed, barely reaching the bathroom in time to empty the contents of his stomach. Within the hour, though, despite his hangover and the blank spots in his memories, he's decided he made such a fool of himself that his embarrassment is a greater discomfort than any sickly unease or alcohol-indused headache. Now, he just has to figure out a way to look at Kara without turning bright red with shame, so he can apologize for being a drunk pain in the ass.

He doesn't know when he'll see her again, but he's already freaking out at the prospect of it. What will he tell her? What does she think of him? Has he ruined everything? There wasn't much to begin with, just some barely acknowledged attraction and too much playful flirting, but Mon-El doesn't want to lose it, however insignificant it might appear as. Especially after that almost-kiss, which he isn't sure he'll actually acknowledge, at least until she does.

Glancing at his phone, Mon-El sees he still has more than two hours until he has to leave for work. Thus, even though he's already put his scrubs pants on, he picks an old gray t-shirt for a top and heads for the kitchen. Kara eats a lot; he learned that the night they had pizza together. So food could definitely gain him some positive points along with his apology. He doesn't know which is her favorite dish, they haven't reached that point yet, but after taking a minute to consider his options, he pulls a pot out of a cabinet and starts cooking.

To his utter surprise, as soon he turns the stove off, the doorbell rings and startles him out of his continuously racing thoughts. He hopes it isn't Kara, he's still too embarrassed to be ready to face her, but at the same time, his fingers tingle with excitement nonetheless and he rushes to open the door. Their gazes meet immediately, her blue as vivid as he can remember it being the previous night. But his surprise doesn't stop that shameful blush from spreading across his face.

"Hey," she speaks first, her soft smile matching her tone.

"Danvers. Hi."

"Sorry, is this a bad time?" She takes him in, her eyes slipping from his face down to his feet before rising again. "I just wanted to check up on you. I had to run this morning and didn't get the chance, but I wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Uh," Mon-El gulps, "I'm okay," he says, "thanks for stopping by." A hand lifts up to rub the back of his neck in a typical nervous manner. "I'm sorry you had to put up with me last night and for anything stupid I might have said."

Kara chuckles in response. "Don't worry about it," she dismisses his worry, "there's nothing you should apologize for."

He nods, hardly relieved by her words, and takes a step aside. "Do you want to come in? I've got food," he bribes and revels in the way she lights up.

"Sure, I've got some time to spare. And I can never say no to free food."

"Yeah, I figured," he teases and lets an exaggerated gasp out when she pushes him away to step in his apartment. He follows her to the kitchen, which is literally four steps away, and gestures for her to take a seat. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I was actually cooking for you."