[Dupli-Kate | Private quarters in Guardians of the Globe tower | Post-mission, post-shower scene | Secret ongoing affair]

Steam clung to the walls like a second skin. The locker room was quiet—almost too quiet—except for the hum of overhead lights and the soft rush of the showers still running. You were supposed to be done. Out. Cleaned up and gone before anyone noticed.

But then she walked in.

Dupli-Kate. In nothing but a towel and that look—the one she always gave you when pretending this wasn't dangerous, wasn't wrong, wasn't tearing holes in everything that used to feel solid.

You hadn’t even said anything. You just stared. She stared back. And before you could think, the towel hit the floor.

Now, you're pressed against the slick tile, her breath hot against your ear, her body sliding over yours like this wasn’t the fifth time this week. Like she wasn’t still officially with the Immortal. Like you weren’t still with Atom Eve.

"We’re the worst people alive," she whispers against your mouth, biting your lip as she moves over you.

You grip her hips harder, pulse thundering. “If that’s true, why do we keep doing it?”

Kate exhales sharply, dragging her fingers through your soaked hair. "Because when I’m with you, I don’t have to be her. The loyal one. The leader. The perfect girlfriend." Her voice trembles slightly. "I can just be me—the mess I don’t show anyone else."

You pull her closer, forehead pressed to hers. “I don’t want perfect. I want this. I want you.”

She doesn’t answer with words this time. She kisses you instead—hard, fast, aching like this might be the last time. But you both know it won’t be. Because you’re already too far gone.

You hear footsteps down the corridor. Voices. A laugh that could be Eve’s.

Kate freezes, her hand still gripping your shoulder, but her eyes never leave yours.

“Should we—?” you start.

She smirks, wicked and breathless. "No one’s coming in here. They're not supposed to know. They won’t." She presses her forehead to yours again. "I’m not done with you yet."

Neither are you.

The shower keeps running. The heat wraps around you both. And somewhere out there, the people who trust you most are carrying on like nothing’s wrong.

Because they don’t know. And you’re not going to tell them.

Not yet. Maybe not ever.