Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lena sips contentedly from a glass of wine in her office, still getting used to this strange feeling that has taken up a residency in the centre of her chest during the past forty-eight hours or so. She has yet to determine exactly what this feeling is. it’s more than just the absence of fear, of the feeling that she’s been living under a shadow that follows her into every room. It’s relief, and it’s weightlessness, and it’s a heightened awareness of all the possibilities stretching out before her, spreading further and more expansive than ever before.

She is finally free.

Her mother, the last Luthor scourging the earth with hatred and evil in her heart, is finally behind bars once and for all. It had been a long and exhausting road—from finally tracking her down, to capturing her at her hideout (Lena hadn’t been present for that part, but Supergirl assured her it had been extremely badass), to testifying against her on trial, to finally, finally hearing the judge slam her gavel down with the verdict of 32 life sentences.

That moment had been conflicting for Lena. Of course, her first feeling was relief—it was finally over—but what she hadn’t expected was the second blow of guilt and sadness to hit her, crashing over her like an ocean wave.

She’d sat on the courthouse steps, focusing on the feeling of sunshine on her skin instead of the stubborn lump in her throat or the tears pooling in her eyes that refused to fall. It wasn’t long before another person joined her: Kara Danvers—the smell of gardenias and vanilla unattributable to anyone else. She sat quietly beside her for at least a few minutes, but for all Lena knew it could have been hours. At one point, Lena had sagged into her side, and Kara’s arm found its way around Lena’s back, strong and comforting and present.

“It’s over,” Lena had finally whispered. “I’m…I’m alone.” And then the tears decided to fall, steadily carving paths down her cheeks as both relief and grief welled up inside of her, too much for her to contain any longer.

Kara had gripped her by the shoulders then, her bright blue eyes inescapable as she looked right at her like no one else did—like she saw her. “You’re not alone, Lena. So long as I’m around, you will never be alone.”

Lena just stared at Kara, still surprised by the ferocity with which Kara campaigned for her, defended her, believed in her—even after all this time, it was an unbelievable thing. All she managed was to nod and swallow, the lump finally becoming unstuck, and she leaned her head against Kara’s shoulder, focusing on the woman’s steady breathing until she felt ready to face the world again.

Later that night, Supergirl dropped by to check how she was holding up—which Lena thought incredibly sweet of Kara. She should have known she was welcome to call any time, but of course she appreciated the visit nonetheless, even if it was in disguise. Lena confided in Supergirl something that had been niggling at her mind since the judge had swung her gavel.

What if prison didn’t hold her mother? She’d gotten out once before, how could it be guaranteed that it was going to stick this time?

Supergirl made sure to assuage every single one of Lena’s concerns, talking through her every fear, rationalising her anxieties, and giving her every guarantee that everything was taken care of. Lena didn’t trust easily, but eventually, looking in Supergirl’s eyes, she found herself believing her.

This was for real. She was free.

So now, she allows herself to celebrate.

Lena pours her third glass of the fanciest red she could find in her bar, thinking gleefully that her mother can’t comment snidely about what it says about her that she has a bar in her office. Her heels have been kicked off and forgotten under her desk, and she leans back into her chair with a sigh and a smile.

Finally, she can really get started on doing all the things she set out to do when she moved to National City. Without fearing for her life every other day, she can really put her energy into transforming L-Corp into something good, something hers. She has so many ideas spinning around in her mind, it will be hard to choose just one to start with, but she can’t wait for the challenge.

But not everything has to be about work, Lena realises almost giddily. She is now free to do anything she’s ever wanted. She can get back into reading, or finally learn how to cook—heck, she might even take a jazzercise class, because why the hell not? And, now that she’s on the track of entertaining really crazy fantasies, maybe there will be room for a social life, or even (dare she dream it?) a love life.

Lena cradles her wine glass close with both hands, already blushing as the object of her affection pervades her thoughts (she always finds a way to do so). She thinks warmly of the blonde curls, the blue eyes, the flustered hands, the kind smile, the melodic laugh…

Lena is pulled from her musings by the  familiar whoosh of Supergirl—the stoic, enigmatic, and equally alluring half of the two-sided coin that is Kara Danvers—landing on her balcony. She’s in her office by the time Lena swivels around in her chair, a wide grin characterising her face.

“Supergirl! This is a pleasant surprise,” she says cheerily. “I’m celebrating,” she adds, tipping her head indicatively to the wine glass in her hand. “Join me! I know, I know, alcohol doesn’t have any effect on you, but this Merlot is just divine.” Lena breezily crosses to the drink cart and pours her companion a glass to match her own, pressing it insistently into her hands.

Lena leans against her desk and raises her glass in the air, her eyes positively gleaming. “A toast,” she announces, clearing her throat formally. “To you, Supergirl. For your valiant and heroic efforts in thwarting the most evil woman on earth, finally ridding me once and for all of the Luthor curse that has plagued me my whole life. Words can never fully express my gratitude for what you have done for me.” With a small flourish as she lifts her glass, Lena takes a sip.

She pauses, then adds in afterthought: “and also, to me. To freedom, to opportunities…to taking chances.” This time she looks at Supergirl over the rim of her glass, her lips curved upwards in a smile, and that’s when she realises Supergirl isn’t drinking.

In fact, Supergirl doesn’t seem to be celebrating at all.

“Is something wrong?” She sets her wine glass down and crosses her arms. “I haven’t poisoned it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Come on now, Supergirl, I thought we’d built up a decent rapport here,” she jokes, perhaps just this side of morbidly.

“Lena…” Supergirl finally says, and her voice sounds heavy.

Lena takes a good look at her now—notices she curve of her shoulders, usually so square and solid, the crinkle in her brow (which is a dead Kara Danvers giveaway), and the absence of her heart-stopping, Colgate advertisement calibre smile. She hasn’t seen her looking like that since…

“Supergirl.” And she tries for a laugh, but it’s strained as the smile she manages to put on. “Supergirl, what is it? The last time you came in here looking like that, you told me my mother was the head of an alien-hating terrorist organisation.”

Supergirl grimaces—whether it’s at the memory of that night or what she’s about to say, Lena can’t be sure, maybe it’s a bit of both. With a sigh, Supergirl sets her glass down and steels herself, fixing Lena with a serious look.

“Lena, do you know a man named Laurence Jenkins?”

Lena quirks an eyebrow and shakes her head. “No, I’ve never heard that name in my life.”

Supergirl nods slowly, and Lena is becoming frustrated. “Well…we just picked him up with five alien refugees in the back of his van.”

“Good work, Supergirl, one less anti-alien criminal on the streets…but I fail to see what this has to do with me?” Lena asks, eyebrow quirked in expectant anticipation.

Supergirl presses her lips together and twists at her sleeves, looking more like Kara Danvers than Lena has ever seen her before. “Well—you see—we did some background research on Laurence Jenkins. Turns out, he changed his name a few years back. From Laurence Luthor.”

Lena blinks back at Supergirl in shock. “Uncle Laurie?” she asks, hardly able to believe it.

“Er…yes, I suppose?”

Lena shakes her head vigorously. “There must be some mistake. Uncle Laurie would never—he doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. He abhorred the way Lionel ran the company, and was so ashamed by Lex’s actions, he disappeared right around the time of his trial. That must be when he changed his name…this can’t possibly be true, Supergirl.”

“The data checks out, it’s him,” Supergirl shifts awkwardly, like she’s not sure whether to reach out to Lena or keep her distance.

Keeping her distance turns out to be the best choice, as Lena starts to pace back and forth, her brow furrowed deeply. She spins sharply on her heel, fixing Supergirl with a levelling look. “Why are you telling me this anyway? Why should I be involved if some estranged Luthor decides to join the family legacy? I fail to see what that has to do with me, unless you think I’m about to go ahead and do the same,” Lena snaps, somewhat more accusingly than she intends.

“I never said that,” Supergirl insists calmly, her palms raised. “I just thought you should be the first to know. It’ll only be a matter of time before the press gets a hold of this, you know how these things are.”

Lena sighs and rubs at her temple, already feeling the oncoming migraine. “Sorry,” she grimaces, already regretting the tone she took with her. Kara certainly didn’t deserve that, but this was all just too much. “Do you mind?” Lena asks, and without waiting for an answer, she grabs Supergirl’s untouched drink and takes a long swallow, then resumes her pacing, muttering “this can’t be happening” under her breath.

She’s on her third circle when Supergirl catches her by the shoulders, steadying her, jerking her back into the present. “Lena, Lena, Lena,” she says gently, and Lena blinks back at her momentarily before exhaling a long sigh in attempts to relieve some of the tension that has built up in her. She sinks into Supergirl’s open arms, leaning her head against the Kryptonian’s shoulder.

And, sure, it’s a little self indulgent, because Lena knows it’s Kara under that suit, and while she’s too afraid to tell her how she really feels, she’ll settle for stealing a hug or two from Kara’s alter-ego. Besides, the material of Supergirl’s suit is a really fascinating texture (is that a latex-based polymer composite? Or an elastane synthetic fibre?), which Lena explores fully with her fingertips as she brings her hand up to rest just below Supergirl’s clavicle.

“It’s going to be ok,” Supergirl promises, her voice low in her ear. “This doesn’t change anything; you’re still free. To taking chances, right?”

Lena tips her head upwards to see Supergirl smiling back at her as she echoes her words from before. “Right,” she agrees softly and rests her head back down.

“I’m sorry about your Uncle. But…I’m sure this is just an isolated incident.”

Lena quietly nods her head against Supergirl’s chest, desperately hoping that she is right.

Chapter Text

It’s not an isolated incident.

Over the coming weeks, no fewer than nine distantly related or estranged ex-Luthors are in prison. All over the country, Lena’s second and third cousins, aunts and uncles twice and thrice removed, find themselves in jail for everything from kidnapping and burglary, to extortion and fraud.

Supergirl comes to her office every time a Luthor is caught—it gets to the point where Lena can hardly stand seeing her face as she walks in through the glass door (something she never imagined she would feel), all crinkled brow and worried lip.

“Supergirl, you’ve got to be kidding me. I’m pretty sure I don’t have any family members left,” Lena protests, exasperated, when Supergirl walks in for the third time that week, that same frown on her face.

“Lacey Luthor?” Supergirl puts forward gingerly.

“Great aunt Lacey??” Lena asks incredulously. “She’s, like, a century old—last I heard she was in a home somewhere.”

“Well…as it turns out, she was running an illegal bingo gambling ring from within the home,” Supergirl cringes, scratching her head awkwardly. “Things got pretty serious. She broke a man’s kneecaps when he wouldn’t pay his dues,” Supergirl whispers, and Lena feels like she might just pass out. She needs more wine.

Soon enough, the pattern extends beyond Luthor relatives. In fact, it seems everyone who interacted with the Luthor family during Lena’s formative years is turning towards the dark side.

Lena and Lex’s former nanny ends up in jail on a fraud charge; Luthor Mansion’s former groundskeeper, for indecent exposure, and the Mansion’s former cook, for punching a police officer completely out of the blue.

Every time Supergirl enters her office with that damn crinkled brow, Lena cringes and braces herself for the news. One night, Lena just can’t take it any more. She gets up from her desk upon hearing Supergirl touch down on her balcony, rushes to the door and locks it.

“No,” she says stubbornly in the face of Supergirl’s pleading look from the other side of the glass. “No, I refuse to accept another Luthor has gone off the rails. This can’t be happening!” she cries, verging on hysterical.

“Lena…”

Lena sighs and rests her head against the glass. “Go, Supergirl. I’ll read all about what my long lost second cousin twice removed has done in the paper tomorrow. I just—I can’t do this tonight.”

Supergirl fixes her with a long look, aching to just be able to swoop in and fix everything, before she ultimately steps back with a reluctant nod. “I understand, Lena. I’m here for you. And—and so is Kara Danvers,” she adds, and Lena doesn’t miss the slight hesitation.

“Thank you,” Lena says, her voice weary, and she watches as Supergirl takes off into the night sky. “Kara,” she murmurs quietly to herself.

Of course, it’s only a matter of time before Kara Danvers, cub reporter, herself is sitting across from her, pad and pencil resting on her knees, hands reaching to adjust clearly fake glasses far more often than any normal non-disguise wearing person would feel the need to.

Lena, in the brief hours during which she felt free and had a new lease on life, had decided to finally just swallow her own nerves and fear of failure and just ask her out already— not as friends or ‘gal pals’ trying out the newest kombucha place or salad bar—but as an honest-to-god date, with the candles and the flowers and the whole package. 

But now, with an ever increasing amount of distantly related Luthors in custody, Lena finds herself watching that elusive freedom dipping below the horizon like the setting sun. Lena watches Kara closely as she sits across from her desk, sporadically catching her pencil between her teeth and flicking her eyes around the room, ostensibly looking anywhere but her.

What is Kara thinking right now? Lena desperately, with everything she has, wants to believe that Kara meant it when she said she would always be there, that she believed in the good in her. But, with everything that has happened, Lena wouldn’t blame the girl if a seed of doubt had been planted…if she started to believe the things everyone else was saying: that there really is no such thing as a good Luthor.

The dead air hangs over them—far too thick and far too heavy—until Lena blurts out—

“I’m not evil.”

Kara blinks back at her, Lena’s silence-breaking voice seeming to unlock something within her, and she nods her head vigorously. “I know that. I know,” she insists, and leans forward to cover Lena’s hand with her own, giving it a squeeze to affirm her point. Her eyes lock with Lena’s—maybe lingering a little too long—and she quickly clears her throat and withdraws her hand to ceremoniously adjust her glasses. “This whole situation is just…it’s completely insane. I can’t even imagine what you must be going through, Lena.” Her face is twisted with agitation and with a sudden snap, her pencil is broken in half in her fist.

Lena gives a start at Kara’s sudden display of inhuman strength, but doesn’t let it show on her face. “Here,” she says, leaning over to Kara with a pen.

“Thanks,” Kara mumbles, the tips of her ears turning bright pink. She sighs, and smooths out her skirt as she collects herself. “Snapper sent me over here to interview you about the whole thing. Somehow I get the feeling it’s not because he thinks I’m a great reporter. Rather, he knows we’re, um, close, and you’re not talking to any press.”

“I hate reporters. Vultures, the lot of them,” Lena says without thinking, scowling darkly. She then realises just who is sitting opposite her and quickly amends, “no offence, Kara.”

Kara blushes and rubs at the back of her neck. “I hope you don’t think I’m a vulture for coming here.”

“No,” Lena insists, shaking her head. “Of course not. I just—you’re the exception to the rule. I know you would never do anything to hurt me.”

“Never,” Kara says earnestly. “I think Snapper wants me to find out if you’re up to something, or involved in some way. But I know you’re not, so I’m not going to write it.” She sets her pen down and juts her chin out, and Lena can’t help but smile inwardly as she catches a glimpse of Supergirl in the defiant angle of her jaw.

Lena sighs with relief that she can count on the fact that at least one reporter in this city won’t be publishing articles riddled with speculation and misinformation, dragging her already soiled name through the mud all over again. Her heart pains a little too, a strange combination of guilt and affection, as she knows Kara might suffer professionally for refusing to write what Snapper wants…all for the sake of protecting her. 

Lena pulls out her tablet and loads up the Daily Planet, flicking through articles.

“They’re calling it ‘Luthorgeddon’,” she says with distaste, swiping by article after article featuring bold, accusatory headlines and mugshots of vaguely similar looking people: the Luthors. Kara notices none of them particularly look much like Lena—though there’s a similarly shaped chin here, a pair of perfectly shaped eyebrows there—but, for the most part, she must have gotten her looks from her mother’s side.

Kara frowns as she scans each article, the vitriolic words against Lena stinging as if they’d been written about her. “Luthorgeddon,” she murmurs and wrinkles her nose. “That’s lame; I would have gone with Luthorpocalypse myself—“ she cuts herself short as she catches the way Lena is staring at her. “Sorry.” She eases the tablet from Lena’s grip and sets it aside, face down.

“Don’t listen to what they’re saying, Lena,” Kara says pressingly. “It’s all speculation—they have nothing to go on, so they’re just reaching for the easy target, and it’s not fair. I know you, Lena, you would never do anything like what they’re writing—you’d never hurt anyone. You’re just too good. It’s not in your nature.”

And Lena bites at the inside of her cheek as a lump rises in her throat because Kara is doing that thing where she looks right at her with those ridiculously blue eyes, making her feel like she is seen, like she can do anything, like she’s more than just the Luthor name.

“I know Supergirl said you believe in me, and by now I should know that’s true, but…after all that’s happened, I’m glad you’re still on my side,” Lena says softly, a small smile hiding just at the corner of her lips.

Kara leans forwards, and she’s all sincerity when she says “I’m always on your side, Lena.”

The brief image of a medieval knight swearing his fealty to a Lady flashes across Lena’s mind’s eye, and now she’s picturing Kara in a shining suit of armour astride a white stallion wielding a sword and—

“Will you go out to dinner with me?” The words have tumbled from Lena’s mouth before she realises, before she can haphazardly scoop them back behind white teeth and a painted on smile.

But Kara’s face splits into a grin that puts the wind in Lena’s sails, dimpled cheeks pinching high and brilliant blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Dinner? Of course, I love dinner.”

Lena finds herself mirroring Kara’s smile and relaxes back into her seat, relief that something seems to be going her way at last flooding through her. A second thought—a spanner in the works—occurs to her and she sits up quickly, fixing Kara with a determined look. Things might have gone to shit in every other aspect of her life, but she is not going to screw this up.

“I want to be clear that I’m asking you out on a date. This would be a date. Just like my filling your office with flowers was a romantic gesture, in case you didn’t catch that.”

Kara blanches—blinking once, twice—and Lena feels herself deflating already, preparing herself for the inevitable blow of rejection, for the “I thought that was just a friend thing”, for the “I don’t like you that way”, for the “we should just be friends”, which would be fine, of course it would be fine, except for the fact that Lena would be irrevocably crushed, probably become a recluse for a little while, because of course Kara Danvers didn’t like Lena Luthor like that, she couldn’t possibly, she was Supergirl for crying out loud—

“I’d love to go out to dinner with you, Lena. On a date.”

And Lena freezes, hand poised at the back of her neck as it is wont to do when she’s nervous, because she can’t believe Kara is smiling back at her still, cheeks tinged a little pink, sure, but she’s still here, and she’s just agreed to go out with her. Surely this is some sort of dream or hallucination. “You…you will?” she asks, needing to hear it out loud again, just to be sure.

“Of course,” Kara says, and her voice is warm and kind and just what Lena needs. She ducks her chin, her blush turning a deeper shade of pink, and tugs at her fingertips. “I’ll admit, I did think the flowers were just the sort of thing you’d do to thank a friend—you can be pretty over the top like that—which I like. But…I suppose I had hoped there was something more to them…” she trails off with a shrug and looks up at Lena with a dazzling smile.

Lena traps her bottom lip between her teeth in a vain effort to contain the toothy grin that threatens to take over her whole face. “Then it’s a date.” 

Chapter Text

Kara spends hours choosing the perfect outfit with Alex, finally settling on a pair of tailored black pants and a navy turtleneck skivvy with a blazer on top, black with white piping on the lapels.

“How do I look?” she asks, fussing with her sleeves and pinning back her hair.

“Very dashing,” Alex says with a grin. “Man. I can’t believe you’re going on a date with Lena Luthor.”

Kara blushes and folds her arms across her stomach. “I think I’ve mentioned this before, but gender didn’t matter on Krypton. If you were compatible and a good match, it didn’t matter if your partner was a man or a woman or anywhere on or off that spectrum. This is just normal to me. Lena and I…we’re a good match, I think.” she explains with a somewhat self-conscious shrug.

It’s not the first time Kara has thought Lena makes a good match by Kryptonian standards. It’s not just her social status, or her financial success, or even her genius intellect that makes her suitably matched with the last daughter of the House of El. It’s her tenacity, her unstoppable willpower, her hidden vulnerability behind sleek, polished lines. Where Kara is light, Lena is shade, which any realist painter will say is critical to create an effective work of art. In all honestly, Kara has thought that if they’d been on Krypton, they’d probably be bonded already.

She had come to this realisation one slow, lazy afternoon at work, sitting tipped backwards in her chair as she let her mind wander. When the thought that she and Lena would be effectively married on Krypton innocently dawdled into her brain, she’d tipped her chair just that inch too far back, and ended up catching herself just before crashing to the ground in what would have been spectacular fashion. Luckily no one had walked by her desk at that moment—they would have been met with an extremely red-faced Kara Danvers hovering just above the floor.

Alex laughs and shakes her head, hopping up off the bed to loop her arm over her sister’s shoulders. “That’s not what I meant,” she says, grinning at Kara vis a vis the mirror’s reflection. “I meant I can’t believe it’s taken you this long,” she teases, nudging playfully at her side.

Kara squirms out of her sister’s hold with a laugh and quickly returns to her reflection to make sure she hasn’t messed up her hair.

“Here, let me help,” Alex insists. She unpins one side of Kara’s hair, leaving it to fall loose over her shoulder. “Now that’s a look,” she says, stepping back to admire her work with a self-satisfied grin.

Kara can’t help but beam widely when Lena shows up at the door, looking completely stunning. She’s always completely stunning, of course, but tonight she’s on a whole other level, deviating from her usual palette of dark shades and jewel tones to wear a metallic green dress with capped shoulders that hugs her figure closely. Kara would be lying if she didn’t say her mouth didn’t go dry at the sight of her.

On the drive over, Lena’s hand easily finds its way into Kara’s. It’s comfortable, yet enough to set Kara’s whole world on fire.

Everything is going just great…until they reach the restaurant, that is.

Sitting in the restaurant, Kara can’t help but feel something strange in the air. In fact, it’s like the whole room has been staring at them ever since they set foot inside. Lena must sense it too, as her usually strong posture has her slumped in her chair, and she glances agitatedly over her shoulder every now and then.

Kara furrows her brow, and listens out with her super hearing to pick up chatter across the restaurant.

“Can you believe Lena Luthor has the nerve to show her face in public?”

“She’ll end up just like her brother and the rest of her lunatic family.”

“Did you read what was in the paper this morning? I always said, there’s no such thing as a good Luthor.”

A quick glance with her x-ray vision while Lena isn’t looking reveals Lena’s fists are balled under the table, her nails digging into the flesh of her palm. Kara tenses her jaw.

A waiter approaches, and he speaks directly to Kara, blatantly refusing to acknowledge Lena’s existence. “Good evening, may I take your order?” he asks, flashing a grin that’s all teeth.

Kara frowns, her eyes darkening. “Actually,” she says through clenched teeth and stands up from the table, her chair scraping back loudly against the hardwood floor. “we were just leaving.”

Lena blinks up at Kara, her breath catching in her throat. Was Kara changing her mind about this whole thing? Had she realised she’d made a huge mistake? “We-we were?”

“Yes,” Kara says firmly. She picks up their menus and pushes them back into the waiter’s hands—he stumbles back a couple steps as Kara is significantly stronger than she looks. “This place is just so outdated, don’t you think Lena?” she drawls with a feigned air of superiority. “I mean, cronuts? What is this, 2014? Get with the times.”

Kara rounds the table and holds out her hand to Lena, gifting her with a warm smile that’s just for her, not for the waiter, not for anyone in this restaurant, not for anyone else on earth. Lena stares up at her and honestly Kara Danvers has never looked more heroic—not like Supergirl, but a hero entirely of her own making.

Lena presses her lips together and nods, her shoulders relaxing already at the thought that she won’t have to spend any more time in this restaurant where she can feel the entire room boring holes into the back of her skull.

“Yes,” she agrees, gratefully taking Kara’s offered hand. “So outdated.”

Kara immediately pulls Lena to her side, looping her arm through hers and for the first time Lena doesn’t fight to contain the warm feeling blooming from the centre of her chest. Instead, she lets it fill her, lets it spread to her extremities, lets it pervade the corners of her mind with the knowledge that she is accepted, that she is enough, that she is safe. She pays no mind to the stares and gaping jaws that follow them out of the restaurant. I have the most incredible woman in National City on my arm, she thinks, stare all you damn please.

It’s only when they’re outside, in the crisp night air, that Lena feels guilt twist at her stomach and the unstoppable need to backtrack.

“Kara, you didn’t have to do that,” she insists hurriedly.

Kara looks at her and gives a short laugh in response. “You should tell that to your face,” she says and gives her arm a gentle squeeze. And Lena smiles, because even though she’s learned to expertly hide her true emotions all her life, apparently it all falls away around Kara Danvers.

“Well…what do we do now? You must be hungry,” Lena says sadly, thinking how Kara always seems to be hungry, and the little incident at the restaurant has put them further away from a potential food source.

“Starving,” Kara admits, and her face darkens once again. “But I couldn’t stand another second around those…meanies.”

Lena studies her face now, notices the way her eyebrows are cinched together, the way her lips are set in a grim line, the way her jaw tenses visibly, like she wants to say much worse, but forcibly stopped herself.

Lena’s worried expression eases, and she extends on her toes to plant a light kiss on Kara’s cheek. “My hero,” she says softly, and is pleased to see the crinkle that had marred Kara’s forehead smoothing out.

Kara sighs, visibly relaxing as, all at once, the tension leaves her body, and when she turns to face Lena, her sunny smile is back in its place on her lips, though—much to Lena’s satisfaction—she’s wearing a much deeper shade of pink than Lena’s seen on her before. “Don’t mention it.”

Lena glances around the street, worrying slightly at her bottom lip. “I’m afraid anywhere we go will be much the same story, given everything that’s going on with me. Maybe…maybe we should call it a night,” she says, though that is certainly the very last thing she wants.

Not to be deterred, however, Kara shakes her head firmly. “Absolutely not. Don't worry,” she flashes a grin, “I know a place.”

And that’s how Lena finds herself on the rooftop garden of Kara’s apartment building, sitting on a tartan rug, surrounded by plants and fairy lights, heels long kicked off and forgotten. She’s halfway through her second slice of cheese pizza, while Kara is powering through her fifth (what Lena doesn’t know is that Kara is eating at about half her usual pace—she doesn’t usually talk this much when she’s eating).

With a contented sigh, Lena sets her mug down on the wooden decking beside her (it’s filled with wine, but Kara doesn’t seem to own any wine glasses—“They’re so delicate, I broke them all. By—uh—dropping them, yes, all at once,” she’d explained with a nervous laugh).

Lena rocks back on the heels of her palms and tips her chin up to the sky. Her eyes automatically find the hunter, Orion, dotted up there, the stars that make up his belt twinkling brightly back at her. For a moment, she just gazes skywards, finding the stars that make up the constellation, connecting them in her mind. Lex had known the names of each star, but Lena always preferred to just hear him tell the story.

It takes her a minute to realise Kara is looking upwards too, and another to register that she’s shifted closer—they’re shoulder to shoulder now, and Kara’s pinkie grazes innocently against her hand. Lena is almost appalled by how such a light touch is enough to make her whole body react with a tingling sensation that extends right down to her toes.

“Lex always made a point of finding Orion,” Lena finds herself saying, her voice slipping through the silence that has fallen around them. “Do you see it? The three stars of his belt are right there.”

Kara follows the line of Lena’s pointed finger and nods with a small smile. “I see it.”

What Lena has yet to learn is that Kara spent most of her first years on Earth staring up at the sky, familiarising herself with foreign constellations, desperately trying to find her bearings, to form some sort of roadmap that would help her find a way back to a home that no longer existed.

“Lex used to tell me the story of Orion, the great hunter who believed he could kill any animal on earth. In the end, it was his hubris that was his downfall…I think Lex saw himself as Orion, in some way.” Lena speaks quietly and sips from her mug, taking a deep breath before she continues. “I think…I think he always knew he would be defeated, but that he would still be immortalised through his infamy. Just like the stars in the sky, his ghost hangs over me permanently enough,” she says, weakly attempting a laugh, and drops her eyes, brushing at a loose thread in the rug.

Kara rolls her head to the side to look at Lena. Maybe it’s the way she looks sitting barefoot with her knees bent under her, or the sadness that fills her voice, or the painfully broken look in her startlingly green eyes, but all she wants to do is tell her how Orion looked completely different viewed from Krypton. And also she’s Supergirl, and also she wants to kiss her with every fibre of her being.

But she doesn’t get the chance to say any of that, because Lena’s looking straight at her with a strange look in her eyes and she’s asking—

“Kara…what did the stars look like on Krypton?”

Kara freezes, her instinctive reaction being panic: she knows. How can she know? But Lena’s looking at her like she’s almost pleading, and her hand is on hers, giving it an insistent squeeze.

It’s ok.

Kara swallows her hesitation, and speaks.

“They’re—they’re still the same stars, but they were arranged differently across our sky.” She starts unsurely, fear rising in her with every incriminating word, but Lena’s hanging onto everything she’s saying with such intent earnestness that Kara can’t stop talking, and she finds she doesn’t want to. “Back on Krypton…our main constellation was in the shape of a ship. The star at its bow shone the brightest in the whole sky—you could always see it, even on cloudy nights. I believe, if my calculations as a stargazing fourteen year old were correct, that that star is one of the stars of Orion’s belt. The left one, there.”

Kara lifts her outside arm to point to the sky, the shifting of her weight causing her to lean even closer into Lena’s side. Their temples are touching now, so close that Kara can see Lena’s individual lashes as they blink open and closed.

“Well…If the same stars can rearrange themselves under a different sky, maybe I can have the same blood as my brother and still make a different story for myself,” Lena says, her voice barely a whisper. “Though, I sure hope I don’t have to go to a different planet to make that a reality,” she adds, and Kara agrees silently.

“How long have you known?” Kara asks after a brief silence.

Lena smiles, like she is finally sharing a joke she has kept private for a long time. “I’ve had my suspicions for a while, but when you crashed down through that warehouse and said ‘Kara Danvers believes in you’, well…I knew right away.” Lena tilts her head and gives Kara a lopsided grin. “You didn’t think a pair of glasses and a ponytail would have me fooled for too long, did you?”

Kara huffs indignantly, the tips of her ears growing hot. “You’d be surprised by how effective it’s been so far. It seems to work on everyone else,” she insists.

Lena calmly smooths out the skirt of her dress, a shy smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Yes, well…’everyone else’ doesn’t look at you the way I do, Kara Danvers,” she says, which makes Kara’s stomach swoop. She pauses a beat, hesitating momentarily before inching forward. “May I?”

And Lena's hands are reaching up to her face, heading for her glasses. Kara swallows. “Yes,” she whispers. She overrides her automatic impulse to stop her, to protect her identity at all costs, as her glasses are slowly pulled away.

When she opens her eyes, Lena is looking at her with an almost scientific curiosity, like she’s seeing her for the very first time (which, in a way, she is). “There you are,” she murmurs, green eyes tracing over every feature, every outline of Kara’s face. “Hello.”

Kara lets out a shaky breath, making a conscious effort to relax each of her muscles, right down to the last knuckle of each finger. “Hi,” she whispers back, meeting Lena’s gaze.

Lena tucks a loose spiral of Kara’s hair behind her ear, and allows her hand to rest there, fingers burying themselves in the hair at the base of her neck (Kara silently thanks Alex for letting her hair out like that).

“Hi.”

Kara is about to dumbly say ‘hi’ back again, but instead she surrenders wholly to the gentle pull of Lena’s hand, which guides her to meet earnest lips. She tastes of sweet wine, and when Lena slips an arm under her blazer to wind around her waist, Kara just about forgets her own name. Kara smiles blissfully against Lena’s lips, and finds her wanting mouth again, and again, and again.