Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lena presses her palm to the nape of her neck. The sun is relentless in her glass office. She misses the mansion, its shadows.

She shifts on her chair and squints at her screen. Has she put on a bit of weight? Her dress feels tight. Lillian was always the thin, statuesque one.

But Lillian is in prison, now, and so is Lex. It’s up to Lena to spin sun out of night, but that’s exactly what gets Luthors in trouble in the first place. The dangerous belief that it’s them against the world, and they can change it. For all the right reasons. That’s how it always goes, isn’t it? All the right reasons. It’s comforting, in a perverse sort of way, to know she has that same drive.

Her phone buzzes.

Unknown [10:33 AM] Hi Lena, it’s Kara from CatCo. You gave me your number the last time we saw each other, so I hope it’s okay to text you. How are you, given everything?

Speaking of misguided ambitions. Giving a junior reporter her personal number had seemed like a good idea idea at the time, a show of good faith and transparency. They were both looking for a fresh start, and Kara was as alive and young as the city itself. It had gotten to Lena, for a desperate minute.

But she can’t take another sycophant. She doesn’t massage her eyelids. It would smudge her eyeshadow.

Lena Luthor [10:42 AM] I appreciate you reaching out, Kara. Feel free to get in touch with my team if you’d like to schedule an interview.

There, nice and clean. She sets her phone face down and watches, mesmerized, the fingerprints marking its pristine, glassy surface. Does Kara Danvers have many friends? Do others see her as approachable?

Her phone vibrates again, through the wood, loud. She quickly picks it up, the way you flinch crossing the street when your body knows what it’s like to be hit by a car.

Kara Danvers [10:58 AM] I wanted to check in on you, but I now realize it sounded like I was fishing for an exclusive. Apologies.

Lena Luthor [11:00 AM] No harm done.

She hesitates, and adds:

Lena Luthor [11:01 AM] It’s been a little touch and go with the press. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.

Kara Danvers [11:04 AM] And I should have made it clear I wasn’t asking as a journalist.

Lena considers asking Kara in what capacity she’s contacting her, then, but she’s tired of being on the defensive all the time. Besides, she’s the one who opened that door in the first place. She regrets it a little, this eagerness of hers the second someone gives her the benefit of the doubt.

Lena Luthor [11:09 AM] No, I’m just on edge. I’ll feel better once Lillian’s trial is out of the way. Thank you for asking, Kara.

She watches three dancing dots flicker on and off, and her fingers itch to clarify whatever she meant, to sound less robotic. Kara beats her to it.

Kara Danvers [11:11 AM] If you’d like to take your mind off things, I could show you around?

Lena glances at her hand, gripping the armrest. She relaxes her fingers, touches her forehead. What game are they playing? Is this even a game? Kara’s typing for a while, and Lena bites her lip.

Kara Danvers [11:17 AM] It wouldn’t be a work thing. I understand if this is too forward, but I don’t know how else to put it. I’ve been new here, too. If I can make you feel a little more welcome, just say the word. And if not, I wish you the very best, Lena Luthor.

Lena looks away, turns in her chair and gets an eyeful of that California blue sky. There are a few pictures of her, as a child. Four, five years old. Always smiling, even with Lillian’s clutches gripping her shoulder to keep her still. She looks primed for happiness. It’s for that little girl, and all the tragedies overcome, the hopes unfulfilled, that Lena texts back.

Lena Luthor [11:20 AM] I’m free this weekend.

Kara Danvers [11:21 AM] Brunch on Sunday? I know a place. It’s lowkey, I don’t think anyone will bother you.

Lena Luthor [11:22 AM] Sounds good. Text me the details?

There. Stilted, though. She’s out of practice. Has she ever been practiced? Some days, she doesn’t feel human at all.

She sits a little straighter, focuses on the spreadsheet in front of her. The trick is to act as if someone was watching her every move, her every tremor.

~

Kara doesn’t let her gaze crash into the windowless walls of her office. Her phone lights up with Alex’s contact picture. She flexes her fingers before picking it up with caution. She can only afford to replace a cracked screen once a month.

“Hey.”

“Oh, you sound weird.”

Kara rubs her thigh. “I’m still getting used to my new office. There’s no window.”

Alex hums. “Can’t you ask James to assign you a different one? Like the empty one you were using as your little hideout with him and Winn, last year.”

“Ms. Grant said it could be my next promotion.” Kara touches the framed picture of on her desk, angles it differently. “An office with a window.”

“Sure. But would she have given you this one if she’d known about the claustrophobia?”

“No.” Kara rubs her eyelids. “Anyway, what’s up?”

“I’m bored. Winn’s playing chess with himself. Do you want to hang out tonight? I’ll get dinner.”

Kara was planning on painting something. It’s been hard to touch things, lately. Brushes, canvases. “Maggie busy at work?”

“Yeah.” Alex is quiet. “But honestly, it’s been too long since our last sisters night. It’s fine if you have plans. Or want to make plans.” Her voice turns conspiratorial. “A date with James?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not? It’s Friday, you’re free, he’s probably free. Have you even been on a date with him?

“Kind of. He came over with pizza the night the Venture launched, so we had to cut it short. It’s over, anyway.”

“Over?”

Kara smiles a bit. “I’m not sure there was anything to begin with. He seemed disappointed, but not heartbroken. We’re still friends. It’s fine.”

“What the hell, Kara, why didn’t you tell me? I’m definitely coming over, now.”

“No, it’s okay.” Kara pinches the back of her neck, to feel something. “Your love life is picking up, you don’t need to listen to me complain about mine.” She puts her phone on speaker, not trusting herself to hold it. “It’s not even about him, really. He’s great. I just… ”

What if an alien body, alien lips, aren’t meant to touch a human’s? How does Kal do it, if he pours all of his focus and energy into not breaking Lois? How does Lois do it, when she can make him feel so little? Do they even kiss, and more? Perhaps they don’t, perhaps they’re a chaste couple. Or maybe Kal is different, for having lived almost all his life under this sun. Has a part of him grown to be of this world? Kara doesn’t say that, tucks it in the most alien, yearning corner of her heart.

“Is that why?” Alex asks slowly. “Because Supergirl has places to be and that makes it hard to date?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s Supergirl and Kara, you know? It wasn’t fair to him, for me to feel so confused.” 

“I’m sorry. I wish it were easier for you. I can’t wait to give your first actual boyfriend the shovel talk.”

Kara snorts. “Yeah, you can be scary.”

“Thank you,” Alex says, breezy. “Hey. Look at me, almost thirty years of age and only now experiencing what romance and relationships can be about. You have time. You know that, right?”

All the time in the world, Kara thinks. Lifetime after ageless lifetime. She runs a hand up and down her thigh again, trying to rub some of the tension away. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“You still sound bummed out.”

Ah, this is Kara’s opening to finesse the conversation away from a topic she knows Alex can offer nothing about, and bring it to a close so she can go back to work.

“No, I hear you.” She leans back in her chair and clears her throat gently. “All in good time. It’s just— I don’t want to become complacent. Maybe feeling like you don’t have all the the time in the world makes you more... proactive.”

“Okay. But you’ve been proactive, right? With James. It didn’t work out, but you did try.”

Kara touches the little succulent on her desk. Will it die, if it gets no sunlight in this office? Its leaves are smooth, soft. It’s a nice texture. Kara loves textures. So often, they’re the only thing she can feel.

“Remember when you threw me that sun grenade on Slaver’s Moon?”

“Yeah. Seeing it power you up was amazing.”

Amazing. Kara tries to remember what she felt on that planet. Hot wind on her skin, gravity pulling her down, everything real, solid. Tiredness, thirst. Quiet. The remnants of those sensations are slipping through her fingers. She feels so helpless.

“Kara?”

“Sorry.” She takes a silent, steadying breath. “Being under a red sun was... Something. It made me think of that time, last year, when I solar flared.”

“Oh, yeah. That sucked. You were cute, though,” Alex teases. “All sneezy.”

Kara tries to smile. She’s not sure she gets to complain about what life is like with those powers. Not when they help so many every day. Not when a day off for her, a day of normalcy and a shower raining hot on her skin, and objects not shattering in her hands, and real hugs, would mean one less fire extinguished, one less smiling child, one less car crash prevented. And yet, she wishes and wishes, every morning and every night, for days like this. Solar flares. Not just this one time when she was inexperienced, hadn’t built the mental muscles yet, carved the neural pathways required to use her powers with ease. More days like this. A life, like this.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

Alex almost always knows. The thing with almost always it’s that it might as be once in a while. “Oh, you know, with Ms. Grant leaving and Snapper giving me a hard time,” Kara deflects, “It’s been stressful.”

“I hear you. Transitions are hard. And I haven’t been present the way I should have.”

“No, no. Enjoy your time with Maggie, guilt-free.” Kara straightens up. “Besides, I’m making new friends, too.”

“New friends? At work?”

“Not exactly. And friend, singular. Lena Luthor? We haven’t talked much since the gala, but we’ve been in touch— not for work, just... I called her to ask if she was holding up okay after sending her mother to jail. We’re having brunch this Sunday. I’m taking her to my book café.”

“That’s not something you’d do with just anyone.”

“She’s nice. She takes me seriously, you know? Like I’m worth her time. She helped me with Roulette’s fighting ring, always has something kind to say about my little articles…”

“They’re not little, you’re just starting out. But I don’t know, Kara. She’s a billionaire in dire need of good press right now, and you’re a newly minted reporter who can give her that. I’m not saying that’s what it is. Maybe she’s a nice person who could use a friend. But... Keep it in mind.”

“Okay, I will,” Kara murmurs. Is it silly? It had felt so real. The card to congratulate her on her first, non L-Corp-related byline. Her double take and her smile when she spotted Kara among the press corps at a recent conference.

“No, you know what? Don’t listen to me. We’re both allowed to meet new people. Just... Follow your heart. Your big, big heart. Okay? Seriously, forget I said anything.”

Kara chuckles, chest tight. “Okay. Thank you.”

~

Lena looks out the window when a bus pulls over at the stop across the street. She searches for Kara’s familiar silhouette. Was it just a one off, that time Kara mentioned taking the bus to get to L-Corp, or does she not drive at all? What kind of driver is she? A careful one, perhaps. She seems intent on doing things the right way, with her little notepad and tucked in shirts. She was Cat Grant’s assistant, so she must be organized.

Lena has a drink of water, wipes the smudge of lipgloss off the glass. Her eyes wander over to the hundreds upon hundreds of used books stacked all around her. She brushes her fingertips along a few cracked spines, pulls out a book. Things Hidden since the Foundation of the World. She opens it at random.

…the road to the Kingdom, by all appearances arid, but in reality the only fruitful one and in truth, easy—

Another bus. Lena looks up and there Kara is, crossing the street hurriedly, looking preoccupied. Before entering the café, she stops to check her reflection in a car window, fixes her hair. It makes Lena smile. 

Kara’s eyes flit across the room and Lena waves to catch her attention. Kara lights up, waves back before making her way to her. Lena doesn’t know what to do. Should they shake hands? Kara must be wondering the same thing, because she stands awkwardly by their table.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to take care of something, and I missed my bus.”

Lena waves it away. “Don’t worry about it. Everything okay?”

“I think so.” She hangs her messenger bag on the back of her chair, takes a seat. She seems unsure. “You look so lovely without the—” She gestures to her own face. “Makeup and business outfit. I mean, you’re beautiful in those, too, but... Casual suits you.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment, just an observation. It throws Lena off, the earnestness of it.

“Thank you.” It comes out smooth and polite. Lena touches her napkin and tries again. “When I’m at work, the makeup and business attire are my disguise. But in my own time? The glasses, the lack of makeup... That’s the disguise, you know? Hardly anyone recognizes me.”

Kara tilts her head to read the title of the book Lena plucked off the shelves. She turns it over gingerly to read the back cover, and Lena assumes, in a distant kind of way, that she’s going to change the subject, make her regret her attempt at connecting.

But Kara looks up with a tentative smile. Lena has no idea what she’s about to say, but relief washes over her anyway, like her body knows something she doesn’t. She imagines the flood of beta-endorphins tying themselves to her opioid receptors, right now, and producing analgesia.

She’s used to it, to her mind running parallel tracks, keeping up with conversations while dreaming of the fascinating properties of fungi and worrying about the paparazzi outside her hotel, or quarterly reports, or… Anything, really.

But Kara seems content to just observe her, doesn’t feed her a line to respond to, and Lena’s mind comes to an uncomfortable halt.

She wants to laugh, but she can’t let her nerves get the better of her. “What?” She asks softly.

Mirth is contagious, though, and Kara raises her hands in surrender with a little chuckle. “Sorry, I was just wondering… How about when you’re alone? Is there a disguise?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Lena takes another drink of water to buy herself a few seconds to think, to gather her courage. “Even when I’m alone, I feel watched. I’m not even sure there’s even an authentic self to be found, under all this, but it’s probably just my baggage talking.”

Kara nods, unfazed, like Lena didn’t just share something stupidly intimate with a stranger.

And Kara’s not saying anything, so Lena traces a deep, aged vein in the oak table and asks, for want of something to say, “What about you? When does Kara Danvers feel most like herself?”

Kara makes a face, something almost self-deprecating that twists her beautiful features into something unfamiliar.

“It’s going to sound bad,” She says slowly. “But when I make mistakes, when I’m at my worst, it feels right. Like I’m about to climb my way out of it.” She frowns a little. “I think I feel watched, too. But not judged. Just… watched over.”

Lena wonders what it’s like to feel like something, someone out there has your back, even and especially when everything is wrong.

“Sounds hopeful to me,” She ventures.

“Yeah… But sometimes, I worry that I’m becoming reliant on that. The hope part rather the actual feeling good part.” But before Lena can formulate her thoughts and respond, Kara lets out a short, embarrassed chuckle. “Sorry. I don’t usually talk about it.”

“Why not?”

Kara shrugs. The sun streaming in from the window catches in her hair. “I’m adopted, too. I feel possessive when it comes to my life before the Danvers took me in. My faith was part of that life. And so do my doubts, I guess, even though they came later.”

Lena’s afraid to ask the wrong thing. “How old were you? When you were adopted.”

“Thirteen.” Kara casts her an uncertain look. “You were four, right?”

Lena nods. She wants to reach out, take Kara’s hand, just briefly, but they don’t know each other nearly well enough. Still, Lena’s can’t remember the last time she wanted to touch someone else.

“I was. I remember that day, it—“ A waitress stops by their table to take their order. Lena gives her a polite nod and turns to Kara. “This is one of your haunts, right? What would you recommend?”

Kara bows her head. “When my sister and I come here for brunch, we usually order a bunch of things and share. Does that sound okay? A little bit of everything?”

Not for the first time, Lena notices how soft-spoken Kara is. She seems to make herself small in many ways.

Lena leans in a little to meet her eyes. “A little bit of everything sounds perfect.”

“Great. Do you have any allergies?”

Kara looks so serious. Lena bites back a smile, afraid it would be mistaken for condescension. “Yes, actually. Peanuts.”

Kara nods, turns to the waitress and orders for the two of them. The sun has warmed the worn, cracked leather of Lena’s armchair. It feels like a hot hand on her back as she relaxes into it. Jack  used to order for her, too.

“People don’t often trust me when it comes to my taste in food. In anything, really,” Kara says once the waitress has left, a hint of playfulness to her voice, so gentle Lena almost misses it. “Ms. Grant  thinks I don’t know what a salad is and hates about ninety per cent of my wardrobe.”

Lena folds her arms on the table. “Well, Cat Grant’s fashion sense is nothing to sneeze at, but as someone who’s made the cover of Vogue a couple of times, I hope my opinion holds some sway. And I happen to think your style is quite endearing.”

Was that inappropriate? Oh, god. Things get blurry, sometimes. The ease and smoothness she practices twelve hours a day at work bleed into the rest of her life. She holds her breath.

But Kara looks at her with harmless amusement, and her heart settles.

“I never know what to wear. My sister has to pick my outfit for me when I go on a date.” Kara shakes her head, eyes crinkling. “But thank you. You’re good at this.”

Lena cocks her head. “Good at what?”

“I was telling my sister—” Kara scrunches her nose. “Gosh, I should stop mentioning her all the time. But, um. The other day, I was telling her that not many people in your position would have given me the time of day.”

Lena’s toes curl. It’s the only thing she can do that Kara won’t see, won’t interpret as fidgeting. Can anyone be that sincere? Is Kara testing the waters, trying to figure out if Lena can give her something, or best case scenario, if they can help each other out?

She searches Kara’s face. “You make it easy. You’re kind, considerate.”

“So are you.” Kara smiles a bit. “What were you going to say, earlier? About the day you were adopted.”

Dropped topics and smooth subject changes, Lena can deal with. Circling back to intimate questions? That’s shaky ground.

“Right. Well, not many people know I wasn’t always a Luthor. I don’t remember much from before, it was just my mother and I. I’m not sure whether what I remember are true memories or fantasies I made up later on.”

“You were so little. I wasn’t, I remember so much.” Kara pokes at a napkin. “Do you wish you remembered more?”

Lena takes in a slow breath. “Do you wish you remembered less?”

Kara nods, has a drink of water, and the way she holds her glass, like she’s afraid to touch it… It reminds Lena of the first time they shook hands for Kara’s first interview at L-Corp. The light was blinding and Kara’s hold, barely there, weak and warm.

“My cousin was a baby when we lost our family. He doesn’t remember anything. He seems happier.”

And it gets to her. Not so much Kara’s answer, but the way she turned Lena’s stressed out deflection into an opportunity to let her in, for free. Very few things are for free, and Lena wonders what the hidden price is, but even so, it gets to her. It works. Maybe she’s just tired. So tired.

“Can I ask what happened? To your family, I mean.”

“Sure.” Kara clears her throat. “They all died in a fire. My parents, my cousin’s parents...” She looks up at Lena. “What about your mom? What happened?”

Lena traces the blunt edge of the knife on her side of the table. “She drowned. I was there, but I don’t know if it was an accident, or—”

They both startle when their waitress appears by their table. “There you go!”

Lena pushes the glasses and cutlery aside to make room for the food the waitress unloads from her tray. She leaves them with a cheerful Enjoy! and they look at each other, at a loss.

“Well,” Lena deadpans, “Her timing was impeccable.”

Kara laughs. A real laugh, bright and sudden.

~

Kara breathes out a sigh of relief when Lena doesn’t make a fuss about letting her pay.

They stand outside the café, Lena doesn’t say anything about returning the favor next time, and that makes Kara feel better. She can never tell if that’s just the expected line in the Hanging Out script, or if there really is going to be a next time. Her brain is cotton between her ears. She can deal with the café’s usual brouhaha, but after almost two hours, it’s a bit much. It’s better outside, although traffic is its own kind of background ruckus.

“That was really nice,” Lena says, and Kara tries to focus on her. “How did you find this place?”

Kara scratches her forehead. “I like walking. Going on walks, I mean. To clear my head. Last summer, I ended up here. I spent a whole afternoon reading and drinking lemonade and eating scones. I took Alex here for brunch the next weekend, and— ” She cuts herself off. She thought she’d become pretty good at limiting the word vomit to a minimum, or to Alex, at least. But Lena is sweet, and attentive, and it’s easy to overshare. “Anyway. It became my little hideout. Good food and books, that’s the way to my heart.”

“I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve spent huddled in libraries, growing up,” Lena says with a lovely smile. “At school, at university, in my family home. The Luthors have a mansion with a remarkable library. A cabinet of curiosities, really, full of rare editions. It was my favorite room.”

“Was? Do you not go there anymore?”

Lena shrugs. “With my brother and my mother in jail, I’ve pretty much inherited it, but... No, I haven’t gone back in a while. It’s not a happy place.” She makes a face. “Sorry. It’s grim.”

Kara shakes her head. “It’s okay. I’m no fun, either.” An ambulance blares its way down the avenue a couple of blocks away. She rubs her ear with her palm. It helps, makes these violent sounds recede into the background. “It comes with being an orphan, I guess.”

“You’re fun enough for me.” Lena seems to hesitate, gestures to her own ear. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes. My ears are just a bit... Sensitive.” Kara feels mortified. She takes a breath, tries to sound casual. “It was pretty noisy in there. I don’t usually stay that long when I come here with Alex. But it’s fine, I promise. I had a good time.”

Lena nods, eyes narrowed, and Kara wonders if she feels embarrassed. The way Alex used to, whenever Kara got twitchy and weird.

“If there’s a next time, we could go somewhere quieter? Or get takeout, go to a park.”

Kara’s first instinct is to downplay it, play it safe, play it normal. But it moves her, seeing Lena shift gears immediately, even though she doesn’t know the truth, doesn’t know the why of things.

She stuffs her hands in her jacket pockets. “That’d be great. I’d love it if there was a next time.”

Lena smiles again, warm, and so focused on her that Kara feels like a usurper. “Me, too.”

Chapter Text

Kara peels the suit off her skin. It lands on the bathroom floor with a wet thump. Most of the blood and grime was sheared off by the speed of her flight back from Azerbaijan, but the smell clings to the fabric.

She closes her eyes and exhales, trembling. It’s her bathroom. Her sandalwood candle. The scent of olive oil and laurel drifts from a bar of Aleppo soap. The air caresses her naked skin. Sometimes, when she comes home after a long day, it’s the only touch she can stand. 

Slowly, the nausea recedes and her breathing evens out. She picks up her suit, shoves it in the laundry basket and turns the shower on. She waits for the water to warm, goes through her ritual, recalling the face of every person she saved, every person she couldn’t save. She commits them all to memory. Earthquakes are always a mixed bag.

Steams begins to rise. That’s her cue to step into the tub. She has no other way of knowing when the water is warm enough, can’t feel it. She starts scrubbing herself off. Last year, when she solar flared, taking a shower had been her favorite experience. Hot water draining tension out of her muscles, fingers getting all pruny… It was weird and funny.

The air feels heavy when she steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her waist. It smells like rain. Rain is a sound she treasures, it doesn’t assault her eardrums like the incessant cacophony of the city, its cars and AC units and the rumbling of the subway, and the people, everywhere, talking and eating and laughing, or screaming and hurting. Light rain is harmless.

She slips on a pair of sweatpants and a well-worn tee-shirt, the cotton faded and kind to her skin. She flew out before dawn and she’s not sure what time it is, now. She stands in the middle of her living room, at a loss. She’s not tired, exactly. Not physically. But she feels weary when she comes home from work, or from further away.

She should make herself something to eat. She can’t remember what hunger feels like. Solar radiation permeates everything, fills her up relentlessly, but she tries not to skip meals. The passing of time gets messed up, without those rituals.

She resists the pull of the couch, of an hour spent lying down, doing nothing, with her noise-cancelling headphones filtering out some of the ambient noise and offering her a modicum of peace. Eat first, then rest. But only for a bit. She has articles to work on. She’s going to get fired if she keeps missing deadlines. Anxiety pools in her belly.

Maybe she can make some mac and cheese. She’s not sure it even is lunchtime. She looks around, spots her phone on the coffee table. Almost 3:30PM. There’s a bunch of emails. A text from Alex with a link to an article in Greek about Supergirl rescuing a boatful of refugees stranded off in the Mediterranean. There’s also a missed call from Lena, five hours ago. She’s left a voicemail.

It’s surreal, seeing the name Lena Luthor pop up in her texts or call history. True to her word, Lena had suggested lunch in a park after their brunch at the book café. They’d bought shawarma, eaten it on a bench above a koi pond. Later, Lena had sent her a picture of a 19th century Japanese etching depicting a koi swimming up the Yellow River with such courage and perseverance it turned into a dragon. It was beautiful. Kara assumes they’re officially something like friends, now.

She sits on the stool by her easel and listens to the voicemail.

“Hey, Kara. So, L-Corp donated to the Bay Aquarium to fund their renovations a while back. They’re up and running again, and they’ve offered me a behind-the-scenes tour. I know it’s a bit last minute, but it sounds like something you might be into. If you’re free this afternoon, we could go? Let me know. Bye.”

Kara frowns, googles the Bay Aquarium’s opening hours. It closes at 5:00 PM. It’s too late. She lowers her phone, runs a palm over her stomach. She’s never missed out on things because of who she was before, mainly because she had no friends, only Alex, and Alex knows about her. By the time Winn became a real friend, not just a work buddy with a crush on her, he knew, too. She didn’t have to explain why she was late, or had to cancel previous plans.

She stares at the canvas on her easel. She hasn’t touched it in weeks. Is this going to be this way, with Lena? Excuses and missed opportunities, until their friendship peters out before it’s had a chance to take off, because Kara isn’t as available as she should be?

She rubs her tummy again as she calls Lena back. Holds her breath.

“Kara.” Lena’s voice is warm. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Kara has an excuse ready, but she can’t go through with it. “I just listened to your message. I’ve been working all morning. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Kara feels the childish urge to ask Lena to believe her, not to lump her in with people who ghost their friends.

“I’d really, really like to go on that tour, sometime. I know it’s too late for today, but perhaps another time, if that’s still an option with the aquarium people?”

“It was an open invitation. I’m sure we can go whenever you like.”

Kara wishes Lena were less considerate, would push more, ask her questions about what kept her so busy this morning, so Kara could tweak the truth and make herself feel better, say she had to write an article about an earthquake in a little Azeri village.

“Great,” she says instead, heart pounding. She tries not to breathe too hard into her phone. “Work-life balance is hard, for me. I’ve never really had friends to make plans with on the weekend.” She clears her throat. “For a while, there was kind of a game night tradition with my sister and some friends from work, but they’re busy, this year. It was every other Friday, so I didn’t really have to make time for it, it was just… A thing in my planner. And every Wednesday, it was sisters night with Alex. She’s busy too, now. I guess I’m just used to having a routine, and I don’t know how to create a new one, or come up with exceptions,” She finishes lamely.

Awesome. She overcompensated, justified herself. Seconds stretch and Lena says nothing.

“I get it.” Kara hears her hesitation. “From now on, less impromptu invitations, more planning things in advance. If that’s more your speed, I mean.”

Kara bites her tongue. People don’t talk to her like that, like it’s just going to take some minor tweaking. Not if they don’t know about her. Ms. Grant only became nicer after threatening to fire her if she didn’t admit she was Supergirl. Winn only started seeing her as more than a cute nerdy girl from work after she told him who she was. James never even knew her as human. Neither did Eliza and Alex.

Lena only knows Kara Danvers. It’s Kara Danvers she finds interesting, Kara Danvers she respects. It’s the first time. The only time.

“Thanks.” Kara stands, starts pacing. “Next Sunday, maybe? For the tour.”

“Pencil me in.” There’s a smile in Lena’s voice. “Do you really have a planner? A physical one?”

Kara laughs, relieved. “Yes, I’m afraid I do. I’ve tried using apps, but it’s not the same. With a planner, time makes sense.” She curls her fingers. “Hey. I was going to stay in and relax today, and, hm. Do you want to come over? It’s not as thrilling as an aquarium tour, but we could watch a movie or something?”

Lena doesn’t answer right away. Was that not okay? Did she overstep?

“Come over to yours?”

Kara sits, braces herself. “Yes?”

“Oh. Okay. Sorry, I’m just— Nevermind. Yes, absolutely. I’d love to come over.”

Kara sinks into her couch. “Thank you. I mean, great.” She looks around, tries to see her place through a visitor’s eyes. What’s Lena’s place like?

“I don’t usually get invited to casual hangouts, so I’m not sure what the protocol is. Should I bring anything?”

“Just you.” Kara runs a finger along a flower petal embroidered on a throw cushion. “Oh, there’s one thing, actually. If that’s okay, I prefer it when people take their shoes off inside. But it’s rude to take guests by surprise in case they have a hole in their socks or something, right? So, uh…” She snickers. “Wear nice socks?”

“Socks I’m not ashamed of. Got it,” Lena replies without missing a beat.

Kara’s smile turns weak. “Thanks. I’ll text you my address, then.”

~

Lena glances at the apartment number. It’s definitely the right one. She raps her knuckles against Kara’s door for the third time. There’s no music, no sound coming from inside that would explain why Kara didn’t hear her. She clutches the gift she’s brought to her chest. Has something happened? Has Kara’s connection to Lena already made her a target? Has her brother ordered a hit from the prison he’s rotting in? Her mother? Is she paranoid? Hopefully, Kara just went out to make a last minute purchase. Or fell asleep with ear plugs in. Something. Anything. Lena knocks again, as loud as her education permits. Nothing.

“Kara?” She tries softly through the door, feeling stupid.

She holds her breath. Seconds trickle down like drops out of a leaky faucet. Should she call 911— Oh thank God, footsteps on the other side. The door opens to a smiling Kara, a pair of headphones around her neck. Large, top-of-the-line ones. Ah. That explains it.

“Hi! I’m so sorry, I was…” She gestures to her headphones. “I didn’t hear. How long have you been here?”

“Not long,” Lena lies. Kara’s hair is tied in a loose ponytail. She’s wearing a tee-shirt and sweat pants, fuzzy socks with sunflowers on them. When was the last time someone radiated that kind of welcoming casualness around Lena? It throws her off, but she offers her warmest smile and nods to Kara’s headphones. “Music, or podcasts?”

Kara steps aside to let her in. “Neither, right now. Eliza— my adoptive mother, bought them for me last Christmas. The noise-cancelling is pretty good, so I mostly wear them when I want to relax.”

Does Kara need noise-cancelling headphones at home? Can she wear them at work? Lena almost asks, but she doesn’t want to make Kara feel self-conscious, so she just nods and comes in.

“I’m not familiar with noise-cancelling tech. It makes me nervous not to hear whether I’m about to be assassinated.”

She’s about to backtrack and apologize, because that’s definitely too much too soon, but Kara just cases her a curious glance.

“But you wouldn’t have time to be scared, you’d just— Go. Wouldn’t that be better?” A frown. “No fighting chance, though. And that’s assuming they don’t botch it.”

Lena maintains a straight face. “See? You get it.” She nods to Kara’s headphones. “So, they block out background noise, right?”

“Yeah. Can I take your coat?”

“Sure. Thank you.” Lena puts her handbag down on the floor and shrugs out of her coat.

Kara takes it, hangs it delicately. “From what I understand, the mics inside pick up low-frequency sounds, then generate an opposite sound to cancel it out. It works okay. There’s a bit of constant hum, though.” She bites her lower lip. “Do you want to try them out?”

Lena blinks. “Yeah, if that’s all right.”

Kara nods, a flush to her cheeks, and takes the headphones off with great care. There’s something touching about it. Like they’re a treasure, something precious and fragile. Lena makes sure to handle them carefully as she places them over her own ears.

Abruptly, the rumor of the city dies down, replaced with silence so loud it feels like static. She swallows, it echoes inside her skull. She touches her fingers to the wall, gives it a gentle tap. Nothing.

She glances at Kara, eyebrows raised. “No wonder you didn’t hear me knock.”

Her voice sounds distant to her own ears. She looks around. Kara’s apartment is surprisingly spacious. A loft. Her furniture is colorful, mismatched, and light floods in. Gauzy curtains separate what Lena assumes is Kara’s bedroom from the rest of her apartment. They billow in the breeze.

This place, this silence… She takes the headphones off and hands them back to Kara. Sounds rush  back to her ears.

“I could get used to that.” She keeps her voice soft, not wanting to add to the noise of the world. “If those had been a thing ten years ago, when I was in college? I would have used and abused them. People whispering in the library drove me crazy.”

She worries Kara will be offended, think she’s making light of things. But Kara nods as she powers the headphones off. “I think I use them too much.”

Lena ducks her head to meet her eyes. “And I thought my addictions were shameful.” She sees the moment her gentle teasing lands, and Kara smiles helplessly. Lena’s used to being surrounded by sharks, every conversation a battle, but Kara’s sweet. It takes the bite out of her own humor. There’s not a lot Lena likes about herself, but she enjoys softness Kara brings out of her. She stoops to pick up the gift peeking out of her handbag.

“Here. I know I wasn’t supposed to bring anything, but I didn’t want to show up empty-handed. Thank you for having me over.”

“Oh.” Kara takes it like it’s made of crystal. “Can I open it?”

Lena hides her perplexity. “If you'd like?”

“Sorry. I watched this documentary about Japan, recently. There was a part about the etiquette of gift-giving, over there. Apparently, it’s rude to open a present in front of the person who gave it to you. It’s better to do it in private, so you don’t have to pretend to like it, and everyone can save face.” She shuts her eyes and sighs. “That came out so wrong.”

“It didn’t,” Lena chuckles. “You know what? I like it. I’m all for saving face. So, I take it back, you may not open it just yet. Do it when I’m gone.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Kara grins. “Okay.” She puts the gift away on the kitchen island. “Would you like something to drink? I have juice, coffee, tea…”

“Tea would be lovely. Thank you.”

Kara nods, grabs a kettle and starts filling it. Lena takes her shoes off, sets them on the rack next to a pair of sneakers. Kara glances at Lena’s sensible socks with a little smile as she puts the kettle on the stove.

Lena joins her and leans against the countertop. It’s nice, being invited into someone else’s private space, watching them make tea. Kara looks her way, and Lena gives her an easy smile. “I like your socks. I feel underdressed.”

Kara looks down, wiggles her toes. “They’re not even my most garish pair.”

Lena wants to tell her that she can’t wait to see what other marvels her sock drawer holds, that sunflowers suit her. What if it sounds like she’s inviting herself into Kara’s life, or making intrusive assumptions? She’s walking on eggshells. Any wrong move might cost her moments like this.

“Nothing garish about flowers.” She nods towards the easel across the room. “I didn’t know you were a painter.”

Kara follows her gaze. “I tidied up a bit before you came, and I almost hid it all in my closet.” She rubs the back of her neck with a small, weary smile. “I haven’t painted in a long time and leaving it all out there felt… Disingenuous. Like a set piece.”

“Can I take a closer look?”

Kara gestures for her to go ahead.

Lena goes to the easel, crouches beside it to look at the stack of paintings on the floor. Empty seashores. A strange tree. Black birds flying. She trails a light fingertip along a thick brush stroke.

“I hope it doesn’t come off as presumptuous, but they’re very… You. Are you self-taught?”

Kara joins her and folds her arms loosely. “Yeah. When the Danvers took me in, I didn’t talk much.” She plays absently with the hem of her short sleeve. “I felt like I wasn’t really in my body anymore, and I had to relearn everything. Eliza tried to find ways for me to express myself, and a lot of it didn’t stick, but art did. I was so clumsy. Still am. But it helped.”

Lena looks at the rest of the paintings. Pigeons pecking at the ground. Something abstract and vast that makes her think of a desert. She gently places the canvases back against the wall. Is volunteering these intimate anecdotes Kara’s way of offering something to relate to? Stories as conversation?

She tries to respond in kind. “It’s a little different, but when I was brought in by the Luthors, there were a few… Somewhat aristocratic hobbies I was expected to pick up. You know, chess, ballet and the like. Not for the purpose of self-expression, I’m afraid, but still. I think piano was what resonated with me the most.” Her eyes wander across the unfinished painting on the easel. “I wasn’t particularly good at it, just decent enough not to embarrass my family during recitals. I haven’t played in years, not since I moved out of the mansion to go to university. ”

Kara nods in her peripheral vision. Seconds pass in silence before she speaks.

“Did your parents come to your piano recitals?”

Lena glances over at her. That’s an odd question. “My father was always away on business. But sometimes, he’d call to wish me luck. My mother, though… She never missed a performance. I couldn’t tell whether that was to make sure I wouldn’t slack off, or to support me.” She massages her palm with her thumb. “She was stingy with compliments, but she did show up. That’s the thing, with her, you know? It’s always both. Or the illusion of both.”

She’s surprised when she feels Kara’s hand on her shoulder, light and gone in a second.

“I’m sorry I encouraged you to visit her when she was in jail,” Kara says quietly. “All I saw was that part of you wanted to give her another chance, and in my experience, I’d rather give people chances and be proven wrong than close the door and never know. But there was a lot I didn’t take into account, and you had to suffer as a result. I’m sorry. If you ask me for my opinion about this again, I’ll do my due diligence. I promise.”

“I think I would have gone anyway, with or without your input. She always pulls me back in. But thank you. For your thoughtfulness, then and now.”

It seems like Kara’s about to say something else when the kettle starts whistling on the stove. “Sorry. I’ll be right back.”

Lena watches her head back towards the kitchen. She casts a lingering look at the painting on the easel, before wandering over to Kara’s bookshelves. Art, history, photography… Caravaggio. The Silk Road. Islamic Architecture. Perceval, or the story of the Holy Grail—

“What kind of tea do you like?” Kara calls out from the kitchen. “There’s a bit of everything. Green tea, oolong, earl grey…”

Lena picks up a framed picture off a shelf. A black cat, nestled in the arms of a younger, smiling Kara, without glasses. She doesn’t look much older than twelve or thirteen. The picture must have been taken not long before her family passed away, or soon after. Lena sets the frame back on the shelf and joins Kara in the kitchen. There’s a wooden tea box on the counter. Kara opens it and angles it towards Lena. It’s divided into a dozen of neat compartments, with handwritten labels.

Lena peers into it and breathes in the mingling aromas. “It’s beautiful. Where did you get this?”

“I found this tiny tea shop on one of my walks. I think it was struggling a bit. A lot. But the lady that owns it was so knowledgeable and passionate, I offered to write something about her shop, because CatCo Magazine is popular enough that any place we write about becomes trendy for a hot minute.” She touches her glasses. “A week after the issue came out, she sent me this box to thank me.”

Lena shakes her head fondly. “Kara Danvers, rescuing Fortune 500 CEOs and small business owners alike, one article at a time.”

“Food reviews are the only thing my boss lets me write, these days, so I thought I’d use my limited powers for good.” Kara nods at the box, smiling. “What strikes your fancy?”

“God, I don’t know. I’m a big green tea fan, but there are so many good options. What are you having?”

Kara chuckles faintly. “I was going to go with whatever you picked, but let’s see… I’ll be honest, I’ve sampled a bit of everything and the only one that doesn’t taste too strong for me—” She points to a compartment. “Is this one.”

Rooibos. Huh. Lena nods slowly, eyes flitting over the labels to figure out what sets rooibos apart. “Because it’s herbal.”

“Herbal?” Kara repeats. “Isn’t tea always herbal? Sorry, I don’t know much about it.”

Lena smiles. “No, you’re right. Technically, it’s all plants. But the difference is, regular tea blends are made out of, well, tea leaves, and herbal teas come from other plants or fruits. Like rooibos. There’s no caffeine in herbal teas.”

“Oh.” Kara frowns thoughtfully. “Well, that explains it. I always thought tea tasted so bitter.”

Lena cocks her head, intrigued. “What about coffee? You had some when we went to brunch.”

Kara smiles sheepishly. “With a ton of milk.”

Lena narrows her eyes. “What about broccoli?”

Kara seems surprised, but she plays along good-naturedly. “It’s not that I dislike broccoli, but… It still has that taste, you know? That really strong taste.” She chuckles, embarrassed. “I told you, nobody trusts my taste in food. I’m pretty picky.”

Lena hesitates. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Hm. Yes?”

“Are you a supertaster?”

Kara blinks, swallows. “Sorry, what?”

God. Has Lena offended or hurt her in some way?

“Oh, it’s just that some people have a heightened sense of taste. It’s not that uncommon. Tea and coffee are usually high on the list of foods that taste too strong for them. Some vegetables, too. Brussel sprouts, broccoli…” Lena offers a small smile. “Those people are called supertasters. They’re often mistaken for picky eaters.”

“I’d never heard the term before.” Kara fiddles with the tea ball, eyes growing distant. “When I was adopted, I couldn’t eat anything Eliza cooked. It took her a long time to figure out what I liked. She was so patient with me. The first thing she made me that I could keep down was a PB&J sandwich. She was as proud as if she’d made me beef bourguignon.” She shakes her head. “Sorry. I’m just rambling.”

“No, I love your childhood stories. Your adoptive family sounds wonderful.” Lena wishes she had her own hopeful childhood stories to share. She clears her throat gently, folds her arm over the kitchen island and nods to the tea box. “So, rooibos, then?”

“Rooibos it is.” Kara opens a cupboard and pulls two mugs out. One is a beautiful, handcrafted one, and the other has a sad-looking donkey and a Disney logo printed on it. Kara sets them on the island and pauses. “Hey. It’s probably bad hosting etiquette, but do you mind prepping the tea? It sounds like you know a whole lot more about it that I do, and I always make a mess.”

“Of course.” Lena rolls up her sleeves, goes to the sink. “So, educate me. What’s a PB&J sandwich?”

Kara looks at her sideways with a puzzled smile. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

“Oh, I see.” Lena squirts a little hand soap onto her palm, starts washing her hands. “I had my first and last peanut when I was… Five, I think. I woke up in a hospital room. Am I missing out?”

Kara hands her a clean dish towel to dry her hands. Lena takes it and Kara looks away, over to the large windows, and seems distracted for a few seconds. Lena can’t hear anything, so she averts her eyes and pretends she didn’t notice. Dealing with sensory issues must be hard enough, she doesn’t want to add to it.

“Sorry. What was I— oh! So, I read up on peanut allergies when you told me about yours. I felt like I’d put you in danger just by being near you, because most days, I pack a PB&J sandwich for lunch. ”

Lena shoots Kara a playful look. “As long as you don’t hand me a napkin that’s been in contact with it, I might survive.”

“Nope. Too big of a risk. There’s not enough room for both Lena Luthor and peanut butter in my life. So, peanut butter had to go. Turns out, almond butter is just as good. It sticks to the roof of your mouth, just like peanut butter. Texture is everything.”

“That’s…” Lena trails off, folds the towel because she doesn’t know what to say. “You don’t have to give up peanut butter on my behalf. I mean, I’m touched. Really. But it’s fine. I’m used to being careful.”

Kara nods slowly. “I might be overdoing it, but I don’t want to take chances, not with that. I don’t have a lot of people left. You know how high-risk my sister’s job is. Sometimes, I’m so sick with worry I can’t get out of bed. And I’ve only known you for a few months but you’ve been targeted so many times since I met you. It’s not worth the risk, I don’t care how silly it sounds.” She touches her glasses, pushes them up a little. “I don’t want us to worry about what spoon has touched what when you come over, or if I’ve left deadly crumbs somewhere. I don’t want you to be careful around me.”

Lena focuses on Kara’s fuzzy socks. People who give and give before anything has been earned are like creatures out of a fairy tale and Lena can’t quite let herself believe it, but still. She wishes she’d met Kara earlier. Had had her in her life longer.

“Okay. No peanut butter, then.” She turns to the stove, switches it back on under the kettle once she figures out how it works, because the water must have gotten too cold for a decent cup of tea. “Thank you. No one’s done that for me before.”

“If you’re hungry, I could make us an almond butter and jelly sandwich? It tastes great. You won’t feel so bad about me giving up peanut butter once you’ve tried it.”

Lena feels light-headed. “All right. Dazzle me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kara takes a jar of almond butter out of an overhead cupboard, and Lena busies herself with the tea. Soon enough, the kettle is whistling again. Lena drops the tea ball full of rooibos into it. As she waits for it to infuse, she watches Kara. The careful way she pulls two slices of bread out of the toaster, how she opens a jar of strawberry jam. Lena is used to telling herself she’s overthinking things, but there’s something to the way Kara occupies space that’s quite unusual.

Kara looks up and catches her staring, smiles. “What?”

“You’re…” Lena decides to go for it. “Very gentle with everything. It’s something I’ve noticed about you.”

“Oh.” Kara spreads almond butter over a slice of bread. “I’m only careful because I’m a klutz.”

“No,” Lena blurts out. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She thinks of some of the books she saw on Kara’s shelves. “You make me think of an archeologist. You handle everything like it’s precious.”

“That would explain why I love Indiana Jones so much.” Kara hums to herself. “The truth is, I really am clumsy. It’s a problem. Before I was hired at CatCo, I worked as a waitress at Noonan’s for a few years. I broke so many plates I thought they’d fire me. I think they would have, if customers didn’t like me so much. I was terrible at waitressing, but I guess I made up for it by being friendly.”

She’s so touching. Ten different replies spring to Lena’s mind, light and easy, kind and flattering. “When you say it’s a problem,” She says instead, “Do you mean… Spatial awareness issues?

Kara’s knife stills halfway to the jar. She makes a noncommittal little sound.

Lena takes a deep breath, curls her fingers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Kara laughs, and it’s heartbreaking. She finishes buttering the slice of bread, places it on top of the jam covered one. “No, it’s fine. Not many people are that curious about me.” She cuts the sandwich in two. “I like your questions. I’m just not used to talking about my… Difficulties, I guess.”

Lena nods. She thinks of Kara’s sensitive ears, her heightened sense of taste. And now, this. What is navigating the world like, for her? “It’s not the same, but…” She picks the kettle up and fills their mugs. “I was considered a pretty odd kid, too.”

“You were?”

“Oh, yes. Homeschooled me until I was eight, old enough for boarding school. When they sent me there, I was ahead in a lot of ways, and so behind in others. I didn’t know how to make friends, how to talk to children my age, play with them. It never got better. I had a hard time not living in my own head. They said I was gifted, but that’s not how it felt at all.”

Kara cautiously sets their plate and mugs on a small tray and brings it over to the coffee table. “What was it like?” She sits on the couch and pats the seat next to her. “Inside your head?”

Lena sits, gathers her hair over her shoulder. She sees Kara has angled the tray so that Lena gets the sad donkey mug.

“Crowded. I didn’t know what being bored even meant. There was always something to notice, to analyze, to learn. A pattern to spot, a problem to solve. Everything was… Infinitely interesting.”

“And now? Do you know how to make it less crowded?”

Lena watches Kara pull her legs up on the couch and grab a cushion as she speaks, absently hugging it to her chest. The weight of the moment settles over her. She sees it, as if it were a scene in a movie. Their steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table. Kara’s fingers idly tracing the branch of the cherry tree stitched into the cushion she’s hugging. Her own body, softening into the couch.

She blinks slowly. “I don’t think so. I know how to compartmentalize better, but it’s never really quiet, in there.” She smiles over at Kara. “Maybe a little bit like you, when you’re somewhere noisy.”

Kara picks their plate off the table and sets it between them on the couch, takes her half of the sandwich and nudges the other one towards Lena. “That could be L-Corp’s next hit product. Noise-cancelling headphones, but for inside noises, busy thoughts.”

It’s such a kind, awkward joke, Lena can only look away, stop herself from doing something affectionate, physical. Instead, she hums pensively, picks up her half of the sandwich and takes a small bite out of it. It’s sweet and filling, the way home-cooked meals are. “I think you just invented meditation.”

Kara chuckles, a self-conscious hand over her mouth as she chews. “I guess you’re not the only genius in town.” She nods to Lena’s sandwich. “How is it?”

“Decadent. I like it.”

Kara takes another bite, playing with the corner of her pillow. She looks at Lena with interest. “Do you meditate?”

Lena shakes her head. “I have… Little mind games that I play, sometimes. When I can’t sleep, when my mind’s going in circles. Maybe they’re a form of meditation.”

“What kind of games?”

Nobody knows this about her. But Kara’s been so open. She eats a little to give herself time to think. “Nothing too elaborate. Counting. Reciting things. The first one hundred digits of pi, poems I’ve learned… It’s something our English teacher asked us to do, back in boarding school. Memorize a poem every week. I still do it.”

Kara looks at her with a steady intensity that makes Lena want to run away. “What poem are you learning, this week?”

She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I’ll send it to you.” She licks her lips, puts the rest of her sandwich back on the plate. “What about you? Do you meditate?”

Kara hums, eyes downcast. Lena’s noticed Kara never looks at her when she’s thinking, like she can’t do both at the same time.

“I used to. We didn’t call it meditation, but my family and I, we’d pray together, recite scripture. I felt… connected. To the world, to others. To something more.” She shakes her head. “I haven’t done it in a long time. Since I was adopted, actually. Half my life.”

“What were you like? As a child.”

“Sheltered. I spent a lot of time by myself, reading, studying. The rest of the time, I’d be with my family. They were always happy to talk with me, teach me things. When I was adopted, I was a mess. It was so different from the life I’d known, like a different planet. It was hard on everyone. Alex felt abandoned, because her parents spent all their time and energy trying to help me. And by the time I was well enough to go to school… I’d never even been to a normal school, before. Alex had to take care of me all the time. She lost her friends, and I pretty much remained the school weirdo until I graduated.” Kara shrugs. “Sorry, that was… a lot. It wasn’t all bad, though. There were happier times.”

Lena turns towards her, plants her elbow on the back of the couch and rests her chin in her palm. “Tell me about one of those times.”

Kara looks at her for a moment, wavering. Lena keeps any playfulness from her gaze.

“Well… There was the first time Alex and I did something together. She helped me put up glow stars on the ceiling above my bed. We shaped them like my favorite constellations.”

Lena adds this fragment to the portrait coming to life in her mind. “What constellations?”

Kara tilts her head. “You really do have an inquisitive mind.”

Lena hesitates. But then, if she can’t admit it to someone as accepting as Kara seems to be, she’ll never say it. “To be honest,” She ventures, “I think asking questions is also a way for me not to talk about myself. It’s not that I don’t want to, but there’s nothing inviting to any of my own stories.” She finishes her half of the sandwich. “I’m not complaining, but heartwarming anecdotes over tea? I’m coming up empty. When you tell me about how hard things were for you after your family passed away… You still ended up with people who supported you, you know? Who cared, tried to help. I don’t have anything like that. It’s all gloomy.”

Kara nods. “You were very little when your mom died. Who took care of you, when your father and Lillian took you in?”

Lena shrugs. “No one, everyone? My tutors, the cook, the maid, the gardener… If I wandered over to their part of the mansion, they’d babysit me for a bit. There was a nanny for a few months, but she left, or was let go, I’m not sure. I’m not ungrateful, I lived in luxury, but I was mostly by myself.” She sucks in a long, quiet breath. “Anyway, I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m happy to just learn all about you while giving you nothing personal, it’s just— I don’t feel like I have much to offer.”

Kara drinks some of her tea. “I don’t mind.” She licks her lips thoughtfully. “You know, my sister and I weren’t always close. The first few years were rough. She watched over me, but like I said, it cost her a lot of experiences she didn’t get to have. She resented me for it, resented her mom. Still does, I think. You should see our Thanksgiving dinners, they’re…” She puffs her cheeks. “Tense. Still, over the years, it got better. Alex has helped me with so many things, to the point I’ve sometimes felt I couldn’t function without her.” She smiles, half-hearted. “She’s used to me. To my… Weirdness. And she ended up feeling a little too comfortable in that role, too. The helper, the one with all the answers.”

“Like what to wear on a date?” Lena prompts gently.

Kara chuckles, pushes her glasses up with the heel of her palm. “Ah, you remember that. That’s one of the least embarrassing things she’s helped me with. But this year is a bit different. She’s met someone. She came out, actually.”

Out of where? Oh. Lena nods, takes a drink of tea. “That’s a big step.”

“Yeah. I’m so proud of her. She’s spending a lot of time with her girlfriend, now, as she should, and a lot less time with me. I miss our nights, picking each other up from work, but I also feel…” She hugs her pillow closer. “Independent, for the first time. I can make room for other things in my personal life. Like this, with you,” She gestures to the space between them. “I’m really glad I met you when I did.”

She looks at her with her big blue eyes, steady and clear, and Lena thinks it’s no wonder Kara’s sister grew to love her as fiercely as she seems to. She tightens her hold around her sad donkey mug. “And here I was, wishing I’d met you much earlier.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but you’re right.” She clinks her mug to Kara’s. “To every thing, there is a season.”

Kara looks at her curiously. “And a time to every purpose under heaven.” She props her chin on the cushion she’s clutching to her chest. “Are you religious?”

She’s always fidgeting, or idly toying with something. Lena wonders if she’s aware of it.

“Not really. My mother— my biological mother, was catholic. She was Irish. I guess reading the Bible made me feel closer to her, growing up, but it’s just a passage I like. I figured you’d know where it’s from.” She sets her empty mug down. “Not that I’m assuming you were raised christian, or jewish, but you mentioned scripture, and—” Oh, God.

Kara’s kind smile washes Lena’s embarrassment away. “No worries. All sacred texts are worth studying.”

Lena’s gaze drifts to Kara’s books, her easel. “Your interests are so varied.” You have such a rich inner world, is what she wants to say, but it sounds too intimate. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you mentioned not having a lot of friends, and I wonder why. You’re lovely. Smart.”

“You know how, when you see someone at work every day, and you get along, you consider them a friend after a few months, but you don’t feel like you’ve really chosen them? I made a couple of friends like that after I was hired at CatCo,” Kara muses. “You’ve met one, actually. At your gala. Winn Schott. The other is James Olsen.”

“CatCo’s new acting CEO?”

“Yeah. The three of us, we’d hang out at work, or on game nights. They’re great guys, but I didn’t get to know them like this. Here, on my couch. Just talking.”

Lena’s wishes she hadn’t finished her tea, could hide behind her mug. “I hope I turn out to be the friend you deserve. I don’t have the greatest track record.”

Kara searches her face. “Did I come on too strong?”

“No, no. I’m saying this all wrong.” Lena suppresses a shiver as a gust of wind wafts in from the open window. “You intimidate me a little. I want to make you feel even half as appreciated as you’ve made me feel today, but I’m not sure how.”

Kara smiles, disarming. “You’re doing just fine.”

Lena’s insecurities press behind her lips, demanding to be let out, to ruin this before it has a chance to begin. She swallows them back, tries to smile. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Kara rests her head against the back of the couch, looks at her like she knows something Lena doesn’t. “I’m glad I’m not the only one fumbling my way through this.”

She sets her pillow aside, stands without waiting for a reply and goes to close the window. When she comes back, she takes the blanket folded over the back of the couch, drapes it over Lena’s legs before sitting back down and slipping under it, too. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

They’re not touching, but it’s not a big couch.

“I’d love to.”

Lena feels Kara’s body heat along her arm and thigh. Jack is the only person she’s ever been casually close to. But they were a couple, and things were rocky towards the end. Kara’s a friend. Friend adjacent? It’s safe. Lena pulls the blanket a little higher up her chest and snuggles into the cushions, earning herself a soft look from Kara.

“What are you in the mood for? I’m game for anything, except horror movies.”

Lena nods thoughtfully. “You mentioned Indiana Jones, right? I’ve never seen any of those films.”

She expects Kara to act shocked, but all she says is, “Because it’s not your thing, or did you just never come across them?”

“I didn’t grow up watching television, or going to the movies. I’m afraid pop culture has passed me by.”

"I knew nothing about pop culture when I got adopted,” Kara sighs. “Indiana Jones, Star Wars, Jurassic Park? Never heard of them. Alex had to educate me.” She smiles a giddy little smile. “I’d be honored to pass that sacred knowledge on to you.”

It’s not that Kara’s jokes are devastatingly witty, no, but their harmlessness leaves Lena elated. Joyful. It’s a buried feeling. Outside, rain lashes at the windows.

~

Kara’s hands shake as she fumbles to open the umbrella without breaking it. If Lena sees her snap it in half, what then?

“Sorry. Butter fingers.”

Lena gives her that look, that relaxed one Kara hadn’t seen before today. A few more awkward seconds pass and Kara sees a small movement, as if Lena were about to reach out and help, but she doesn’t, and Kara’s grateful. The umbrella finally springs open, intact, and Lena pushes the building door open for her with a smile.

They step outside. Kara makes sure to shelter her. They huddle together as they wait for the cab Kara insisted on booking for her. Just like earlier, on the couch, Lena’s perfume surrounds Kara. It’s heady, earthy. She recognizes the scent of frankincense and jasmine, musk… She wants to ask what it is, but maybe that’s rude, like asking a woman to reveal her beauty secrets.

Kara wonders if she could be a nose for a major perfumer, given her overdeveloped sense of smell under this sun. But then, manipulating fragile ingredients and glass vials all day would probably be a problem. A lot of things are a problem.

“Thanks for waiting with me,” Lena says, coaxing her out of her reverie.

Kara smiles over at her. “My pleasure. Besides, I’d rather make sure no one bothers you. This isn’t the safest neighborhood. It’s one of the reasons I can afford this apartment, actually.”

“One of the reasons?” Lena asks with this gentle playfulness that puts Kara at ease.

She’s caught a glimpse of Lena’s quick, biting wit, the day she visited her at L-Corp with Clark. But never since, never with her.

“I have a pretty great landlady. She lives in another apartment in the building. She’s old, so I bring her groceries or leftovers, I walk her dog. I hope that’s not why she keeps the rent low, though. I like to think we just appreciate each other.”

“I bet you make a lot of people’s world a little brighter.” Lena lets out a wistful little smile. “I had a lovely day. Probably the best since I moved here. I wish I could return the favor, invite you over to mine and cook you my comfort food of choice, show you a movie I love… But alas, I’m staying at a hotel.”

Oh. Kara rubs her ear without thinking, because a bus pulled over at the stop down the street, and the brakes always shriek so loudly. “Do you want to get your own place here eventually, or…?”

“I’m not sure,” Lena slips her hands in her coat pockets. “I’ve been here for months, but I still feel like it could all fall apart. I think I’m afraid of putting down roots. On the plus side,” She adds, her tone lighter, “I picked a hotel near L-Corp, so my driver works about an hour a day, tops. It’s a pretty cushy job.”

“So you do have a driver. I was beginning to wonder.”

Lena chuckles, sheepish. “Just for work. Monday to Friday. I don’t go out on weekends, anyway, so it works out. Or used to work out, I suppose, now that you’ve managed to get me to venture out a bit.” She bumps her shoulder to Kara’s, and Kara doesn’t feel it, but she can tell it was a soft, careful bump, and it does something to her. Nobody treats her like she’s fragile.

“I really enjoy your company,” Kara tells her, and hopes it’s not too blunt, or too formal.

Lena looks at her for a while. “You’re killing me with kindness, you know. I told you over the phone, I’m not sure what the protocol is, friendship-wise, but… Can I give you a goodbye hug?”

Kara’s stomach ties itself into knots. She doesn’t really hug people. Only Alex and Eliza, because she trusts them to tell her if she’s hugging them too hard. James, a couple of times. But she generally tries to avoid it. She could hurt people, get it wrong enough to give herself away if they don’t already know.

She wonders if Lena gets to hug and be hugged often. Probably not, because she doesn’t have a lot of friends, or a loving family, and it doesn’t sound like she’s seeing anyone. Kara knows, intimately, what it’s like to feel untouched, to be unable to touch others the way she wants to. She wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all someone like Lena, who seems to have a lot to offer and nobody to give it to.

So she swallows her anxiety, nods, and channels a little bit of the confidence she uses as Supergirl into keeping her smile and gaze steady. “Of course.”

Lena turns towards her but then looks past Kara’s shoulder, squinting, and drops her head with a small smile. “Ah. Great timing, as always. My ride’s here.”

Kara shrugs, doesn’t take her eyes off of her as a car pulls over next to them and Lena gives the driver a nod. “So? He can wait.” She scrunches her nose playfully. “I’ll leave him a giant tip through the app.”

“Of course you will.”

Kara carefully moves the umbrella out of the way when Lena hugs her, but makes sure to keep shielding her from the rain. She feels awkward, scared she’ll do it wrong, too hard or not tight enough. It’s so difficult to gauge. She ends up wrapping her free arm around Lena’s waist, as lightly as she can. There’s not a lot she can do without leaving a trail of bruises. No squeezing, no rubbing. She feels like a monster. She still wants it to be a good hug for Lena, though, so she comes closer, erasing the little distance Lena had left between them. Lena’s hair tickles her ear.

It’s different from Alex’s tight hugs. She couldn’t tell with her eyes closed, but looking at the way Lena keeps her arms around her, it seems different. A loose, enveloping kind of hug. Gentle, just like the shoulder bump, earlier. Again, Kara feels this violent emotion, heart in her throat at the thought of someone thinking of her like that, as a person to be held gently, carefully. The urge to rest her head on Lena’s shoulder and stay like this for a little while grips her.

Lena pulls back, keeps her hands on Kara’s shoulders for a second and gives them what seems to be the softest squeeze.

“Thanks again for today.”

Kara swallows thickly. “Anytime.” She goes around Lena to open the car door for her. “I’ll see you next week, right? At the aquarium?”

Lena gets in and smiles up at her. “I can’t wait.”

“Great. Well, then…” She almost tells her to get home safe, but she’s not sure Lena thinks of her hotel room as home. “Have a good night.”

“You, too. Bye, Kara.”

“Bye.”

She makes sure Lena’s coat is safely tucked inside, closes the door and waits until the car disappears from view to make her way back inside her building. She closes the umbrella with less difficulty than she had opening it. Being watched makes her even clumsier than usual.

She climbs the stairs to her floor, in a daze. It’s been a surprising day. She’s not sure how she feels.

Back in the safety of her apartment, she takes her shoes off, picks up their empty mugs and plate off the coffee table and brings them over to the sink. It was nice, that’s for sure. Better than nice. Lena’s the first girl— woman, that Kara’s befriended. It’s new. Maybe that’s why it feels different, why vulnerability feels easier. Winn and James are her friends, sure, but she’s certainly never invited either of them over to have intimate conversations on a rainy Sunday.

She washes the mugs. They’re tricky, easily broken when you try to scrub the bottom. Does vulnerability truly feel easier, around Lena? When Kara told her all those things about herself, it still made her heart race uncomfortably. But in Lena’s eyes, Kara’s problems are human problems. Manageable. Smaller than they are.

She sets the mugs on the rack, watches them drip.

And why not, if Lena interprets her problems in a human way? Isn’t that closer to the truth? She picks up Lena’s gift off the kitchen island where she left it, and goes to sit on the couch.

Lena thinks she has sensitive ears, and she’s not wrong, but she’s not right, and she speaks so softly to her, like she doesn’t want to be loud around her. She’s accommodating. She thinks Kara is a supertaster, and she’s not right, but she’s not wrong, and it makes Kara feel normal.

All these firsts. First time befriending a woman. First time being asked about what food tastes like, to her, or what she was like as a kid. First time being hugged like she’s fragile. First time seeing someone run her fingers over one of her paintings, along the spines of her books.

She opens her gift. Her fingers make a mess of the wrapping paper, but the book inside stays intact. It’s a worn, well loved one. The Epic of Gilgamesh, A Verse Narrative.

She opens it carefully, taking in the yellowed paper and musty scent. It’s a first edition.

You told me books were the way to your heart. Here’s one that found its way to mine, long ago.

- Lena

Is that Lena’s own copy? She stares at Lena’s handwriting, loopy and free on the title page. She skims the preface. The earliest surviving literary text, it says. She draws in a soft breath as she turns the pages, stops when they fall open naturally, as if someone had cracked the spine right there. She whispers the words to herself as she reads, like she used to as a child.

Gilgamesh was king of Uruk,

A city set between the Tigris

And Euphrates river

in ancient Babylonia.

Enkidu was born on the steppe

Where he grew up among the animals.

Gilgamesh was called a god and man;

Enkidu was an animal and man.

It is the story

Of their becoming human together.

Chapter Text

The tour is over, their questions have been answered, so the realtor steps out of the apartment to give them some time alone. Kara’s pretty sure he thinks they’re a couple.

Lena looks around. “I’m pretty sure I’m the first one on the Luthor side of my family to ever set foot in a one-bedroom apartment.”

They’ve visited a few places before this one. Vast, sprawling apartments Lena looked lost in. So, Kara suggested she give a smaller place a go.

“Do you like it?”

Lena nibbles on her bottom lip. “What if you want to spend the night? There’s no guest room.”

“I don’t have a guest room, either, but you still sleep over at mine. Just get me a comfy couch and I’ll be golden.” Kara steps closer, until their sleeves touch. “Does it bother you? How small it is.”

Lena gives Kara’s scarf a soft, absent-minded tug.

When she turned out to be so affectionate, it scared Kara. What if Lena sensed something was off when she didn’t reciprocate? But the fear faded quickly. Lena’s touches never seem to call for any kind of reciprocation, it’s always on her sleeve, the strap of her bag, her scarf, never her skin. As limited as it is, it feels like a tactile language Lena invented just for them.

“Yeah. I don’t even know why.” Lena frowns. “It’s not like I’ve ever wanted a massive place, even my office is mostly for show, but… Something like this? It feels almost like I’m deliberately picking a place my family would balk at.”

“I don’t know,” Kara muses. “From the way you talk about the mansion, it’s not all huge, empty ball rooms and grand dining halls. It sounds full of nook and crannies, so even your family must have loved having cozier, more intimate spaces to retreat to.”

“Good point.”

She watches Lena’s fingers play with the scarf’s little fringes, imagines taking her hand to give it an encouraging squeeze, and the horror of breaking her fingers instead.

“Perhaps what’s really bothering me,” Lena continues, oblivious to Kara’s thoughts, “Is that this place is an admission that I don’t need more room, because I don’t have anyone. Other than you, but you know what I mean. It feels… Final?”

Kara nods. “It’s not, though. If you feel good here, at this point in time? Go for it. You can always get a bigger place if things change. If you want room for a home office, or a home gym,” She teases, smiling when Lena lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “Or if… You meet someone, if you adopt a bunch of kids. Or a big dog.”

Lena hums. “I have a feeling you’d move in, too, if I got a dog. And then we’d really need a bigger place.” She draws in a breath, looks around again. “Do you like it here?”

Kara’s eyes drift over to the open kitchen, the little loggia, the airy emptiness of the living room around them. Light, shaped like the promise of a home. “I can picture you here.” She trails her fingers over the soft lining inside her coat pockets. “I love it.”

~

Lena huffs, pushes another cardboard box against the wall. She stands, hands on her hips, and tries to visualize her future bookshelves. There’s so much to do. She’s starting to get a better sense of this new space of hers, energized by the fact Kara spent this whole Saturday hauling boxes with her.

She checks her phone. Kara left a while ago to get takeout, so they could have dinner and unpack some more boxes, make the most of the weekend. Lena sits on a crate, checks the news and smiles when she sees several outlets reporting on Supergirl’s latest exploit, helping a disabled lady get home after her wheelchair ran out of battery in Toledo, Spain, just a few minutes ago.

She looks out the window. It’s not a towering view like the one from her office or her hotel room. It’s a human-sized view, from a human-sized apartment. The sun hangs low, casts its last rays across the floor.

She tilts her head back, closes her eyes. How long until this is home, and the way the sun hits her bed in the morning becomes second nature, and her place takes on a unique scent that would cling to Kara’s clothes if she spent the night, the way Lena’s clothes smell different after she’s slept over at Kara’s?

The sound of wind chimes pulls her out of her reverie. She realizes it’s her new intercom and goes to buzz Kara in. It’s nice, waiting for someone at the door. Her door.

She peeks out into the hallway. The elevator remains still, but soon enough, Kara emerges from the stairway fresh-faced and alive, glasses akimbo.

“Sorry, I got a call from work on my way to the pizza place.” She lifts a shopping bag. “I got us a bottle of wine to make up for it. I thought we could have our own little housewarming party.”

Lena leans against the doorframe, smiling. “Oh, I’m excited. I’ve never had one.” She rights Kara’s glasses on her nose. “Everything okay at work?”

Lena can’t tell whether Kara enjoys physical affection or not. She seems… sensitive. Lena is always careful. But there’s something genuine to the way Kara responds to her, like now, as she mirrors her position and rests her shoulder against the doorframe. Their foreheads almost touch.

“I think so,” Kara whispers, as if not to disturb the quiet of the darkening hallway. Her breath ghosts over Lena’s lips, and she’s silent for a while. “I miss my old job.”

Kara’s been struggling with her job as a reporter for as long as Lena’s known her, always getting calls in the middle of the day to cover this, or that, always anxious about deadlines, missing some, briefly fired when she covered the alien abductions on her personal blog. She has long been relegated to writing puff pieces.

Lena gives her forearm a soft squeeze, takes the takeout bag off her hands and motions for her to come in. “Being Cat grant’s assistant can’t have been an easy job, though.”

Kara follows her inside, closes the door. “No, it sure wasn’t.” She sounds tired. Takes her shoes off and shrugs out of her coat.

Lena loves her awkward gentleness. “Here.” She holds out a hand and Kara gives her the coat with a small, thankful smile. Lena folds it neatly, puts it on an unopened box. There’s no coat rack, yet. There’s hardly anything, yet.

“It was more… Structured, though. I had a routine.”

They make their way to the living room. “But you’ve told me Cat Grant asked you to pick a new position precisely because she thought you should get out of your comfort zone.”

Kara hums in assent as she pushes a couple of boxes together. “I used to feel so frustrated. Like I was meant for something bigger than fetching coffee or fielding calls.” She shakes her head. “But being comfortable isn’t such a stagnant thing, right? You can still grow.”

Lena sets the pizza on their makeshift table and they sit on the floor, across from each other. Lena pulls the bottle of wine out of the shopping bag. The label is in Spanish, clearly imported, and not a domain she’s ever heard of. And a 2003 vintage? Kara must have splurged. Generous, wonderful Kara. There are also paper cups and a corkscrew.

“You’ve thought of everything.”

“Mhm. I figured you wouldn’t have glasses yet.” Kara cautiously lifts a slice of pizza, puts it on a napkin and nudges it towards Lena.

“Thank you.” Lena sets about opening the bottle. “So… You don’t think journalism can become your comfort zone, down the line?”

“I’m not a very good reporter. I’m coming to terms with that. I thought I’d be able to make more of a difference, to be of service. But I was helping, as an assistant. I was making Ms. Grant’s life easier, making sure she could focus on what mattered. It wasn’t fancy, but it was enough.”

Lena keeps the kind things she could say about Kara’s work as a journalist to herself. The cork comes out with a pop. “All right, as soon as my current assistant turns out to be a corporate spy leaking prototypes to Lord Industries or Edge Global, you’re hired.”

It makes Kara smile, and Lena is thankful she gets to part the clouds of Kara’s sadness, however briefly.

“Oh, so I start on Monday, then?”

“Shush.” For a moment, the only sound is that of wine being poured into paper cups. She looks over at Kara. “I mean it, though. If you ever decide reporting isn’t for you anymore, and you’d rather illustrate children’s books, or be an assistant, or a dog walker, or go back to college? I’ll support you in whatever way I can.”

She braces herself for polite rejection, but Kara only nods. “I know. Thank you.” She takes the cup Lena is handing her, huffs out a decisive breath. “Sorry for being mopey. This is your night. Our housewarming party.” She smiles and lifts her cup. “To your new home.”

“And to your beautiful future.” Lena raises her own and clinks it to Kara’s. She takes a sip. “Christ, it’s good. Where did you get this?”

“Somewhere beautiful. I’ll take you there, one day.”

And Lena believes her. Meeting Kara has shown her how parched she was for clarity, how long she’s been struggling in a desert of lies and half-truths, in the labyrinth of her own, terrifying mind. But here is Kara, who says these monumental things and means them, follows through,  never says anything bad about anyone, never swears, never makes Lena feel like there is something to be figured out. Kara, who gives Lena’s mind a break. Water.

She wants to reach out and draw Kara’s hand away from her glasses, tell her how lovely she finds her. “You’re full of secrets,” she says instead.

“People usually find me predictable.”

Lena sets down her pizza slice. “When I was with Jack, we struggled with… Communication. He found me unreadable. Emotionally unavailable. But my family? They always treated me like an open book, like nothing I did could surprise them.” She runs a hand through her hair. “We’re many things to many people. For me, you’re…” It’s one of those times, when she wants to give Kara the keys to the kingdom, take her into her heart, but she’s afraid to come on too strong. “We’ve been friends for almost a year, and you still surprise me all the time. With your interests, your knowledge. Your worldview.”

Kara nods pensively. It always gets to Lena, how intently Kara listens to her.

“I like that I surprise you,” Kara says, rubbing her thighs. “That’s why I keep you to myself. Why I’ve never formally introduced you to my sister or my friends. It’s not that I don’t think you’d fit in, or because of your name.” She picks up her own slice and eats, in that slow and careful way of hers, like even food deserves gentleness. “You know I met you around the time Alex met Maggie. Her relationship with her, my relationship with you… I think it was the first time we didn’t want to share.”

She’s been wondering why she was being kept on the periphery of Kara’s inner circle. The thought that someone would want to keep her to themselves, that she’s worth being selfish over, lodges itself between her ribs. The last rays of light make Kara’s hair glow, and Lena lowers her eyes.

She drinks some wine. “They’re different kinds of relationships, though.”

“Yeah. Alex went through a whole… romantic and sexual awakening with Maggie, but they connected in other ways. It brought a joy, a lightness out of her. Being your friend has brought a lot of good things out of me, too.” Kara seems to hesitate, but her gaze is steady. “I feel a little closer to the person I could have become, if I hadn’t lost my family. It’s never happened before.”

Lena clears her throat, tries to collect her thoughts. She has another drink of wine. “I suppose we’re even, because feeling irreplaceable is a first for me, too.”

“Do you remember the first thing you ever said to me, when I came to your office with Clark Kent?”

Kara was wearing a pink cardigan, that day. The only touch of color in Lena’s office.

“I asked you who you were, I think.”

“You did.” Kara’s smile turns rueful. She touches Lena’s sleeve. “It was just right.”

Lena can feel her hesitant warmth through her shirt. She takes Kara’s hand between hers. Her skin is so soft.

“How so?”

“I needed someone to ask me who I was. Not who I wanted to be, just… who I was. I know you didn’t mean it that way, back then, but it mattered.”

Lena strokes her thumb, just once. “It mattered to me, too. Can I tell you why? It’s not my finest quality.” Kara doesn’t nod, but she looks so attentive, Lena takes it as a yes. “I solve people like they’re riddles, and I move on. But you came along and I just… I loved you. I didn’t know that about myself, that I could love without understanding.”

She lets go of Kara’s hand, finds a generous slice of pizza and removes the black olive on top, because they taste too strong for Kara. She slides it towards her. Kara accepts it, takes a bite, looking into Lena’s eyes as she chews with a satisfied hum.

Lena can’t help but smile as she pops the olive into her mouth. “That good, huh?”

“Yep.” Kara wipes her fingers on a napkin. “I watch Alex and Maggie, sometimes, and it’s obvious they’re together, but I wonder if they’re different in private. If they have secrets. I mean, I know they do, but it got me thinking.”

“About what?”

“Us. We’re not dating, obviously, but I feel like…” Kara taps her own knee, thoughtful. “Like I’ve got something that’s just mine, for once. And I wanted to keep feeling that way, like I was someone’s special person. But you deserve to have more friends, and my friends would love you, and I know you’ll still love me. But that’s why I’ve kept you apart.”

Lena reaches a hand around their makeshift table and gives Kara’s sock a little tug. “I’d keep you to myself, too, you know. If I had a bunch of loving friends and family to keep you from.”

She doesn’t make light of it with a rueful eye roll, or a cheeky smile, because it’s Kara. Kara’s attention never feels like pity. Kara stares back, on the brink of a smile.

“Good.”

Lena looks away first, feeling content. A little elated, even. “Actually, there is someone I could have introduced you to, but I didn’t because I knew you’d hit it off.”

“Oh?” Kara refills their cups. “Do tell.”

“Her name’s Sam. She’s not a friend, more like a friendly colleague. She’s been working at L-Corp’s Metropolis branch for a few years, but she just moved here to take over as our new CFO. Funny, charming, a dream to work with.” Lena swirls the wine in her cup. “I was thinking of giving you the exclusive, actually, when she officially steps in next month. If that’s something you want to pitch to Snapper.”

Kara shakes her head. “L-Corp getting a new CFO would be the biggest story I’ve covered since I got fired, and that would definitely help me, but… I don’t think you can be my friend and give me exclusives. It feels icky, like— like one day, you’re going to wonder if I’m just using you as a source. Even if you never end up feeling that way, I don’t want the possibility of it to hang over us, you know?”

So, this is how Kara’s friendship makes her feel. Chosen. Lena hadn’t been able to put a word on it, before now.

“I hear you. And I don’t want you to think that I’m using you to get positive coverage for the company, either, so… You’re right. It’s better if we don’t mix things up. I’m— Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For putting our personal relationship above our professional one.”

“Sure.” Kara shrugs. “Giving up peanut butter, though… Now, that is true love.”

“It really is,” Lena says, and she doesn’t mean for it to sound so wistful. “You’re a keeper.”

Kara narrows her eyes. “No annoying habit that’ll turn out to be a dealbreaker?”

Lena almost follows this up with a joke, an anecdote about the way Kara folds laundry, or something. But you can’t make a joke out of so much love. She just shakes her head.

“Nope. You’re it.”

Kara searches her face. “I got you something.” She scrambles up. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

Lena watches her pad over to the door to get her bag. She pulls out a thin package, and Lena knows it’s a painting. She just knows.

Kara comes back and sits close to her. “Here. My housewarming gift.”

Lena just looks at her. She wants to thank her, say her name, but nothing comes out. She opens her present without tearing the wrapping paper. An abstract image. No— the sky? She’s not sure. The blues are soft, and the whites warm. It’s a small canvas, a window into something vast and peaceful. That’s what she sees, anyway. Perhaps this is what their relationship means to her. A Rorschach test that wrangles hope out of her at every turn.

She props the painting against the cardboard box and wraps Kara up in a hug. She loves her so much. Loves that it takes Kara a while to get comfortable with a hug, to figure out where to place her hands, and how she won’t let go until Lena does. Loves the way Kara silently contemplates paintings when they go to a museum. Loves watching her brush her hair before bed. Everything. She holds her close, makes sure to keep her embrace loose, not constricting. Shuts her eyes tight when Kara sags in her arms and rests her head on her shoulder.

“It’s beautiful.” It should be odd, holding someone like that, without them hugging you back. Who cares? She presses a kiss to Kara’s temple. “You’re painting again, then?”

“A little.”

Lena wonders what life is like for Kara, for people like her, with dyspraxia and other issues. People made for a softer, quieter world. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“I’m glad I’m doing it.” Kara’s breath warms Lena’s neck. “But sometimes, I can’t hold a pencil, or paint the way I want, and it’s just sad.”

Lena runs a gentle hand up and down her back. “I’m really scared of heights. Well, it’s not a fear of heights, exactly, more like vertigo. The way I see it, it dates back to the day I saw my mother drown. I could see the sky and the clouds reflected on surface of the lake, like you could fall into it. So sometimes, when I’m on a plane, or even just a wide, open space, everything starts spinning. I feel faint, I sweat, I try to stay so, so still. I fall into it.”

Kara drapes a shy arm around Lena’s waist. “Why didn’t I know about that?”

Lena rests her cheek resting against Kara’s soft hair. “Because I’m not afraid of falling, I’m afraid of how much I want to fall. That says something about me, and I was afraid you’d find it… unsettling.”

Kara pulls away and looks at her. “Not really. I read something about this, actually. Vertigo as the unbearable longing to fall, I think it was.”

“Oh? Who said that?”

“A Romanian philosopher. I’m not sure how to pronounce his name.” She looks at Lena questioningly. “Cioran?”

“Oh, um.” Lena clears her throat. “I’ve heard it pronounced more like Tchoran.”

"Tchoran,” Kara repeats, and she seems grateful for the correction.

Growing up, Lena was expected to wield her knowledge and education like weapons, but for Kara, it’s a gift. All the sharp edges of Lena’s history soften, around her.

“Anyway,” Kara continues, looking tranquil, “I don’t find it off-putting at all. It sounds very human to me.”

Lena smiles. “Human, All Too Human?”

“Ha! Now that one I know how to pronounce.”

Lena narrows her eyes. “But do you know how to spell it?”

“Oof, that’s a low blow.” Kara strokes an imaginary beard. “Oh wait, It’s N-I-E-T-Z-S-C-H-E.”

“Dammit, I really thought I had you, there,” Lena lies, just to earn herself another delighted little smile. “Did they drill it into you in high school, too?”

Kara shakes her head, her easy smile turning pensive. “So, you know I studied marketing in college, right?”

Lena nods along. She trusts Kara’s unusual mind, even when she doesn’t know where it’s leading her.

“Well, I don’t have a solid classical background like you. It bothers me. I think about the word itself, the humanities. Art, philosophy, literature, like you can’t be human without that. I’m not sure that’s true, but I still feel like those things are a pretty big part of…” She gestures vaguely to their surroundings. “All this. Of being here, together. Becoming, together.”

“You are educated, though. And cultured. You just didn’t learn about Caravaggio or a mid-twentieth century Romanian philosopher in the context of an organized curriculum.”

“Sure, I read stuff—”

“No, not that,” Lena interrupts gently. “You don’t just absorb information, you structure it. You would breeze through a literature or art history degree. You’d thrive, too, and maybe that’s a shame you didn’t get to have that experience, but academia is just one way to get where you already are.”

Kara studies her for a while. “Okay,” She concludes.

Lena huffs out a bewildered laugh, endeared. “Okay?”

“Yeah. I trust you.”

“Good.” Lena resists the urge to pull her close again, watches her take a little sip of wine, always measured, always careful. “I’ve been wondering…”

Kara puts her paper cup down. “Hm?”

It’s the wine, Lena thinks. Bringing out her neediness. “Do you relate to me? Not through a writer’s words, just… me.”

“Hey, what brought this on?” Kara frowns with a softness that hurts, and scoots even closer.

Lena stares at the bottom of her cup. “I’m pretty sure I’ve had too much to drink.”

Kara glances at the bottle, more than half-full. “The first time we had wine and you got tipsy after, what, a couple of glasses?” She smiles fondly. “I was so surprised. I’ve seen the bottles of hard liquor in your office, I was so sure you could drink anyone under the table.”

Lena rubs her eyelids. “The bottles are for show, like the rest. The truth is, my father drank too much. When he was home, he’d always have a drink next to him. He’d get into fights with Lillian, antiques would get thrown against the wall. He hit Lex a couple times.” She shrugs. “So, I don’t drink much. I’d rather be a lightweight than a mean drunk, and I have a feeling addiction runs in the family.”

“I hear you,” Kara says quietly. “You know, I think Alex has a drinking problem.”

“Oh. Does she think she has a drinking problem?”

Kara shakes her head, plucks an olive off a slice of pizza and sets it on Lena’s napkin. “Before she was recruited by the government, she was a mess. Flunking her medical degree, partying all night, getting arrested. The more concerned Eliza and I grew, the harder she went for it, so I’m not even sure I should bring it up to her.”

Lena pops the olive into her mouth. “Hm. There’s no easy way out of this.”

“I guess not. Either wait until it gets bad enough for her to want to get better, or talk to her,” Kara murmurs, gaze lost somewhere beyond the window. She smiles when Lena folds her napkin into a floppy paper crane and pushes it towards her. “Anyway. Listen. I don’t need a philosophical go-between to relate to you. It’s just that you’re my closest friend, so I see you in the books I read, the paintings I see, the movies I watch. I think about you a lot. Because I love you.”

Lena swallows inelegantly. “Okay.” For once, she’s the one folding herself into Kara’s embrace, head on her shoulder. She breathes, takes in Kara’s comforting scent. She always smells nice. Warm and clean. She never wears perfume. It must smell too strong for her.

It’s a while before Kara breaks their comfortable silence. “I don’t have vertigo, but I had panic attacks, after my parents died. I couldn’t stand tight spaces. It’s better, now, but I often feel… constricted. And not just in elevators or small rooms, I mean in my own skin.”

Lena lifts her head to look at her. “Not always. Sometimes, you seem… comfortable and strong.” She pretends to squeeze Kara’s bicep playfully. “You did most of the heavy lifting today, come to think of it. In need a shower and you haven’t broken a sweat. You haven’t been working out without telling me, have you?”

“Maybe I have.” Kara looks at her, eyes crinkling. “Maybe I wanted to impress you, today.”

“Well, mission accomplished.”

Kara giggles. She’s adorable. “I’m just kidding. I haven’t done anything past my usual, therapeutic walks. Speaking of not doing things, when are you going to pick up piano again?”

“Oh, you’ve given me a painting, so I should play you something in return, hm? All right, that’s fair.”

“Would you? Play me something, I mean.”

“I’ve never played for a friend. Only professors, or a faceless audience at a recital. But I’d fumble my way though a half-remembered piece for you.”

“Yeah?” Kara smiles a little. “I guess you’ve watched me fumble my way through a lot of things.”

It’s true. A shattered bowl, as they tried out a new recipe. A dropped champagne flute the night they celebrated Snapper Carr’s first kind words to Kara. Trembling fingers when Kara hugs her. A cracked phone screen. A heartbreaking tentativeness all around.

“Have you ever tried playing an instrument?”

“Kind of. Alex went through a punk rock phase, about a year after I was adopted. She got a guitar for her birthday. She let me try playing it, but I was too clumsy. I broke two strings.”

Lena rubs Kara’s arm. “What about singing? I’ve heard you in the shower when I stay over. You have a beautiful voice.” She pauses dramatically. “Had you been born a few centuries earlier? You would have been a singer in a remote medieval convent, drawing in crowds of pilgrims. Provided you didn’t get married to a handsome knight, that is.”

The delight on Kara’s face is worth every silly little joke Lena comes up with.

“Given a choice between marrying a handsome knight and living in a monastery, studying and praying and singing all day, copying manuscripts, tending to the garden? That’s a no brainer. The monastery it is.”

Lena’s never shared that kind of intimacy with someone who isn’t a romantic partner, and even then it was just Jack. This is different. “A contemplative lifestyle would agree with you.”

“You’re the only one who thinks of me that way. As the monkish type. I mean, perhaps my parents did, too. But thank you. For seeing me.”

“Thank you for letting me in.” After a last, delicate squeeze to Kara’s shoulder, Lena pulls back, drinks the last of her wine.

Kara watches her over the rim of the cup. “Don’t go back to your hotel. Come over to mine.”

Lena smiles, touched. “All right. On one condition, though. I sleep on the couch.”

“Nope. You’re taking the bed, as usual.”

“I really can’t say no to you. You win.”

Kara nods decisively. “Great. We’ll come back here tomorrow morning, get an early start and power through. We’ll go shopping for basic necessities so you can move in as soon as the bed and the fridge have been delivered. No more impersonal hotel rooms for you.”

Lena takes Kara’s hand briefly, now that she knows it’s allowed. “I love you, too, you know that?”

“I do.” Kara gets up and dusts invisible crumbs off her thighs. “Come on. Let’s unpack a couple more boxes before we call it a night.”

~

And who are you, exactly? Kara settles into the couch for the night, runs her fingertips over her fuzzy blanket. Lena is showering a few a thin wall away. Kara can hear the water hitting her skin and the porcelain enamel of the bathtub.

She props herself up on her elbow, reaches for the mug on the coffee table and drains the last of the jasmine tisane Lena made her earlier. The simple fragrance lingers on her tongue. Lena goes out of her way to accommodate her, to find out what she likes, what doesn’t taste too strong for her. She always warns Kara that it’s hot when she hands her a mug.

Who wonders about Kara Danvers? Her dreams, her paintings, her thoughts? Lena wonders about a nobody, and it’s nice, knowing someone can love her just like that, as the ordinary person she would have been on Krypton. Lena held her in her arms, tonight, drew her close, unknowing, and it was nice, too. To be held her with such gentleness, to feel like a fragile human being. Yes, it was everything. Sad, too.

She wants to be touched like that, to be taken care of. So what if she can hardly feel it? She wants someone to think that she can, she wants to drink from that cup, from someone else’s belief that she’s of this world.

She shifts on the couch, gazes at the ceiling. Would Kara Zor-El truly have been a regular person on Krypton? Why is she so strange? Loss doesn’t explain everything.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open draws her back to the present.

She smiles as Lena walks over to her, sits on the floor by the couch. Her hair is wet, she smells like Kara’s homemade soap, and remnants of the perfume Kara loves so much cling to her skin.

Lena tugs the blanket over Kara’s shoulders. “Were you asleep?”

“No. Just thinking.” Kara touches Lena’s worn-soft shirt, almost traces the floppy ear of the stylized dog on the front, the curve of the space rocket behind her. “That’s my favorite sleep shirt.”

“When I saw it in your drawer, I imagined you as a kid, learning about Laika the space dog. Maybe saying a little prayer for her.”

“To think she’s still up there, in orbit, in her pod. What was it like, you know? To be lost in space and suffocate there, far from everything she knew and loved. What went through her mind? What could she understand?”

Lena brushes the hair off Kara’s face. Her aunt used to do that. She closes her eyes, wishes she remembered that delicate tug, the warmth radiating from a palm close to her face.

“Do you believe in heaven?”

Kara watches colors swirl behind her closed eyelids. “For dogs? Oh, yes. For people… I hope so. For every person who’s ever had a kind thought, who’s ever suffered. Even it was just once.”

“So… Everyone, then?”

Kara opens her eyes and finds Lena looking at her with so much tenderness she almost closes them again. Lena folds her arms on the couch and rests her head there. She always does this. Always wants to catch Kara’s gaze. It’s sweet.

“Everyone.”

“Damn it.” There’s a mischievous glint in Lena’s eyes. “Since even in death I’ll have to deal with my family, apparently, you’ll owe me a dinner date in the best restaurant they have up there.”

Kara turns so they’re facing each other and chances a touch to Lena’s wrist. “Speaking of dinner dates… Are you free, next Friday?”

“Sure.” Lena covers Kara’s hand with her own. Every time Kara tries something physical, Lena seems to sense her hesitation and compensates for it, takes the lead. "I won’t be able to leave work before… eight, at the earliest, though. What are we doing?”

Kara runs her thumb over Lena’s wrist, so focused on keeping it feather-light and harmless that she worries she’s stayed quiet too long. “Um. Alex and Maggie are coming over for dinner. Be my plus one?”

“Are you sure? I’ve only crossed paths with Alex a handful of times, and you know what happened the one time I met Maggie.”

Kara nods. “Yeah. What happened after she took away, that night?”

“Oh, it was all very sordid,” Lena sighs. “We got into the car. Maggie put her hand over my head, the way they do in the movies. Once we got to county jail, they searched me. I had to take my clothes off.” She huffs out a mirthless chuckle. “Maggie stuck around for a bit. It made me feel safer. She’s very professional.”

“Would being around her bring back bad memories?”

“No, no. I’m just nervous. Two law enforcement agents, one who arrested me, the other a very protective older sister… What if I don’t make the cut, you know? It’s silly, but I face so much hostility at work, I don’t think I could bear it in my private life, too. Besides, I’ve never really been one for group hangouts.”

“We can have our own girls night, if you’re not up for it. Our own Christmas, in a few weeks. Our own everything. But… for the record? You don’t need to make the cut. Alex is protective, sometimes too much, but she can tell having you in my life makes me happier. And Maggie? She takes her job so seriously, but once you get to know her, she’s pretty easygoing. You have nothing to worry about.” Kara moves so her cheek touches the back of Lena’s hand. “I promise.”

Lena smiles at the gesture and looks at her a while. “Okay. I’ll be your plus one.”

“Thank you,” Kara whispers back in the small space between their faces. “They’re going to love your cooking.”

“I’m cooking. Wow.” Lena gives an impressed little nod. “Well played, Kara. Well played.”

“I know,” Kara chuckles. “I just don’t want to order takeout. It wouldn’t be right. They’re meeting you, you know? Not Lena Luthor, CEO, but Lena, my best friend. That’s important to me.” At that, Lena strokes her cheek with the back of a finger, and Kara leans into it a little. “But I don’t think I can pull off a three course meal by myself, so… I need your help.”

Lena just nods, Kara murmurs a thank you, and they slip into silence. She watches Lena, loose-limbed and drifting along her private thoughts, her eyes a new color in the dim glow of the few lamps left on. The fridge makes a weird noise and they exchange amused glances, but they don’t say anything.

“I was thinking,” Kara says after a long while. “Let’s invite your friend to that dinner. Sam. She’s new to the city, she probably doesn’t know a lot of people yet, right?”

“She’s not really my friend.”

“Could she be? You’ve been getting along professionally for years. The way you talk about her… She sounds great.”

“She is. I’m just bad at making room for other people in my life, or maybe I just don’t want to. I told you, even with Jack, it was a problem.”

Kara hums. “A lot of people assume I’m an extrovert because I’m friendly. But I need a lot of time to myself.” She’s had so little of it since becoming Supergirl. “Even Alex can be a lot for me, at times. But you’re always calm. I can be around you for hours and hours and it’s not exhausting. But, as much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, I want you to meet Alex and Maggie properly. And to be comfortable, so… I thought bringing a friendly acquaintance to our girls night even the playing field. Make you feel less outnumbered.”

“Ah, there’s my guardian angel,” Lena teases, but Kara can tell she’s sincere. “And you’re right, she could use a night off in with nice people. She’s a single mother who works a lot. I get the impression she doesn’t have much of a social life.”

“She has kids?”

“A daughter, Ruby. About twelve years old. Last week, we both stayed late at work, and I found Ruby asleep on the couch in Sam’s office. There was homework all over the floor. Her babysitter couldn’t make it that night.” Kara hears the smile in Lena’s voice. “Sam was beating herself up over it. She doesn’t know what a wonderful mom she is.”

“I hope you put things into perspective for her.”

Lena chuckles. “I did. I’m the expert when it comes to horrible mothers, after all.”

Kara thinks about the day Lena gave her a tour of L-Corp, showed her around the daycare floor. A little toddler tripped right in front of them, hurt her knee. She remembers the way Lena picked her up, so gently. The kid put her necklace in her mouth. Kara wishes she had a picture of it.

“Do you want children?”

“Oh,” Lena murmurs. She seems to consider the question for a while. “I do love them. Their brilliant little minds, their openness. I think I’d do all right, you know? Taking care of a child. But would I be painting a target on their back, given who I am and the kind of danger I’m regularly in, the interest my mother and my brother would inevitably take in them?” She shakes her head.

“I’m sorry. It’s unfair.” Kara brushes the most careful hand to Lena’s elbow. “You’d be such a good mom. Your kids would be so happy. So loved.” She lets out a shallow laugh. “I’d love them, too.”

Lena tucks herself even closer to the couch. “You’re the only one I would trust with a child of mine.” She rubs a hand up and down Kara’s arm, over the blanket. It must feel light, warm. “What about you? Do you want kids?”

Kara smiles faintly. She remembers those lazy afternoons, on Krypton, babysitting Kal. His soft baby hair against her cheek, his weight in her arms, his toothless smile when she made him laugh with silly antics. She can never get pregnant on this planet. Can’t adopt a baby, either, because she’d never be able to hold them safely, or kiss them, rock them to sleep. She wants to cry.

“I don’t think I’ll have kids.”

Lena nods in acknowledgement. “Can I ask why?”

”There are too many basic things I struggle with, I don’t trust myself with a baby. Besides, I’d want a partner to raise and love that child with me.”

“You would? So, if you met someone who…” Lena pauses, seems to search for the right words. “Who loves you so much that they’d support you through whatever difficulties you think you might have raising a child, would you want that?”

Kara imagines having a human partner, a human child, imagines watching them age, wilt, suffer and die, while she remains. Imagines someone holding their baby as she watches, unable to touch that little human, lest she break their bones. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.” She frowns. “Whatever good I put out into the world, that’ll be it. What I leave behind.”

Lena looks at her with a foreign, questioning kind of intensity. “And you’re putting out a lot of good  into this world. Into my life, the lives of others. But you don’t know what good will come to you. I know it feels safer to assume there won’t be any, but…” Her smile is so soft. “If meeting you has taught me anything, it’s that you can’t know what the world has in store for you.”

Kara isn’t used to being challenged. Alex sidesteps those questions, because she knows. She knows Kara will live as long as the sun shines, she knows the extraordinary things Kara can do, and the human things she can’t. But Lena pushes back, until Kara finds a deeper kind of truth to offer her. Would she still do that, would she still be her Lena, if she knew who— what Kara was? Or would she demure, stop asking the right questions, stop touching her so gently because what’s the point, right, if she can’t feel it? Her stomach tightens just thinking of all she could lose if she told Lena.

And yet, Lena’s words sink in. Familiar, somehow. It reminds her of Krypton, that innate trust and faith in things to come. She blinks slowly, focuses on Lena instead of the ceiling. She’s so thankful Jeremiah made her those glasses. They protect her, even now, from accidentally seeing through people. A mess of veins and bones and organs, instead of her loved ones. She can safely look at Lena’s beautiful face, her clear eyes.

“You’re right,” she whispers. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“I may have had a wonderful teacher.” Lena touches her shoulder, barely squeezing. “A teacher who should get some sleep. You carried a lot of boxes today. My hero.”

A sadness overtakes Kara, but a genuine smile finds its way to her lips, anyway. “Anytime.”

They look at each other for a silent moment, the air between them brimming with affection and ease.

“All right,” Lena says as she stands up, before leaning in to tuck Kara in further. “Need anything before I turn in? A bottle of water for the night, a book?” A beat. “Your headphones?”

Kara has a friend who’s so comfortable here, in Kara’s private space, her little home, that she knows where everything is, and how Kara’s old oven works, and that she keeps mineral water in the pantry because tap water tastes like chemicals. She knows that and many other things about Kara.

She shakes her head into her pillow. “I’m good. Thank you.”

“Okay. Sweet dreams, hero.”

And with one last touch to Kara’s hand, she turns away and starts towards the bedroom area.

“Wait,” Kara calls. Lena turns around, all softness. “It might sound weird, but thank you for— for pampering me. You make me feel really cared for. I love that you warn me about how hot the tea is every time you hand me a cup.” Her heart is beating so, so hard. “I didn’t know I wanted that before you came into my life.”

To be fussed over, reminded that once, long ago and beyond countless stars, she was human.

Lena seems to hesitate, but then she’s walking back towards the couch. She crouches by it and wraps an arm around Kara, presses a small, lingering kiss to her forehead. Kara exhales, it comes out shaky, and she reaches a tentative arm up, wraps it around Lena’s waist without pulling her, just enough to feel the soft, faded cotton of her shirt along her forearm. Lena hugs her closer in return.

“I’ll tell you something strange, too.”

Up close, Lena’s scent surrounds her. Her slightly damp hair brushes along Kara’s collarbone.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to be that affectionate with. I mean, I was close to Jack, but only after we started dating. The years before that, I’d ruffle his hair or give him a back rub after a long day in the lab, but I didn’t want more.” Lena pulls back a little to look at her. She’s frowning. “There’s something about you that moves me. I know you can handle anything life throws at you better than most, you’re resilient and strong, but… I always want to make sure you’re all right. Comfortable.” A beat. “And yeah, pampered.”

“Why?”

Kara wants to curl up and burry her face into her pillow again. Instead, she watches Lena look up at the ceiling, feels her chest rise and fall quickly against hers.

“You struggle,” Lena says quietly. “When we’re out and about, and you can’t hear what I’m saying because it’s noisy. When you drop a plate. When you eat something that tastes fine to me but way off for you. I know it’s hard for you to paint. To write. I’ve noticed you’ve stopped using your notepad for work.” She doesn’t look Kara in the eye. “I thought I knew what being alienated from the world felt like. I’m too smart, you know? It hurts. Nothing fits my mind, it’s banging against invisible walls, never giving me a moment’s peace. But you?” She looks at Kara, finally. “You experience that in such a tangible way. The… the dyspraxia, the sensory difficulties. I just want the world to adapt to you, for once, instead of the other way around. I want to bring you gentleness, comfort.” She smiles, a fragile kind of smile. “That’s why.”

Kara couldn’t feel more naked than she does now. It’s not the self-conscious, icy feeling that claws at her when she breaks a glass in front of Alex, or when Kara doesn’t hug her back because it’s one of those days when she doesn’t trust herself and her horrible strength. She feels humiliated, then, pitied, even though Alex does a great job of brushing it off, of pretending this doesn’t remind her that Kara can never have a normal life, hug a puppy or safely touch a human. It’s a tragedy they don’t talk about, because Earth’s sun will mercilessly shine on Kara, either way.

So what if Lena translates her issues into real, human ones, shared by millions of people? So what if, to Lena, Kara’s problems are understandable, something that can be accommodated, instead of a heartbreaking, cosmic joke? A person struggling with certain things, not an alien turned into a cursed, godlike figure.

“You make me feel normal.”

The thought crosses her mind that she’s never been in such a prolonged, intimate embrace with anyone, as loose as it is. She tries to smile. Their noses are almost touching.

“Oh, isn’t that the dream? To be normal.” Lena actually brushes the tip of her nose to Kara’s, playful and sweet. Kara can’t fathom it. That someone she hasn’t grown up with, who doesn’t know her secret, and isn’t angling for anything more than friendship, could want her like this. “You make me feel normal, too.” Kara shuts her eyes tight. “Hey. Look at me.” Kara does. “You like chocolate pecan pie and romcoms, you love your sister, you’re stressed out about your job. You’re normal, sweetheart. You’re ordinary. Don’t worry.”

“See? You understand.” Kara sighs drowsily. “Come on, go get some rest. We have to get up early.”

“In a minute.” Lena slips her other arm under her head, drawing her close. Kara feels more cradled than hugged. “Thank you for helping me build a home, here.”

Kara exhales, slow and controlled, lest her breath be strong enough to bruise Lena’s delicate neck. It’s difficult to gauge how closely she can hug Lena, or how much she should lift herself up not to crush her arm. It makes her anxious, so she disentangles herself gently, lies back down. “You’re going to get so many plants, and you’ll be amazing at taking care of them.”

“How do you know?” Lena asks, taking her hand.

And Kara loves her for it, for trading a dangerous touch for a harmless one, for maintaining contact and not minding the way Kara’s fingers sit limply between hers.

“Because I think the physical world is a comfort to you. Your mind is loud and frantic, and you feel trapped in it. So, you love things. Tinkering with materials and ingredients, in the lab, in the kitchen. You love how real they feel.”

Lena presses the back of Kara’s hand to her forehead. “You see me, too.”

It’s an innocent, loving gesture, and it fills Kara up with such want, such a desire for closeness, for contact, that it hurts. She’d rather not know what she’s missing.

She lets out a brief chuckle, rubs her ear to shake off the loud sounds coming from a television on the second floor of the building. “The first time you came over? You touched one of my paintings, and my books. I could tell, then. That the texture of things mattered to you.” She hesitates. But Lena’s never misinterpreted her clumsy words before. “You’re a very sensual, nurturing person, you enjoy the… physicality of everything. Your place is going to reflect all of that, it’s going to be so homey, and I’m  gonna love it.”

Lena looks at her, cheek smushed against the back of Kara’s hand.

“What am I going to do with you? My gentle, observant Kara."

Who else would describe Kara that way? Her aunt, maybe. Her parents. How strange, that the one person who brings out her most Kryptonian traits should be the one that also makes her feel the most human. She laps it up, all that care, all that love for the person she sees herself as. Sometimes, she doesn’t even feel like a person, just a bull in a china shop. She takes in the sight of her peculiar friend, and Lena looks so lovely without makeup, her hair free, and a tiredness about her.

“Will you make me breakfast, tomorrow? Your Irish porridge.”

Lena made it for her, one Sunday morning. It’s bland by most people’s standards, but I like it. I think you’ll like it, too. And Kara did.

“Absolutely. I’ll go to the store first thing in the morning.”

Kara shakes her head. “No, I’ve got everything here. The oats, the honey, the milk. Whole milk, too. The brand you like.”

Lena brushes a swift, fervent kiss to Kara’s knuckles before releasing her. “Okay.” She gets to her feet a little stiffly, a day of carrying boxes around probably catching up to her. She smiles down at Kara as she stretches lazily, like she doesn’t mind letting Kara know how much she loves her. “I can’t wait to stock my new fridge with what you like.”

Kara’s gaze drifts over to her bookshelves. He began to dream of the long yellow beach and he saw the first of the lions come down onto it in the early dark and then the other lions came and he rested his chin on the wood of the bows where the ship lay anchored with the evening off-shore breeze and he waited to see if there would be more lions and he was happy. Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea was the first human novel she ever read, for English class. It had been a balm on her raw heart, whispering to her that this world, too, could be solid and beautiful.

“So… Will you ask Sam about Friday?”

Lena sticks her hands inside the pockets of the shorts she’s borrowed. Kara’s eyes trace the little bruises on her shins, from bumping into boxes and furniture, from being so pale even a breath could mark her skin. Her eyes wander over to the soft curves of Lena’s body, the swell of her tummy, the little scar near her eyebrow and the shadows under her eyes.

“I think I will.”

“You know, it’s the first time Alex is with someone she actually loves. She’s happy. She’s always hugging Maggie close, when they sit on the couch. Kisses her cheek. I love seeing her that way, but… It makes me feel like a third wheel, sometimes. So, it’ll be nice to outnumber the happy couple, for once.”

Lena sits on the coffee table. They always need more than one goodbye, Kara thinks.

“We’ve been friend for a year,” Lena muses. “But we’ve never really talked about romance, exes, the relationships we’ve had.”

Kara shrugs. “There’s not much to talk about on my end.”

“Not much on mine, either.” Lena pouts. “Do you wish you had a partner? Is that why you feel like a third wheel around Maggie and Alex?

“Oh, not really,” Kara sighs gently. The coarse fabric of the pillow scratches her skin, and it settles her a little. “It’s just how easy it looks for them, that casual intimacy. It’s a language I don’t speak very well, and I guess I feel left out.”

Lena props one elbows on her knee, cups her chin on her palm. “I know it won’t make things easier, but for the record? You give the best hugs. And I’m not just saying that.”

Alex told her that, once. She was back from college for the summer. Kara was still in high school. She knew Alex wasn’t joking, that she’d never be so cruel as to make fun of that. Alex had said that Kara’s hugs were so tight, it made everyone feel cared for. Kara thanked her, pretended to go for a walk, and cried for an hour on the beach, wishing she’d never made it out of Krypton, never became this anomaly that hugs people tight because she can’t help it, because everything is wrong and brittle and breaks.

“I do?”

“Do you remember, when I first I came over and I told you I loved the way you handled everything like it was all precious?”

Kara nods, fist clenched under the blanket to contain the wave of emotion she feels building up.

“Well, there you go,” Lena says simply. “I know it’s hard for you, but you put so much heart into it, more than anyone I’ve ever met. You love people the way you hug them. Like they’re precious, a little fragile. It just work for me.” She brushes Kara’s hair from her face, gets to her feet, touches a finger to Kara’s glasses. “You fell asleep with these on, last time. May I?”

Blood rushes past Kara’s eardrums. It’s violent, the fear that slams into her. She nods, her breath shallow, and Lena slips the glasses off her face and Kara almost shuts her eyes tight, almost pulls the blanket over her face, anything to prevent Lena from seeing someone other than her best friend.

She doesn’t. Lena slips her glasses off her face and Kara sees colors humans have no name for, colors her lead-lined glasses were hiding from her. What names would Lena’s beautiful mind come up with, if she could see them?

Lena rubs the lenses clean with the hem of her shirt, folds the glasses neatly and sets them down on the coffee table. “Do you mind if I stay up a bit?”

Kara shakes her head, in a daze. “No, of course not. Are you okay?”

Lena runs a hand through her hair, always so effortlessly feminine. “Do you ever feel like your body’s tired, but your mind can’t settle down?”

“It’s the opposite, for me. My mind is tired, but my body won’t power down.” It can’t. Kara tries to picture her cells sucking in solar radiation and neutrinos day and night. Whatever. She focuses on the space dog printed on Lena’s sleep shirt, looking to the stars with wide-eyed wonder.

“Really? What’s that like?

Lena’s gentle curiosity pulls her out of her reverie. She blinks up at her. “It’s just hard to tune out the noise. Tune out how the sheets feel. I want to drift off, but I can’t. It’s okay, though. It’s been that way for a long time, I have workarounds.” When Lena only nods, Kara clears her throat. “For example, mentally going through every body part, consciously relax each of them. I’ve been doing this intuitively since I was a teenager, I only figured out much later that it was actually this whole yoga thing. Or sometimes, I visit places I love in my head. Go through every room, visualize them. You know,” she muses, frowning, “Now that I’m saying it out loud, it doesn’t sound too different from your mind games, when things get too hectic in there,” She taps her own temple, “And you count things or recite poems.”

The thought of it consoles her a little, and she pictures a young Lena coming up with little tricks to make the world a bit friendlier, same as Kara.

“Birds of a feather,” Lena says. She narrows her eyes. “So what kind of sheets should I get you, once my new couch gets delivered and I coerce you into sleeping over more than you should?”

Kara smiles. “I’m a willing victim. But, uh… Either really cheap thrift store ones that have been worn so, so soft, or the scratchy kind. Like linen, hemp? No silk, please.” She shudders theatrically. “It feels terrible.”

“It does?” Lena teases. “And how often have you slept in silk sheets?”

“I had an affair with a celebrity.”

Lena blinks. “Oh.”

Kara snorts into her pillow. “I was joking. Sorry.” She rubs her nose. “When I was adopted, I couldn’t sleep because the sheets made my skin crawl. So, Eliza had me try a bunch of different ones, including silk ones, until we found something that worked.”

“Pragmatic. I’m not surprised she’s a scientist. She sounds like a wonderful problem solver.”

“It really was that way. My problems always seemed less important to her than whatever solution she could find. It was the kind of support I needed, I think.” Kara inhales deeply, brow furrowed in thought. “Hey… Um, she isn’t coming over for Christmas, this year. She’s got some kind of symposium she wants to attend across the country. But maybe I could take you to Midvale for a weekend? You could meet her. Nerd out with her over some obscure research paper.”

“You want me to meet your mother? Sorry, adoptive mother,” Lena backtracks quickly, wincing. A long pause. “Do you call her mom? Obviously, don’t answer if that’s—”

“I call her Eliza,” Kara interrupts softly. “What do you call Lillian?”

“To her? Mother, for the most part. Lillian, when I’m mad at her. If I called her mom, I’d have to deal with the fact she doesn’t love me, you know? If she’s just mother, it doesn’t feel as personal.”

Kara runs a finger along the seam of her pillow, feels the rough fibers. “I called my parents mother and father, too. It didn’t feel distant, though, it’s just how I was raised.”

Lena wets her lips. “I know it’s deeply personal, but I’ve been wondering…” She picks up Kara’s empty mug. “Were you born in the US?”

Kara shifts on the couch, lies on her back. “You’re the first person who’s ever asked me that.” There’s a stray dog in a couple streets over, digging through a trash can. If Kara were alone, she’d suit up, go find it, and if the dog wasn’t scared of her? She’d scoop it up so very carefully, bring it home, feed it, and bring it to a shelter in the morning. “And, no. I wasn’t.” She swallows thickly.

Lena nods, cradling the mug. “Europe?”

The panic Kara expects to bloom in her chest, her throat, her stomach, doesn’t come. She stares at the ceiling, tries not to see the layers of material and, beyond, the sky. “I’ve been to a lot of places.” The memory of all the people she’s helped washes over her. “Afghanistan, Sweden, Palestine, France, Mongolia, Iran… The call to prayer from the muezzin is the most beautiful sound. “I visited the Pink Mosque, in Shiraz. It has these stained glass windows that create a magical kaleidoscope when the sun rises. I feel like I could be from anywhere.”

“A citizen of the world, then. It suits you,” Lena says, eyes soft, and doers’t insist. She heads over to the kitchen, runs the water and washes Kara’s mug. “Do you want some more tea? I’m going to make myself a cup.”

“No, thank you.” Kara watches her back as she sets the mug on the rack, fills the kettle. “You can borrow my computer and my headphones, if you want to watch something on Netflix.”

Lena smiles at her over her shoulder. “I think I’m just going to read for a little bit. Pick something out for me?”

“One of my books, you mean?”

Lena turns the stove on, hums. “Something enchanting to fall asleep to.”

Kara puts her glasses back on, pushes the blanket off and heads over to her bookshelves. Her fingertips hover along the spines of her books, uncertain. What would Lena love? What kind of story would lull her into a peaceful sleep? The gentle sound of water being poured caresses Kara’s ears, the scent of jasmine tea wafts over to her.

She is a rose, a jasmine flower, from head to foot, and her face is as radiant as Canopus shining over the Yemen.

Yes, this will do. Ancient stories of love, kings, devotion and the fragrant gardens of Persia. She pulls out the Shahnameh, pads over to the bedroom area and leaves the thick tome on the bedside table. She lights the little scented candle that she made herself, the one she lights every night for a few minutes to reflect upon the day’s events before going to sleep.

She turns around and almost bumps into Lena, easily avoids the collision thanks to her reflexes and reaches out to steady the mug Lena is carrying. It’s the Eeyore one. Kara smiles, takes her in.

“What?” Lena asks, smiling right back.

Kara shrugs. “It’s nice. You, here.”

Lena’s eyes shine bright and unsure in the dim light. “Making myself at home, you mean?”

“I’ve never lived with anyone other than my parents, and then Alex, Eliza. Never shared my place for more than a game night or a dinner with friends. It stresses me out when people… invade my space.” Kara rubs her forearm. “But I don’t mind if it’s you. I love that you know where everything is, that you’re going to bed with a mug of tea and a good book. So, yeah, it’s nice.” She nods, once. “You, here.”

Lena steps into Kara’s personal’s space, keeps her steaming mug out of the way and draws her into a one-armed hug. She doesn’t say anything.

It’s a strange feeling, Kara thinks, when someone wants just what you’re offering. Not more, or less. She rests her palms on Lena’s waist. Without thick coats or sweaters in the way, she’s moved by the softness of Lena’s body against hers. She often hugs Alex, but Alex is thin, solid, all wiry muscles and decisive gestures. Lena’s different, new. If bodies were landscapes, Kara believes Lena’s would be made of forgiving hills and inviting valleys.

They stay like that for a long time.

In the end, Lena pulls back, looks at her with naked affection. “The best hugs.”

Kara lowers her eyes, but Lena ducks her head a little to catch her gaze again, and Kara can only smile. She doesn’t know what to say. Lena just smiles back, pushes Kara’s glasses up her nose. With a satisfied nod, she goes to set her mug of tea on the nightstand and picks up the book Kara left there with interest.

Kara watches her read a page from the introduction, hair falling over her shoulder, the glow of the candle behind her. A painter’s dream.

Lena hums, pensive. “It just occurred to me that it’s always books, with us, isn’t it? Your book café, snooping around each other’s libraries, the weekly poems…”

“If that’s our love language, I’d say we’re not doing too bad.” Kara sees Lena smiles, even as she keeps her eyes on the page. “Speaking of which, you haven’t sent me this week’s poem, and it’s Saturday already.”

Lena climbs into bed. “Sorry. Between work and moving, I’m behind. Still learning last week’s poem. But I’ll find us something nice and short to keep our streak going.”

Kara touches her glasses. “Actually, could I pick this week’s poem?”

Lea perks up. “Oh, I’d love that! Actually, why don’t we make it a thing? Taking turns picking our weekly poem.”

“Yeah?” Kara feels a little intimidated. “I’m not really… I mean, I do read poetry, but I haven’t studied the classics, and you’re—” She stops her babbling. It’s Lena. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

They look at each other for a bit, and Kara knows that look, it’s the one Lena gets when she’s thinking at light speed. “When you say you haven’t studied the classics when it comes to poetry… Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Oh, for sure.” Kara resists the urge to sit on the bed. They’d end up talking all night. “I just feel a little lost without that framework. You know, literary history, and the tools you need to really analyze a poem critically, beyond your emotional reaction to it.”

“Well, if that’s something you’d be into, we could go over the poems we pick together? You’re going to love learning all about iambic pentameters.”

Kara rubs her socked food against the hardwood floor, tries not to dig into it. “I would, actually.”

“I know,” Lena says, looking perplexed.

“Oh. I thought you were being sarcastic.”

“No, no. You’ve soften me up too much. I’m even less of a shark in the boardroom, now, and I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?”

“I suppose I’ve always used sarcasm as armor, given my family, the obnoxious men who think I have no business running a company.” Lena takes a drink of tea, cradles her mug until she seems to find it too hot and puts it back on the nightstand. She rubs her palms together, in that elegant way she does when she puts on hand cream. “But I never feel the need to protect myseIf around you, and I think that’s rubbed off on other aspects of my life. I don’t feel so threatened all the time.”

“Last year, you told me you didn’t know who you would be when you started feelings things again, remember? Well, here you are, and I happen to quite like that person.”

Lena looks back up at Kara with a bashful smile. “So do I.”

“Good.” Kara commits the sight of Lena in her bed, with her book, her mug of tea, her candle and her shirt, to memory. “Sleep well.”

“You, too. Oh, and don’t set an alarm. I’ll wake you up.”

Kara nods with a smile and turns away, draws the curtain separating the bedroom area from the living room. She crouches to pull out a thin book from a low shelf, finds the page she’s looking for. It’s dark, the only light source coming from Lena’s part of the loft, so she turns on the flashlight at the back of her phone and takes a picture of the page. She texts it to Lena after writing her a quick message.

She snuggles under the blanket on the couch, puts her phone away and rolls onto her back, stares at the ceiling through her glasses. It’s safer, that way. No risk of accidentally seeing through the roof, seeing bugs crawl all over the piping, the rust, the dirt, the bacteria. Alex, Eliza… They think she has it all under control, by now, but that’s not how it works. There’s no once and for all.

She takes a deep, conscious breath. Hears Lena turn a page.

That’s what matters. Lovely little things. And tomorrow, she’ll wake up before Lena, or she’ll hear her get up, but she won’t move, or open her eyes, and Lena will come and gently stir her awake, and ask her if she’s had nice dreams.

Kara feels herself starting to drift off, so she takes her glasses off, closes her eyes.

When Lena wakes her in the morning, Kara will get up, fetch a soft hoodie and thick socks from her closet, make sure Lena is comfortable on this chilly morning. Lena will make her porridge for breakfast, the way she likes it, tasty but not too tasty. It will all be safe. Human.

She hears Lena take a sip of tea.

Jasmine flowers. Light, refracted through the stained glass windows of the Pink Mosque. Through her bedroom windows, back on Krypton.

Lions on the beach.

There has to be more.

~

Lena’s eyelids grow heavier and heavier. She looks around, but there’s nothing that can serve as a makeshift bookmark. She’ll just have to remember what king she was reading about, what divine garden and heavenly perfume.

These are lovely images to fall asleep to, and Kara’s admission that she traveled a lot with her family before being adopted doesn’t surprise her. Has she lived in several countries? What cultures has she spent her childhood immersed in? Even if she never shares that part of herself with words, Lena feels that Kara is letting her in anyway, in the books she shares, the restaurants she wants to try out, the scents she likes…

She turns off the bedside lamp, leaves the lovely little candle Kara lit for her to shine through the night. She picks up her phone to set an alarm, scrolls through the notifications that have accumulated throughout the evening. She almost always puts her phone on silent when she spends time with Kara.

Kara, who sent her a text half an hour ago. Lena smiles, opens it.

Kara [11:07 PM] Next week’s poem, by Arseny Tarkovsky.

There’s a picture, a page from a book, harshly lit. Lena realizes Kara must have taken it earlier, in the dark. She wets her lips and zooms in.

Now summer is gone
And might never have been.
In the sunshine it’s warm,
But there has to be more.

It all came to pass,
All fell into my hands
Like a five-petalled leaf,
But there has to be more.

Nothing evil was lost,
Nothing good was in vain,
All ablaze with clear light
But there has to be more.

Life gathered me up
Safe under its wing,
My luck always held,
But there has to be more.

Not a leaf was burned up
Not a twig ever snapped
Clean as glass is the day
But there has to be more.

She closes her eyes, falls back against her pillow. Clutches her phone to her chest. She wishes she could see the world through Kara’s eyes, understand it through her beautiful mind, and experience her belief that in every creature, there has to be more. Something sacred.

Chapter Text

Kara probably heard her the second she set foot inside the building. How does Alex deal with having a sister who hears so much, sees so much? 

Maggie stares at the door. An evening with Kara, her billionaire best friend whose first and last interaction with Maggie involved a trip to county jail, and a total stranger. Great.

Her stomach tightens.

Hopefully, Alex is already here. Maggie’s never been alone with Kara. They haven’t even talked all that much. 

As a detective, she likes to think she knows how to read people. Besides, she usually feels more comfortable around aliens. But Kara eludes her. She’s so many things, to so many people. A journalist, a superpowered alien, a vigilante, a beloved sister… And Maggie’s, what? A cop who gets in Supergirl’s way, someone Kara tolerates because she’s Alex’s fiancée?

She scuffs the tip of her boot against the floor, knocks on Kara’s door. It’s unfair. Kara’s been nothing but nice. Not friendly, exactly, but… nice.

The door opens a moment later. Kara’s wearing an apron, she’s smiling. Was she expecting Alex? Lena? But the smile doesn’t falter when she sees Maggie. Maybe she looked through the door with her x-ray vision beforehand and just plastered it on.

“Hi.” Maggie feels awkward. “Sorry I’m late, I got held up at the station.”

“Don’t worry about it. Come on in.”

Maggie steps in and a quick, embracing glance tells her they’re alone in the apartment. Wonderful. She shrugs off her leather jacket, wishes she could keep it on.

Kara holds out a hand. “Here, let me take this.” 

When was the last time someone offered to take her jacket or coat for her? Ah, right. That awful night Alex insisted they make friends with Maggie’s ex, invited her to a nice restaurant, and she didn’t show up. But the waiter who took her jacket seemed kind, at least.

“Thanks.”

Kara takes it, makes no move to hang it. God, she’s so strange.

Kara seems to pick up on her discomfort. “Sorry. Alex always gets the door when you get here. This is the first time I’ve welcomed you here myself. I like it better.”

It’s… sweet. Maggie doesn’t know what to say, nods to the jacket. “I had no idea you were that gallant.”

It comes out wrong, like she’s making fun of Kara’s gesture. But Kara just smiles, hangs the jacket like it’s a precious fur coat. Maggie notices a pair of expensive-looking high heels on the shoe rack. Not Kara’s style.

Kara follows her gaze. “Lena’s here. She’s showering.” Maggie’s confusion must be written all over her face, because Kara fidgets with her glasses. “She rescheduled a couple of work things so she could get here early and help me cook. We’re having a crêpe party.”

Okay. What? Maggie wishes Alex were here to help her make sense of Kara’s… idiosyncrasies. 

“Great.” She hopes she doesn’t sound too weirded out. Lena’s shoes. Kara’s socked feet. “Um. Should I take my shoes off, too?” 

“Oh, I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”

Holy shit, you could cut the awkwardness between them with a knife. Maggie bites her tongue, crouches to take her boots off and places them by Lena’s heels. She’s been here a few times with Alex, and they never took their shoes off. Kara never asked. But then, they never offered, either.

“Alex is on her way from work,” Kara says, “And Sam— Lena’s coworker, she should be here soon, too.” She gestures towards the open kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure.” Maggie follows her. It’s different, having Kara’s full attention without anyone else around. She seems so harmless. “I would have brought a bottle of wine, or something, but Alex said she had it covered.”

“Really? But I told her— Nevermind.” Kara shakes her head, peers into the fridge. “So, I’ve got lemonade, cold green tea, tomato juice… Oh, and beer from the last time you and Alex came over.”

Maggie remembers that night. Alex had brought a couple of six-packs, and Kara had nursed half a beer all evening. No wonder, if sodas and vegetable juices are what she actually likes. Maggie wants a beer. Does Kara prefer alcohol-free drinks? Alex hasn’t said anything about that.

“Tomato juice sounds great.”

Kara takes a bottle out of the fridge. It’s a brand Maggie doesn’t recognize. Kara fetches a glass from a cupboard, flexes her fingers, opens the bottle with a small wince. Maggie sees her relax as she pours her a glass. What is life like for someone who could crush a diamond between their fingers?

Kara tentatively pushes the glass towards Maggie.

Maggie takes a polite sip. “It’s good.” Another sip. “Really good.”

“Yeah?” Kara fiddles with the hem of her sweater, and Maggie’s struck. She looks nothing like Supergirl. “When I have time, I like going to the farmers market. That’s where I bought it. The lady selling it gave me a sample and I really liked it. It’s made from Black Crimea tomatoes.”

“That’s neat. So… a crêpe party, huh?”

“It was Lena’s idea. It’s a tradition in Brittany, apparently. At first, I thought she’d said Britain, but no. Do you know Brittany?”

Maggie shakes her head.

“Me neither. It’s a region in France. In ancient times, they thought of it as the westernmost end of the world. The very tip of it is called Finistère. From Finis terrae, in Latin. The end of the earth. It looks beautiful. I’d like to go, one day.”

Maggie drinks some more, because how is she supposed to respond to this warmth, these random anecdotes? She clears her throat. “Why don’t you fly there? It would take you, what, half a minute?”

Kara lowers her eyes. “Less, but it’s not the same. Traveling takes time, it changes you. You don’t get that experience when you can just break the sound barrier.”

“I’d never thought about it that way.” Maggie attempts a smile, resists the urge to hide behind her drink again. “Where did you learn all that? The Latin names…”

“I like looking up the etymology of—” Kara glances away sharply.

A Supergirl emergency? Maggie tenses up. 

Kara shoots her an alarmed look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No problem. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just, um…” She looks away again, this time with a tiny smile.

Lena Luthor emerges from the bedroom area. Maggie takes a breath. Okay, she can do this. Lena walks up to her, clad in a white blouse and a pencil skirt, holding an empty bottle with the last dredges of some milky substance inside in one hand. She extends the other.

“Detective. Long time no see.”

Maggie shakes her hand, and she knows handshakes, what a power move they can be. Lena’s hold is on the gentle side of firm. 

“Ms. Luthor.”

It’s so fucking bizarre. Maggie remembers taking her to jail, staying longer than she should have. Lena had seemed so… absent. She hadn’t put up a fight, hadn’t threatened to bury anyone’s career with her billions, her army of lawyers. She’d just shut down.

“I know you don’t know each other very well, and you didn’t meet under the best of circumstances,” Kara butts in, and it makes Maggie’s skin crawl. This painful, nervous earnestness. “But I know there are no hard feelings on either side, and you’re both important to me, so… No detective or Ms. Luthor tonight, okay? Just Maggie and Lena.”

You’re both important to me. Where is this even coming from? Maggie’s never felt important to Kara.

Lena nods slowly. “Maggie and Lena it is.” She gives Maggie a small smile. “If that’s all right with you, of course.”

Maggie knew, in an abstract way, that they were close friends. But the attentiveness written all over Lena’s face, the quiet affection in her voice… Those two know each other. They care. Maggie wishes Alex were here already, even though, sometimes, seeing her with Kara makes Maggie feel like the odd one out, too.

“Yeah, sure.”

The silence between them thickens, until Lena turns back to Kara, lifting the empty bottle. “In other news, you’re out of body wash. Sorry.”

Kara shrugs. “Help me with the next batch?”

“Really?”

“Well,” Kara says, a playful glint in her eyes, “It’s a bit like lab work, so I guess you’ve got the  credentials for it.”

Lena pokes her gently with the bottle. “You’ll be the judge of that.”

Maggie feels unmoored. It’s all so… loving.

“Kara makes her own soap,” Lena explains, seeming to mistake Maggie’s wistfulness for confusion. "Which I steal when I come over, because I feel disgusting after a twelve-hour day at the office.”

Maggie takes it for the olive branch that it is, forces out a smile. “Oh, yeah? Try a twelve-hour day at the station.”

Lena winces in sympathy, opens her mouth to say something, and this is finally starting to resemble a conversation Maggie feels comfortable navigating, but—

“You’re welcome to use my shower, too, when you come over,” Kara blurts out, timid. “I mean, you look fine, it’s just— I know you had a long day, and you came straight from work. So, the option’s there.”

Maggie keeps herself from fidgeting. “I’m good, but thank you. I might take you up on it one of these days.”

“Okay. Anytime.”

This is awful.

“Anytime?” Lena puts her hands on her hips. “I thought that was one of my many best friend privileges.”

“Ah, but what about Maggie’s sister-in-law privileges?”

Lena pretends to consider it. “Fine. I’ll allow it.”

“Thank you,” Kara says, too soft for it to be part of the joke. She takes the empty bottle. “I’m going to go wash this. It’s hard to clean if the soap dries.”

Maggie watches Kara’s retreating back. She feels like an idiot. They’re barely more than strangers to each other, after almost a year. As far as Maggie knows, Lena met Kara at around the same time she herself did, but their relationships couldn’t be more different, and it’s obvious Lena is positioning herself as a buffer to ease everyone’s discomfort. The worst part is, it’s kind of working.

She should have tried to get to know Kara better.

“So… Kara told me we were having a French crêpe party.” That’s a start. “I’m not sure what that is, but she seemed pretty excited.”

“So am I.” Lena smiles. “We wrote up menus, and everything.”

“Menus? Damn. I can picture you as an overachiever, but Kara?” 

Lena rolls her eyes, joyful and free. “Oh, she’s the worst. Everything has to be just so. But really, I’m making it sound more elaborate than it is. You just pick what goes into your crêpe, and Kara and I get to work.”

“I didn’t know Kara cooked. We usually get takeout when Alex and I come over.”

In fact, Maggie recalls Alex alluding to Kara’s less than stellar cooking skills once or twice.

Lena nods. “Kara and I used to, as well. I was living at a hotel, back then, and I missed cooking. So, when Kara and I became good friends, I took advantage of her kindness and kitchen. It turns out we make a pretty good team. I just got my own place, but I think the tradition's going to stick.” She crosses her arms loosely. “To be honest, I think asking me to help out tonight was Kara’s way of making sure I had a safe space to retreat to throughout the evening.”

Maggie frowns. “Because of our… history.”

“No, no. You were just doing your job. It’s because I told her was nervous about meeting her inner circle.”

Lena’s so open. It’s like gearing up for a fight and getting hugged instead.

Maggie searches her face, takes a breath, and hopes Kara isn’t listening in on them. “Come on. Kara’s inner circle is literally just Alex. I’m as much of a borrowed piece as you are. Besides, don’t you have a friend coming over?”

“A coworker. Another attempt by Kara to make sure I don’t feel outnumbered.”

“Ah. She’s quite the bodyguard.”

“Oh, you know Kara. She looks out for everyone. Case in point,” Lena says lightly, “One of the dessert options on our little menu tonight includes ice cream, and I’ll have you know Kara made sure she had a couple of vegan flavors available for you.”

What? Since when does Kara know Maggie prefers vegan ice cream? And even if Alex told her, since when does she care?

She hides her bewilderment. “That’s nice of her.”

Lena hums. “She didn’t buy it, she made it herself.” She drops her voice down a whisper. Her eyes are so clear, Maggie can’t tell whether they’re blue or green. “I think it would make her night if you picked that option when we get to dessert.”

Maggie bites the inside of her cheeks. “Sure. Ice cream it is.”

She must suck as a detective, because she sure is starting to feel like she’s misread a lot of things. She looks away, focuses on Kara’s back as she washes the dishes. How careful does she have to be, handling pots and pans that feel as thin as paper, to her? How—

Maggie feels a light touch on her arm. She turns back to Lena, who drops her hand, hesitant.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you into anything. It’s just that…” She offers a rueful smile, nods towards Kara. “When I met her, she was convinced she was a terrible cook. She’s getting a little more confident, now. I want to encourage her.”

“Right,” Maggie says weakly. 

Genius billionaire Lena Luthor, oblivious to Supergirl’s identity, trying to make sure lousy reporter Kara Danvers doesn’t feel bad about her cooking skills.

She wasn’t prepared for that. Wants to be anywhere but here.

She rubs her forehead. “So, is there anything I can help with before the others get here?”

“Let’s ask the chef.”

~

“And I’m thinking, Okay, well, he’s going to invite me up to his room.” Lena picks up her glass of wine, because she has a tendency to speak with her hands when she’s nervous and she needs something to hold on to. "So, I’m considering my answer, when he turns around and asks me if I’m baptized.”

Sam gapes at her. “No!”

Everyone expresses various levels of disbelief and outrage, except Kara, who just studies her. Lena gets it. Kara’s never seen her like this before, putting on a show for other people.

She takes a drink, nods emphatically. “Apparently, he only sleeps with good catholics.”

“That’s insane.”

Alex hums in agreement with Maggie and draws her closer. They’re wrapped around each other on the couch. It’s cute. Kara told her Alex only came out last year, when she met Maggie. It’s not the same, but in some way, Lena feels like she’s found someone who’s helped her nurture parts of herself she’d neglected, too.

She reaches out for a piece of warm flat bread, dips it in hummus. “I don’t know. I found it kind of attractive that he believed in something.”

Kara looks away, smiling a little.

“What about you, Kara?” Sam asks, pulling her legs up on her seat. “Are you seeing anyone?”

Kara runs her palm over the fuzzy carpet, shakes her head no. Sam looks at her expectantly, but nothing else comes. Lena’s about to say something to take the heat off Kara, but Alex beats her to it.

“So, what about Ruby’s dad, is he still in the picture?”

“Nope.” Sam takes a drink of wine. “It’s just me and Ruby.”

“Wow. Raising your daughter by yourself? That’s incredible.” Alex huffs out a laugh. “I mean, how do you do that?”

Lena catches Kara’s glance at Alex, the intensity of it. What’s going on?

“Uh… Not very gracefully.” Sam rolls her eyes. “Always behind on something. You guys will see when you have kids.”

“Well, actually, we’re not—” Alex shakes her head, shrugs. “We’re not gonna have kids.”

So, that’s what’s going on. Unresolved tension about whether Alex and Maggie want, or can have, children. Lena hates her mind, the way it puts pieces of information together, steals secrets from people. Her mother, her brother… They sometimes twist her intelligence against her, and it’s a perverted sort of relief. To not be ten steps ahead, for once.

And then, there’s Kara, who presents like an open book, but one written in a language Lena isn’t quite fluent in.

“Lena?”

She blinks at Kara. Did she just tune out? Everyone is staring at her. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Kara looks at her with fondness. “Should we get started on dinner?”

“Oh, yes.”

Kara nabs a cherry tomato and stands up. “I’ll go get you-know-what.”

Sam turns and watches her disappear into her bedroom. “How mysterious.” 

“When I came in,” Alex says, looking straight at Lena as she reaches for an appetizer, “I tried to guess what you guys were cooking up from the spread of ingredients over there, and I have to say, I have no idea. Kara tells me you’re quite the chef, so it better be good.”

A few witty retorts come to mind, but Lena settles for the truth. “Yeah. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”

Alex chuckles, and Lena knows she’s being evaluated on much more than her skills in the kitchen.

She hears Kara’s footsteps behind her and feels relieved. Kara has a giddy little smile and stands awkwardly with a few sheets of paper in her arms, pressed to the big dinosaur stitched at the front of her sweater.

“So. We are having a French crêpe party.” 

She pauses and, mercifully, Sam has the good sense to look excited and intrigued, and Kara’s smile grows enormous. Lena makes a mental note to do something nice for Sam. Maybe ask her assistant to get her tickets to some fancy soccer game. She remembers Sam mentioning something about Ruby being a fan.

“Yep,” Kara continues. “It was Lena’s idea. They’re large, savory buckwheat pancakes, and it’s tricky, because they have to be really thin and crispy, and folded in a certain way, and you can’t make them in advance. You all get to pick what you want to fill yours with. Traditionally, you drink French apple cider along with them. It has a little alcohol in it, but not much at all.” She bounces on the balls of her feet. “Lena got a few imported bottles.”

“Well, look at you, getting all fancy.” Everything, from Alex’s voice to her posture, has gone softer. Her gaze shifts to Lena. “It figures, with the company you keep.”

She doesn’t say it unkindly, so Lena forces herself to relax. “Kara is rapidly out-fancying me. She’s quite the gastronome.”

When a light, confused frown appears on Alex’s forehead, Lena has the distinct impression she just spouted some kind of enormity. She glances at Kara, who’s studying her own socks with great interest.

Alex seems to take pity on her. “I think you meant glutton. Although, she’s certainly an expert when it comes to pizza and potstickers, I’ll give you that.”

It’s Lena’s turn to be confused. Kara, a glutton? She loves gourmet food, foreign cuisines, absolutely killed it at that wine-tasting Lena took her to for her birthday. And sure, they sometimes have pizza or get takeout from little holes in the wall, but glutton is the last word Lena would associate with Kara.

“Anyway,” Kara says, visibly uncomfortable and flushed. “We made little menus, so you know what your options are and Lena and I can keep track of who wants what in their crêpes.”

She hands them over to everyone.

“Jeez. You really went all in.” Sam studies her menu, throws Kara an appreciative glance. “You have amazing penmanship.”

A smile finds its way back on Kara’s face. “Lena wrote them down. My handwriting is terrible.”

Alex reaches across Maggie to poke Kara in the thigh. “No, it’s not. Just… squiggly.”

Kara nods half-heartedly, and Lena has to stop herself from glancing at the easel behind the couch.

“My handwriting is awful, too,” Maggie sighs, putting her glass down on the coffee table. “Thank god I can type my police reports, now.” She takes another look at her menu. “Did you study calligraphy, or something? This is weirdly good.”

The compliment surprises Lena. She’s about to answer, but Kara does it for her.

“Yes, she did! For four years, right?”

Lena nods, touched. Kara never forgets anything she tells her. “Not formally,” She tells Maggie. “It was just a therapeutic hobby for my frazzled mind back when I was working on my PhD. I went to school in Ireland, as a kid, and they’re pretty big on illuminated manuscripts, over there, so I guess it was always on my radar.”

“Ruby used to love this animated film when she was little… Gosh, what was it called?” Sam frowns. “It’s about an Irish manuscript.”

“Oh, I know it! It’s The Secret of Kells, right?” Kara grins. She looks so happy. “It’s gorgeous. It made me want to check out the actual Book of Kells. The real thing, I mean, not the digitized version. It’s in Dublin, right?”

“Yes it is.” Lena smiles up at her. “I went to see it years ago, it’s incredible.”

“Okay, I get why you’re friends, now. You’re both huge nerds. And far be it for me to drag you down from these lofty intellectual highs, but.” Alex holds out her hand towards Kara. “Give me a pen.”

Kara pulls four pencils out of her back pocket and distributes them.

“We’re supposed to tick whatever ingredients we want, right?” Maggie asks. “Is there a limit?”

She seems a lot more relaxed than she was earlier on. Lena wonders if it’s the wine Alex brought, but Maggie didn’t drink much.

“No, but you don’t have to put everything you like into one crêpe. We’ve made enough batter for a second, or even a third round, so…” Kara smiles over at Maggie with a soft shrug, puts an eraser on the table. “You can try as many combinations as you like.”

Maggie nods dutifully. Ah. That must be it. Kara’s charm claiming another victim.

They all spend a minute filling out their menus, before Lena pushes herself off the floor to collect them.

“All right, Kara and I are off. Does anyone want anything before we ban you from the kitchen for the foreseeable future?”

Sam and Maggie shake their heads, but Alex points out to something behind them. “Just get us the rest of that bottle of wine, please.”

Lena obliges. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Alex proceeds to refill Maggie and Sam’s glasses, then her own.

Lena joins Kara in the kitchen. She’s arranging the menus on the counter so they can get a clear view of everyone’s choices. Lena touches her shoulder. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you, earlier, but did you know about the wine?”

“No. I did tell her not to bring anything…” Kara touches a fingertips to a big, loopy capital letter on one of the menus. “Coming up with a meal that doesn’t go with alcohol seems silly, now. Alex will do whatever she wants. Always has.”

“I’m sorry.” Lena rubs her arm. “For what it’s worth, I think she knows.”

For a second, she thinks Kara’s about to lean into her, and her heart catches in her throat. It’s an open kitchen. Everyone can see. But Kara only ends up touching her sleeve. 

“If she does, do you think I’m making it worse?”

“Kara.” Lena gives her shoulder a soft squeeze, considers her words carefully. “You want to help her without hurting her dignity. The rest is up to her, but that means something. Do you want to look up statistics about whether addicts fare better when they have supportive friends or family? I think I know the answer, though.”

Kara smiles, and it’s a dim one, but she inclines her head to touch her cheek to Lena’s hand on her shoulder. “Thank you. Stats would make me feel better, actually.”

“That’s the most…” Lena gazes at her, doe-eyed. “Erotic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

It achieves the desired effect when Kara gapes at her in shocked delight.

“Right, Casanova’s my middle name.” She snorts. “Gosh, I once— no, twice, walked in on coworkers doing naughty things in the copy room and let me tell you, I did not react smoothly.”

“Ah. That happens at L-Corp, too, every now and then. Or so I’m told.” Lena nods to the dinosaur on Kara’s sweater. “Life finds a way, I suppose.”

Kara grins. “And woman inherits the earth.” Her smile grows softer. “Thank you for cheering me up. You know, I used to find Alex so controlling. I still do, sometimes. But maybe I’m the same, and I have to learn that I can’t fix everyone’s problems.”

“And that is one of the things I admire most about you. Your capacity for self-reflection.” Lena tickles Kara’s nose with a sprig of parsley. “Come on, let’s get cooking.”

Kara nods with renewed vigor. “How do we proceed?”

“Here’s my battle plan. You pre-heat the oven, I’ll worry about the batter. You’ll pass me whatever ingredients I need, and we’ll put everyone’s crêpes into the oven to keep them warm until we can all eat together.” Lena straightens, looks at Kara sternly. “Understood?”

Kara does a little salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

They look at each other, serious as can be. Kara plucks another cherry tomato from a bowl and drops it into Lena’s palm. She breaks into a smile when Lena gobbles it up with gusto.

“Hey, Kara. Before we get started, can I ask you something?”

Kara turns away, opens the fridge and carefully pulls out the big bowl of batter. “All the things.” She wavers a bit, like she’s carrying a baby and is afraid to drop them. 

Lena gently takes it from her, sets it down on the kitchen island. “Something’s bugging me. I don’t understand why Alex called you a glutton. What was she talking about?”

“Oh.” Kara pulls her sleeves over her hands absently. “Alex is used to seeing me eat a lot.”

Lena tentatively tilts Kara’s face to meet her eyes. “Hey, I’m sorry.” She’s probably imagining it, but it feels like Kara is pressing her cheek into her palm. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” She drops her hand.

“It’s okay. I just feel embarrassed.” 

“Why?”

Kara swallows. “You know how growing up, it was hard for me to find things I liked to eat. I gravitated towards junk food. The flavors are simple, it’s always the same. For years, I basically lived off, well… Potstickers and pizza. I don’t really put on weight, so people didn’t notice, but that was a comfort to me. Food that didn’t taste awful. That, and romcoms and musicals. I guess I didn’t want you to know about that, because it’s different with you.”

“Different.” Lena wets her lips absently. “The Kara I know takes me to obscure little restaurants. She goes to the farmers market to pick ingredients for whatever elaborate recipe she wants us to try out. She cried during that screening of Come and See at the Institute of Modern Russian Culture.” Lena tries to give her question a lighter spin. “When do I meet the Kara who lives off potstickers and romcoms?”

“Don’t you see?”

Kara can be adorable one second, and make Lena feel like she might buckle under the weight of her  attention the next.

“See what?”

Kara smiles faintly. “Who wants me to discover a seminal work of anti-war Soviet cinema? Who wants to learn a poem with me every week, who takes me to an oenology class for my birthday because… Because they understand food and wine can be fun for me, even though I can’t eat a lot of things? Who?”

Lena has no answer. She stares at Kara, wordless.

~

“She’s twelve.”

Alex nods knowingly. “Not into the thick of puberty, yet, then?”

“God, no.” Sam has a drink of wine. “For now, her interests include soccer and Supergirl, and that’s fine by me.”

Maggie’s gaze drifts towards the kitchen. Kara and Lena seem to be in some kind of serious conversation, but there’s nothing argumentative about it. She can’t see Lena’s face, but Kara is listening to her with a smile. She wonders what they’re talking about.

“— ever need a baby sitter in a pinch, I volunteer.”

Sam laughs. “Careful, I could take you up on it.”

“Oh, Sam. I spent my adolescence babysitting this one over there,” Alex says, jerking her thumb towards the kitchen. “And let me tell you, there’s no way Ruby could ever be as much of a handful.”

Maggie looks into her almost full glass. She liked the conversation better when Kara and Lena were nerding out about Irish manuscripts.

“Seriously?” Sam looks over at the kitchen, then back at Alex. “Your sweet, lovely sister was a demon as a teenager? Damn, now I know what I’m in for.”

Alex swirls her wine, thoughtful. “I wouldn’t say that. She was sweet and lovely, just… had a hard time fitting in. When my parents adopted her, the whole family switched gears. I went from being an only child to being asked to care for a little sister who was facing a lot of challenges.”

“Oh.” Sam frowns. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

“Don’t worry about it. All I’m saying is, I have a lot of experience dealing with confused teenagers.”

Sam responds with a wicked grin. “All right, challenge accepted. The next time I have to stay late at work and her usual babysitter can’t make it? You’ll have the privilege to deal with a hungry, grumpy Ruby, and her homework.”

Alex raises her glass. “Bring it on.”

Okay. Maggie’s had enough. She squeezes Alex’s thigh and stands. “I’m gonna go see if they need help in the kitchen. So far, they seem to be doing a lot of talking and very little cooking.”

Alex looks up, searches her face. “Sure.”

Maggie leans in for a small kiss before heading over to the kitchen. She’s willingly walking into some kind of intimate conversation between close friends, because she’s running away from watching her girlfriend swoon over someone else’s parenting skills, after telling Maggie they could build a life and a family without— well, it doesn’t fucking matter. Maggie has to get over it.

Kara spots her first, over Lena’s shoulder.

“Maggie, hey. You need anything? Or did you come to join the kitchen brigade?”

Maggie puts her glass on the counter, tucks her hands into her back pockets. “The latter, if you’ll have me.”

“I’m sure Lena could use a second assistant.”

Lena places a cast iron pan over the stove, turns it on. “I do love bossing people around.”

“She doesn’t. She’s a softie,” Kara informs Maggie.

There’s such welcoming lightness to all of this. Something within Maggie… uncoils. 

She leans against the kitchen island. “For a CEO, that’s unfortunate.”

“Very.” Lena drops a slab of butter into the pan. It sizzles. “I like to think I fake my way through it well enough, though.” 

Maggie watches her swirl the pan with practiced ease. “You’re obviously not faking your way through cooking. You said you’d just gotten your own place, earlier, right?”

“I did. With some help.”

Kara hands Lena a ladle. “I just tagged along during apartment visits.”

Lena looks at Maggie pointedly as she scoops up some batter. “She made me feel welcome enough that I’m willing to put down roots here, and she made sure I got the place I actually liked, not the ridiculous penthouse I thought I was obligated to get.”

Maggie’s never really had close friends, especially female ones. Every time she’s befriended a girl, they either got scared upon finding out she was gay, or wanted to date her. It looks nice, that kind of affection and support with no strings attached. She has a drink from her half-forgotten glass of wine.

“Seems like you’re a good friend to have,” She tells Kara. Lena’s pouring the batter into the pan. “So, if it’s not a fancy penthouse, did you pick, like… a huge house overlooking the bay?”

Lena laughs. “Something like that.”

Maggie sees Kara give Lena a funny look. “I got it wrong, didn’t I?”

“I’m afraid so,” Lena concedes good-naturedly. She turns back towards them, folds her arms. “Maybe you’ll all come over for dinner, some time, and you can see what kind of dwelling I’ve chosen for myself.”

Normally, Maggie would dismiss this kind of offer as conversational filler. But for the first time since she and Alex got together, she finds herself envisioning being part of something. She can picture familiarity, shared meals, and being appreciated. She can picture, perhaps, making friends.

“Looking forward to it.”

“Good.” Lena turns back to the stove, flips the crêpe with a spatula. “So, according to what I’ve read, the first galette is always a bit off texture-wise, so we’re not going to fill it. It’ll just be our trial run.”

Kara hands her a plate. “Can I try it?”

Lena slides the crêpe, or galette, or whatever French word she just used, onto the plate. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“Got it.”

Oh. Somehow, for a strange moment, Maggie had forgotten all about Kara being Supergirl. It’s all just so… normal. And Kara doesn’t seem bothered by the fact Lena thinks she can burn her tongue on a hot pancake. What a mess.

“Do you want some, too?”

Maggie blinks, takes in Kara’s smiling face. “Sure.”

Kara painstakingly cuts up two strips. “Here you go.” She pushes one towards Maggie with a fork.

“Thanks.” Maggie picks it up, nibbles on it. It does taste good. Rich, buttery. Not too salty.

Kara chews on her own piece thoughtfully. “I was expecting buckwheat to taste a lot stronger than wheat. Kind of like rye, you know? But it’s just more flavorful.”

Lena nods, already working on the second crêpe. “Buckwheat’s an ancient grain.”

Kara leans over the counter, chin propped on her palm. “Tell me about ancient grains.”

“Let’s see.” Lena swirls the pan to even out the batter. “After the Second World War, agricultural practices shifted toward a more production-driven industry. They created wheat that grows a lot faster. The stems are shorter, so the finished product has a higher gluten concentration and doesn’t taste as good as older varieties. Buckwheat, though? It’s been cultivated for thousands of years.”

If someone had told Maggie that she’d be lulled into a pleasant drowsiness by listening to Lena Luthor talk about wheat and gluten while making crêpes…

She clears her throat, has a tiny sip of wine. “So, do you have a specific interest in the history of agriculture, or can you just do an exposé on any topic you get asked about?”

Lena throws her a sly, mischievous glance. “Perks of having an annoying brain. It’s a sponge for useless facts.”

“Not useless,” Kara chimes in. She smiles over at Maggie. “A lot of it is my fault. I ask her about random things and on the rare occasion she doesn’t have a bit of trivia handy, we look it up.”

“She’s the worst enabler,” Lena opines before tapping the tip of her wooden spatula to Kara’s nose. , who goes cross-eyed for a second. “Anyway, what should I put in your crêpe? You didn’t fill out a menu.”

Kara shrugs. “You know what I like.”

They’re cute, together. Playful and sweet in a way Maggie hadn’t anticipated at all. She knows Kara had a lonely childhood, and she can’t imagine Lena had many friends either, given her last name. It must be nice for them, catching up on what they missed out on. She wishes she, too, could have—

“The Kara Special it is,” Lena says gravely as she flips the crêpe. “This one is yours, Maggie. You wanted prosciutto, comté cheese, and…”

Kara takes a look at the menus. “Leek fondue, and an egg.”

“Got it. I need the prosciutto first, then.”

Kara hurriedly brings her the cutting board with charcuterie on it. Maggie watches their little dance.

“Maggie, can you get me an egg, and the sea salt over there?”

“On it.”

She knows what Lena’s doing. Lena’s including her, and Maggie has to admit it’s appreciated. She brings her the ingredients she asked for, and looks over to the living room. Alex is gesturing animatedly as Sam laughs at whatever she’s saying. Tonight is… odd. Sad, maybe. She went in thinking Alex would be her anchor among unfamiliar and unfriendly faces, and here she is, finding safety with Kara and Lena, of all people.

Lena hisses.

Kara holds out a hand like she’s about to touch Lena’s arm, but doesn’t. “You okay?”

“Yeah. It’s nothing. I just caught a splash of hot butter.”

“I’ve got some aloe vera gel. I’ll go get it.”

Lena nods gratefully. She cracks an egg over the rest of the ingredients. It whitens slowly, the yolk sitting on top, while she sprinkles a little cayenne pepper over it. Her movements are fluid, unhurried. 

Maggie leans against the kitchen counter. Lena folds every side of the crêpe inward, until only the yolk is visible at the center. It’s pretty. Like a simple flower. Maybe that’s why Kara likes being around her. A sense of peace.

Lena leans down to slide the plate into the oven. “All right, yours is all done. Next up… Alex’s.”

“It looks delicious.” Maggie hesitates as she watches Lena drops another slab of butter into the pan. “So… you and Kara seem really close. Whenever we have dinner with her, she’ll mention all sorts of people, but she never talks about you.”

Lena nods, a slight frown creasing her brow. “We’ve talked about how… insular, our friendship’s been. Good things sometimes feel private, I suppose.”

Maggie pushes the bowl of batter a little closer to the stove to help Lena out. “Alex and I had a big bridal shower, last month. Her mother insisted on it. It was weird, sharing our relationship publicly like that.”

Lena pours in the batter for the next crêpe, glances at Maggie with a kind smile. “I’m sure the actual wedding will feel better. You know what you’re in for, it’s less of a… nebulous celebration.”

Maggie’s about to answer when Kara bounces back into the kitchen, brandishing a tube of aloe vera. Why does she even have it? It’s not like she’ll ever need it.

“Sorry it took me so long. I couldn’t remember where I’d put it. I bought it last year, so it’s about a month out-of-date, but it smells fine, so… I think we’re good?”

Lena takes the tube, examines it. “I think so, too. Thank you.” She squeezes a little aloe vera onto her palm, rubs it against the back of her hand.

It’s unnecessary. It was just a tiny droplet of butter. But Maggie sees Kara’s smile, and how could she know? Kara can’t feel pain. Maybe that’s the point. She keeps first aid supplies on hand in case her friends need it. Lena indulges her. For someone who doesn’t know Kara’s Supergirl, she sure seems to get her.

~

“So, how long have you and Maggie been together?”

Alex has a drink of wine, tops up Sam’s glass. “A little over a year.” She glances towards the kitchen. They’re all huddled together, fussing over the stove. Maggie nods to something Lena said and turns back to grab a bowl from the kitchen island. She meets Alex’s eyes and smiles.

“You make a really cute couple.”

“Thanks. It’s the first time I’m in a relationship that actually makes sense to me, so… better make sure to tie the knot before she finds out I suck at Monopoly, or something.” Alex frowns. “Actually, I don’t suck at Monopoly. I dominate.”

“Ha! I’m pretty good at it myself.” Sam pops an olive into her mouth. “I lose on purpose against Ruby because what’s a mom to do, but I wouldn’t say no to a worthy opponent.”

Alex narrows her eyes. “Oh, it’s on. We used to have these game nights here every other week. Maybe it’s time to resurrect that tradition.”

Sam looks at her a bit as she reclines in her seat. “Thanks for having me over, by the way. Between my job and Ruby, it’s been ages since I’ve had a night to myself, and with good company, to boot.”

Alex clinks her glass to Sam’s. “I’ll drink to that.” Her gaze drifts over to the kitchen again. Lena pushes a plate into the oven, Maggie is chatting with Kara. Alex can’t recall ever seeing them have a real conversation, but suddenly they look like buddies. Weird. She turns back to Sam. “From what I understand, Kara’s the one you have to thank for that.” She glances at her sister. “She once invited a friend over for Thanksgiving despite the fact he had a huge and very unrequited crush on her, just because she’d heard he didn’t have anyone to celebrate with.”

Sam snickers. “Was it awkward?”

“Terribly.” Alex shrugs. “But that’s who she is. She hears about someone who just moved to National City and hasn’t made friends yet, and she’s on a mission. She’s a much better person than I will ever be, and a pretty good judge of character. So, you’re officially adopted.”

“Wow.” Sam has a drink, and Alex sees the faint blush on her cheeks. “Speaking of taking in strays, I’m sorry about earlier. I had no idea Kara was adopted.”

“It’s all right. It’s been hard for everyone, but I can’t imagine my life without her, now.”

Sam nods. “I’m adopted, too. Besides Ruby, my adoptive mom is my only family, but… She didn’t take kindly to, you know, teen me getting pregnant. Kicked me out. So we don’t have much of a relationship.”

Oh. Alex sits closer to the edge of the couch. “I’m sorry to hear that. Obviously, you turned out great, anyway. Loving mom, successful CFO… Still, it sucks you had to go through that.”

“Yeah.” Sam shrugs. “It looks like you have a great family. Your mom, your sister, your fiancée… My goal is to make sure Ruby has that, too. The support network I didn’t have.”

Alex nods slowly, has a drink of wine. “Kara and Lena are both adopted, and Maggie was taken in by an aunt after her parents kicked her out, so… I’m pretty sure if anything happened to you? Ruby would have all the support she needs. All the cool aunts.”

“Perfect,” Sam says with a soft chuckle. “You’re going to have to meet her first, though.”

“Anytime.”

“Wait until she talks your ear off about soccer for forty-five minutes.” Sam bites her lip. “She actually has a big game coming up. If you want to attend, you’re more than welcome.”

“Sign me up. I love that she’s into soccer, by the way. Not… ballet or whatever. Not that there’s anything wrong with— God.” Alex rubs her brow. “I’m digging my own grave, here, aren’t I?”

Sam snorts. “No, I get it. She also has some kind of school play or recital coming up where she’ll be performing a little Supergirl-themed solo, and I want to die. It’s going to be excruciating.”

“Jesus. I can be there as moral supp—”

“Public service announcement!”

It’s Kara. What a dork.

Once Kara has everyone’s attention, she clasps her hands together. “So, Lena’s starting up on the last crêpe for this round. And, um…”

With a barely contained smile, she turns to Lena, who takes it as her cue to step forward. 

“I have made the grave mistake of promising Kara I’d attempt to flip at least one crêpe the old fashioned way. The time has come. I’ve watched half a dozen tutorials online, but I’ve never done it before, so this might end in disaster.”

Sam whistles. “Look at you, boss, getting all adventurous! Someone record this so I have some good blackmail material.” She pats her pockets. “Where’s my phone?”

“We can use mine,” Maggie offers, pulling it out.

Lena throws her a look of betrayal, and Maggie gives a smug half-shrug.

Alex sees, clear as day, that Lena is unnervingly good at figuring out what makes people tick. She’ll be a dork along with Kara to make her laugh, she’ll be whatever got Maggie to go from having to be dragged to this dinner because Lena Luthor would be there, to clearly warming up to her. A chameleon.

“Is that okay? To record it?” Kara asks Lena, with the painful sincerity Alex knows from experience will get straight to your heart.

But Lena seems utterly unfazed. She gives Kara’s sweater a little tug. “It’ll be a good memory even if goes sideways, right?”

Alex can’t figure her out.

Kara smiles over at Maggie. “Can you send me the video, afterwards?”

“Sure thing. All right, let’s do this.”

Lena makes sure the underside of the crêpe isn’t sticking to the pan before lifting it off the stove. “Are you recording?”

Maggie nods. “Yep.”

“Okay. Can I get a countdown?”

“Yes!” Kara looks around, bouncing with excitement. “Three…”

They all join in. Alex can’t remember the last time she’s seen Kara like this. So carefree.

“Two, one…”

Lena flicks the pan up, the crêpe flies, and for a fraction of a second, Alex is convinced it’s going to end up on the floor. Lena lurches forward and Alex thinks that she, too, might end up on the floor. Good thing they’re recording the moment for posterity.

But the crêpe falls into the pan in a graceless heap, and Lena steadies herself. “Oh, dear. Crisis averted.” She puts the pan back onto the stove. “It’s not pretty, but… It’s technically a win?”

Kara touches her glasses. “Yes, it is.” She seems to make up her mind about something and brushes a small kiss to Lena’s cheek. “You’re the best.”

Sam claps and whistles, and Lena smiles, pulls Kara into a side hug with casual, obvious familiarity.

It’s tentative, and loving, and nothing to write home about. Friends can be affectionate with each other and that’s fine. But what the fuck. Kara hates touching people, hates the risk to the point of paranoia. She’ll return Alex’s hugs in a limp, perfunctory way so she doesn’t risk breaking her spine. She never initiates physical contact.

“And… Cut!” Maggie exclaims. “It’s in the box.”

Oblivious to Alex’s concerns, she seems to be having the time of her life, too.

“Well, now that you’re all disappointed you didn’t get to record my abject failure,” Lena quips, “how about helping Kara and I set the table?”

Sam stands. “Absolutely.”

Kara and I. Well, that’s nothing to write home about, either, is it? Friends making dinner for friends. It’s just that for the past fifteen years, it’s been Kara and Alex. And now, Kara’s forging deep and solid relationships with people who aren’t her. Alex won’t lie to herself: it sucks and she’s jealous.

She drains her glass, pushes herself off the couch. 

They settles into an oddly comfortable rhythm, Maggie passing them plates and cutlery from the kitchen, while Alex and Sam set the table, making small talk. Kara is no help at all, elbows on the countertop, watching Lena cook the last crêpe.                                

Alex sees Lena offer her a slice of mozzarella, and Kara eats it just like that, dangling from Lena’s fingers. 

“Earth to Alex?”

Sam is handing her a bottle of cider to place on her end of the table. “Oh, sorry.”

The bottle came straight out of the fridge and it’s starting to sweat. Alex studies the label. It’s all in French. She glances back to the kitchen. Lena picks up Maggie’s half full, discarded glass of wine, says something as she nods towards the table, probably asking Kara to bring it over. Kara visibly hesitates.

Alex’s stomach tightens. Oh, no. She knows that look, she knows what this means. Kara’s afraid to take the glass, to touch Lena’s fingers, to break them, and Lena doesn’t know she should have held the glass differently in order for Kara to take it safely, and fuck.

Alex puts the bottle down, circles the table hurriedly, but she’s too late. She watches Kara reach out for the glass, watches her awkwardly try to take it without touching Lena’s hand, and— 

The inevitable happens. It all spills out on Lena’s forearm, on her immaculate blouse, before the glass slips from Kara’s weak grasp and shatters on the floor.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lena says with a quick smile to the rest of the group. “We’re fine, I’ve got it.”

What?

Lena casually grabs a roll of paper towels and crouches to pick up the glass shards. She gently pushes Kara’s hand away, only handing her some paper towels once all the glass has been removed. They both end up scrubbing the floor. 

Alex can’t believe what she’s seeing. Lena, on all fours behind the kitchen island, reaching out to rub Kara’s arm. Kara nods to whatever she’s telling her, until she finally smiles, and Lena playfully tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

Alex has seen Kara sink into depression because she broke some guy’s nose when he tried to kiss her. She’s seen her remain unconsolable after snapping a paintbrush in two. Over the years, she’s seen her withdraw from any attempt at physical contact.

And now… this?

Lena throws the dirty towels into the bin, smiles over at the group, gesturing at her blouse. “I’ll go clean this up. I’ll be right back.”

She disappears into Kara’s bedroom. Alex moves to the kitchen, where Kara is washing her hand.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. You okay?”

Kara nods, but Alex sees that veil of sadness over her. She knows platitudes won’t help, so she keeps her reassurances to herself and tries to broach the trickier topic. Before she can, though, Kara finishes drying her hands and says, “I’m going to go get Lena a clean shirt.”

She heads off to her bedroom. Alex runs a hand through her hair, takes in a sharp breath, and follows after her.

“Kara. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Kara stops rummaging through her clothes. “Sure.”

She’s not making eye contact, so Alex knows she doesn’t actually want to have that conversation. But it’s one of the things she loves about her sister. She’ll have the hard conversations, anyway. She always does the right thing.

Alex comes closer and lowers her voice to make sure Lena can’t hear them through the bathroom door. Her heart is pounding.

“Does Lena know? About you?”

This time, Kara does looks at her, puzzled. “No, of course not.”

Relief floods Alex’s system. “Good.” She licks her lips. “So… You drop a glass for no reason, and she doesn’t bat an eye. Why?”

“Oh,” Kara murmurs, and Alex feels like an asshole. “She’s used to it. She just thinks I’m clumsy. I mean, I am, you know? In a way. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Okay. Thank you for telling me. But… Kara. I know she’s your friend, and it’s obvious she adores you, but suspension of disbelief only goes so far. If you keep putting yourself in those situations, you’re going to slip up, and she’ll figure it out. Please, please be careful.”

Kara nods, despondent.

Alex wants to scream, shake her, protect her from the world. She hates herself for putting Kara through this, for taking the sliver of normalcy she thinks she’s experiencing away from her. But she has to. She has to.

“Yeah?” She puts her hands on Kara’s shoulders, squeezes. “You’ll be careful?”

Kara nods again, looking at the floor. “I promise.”

Alex grits her teeth, pulls her into a tight hug that Kara returns weakly. “I know it’s hard. It’s unfair. I just want to keep you safe.”

“I know. Thank you.”

Alex pulls away first, because she knows Kara won’t. She’s too afraid to hurt her.

“All right.” Alex swallows thickly. “You get Lena a fresh shirt, I’ll keep the others entertained. This afternoon, I had to check out this dead alien's body that turned out to be an empty sleeping bag covered in bird shit, so… I’m full of funny anecdotes, they’ll love it.”

Kara smiles faintly. She looks miserable, and Alex feels a lump in her throat.

~

Alex leaves. Kara watches her round the curtain separating the bedroom from the living room.

Okay.

A shirt for Lena.

She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, heads back into her small walk-in closet. Yes, she’ll be careful. Very careful.

Everything’s going to be all right.

A shirt for Lena.

Is she tempting fate? What will she do, if Lena figures it out? If she never warns her against how hot the tea mug is, anymore?

Please, let it be all right.

She touches one of her button-ups, a soft baby blue shirt. That color would look so lovely on Lena. But it would be a tight fit on her. Kara doesn’t want her to feel self-conscious.

Her fingertips drift over to a flowy white shirt she’d bought on a whim a year ago because it reminded her of Kryptonian clothing.

Lena’s mind would have blossomed in unimaginable ways, on Krypton.

They would have mattered to each other there, too. Kara’s sure of it.

She carefully slips it off its hanger and goes to stand in front of the bathroom door. She hears the water running, Lena humming to herself softly. She listens for a moment.

She can’t knock, can’t risk punching a hole through the door. “Lena?”

“I’m almost done!”

“No, it’s fine. I just came to bring you a clean shirt.”

“You angel. Thank you.”

Kara wipes her eyes again because her chest constricts, and she wants to sit down against the door, pull up her knees and bury her face there.

She wants in. She wants to see herself in the eyes of someone who— She lays a trembling palm against the door. “Can I come in?”

It opens. Part of her shirt is soaked, the wine stain still visible, but Lena’s smiling.

And it’s everything, being looked at that way. With lightness. It’s almost violent, the way Kara feels herself drop into her body, into her life. Into the space someone believes she can inhabit.

Lena tugs her in by the sleeve. Kara comes in, dazed.

~

As a child, Lena was mostly left to her own devices back at the Luthor mansion. There was no nanny, no babysitter to take care of her, but because she was so little, the staff sometimes kept an eye on her. She’d wander into the garden, and the gardener would tell her about flowers, show her how to prune an orange tree. The cook would let her watch as she baked. 

One of her favorite things was when the maids folded laundry. It smelled so clean, so warm in that room. She remembers sitting on the floor while a maid shared cleaning tips to entertain her. Wine stains are tricky. If you catch them early enough, just pour a good amount of salt on them, it’ll absorb most of it.

Lena rubs the bar of soap against her sleeve. Salt would have worked better, but she wasn’t about to get half-naked in front of everyone. If it had only been her and Kara, then maybe. 

She can’t remember the last time someone other than a doctor saw her body. Jack, probably. Even then, she wasn’t entirely comfortable with it.

“Lena?”

Kara’s voice through the door pulls her out of her memories. “I’m almost done!”

“No, it’s fine. I just came to bring you a clean shirt.”

“You angel. Thank you.”

Lena hastily wrings the soapy water out of her sleeve and turns to the door, expecting it to open just enough for Kara to pass her the shirt, but all she gets is silence, and then a small, “Can I come in?”

Ah. Kara must need a breather from the party. To be honest, Lena’s glad to be away from it for a minute, too. She opens the door.

Kara looks… tired. Pale. Lena pulls her inside by the sleeve, avoiding her skin, because what if she hates being touched when she’s upset?

She closes the door. “You all right?”

Kara shrugs, still smiling. “Alex kind of cornered me. She wanted to talk.”

“About what? The broken glass?” Or their friendship? 

Kara sits on the edge of the tub. “Yeah. I’m fortunate to have someone who loves me enough to worry about these things. But it feels a little… Oppressive.”

“From what you’ve told me, she was expected to take on an almost parental role, when you were adopted. It must be hard to shake it off, even after all these years.” Lena sits next to her. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“Not really. I feel guilty. She had to give up so much because of me. I should talk to her. Maybe that’s the next step for us, as sisters. For her to stop… Infantilizing me so much. And for me to be more open about what bothers me.”

“Speaking of acting like a mom, what’s going on between her and Maggie? About having children.”

Kara looks at her, intrigued, but not surprised. “What do you mean?”

“When Sam mentioned them having children, one day? Alex looked crestfallen when she said they weren’t going to have kids.”

“Crestfallen,” Kara repeats.

Lena scoots closer. “Chagrined. Disconsolate. Forlorn.”

“Keep’em coming.”

Lena can’t wrap her arm around Kara’s waist, because her sleeve is dripping wet, so she just bumps their shoulders lightly.

“Let me think… Downhearted? In the doldrums?”

“You’re my favorite thesaurus.” Kara looks at her fondly, then sighs. “The long and short of it is, Alex wants kids, Maggie doesn’t. I think it’s going to be be a problem between them down the line.”

“Now you look forlorn,” Lena teases. “Woebegone, even.”

It gets a small chuckle out of Kara, who rests her head on Lena’s shoulder. “I’m not looking forward to seeing a heartbroken Alex, is all.”

“But they’re engaged. What makes you think they’re not working on it?”

“I don’t think they ever talked about it properly before getting engaged.”

“Oh, dear.” Lena pulls back a little to look at her, regrets it when it causes Kara to lift her head. “Really?”

“Alex only expressed an interest in having kids recently.” Kara massages her eyelids under her glasses. “I think coming to terms with her sexuality opened up a world of possibilities she hadn’t considered before.”

Lena rubs her back, slow and gentle. “You worry a lot about each other.”

Kara nods, idly running her fingers along the seam of her jeans. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Our relationship has been bordering on codependent for a long time. It’s better now that she has a connection to someone that has nothing to do with me.” She side-eyes Lena with a little smile. “And now that I do, too. And if they do end up going through a rough patch, or even parting ways over this issue… I’ll be there for her, of course. But— this is going to sound so selfish, but I’m just starting to find a different balance in my life. I don’t want to go back to having no room for anyone but Alex.”

Being privy to Kara’s inner world always makes Lena feel privileged. Emotional. She can’t find the right words, but Kara never seems to mind those long silences between them.

She gives Kara’s side the lightest squeeze. It feels nice. “We change in fits and starts. You said it yourself, things are changing between the two of you. I’ll be there to remind you you have a life outside of being her wonderful sister.”

Earlier, Kara had pressed a barely-there kiss to her cheek. It was new. Sweet. Jack’s casual kisses were scratchy, because of his beard, but Kara’s skin is soft, and she’s always so hesitant.

Lena hopes it’s okay as she leans in to kiss Kara on the cheek. It must be, because Kara lowers her head with a smile and looks at her though her eyelashes, and their faces are so close, and she says nothing for such a long time, that Lena has to look away.

For once, Kara is the one to duck her head to meet her eyes. Lena tries to hold her gaze. She can stare down millionaires in the board room, but Kara’s something else.

“Sometimes, I’m afraid I make you uncomfortable. I worry about that a lot.”

Lena takes her hand in both of hers, brushes her thumb to the back of Kara’s fingers as delicately as she can. “I’ve never felt uncomfortable around you. I’m so sorry that I’ve given you that impression. I just don’t know what to do with myself when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“With…” Kara invites complete openness, but it’s still hard. Lena’s never talked to anyone like that. “With so much love.”

“But that’s how you look at me all the time.”

“How could I not? The difference is, you’ve been looked at this way all your life. Your parents, your adoptive family, your friends… You get it. It’s all new, for me.”

Kara’s fingers twitch, but she doesn’t withdraw her hand. “I think you’re mistaken.”

She says it so softly.

“Am I?”

“I’m not used to this, either. You—”

There’s a loud knock on the door, startling them both. “You all right, in there?”

It’s Alex. Kara winces. “We’re good. Sorry. We’ll be out soon.”

There’s a long pause, and Lena can feel Alex’s perplexity through the door. “Okay.”

Kara exhales slowly. She looks exhausted. Lena strokes her fingers, and Kara rubs her free hand up and down her thigh.

“Um. What was I— Oh, right. So, I know how it feels to be looked at with love. But…” She looks down at their joined hands. “I’m not sure what I’m trying say. You don’t just look at me with love. You touch me with love, too. And not only love, but interest, curiosity, respect. That’s what’s new. The whole package. It heightens everything.” She shakes her head, carefully pulls her hand free from Lena’s. “Anyway. I’ll let you get changed.”

She stands and hands Lena the shirt. Lena doesn’t take it. She looks up at Kara, here in this warm, dim light. She hasn’t ever witnessed a light that wasn’t kind to Kara. Blinding sun, candles or harsh neons… light always falls on her like a benediction.

She wraps her fingers around Kara’s wrist in a loose hold. “I’ll get changed. Just… Stay.”

“Are you sure?”

Lena’s never had a good relationship with her own body. Too many curves, too many stretch marks, too sharp a jaw, too critical a mother. It’s funny, the way she happened to develop a friendship with someone like Kara, who radiates athletic healthiness, yet retains a softness about her. She’s perfect, and Lena feels anything but.

Still, she nods. Stands, takes her wet blouse off. It feels like ripping a bandaid off. 

Kara doesn’t look away, but her gaze remains solely on Lena’s face. She offers her the clean shirt again and Lena trades it against her stained one.

“I’m so sorry about this. I’ll get it dry-cleaned.”

Lena knows it’s not about money, so she fights the impulse to protest. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Kara unfolds the blouse, looks at the stain. “Red on white, like this… it reminds me of something.”

Lena is dimly aware that that she’s still standing there, half-naked, Kara’s clean shirt in her hands. She makes no move to put it on. She feels wobbly, attempts a smile.

“What, Snow White?”

To her surprise, Kara nods. “Almost. It’s an older tale, a twelfth century legend about King Arthur’s knight, Percival. One of the first times these colors were associated in literature.”

“Tell me about it.”

Kara looks back at the shirt, traces the outline of the wine stain. “Percival is young and foolhardy, he rushes from one adventure to the next. Never stops to think, or to get to know anyone. One day, he sees a falcon dive into a flock of geese, and strike one. It falls, but then takes flight again. Percival sees that it’s left three drops of blood on the snow, and it reminds him of a woman who once loved him. For the first time, he focuses inwards. It goes something like… Gosh, I used to know it by heart.”

Lena lives for moments like this, when her frightening mind can lose itself in someone’s more peaceful one. “Try to remember.”

“Let’s see…” Kara frowns, takes a breath. “And the blood still to be seen, / Where he lay upon his lance. / He well-nigh fell into a trance, / As it revealed the fresh color / That graced the face of his lover.” She lets out an awkward chuckle, puts Lena’s wet shirt away.

Lena exhales slowly. “How come I didn’t know you knew verses from medieval romances by heart?”

Kara touches her glasses. “It’s just a modern translation.”

“Just a modern translation…” Lena hums, brushes Kara’s hand off and adjusts her glasses for her. “It means so much to me, every time you choose to share something about yourself. I hope you know that.”

Kara swallows audibly. “Can I tell you more, then?” She has that serious little crinkle she gets, sometimes. “You already know I’m not from the US. But… English isn’t even my first language. After I got adopted, I started spending all my time at the Midvale library. Reading felt like a safe way to learn. One of the librarians took me under his wing and he’d point me to books he thought I’d enjoy. This was one of them. Percival, the story of the Grail.”

Lena tries to imagine it. Working in a public library, and a child like Kara coming in, the picture of earnestness and grief, and a mind working with such vibrancy. She sees herself, too, curled up in that old leather armchair by the window, in the mansion’s library.

“Why do you think people like us we find such comfort in stories?”

Kara smiles like it calls for the simplest answer. “Because we know it’s going to make sense. Life only makes sense looking back, if ever. It’s daunting.”

“But you believe in a higher power, don’t you?”

“Most days.”

“Doesn’t it make it easier to trust that life makes sense, then? Even if you can’t see how?”

Kara takes a long breath in. “It’s different. Hope is a choice, you know? Not a feeling. It’s like love, you have to make that choice every day. I try to make it consistently, but I slip up.”

For the first time since Lena took her blouse off, Kara’s eyes drift over her body. It grips Lena harshly, intimately. It’s nothing like the first time she took her clothes off in front of Jack. She’s not even naked, not really. She fights the urge to wrap her arms around herself.

It could be hope, too. Letting someone you love look at you. Yes, that’s the difference. Jack wasn’t an artist, he couldn’t draw her into existence.

“Anyway,” Kara murmurs, and puffs her cheeks. “This is a really nice bra.”

Lena looks down at her bra because she doesn’t even remember which one she’s wearing. The charged atmosphere pops like a bubble, and Kara’s gentle smile tells her this was the idea.

“Thank you.”

Kara nods. “So… I’m aware that I’m conventionally pretty.”

“I’d say you’re selling yourself a tad short, but all right.”

Kara puts her hands on her hips, thoughtful. “I mean that I fit certain criteria when it comes to modern beauty standards, but I don’t always feel good about my own appearance, or how my body… I don’t know, fits into space, maybe.”

Ah, here it is. The devastating point Kara inevitably makes when she appears to go on a tangent.

“When your mom called you after you testified against her, you joked about her wanting to criticize your outfit and tell you to get a makeover. I don’t know what that’s like, when someone makes you feel insecure about the way you look, but I do understand feeling… inadequate. I know it’s not something you can shake off with compliments, so I’ll just say that—” She flexes her fingers. “That I love looking at you. The shape of you, the way you move. There’s a harmony to it. It calms me.”

Lena unfolds the clean shirt with trembling hands, hastily puts it on and wishes she could stay hidden it in forever. It smells like Kara. It’s linen. It’s too much. But she has to emerge, eventually. “I’ve never seen you in this shirt. Is it new?” Her voice in hoarse. When was the last time she let herself cry? 

“An impulse buy. I’ve never worn it.” Kara searches her face, looking even more distressed than Lena feels. “Did I overstep? I’m so sorry.”

Lena lets out a watery laugh. “Don’t be silly. Come here.”

Kara steps into her open arms, and Lena pulls her close. When Kara returns her embrace in that light, unobtrusive way of hers, Lena allows herself to close her eyes. 

“The first time you slept over,” Kara whispers, her breath ghosting over Lena’s ear, “I was in the kitchen, and you came out of the bathroom, wearing my old Nasa tee-shirt. You’d just showered, brushed your hair. You were perfect. You are perfect.”

~

Alex wipes her mouth, drops her toothbrush back into its cup and pads over to her bedroom. Maggie’s spread out on the bed like a starfish, a hand on her stomach.

“Maggie Sawyer, in a food coma?”

“Shut up. I’m in pain.”

Alex puts her hands on her hips, nodding. “Yep, I’m diagnosing a severe case of Pigging Out.”

Maggie groans, throws the duvet open. Alex climbs in, pushes Maggie’s hand away and rubs her stomach for her.

“It’s the dessert that did me in. Can you blame me?” Maggie asks with doleful eyes. “A caramelized crêpe with a scoop of avocado ice cream, drizzled with melted chocolate?”

“Gross.” Alex pecks her on the lips.

Maggie turns on her side and slips an arm around Alex’s waist. “Kara made it for me, you know? The ice cream.”

“Are you serious?”

“I couldn’t believe it. Lena told me on the down low because she wanted to make sure I’d pick that option to make Kara happy.”

Alex pulls back, flops on her back. “Jesus.”

“What? It’s sweet.”

Alex stares at the ceiling. “I can’t wrap my head around tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

How to even begin to explain it?

“Kara used to tell me everything. But she became Supergirl, but I didn’t recognize her at all, tonight.” She turns to look at Maggie. “Can you believe how long they stayed together in the bathroom before dinner?”

“It’s just their thing. When they went to the kitchen to get started on dinner? They didn’t start cooking until I got there. They were just talking.”

“See?” Alex sighs, frustrated. “It’s weird. Kara’s a huge dork who stuffs her face and doesn’t cook, and tonight, she nerds out about illuminated manuscripts, swoons over fancy French crêpes and has long, soulful conversations with her BFF in the bathroom.”

Maggie gives her an amused, slightly knowing look Alex doesn’t like one bit.

“Different people bring out different parts of you.” Maggie strokes her arm. “Lena’s the one she enjoys fine foods and high-brow hobbies with. That’s fine, you’re still her favorite person.”

“Are you seriously saying Kara dumbs herself down with us mortals, but rich and cultured Lena Luthor brings out the refined Kryptonian out of her?”

Maggie turns away to switch off the bedside lamp. “I always get it wrong, when it comes to you and Kara.” She curls up under the covers. 

Crap. Alex bites her lip. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Maggie sighs. “Come here.”

Alex crawls into her arms. “It’s not fine, I shouldn’t have snapped. You hit too close to home.” She presses a little kiss to Maggie’s neck.

Maggie pokes her in the stomach. “Danvers, are you saying I’m good at my job? You know, as a detective.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Remember when I told you about the Black Mercy?”

“When you had to pull Kara out of her fantasy life on Krypton?”

“It was… I don’t know how to describe it. I felt like I’d walked in on a family of aristocrats, Kara was so— so different. The Black Mercy draws from your deepest desires and that is how she saw herself. Someone surrounded by elegant, artful shit and having gentle, polite conversations with her family. And what did we see tonight?”

Maggie is quiet for a while, idly stroking Alex’s arm. “You think that Lena, with all of her poise, her education, reminds her of her old life?”

“Uh-huh.”

"Is that so bad, though, if Kara gets to be that version of herself with her?”

“I guess not. It’s just weird to see. At least their friendship makes a little more sense, now.” 

“I’m sure it’s part of it, but… From what I saw tonight, there’s more to it than that. They’re really interested in each other.”

Oh, no. “Maggie Sawyer, if you tell me my as-of-yet straight alien sister has a crush on Lena goddamn Luthor, my heart is going to stop and you won’t inherit all of my stuff because we’re not married yet.”

Maggie snorts, cups her cheek and kisses her. “Kara having a crush wouldn’t be the worst thing, but no. I just meant that they find each other interesting. Like… they seem to click on a personal level. Before you got there, tonight, we were having the most awkward time, Kara and I. Then Lena came along, smoothed it over, made her comfortable. Made her laugh. And Kara did the same for her. So… I don’t know, Krypton or not, sounds like Kara’s found her best friend.”

Alex groans, grumpily untangles herself to lie across the bed and rest her head on Maggie’s thigh. “I’m jealous. I don’t get to see that side of Kara, much. Maybe it’s my fault. I treat her like a baby, sometimes. I don’t ask what books she’s read lately, or if she’d like to go to the museum. But Lena does, I guess. Still, it sucks that she’s never felt comfortable sharing that part of herself with me.”

“Hey,” Maggie says, softly scratching her scalp. “I’ve known Kara for a whole year, and I could never figure out what to make of her. It took me seeing her tonight with Lena to find out she’s the loveliest, kindest person I’ve ever met. Present company excluded. Maybe we’re both morons.”

“Wow, thanks.” Alex kisses Maggie’s thigh. “When my parents adopted Kara… She couldn’t hold a spoon without bending it, couldn’t sleep because she doesn’t get tired on Earth, couldn’t stand all the noises in the house, let alone outside. It was horrible. We had to help her with every single thing. Not to mention the language and cultural barrier. She was like a newborn, or— or a special needs kid. I’m not complaining, it must have been a hundred times harder for her. But seeing her so comfortable and happy around someone who knows nothing about her past and how hard it’s been, wasn’t there to help her through it all…” She frowns. “Like, what did I miss? Oh, and when Lena left and Kara gave her a goodbye hug? Unbelievable.”

Maggie looks confused. “Friends hug, now and then.”

“Sure, but—” Alex huffs, full of restless energy. “The first time Kara allowed herself to hug my mom? She hurt her back so bad she had to stay in bed for two weeks. And I was there when it happened, I know Kara was so, so careful. But careful isn’t enough, not when you can wreck a wall just by leaning against it. That’s her life. It sucks. That’s why she’ll barely hug you back, now. But she was the one initiating the hug with Lena.”

Maggie is quiet for a long time. “Maybe… maybe she loves being around someone who has no idea it’s this hard for her.”

Alex closes her eyes. “What happens when Lena finds out, though? Because she will, sooner or later. It’s going to be a disaster, and they’ll both get hurt, especially Kara.”

“Does it have to be a disaster? What if Lena loves her just the same?”

Chapter Text

Lena kneels by her young orange tree. She’ll ask Kara to name it, and Kara will choose a beautiful name, one Lena will try to parse the meaning of.

She tilts a pitcher of water over the dry soil. It’s well into autumn, so she’s careful not to overdo it. The water trickles down the leaves, creates paths into the dirt. She’s always loved the sound of water. Rain, a brook, the sea. She should hate it, really. But if her mother loved water so much she died in it, how could she? Hate can’t be the last thing her mother left her. It has to be love.

It’s something Kara told her, once, as they walked past a small synagogue on a Saturday morning.

What if they’re promises, not commandments? I promise you a beautiful future, where none of you will kill, steal, covet… That’s heaven, right?

Lena’s phone vibrates on her new coffee table. She sets the pitcher down, checks the caller ID.

Speaking of the angel. “Hey. I was just thinking about you.”

“Good thoughts?”

“Always.” Lena sits down on the Persian rug that used to be in the mansion’s library. “How did it go?”

Kara sighs. “Well, Maggie moved out yesterday, as planned. I got a call from Alex later that night. She was drinking her sorrows in a bar. I took her home with me.”

“How is she holding up? And you, for that matter.”

“She’s pretty hungover, not in a great— Sorry, there’s a lot of noise out here.” Lena imagines Kara rubbing her ear like she often does when things get loud. “She’s not in a great mood. We’re actually on our way to Midvale. She needs a break from… everything, I guess.”

“Oh.” Lena puts Kara on speaker and starts absently massaging her socked feet. They’re still sore from breaking in new high heels at work. “I suppose the last thing she needs is to be alone in an apartment where everything reminds her of Maggie.”

“Yeah, I want to keep on eye on her. Besides, I think it might be good for me, too. A couple days by the sea, getting to enjoy Eliza’s chocolate pie…”

Lena smiles. “Taking walks, making friends with squirrels in the woods, seagulls on the beach.” Kara chuckles softly at the other end of line. “I’m glad you get to recharge. Take lots of pictures.”

“I will. I told you, next time I go, I’m taking you with me.”

Lena feels her smile grow until she’s fairly sure she looks like a lovestruck teenager getting asked out to prom by her crush. “I haven’t had a vacation in… God. About five years? Unless you count business trips, which—”

“Nope, those don’t count.”

“Well, they do, a little. I usually stay an additional day to visit the cities I go to before flying back.”

“All right. Points for trying.”

“You’ll have to show me what a real vacation is like, then.” 

“Happy to.” A series of honking noises. Kara huffs. “Gosh, all those trucks.”

“Where are you?”

“Gas station. Alex is sulking in the car. I went to get us some lunch. Trying to get some food in her.”

“Don’t worry too much, all right? She’ll live. You’re here for her, that’s what matters.” Lena settles more comfortably against the couch, tips her head back against the cushion. “Is there anything I can do while you’re away? Pick up your mail, water your plants…”

“Really? I don’t want to take up what little free time you have.”

“I’d want to spend that free time with you, anyway. Your place is the next best thing. I can drop by tomorrow and make sure everything’s in order, if you want?”

“I love you. Ms. Needleberg has a spare key, I’ll let her know you’ll be coming by.” A beat of silence. “And I feel bad about asking you to do me the favor I actually called you about, because I know you’re going to say yes, and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Lena smiles to herself. “Out with it.”

“Maggie said— Just a sec.” A moment passes. “Okay, I found a quieter spot.” Kara takes a breath. “So, Maggie told Alex that she would be crashing at a friend’s until she finds a new place. The thing is, from what I saw at their bridal shower, she doesn’t have a lot of friends. And no family, either. But you seemed to hit it off at the party, so… Could you give her a call? I’d check up on her myself, but I’m not sure she wants to hear from her ex fiancée’s sister.”

Oh. Lena twists her fingers. “I’m not sure she’d like to hear from me, either. But you’re right, I’m more of a neutral party. Send me her number.”

“Lena.” Kara says her name with all the gentleness in the world. “If it makes you the slightest bit uncomfortable, I’ll do it.”

Lena traces the outline of a flower on the carpet. A habit she’s picked up from Kara. “No, I’ll call her.” She feels harmless and kind. Steady.

~

Halfway through her drink, Maggie’s vision swims a little. It did yesterday, too, when they emptied that bottle of whiskey someone gifted them for their bridal shower. And they danced, and they made love, and they went their separate ways.

She blinks owlishly. Here’s Lena Luthor— No, just Lena, making her way through the bar. Jeans? She looks good.

Lena gets to their booth, shrugs off her peacoat and slides into her seat, smiling. “You started without me, I see.” 

“Yeah, well. Desperate measures and all that.” Maggie shrugs. “I didn’t have anywhere else to be on this fine Sunday night, so I got here early.” She looks around, thankful for the dim, cozy atmosphere of the lounge bar Lena picked. “Nice place.” Way out of her price range.

Lena folds her arms over the ebony lacquer table, worn smooth. “My ex took me there, last year, when he was in town for a press conference.”

Maggie takes a small drink, sees Lena’s distorted silhouette, briefly, through the glass.

“Did you break up before, or after that?”

“Way before, when I moved away from Metropolis. I think he wanted to rekindle things, though.”

She looks relaxed, and some of the tension that’s been building endlessly on this godforsaken day ebbs away from Maggie. “I’m guessing you didn’t?”

Lena’s about to answer when a waiter appears by their table. She orders a glass of Rioja and a mezze platter.

“We didn’t get back together. I didn’t really have time to figure it out. He passed away suddenly. It was Jack Spheer, you know, from Spherical industries?”

The man who got killed by his own tech while Lena spared Supergirl the same fate in the nick of time? Well, shit.

Maggie rubs her lips. “I’m sorry. I heard about what happened, but I didn’t know you two were close.”

Lena gives a soft shrug. “I’m not sure we were, by then. Either way, I can’t exactly rely on my family for comfort, and from what Kara’s told me, neither can you. I know we’re not friends, exactly, but that’s why I called. To make sure you had someone, if you wanted that.”

Maggie has another drink. The quality bourbon tastes vile. She sets the glass down. She wants to close the door, reject Lena’s pity and hide in a dark corner like a wounded animal. But if one good thing came out of her relationship with Alex, it’s that. Learning that care and pity are different.

“Thanks.” Her voice sounds muted to her own ears. “What did Kara tell you? About my family.”

“Not much. You know Kara, she doesn’t gossip. She said you didn’t have a lot of friends and family at your bridal shower.”

Maggie chuckles mirthlessly, but as she gazes at the amber liquid in her glass, she feels herself soften. “Looking back, I think Kara might actually be the least intrusive member of the Danvers clan.” She leans back into her seat. “Anyway, I wrote a Valentine’s Day card to a girl I liked at school. She gave it to her parents, who told mine, and my dad kicked me out. An aunt took me in. That’s it, the whole sob story.”

Lena shakes her head to herself, but thankfully doesn’t comment. Maggie’s not sure she could take her kindness, not today.

She takes a gulp of bourbon. Her throat burns, her eyes water, and she laughs without meaning to. “You’re the first person I’ve told willingly.” Oh, but it is funny. She wipes her eyes. It’s the alcohol, the laughter, her mess of a life. “I didn’t want to tell Alex. I wanted her to come out safely without feeling burdened by my baggage. She didn’t understand why I didn’t want a big, romantic Valentine’s Day, but she went ahead and planned one out anyway. I couldn’t take it, so I told her.” She laughs again. “And then… I met her mom over dinner, and she straight up asked me what the deal was with my absent family. Like it couldn’t possibly be something I might want to keep private, you know?” She drops her head back against her seat with a thump. “And that’s not the half of it.”

She shuts her eyes and for a shaky moment, thinks she’ll fall asleep. She drags herself out of it and straightens up, right in time to spot their waiter coming their way. He sets Lena’s order down on the table, asks Maggie if she’d like anything, and leaves as silently as he came. Everything is quiet, here. Dark and warm. Classical music blankets the space. Maggie can’t tell whether it comes form invisible speakers, or an actual pianist.

Lena pours them each a glass of water. She pushes the platter at the center of the small table, picks up a piece of pita bread and spreads feta cheese and olive tapenade over it. She offers it to Maggie. 

“So, what’s the other half? Spill.”

Even through her clouded mind, Maggie takes it as Lena’s discrete attempt to put some food in her. She’s too tired to feel humiliated. She takes a cautious bite, half expecting it to make her feel queasy. It awakens a ravenous hunger, instead. The bread is warm, the cheese creamy, she hasn’t eaten anything today and she feels human again for the first time in ages. She finishes it in three bites, downs her glass of water. Lena pours her another one.

She wipes her mouth with a cloth napkin. Lena’s eyes are on her, amused, devoid of concern or cloying solicitude. Maggie knows Lena’s only giving her what she thinks she needs, but by god, she’s embarrassingly refreshing, after all the hysterics from earlier.

“Come on.” Lena coaxes, watching her over the rim of her glass. “Alex and I aren’t friends. Knock yourself out.”

She’s beautiful. Dark hair curling over her shoulder, a softness about her.

Maggie hums, reaches for another piece of pita bread and dips it into some kind of pesto. It’s divine. She drinks some more water. “So, I tell Alex about my tragic backstory. She reacts accordingly. A few months later, we’re planning this tacky bridal shower her mother wants us to have, and she tells me I should invite my parents that I haven’t seen in over fifteen years. I tell her no, but she insists. Because time heals all wounds, love conquers homophobia, and surely I’ll end up with a doting, accepting father, in the end.”

“The last time I called an estranged relative, hoping to patch things up?” Lena says, sounding a little mischievous. “You arrested me, I got kidnapped, and my mother left me to die.”

Maggie snorts. “Cheers to family reunions. My attempt went about as well as you can imagine. My dad came, freaked out the second I kissed Alex in public. We ended up yelling at each other in an empty parking lot and parting ways for good. And you know what Alex said, later that night?” To her surprise, Lena seems to give it some thought. But she says nothing, only looks at her, waiting quietly. Maggie tries to smile. “That at least I’d gotten some closure. Besides, what if being rejected by my dad a second time led me to realize I actually want to have kids?”

Lena’s face remains neutral, save for the slight lift of an eyebrow as she sips her wine. “Nothing like reliving a traumatic childhood event in order to shake things up, right?”

Maggie barks out a laugh. “Not to mention the time she insisted we get dinner with my ex to show me what a laidback girlfriend she was. My ex didn’t show up, so Alex stalked her to her hotel and demanded to know why. Bullied her into telling her I’d cheated on her.” She finishes her drink, feeling drained. “I’m not sure any of it was ever really about me. It’s all Alex, Alex, Alex…”

Lena nods. “It sounds like there were issues other than whether you wanted children. Do you think you could have built a life with her, kids notwithstanding?”

Maggie watches her pick up a piece of what looks like roasted cauliflower. Fingers slender, she’s the picture of elegance.

“I don’t know.” Maggie blindly reaches out for something. A slice of cheese. It tastes, richly, of olive oil and dry herbs. Her mouth waters like a starved dog’s. “I always sabotage my relationships. When she proposed to me… What, ten months after we started dating? I should have said no. I knew it wouldn’t end well. But she looked at me like I hung the stars in the sky and I didn’t feel like a fuck-up, for once. I said yes to everything. Dating, moving in, getting engaged. The only thing I said no to turned out to be a deal-breaker.”

She’s spilling her guts to a near stranger. It’s pathetic. It hurts so much. She feels so sad.

“Tell me about the good times,” Lena demands gently, nudging her arm. 

Maggie rubs her lips again. “The sex was great.” She has a drink of water. “Sorry.”

“Well, good sex is hard to come by.”

“It is. She was so eager.” Maggie sighs, even though she didn’t mean to. “I’d never dated anyone in law enforcement, before. It was nice to come home, tell her about my day, knowing she’d understand. She’s smart. Giving. Has that dry sense of humor.” She hates the emotions rising up her throat. “She made me feel wanted, and I haven’t had a lot of that in my life.”

The smile that tugs at Lena’s lips is devoid of the desolation creeping over Maggie. She can’t tell whether it’s Lena’s natural reaction, or if her ability to read her and react accordingly is simply off the charts. Either way, it’s soothing. That’s what it must be like, dealing with someone whose intelligence is so far beyond everyone else’s. You never know what they’re thinking. How they’re thinking.

“I hear you.” Lena seems lost in thought, graceful fingers brushing along the stem of her glass. “Kara said that you and I both came into her and Alex’s life at the same time. Or they came into ours, perhaps. It’s not the same, of course, but Kara’s made me feel something like that. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now, but losing someone whose life you thought you’d be a significant part of, romantically or not… I’d feel heartbroken, too.”

“Are you sure you don’t like her romantically?” Maggie asks, because she’s had too much to drink and she needs Lena to stop reading between the lines and seeing that there’s much more to losing Alex than, well, losing Alex.

She doesn’t expect Lena to go with the flow and take a moment to actually consider it.

“If I do, then Kara and I have skipped straight to the old couple part, when it’s no longer about romance, you know? She’s shown me what family is in a way the people I grew up with never did.” With an easy smile, she picks up a marinated olive with a toothpick and offers it to Maggie. “So, I don’t know. Does it matter, what we call it? I love the way she exists in my life.”

The sadness returns with a vengeance and twists Maggie’s guts. She can’t blame the pressure building behind her eyes on the bitterness of the olive, because it’s not bitter, it’s soft, generous on her tongue. She wipes her eyes with her napkin.

“I’ve never had that,” She tries, voice hoarse. “The old couple thing. Everything’s always about attraction, seduction, and then I disappoint in some way, and it’s over.”

She wants to bolt when Lena shimmies closer and puts a hand on her back. But she’s too tired, too drunk to fight when she feels the warmth of Lena’s body heat.

Lena watches her. “On an unrelated note, Kara mentioned you were staying with friends.”

Maggie wants to laugh, but only a weak chuckle passes her lips. “That’s what I told Alex. The last thing I needed was to drag out this whole fiasco by telling her I didn’t have a plan B. I was the dumb one who moved in so soon after she asked me to.” She reclines in her seat, into Lena’s touch. “I’m staying at a motel.”

Lena is silent for a while, and Maggie feels herself sag into her some more. She wants to sleep. Lena’s so soft.

“For what it’s worth, you can stay with me until you find a new place. Unless you’d rather be alone.”

Maggie fights her growing drowsiness. Lena’s perfume envelops her.

“What do you mean?”

“Room and board, and some company, if you need that.”

Maggie swallows. Company? The floor beneath her sways like a boat. Is this the next bullshit phase of her shitty life? Getting dumped by her fiancée and banging Lena Luthor on the same day?

And why the hell not. Lena’s gorgeous, her shapes and scent nothing like Alex’s. She’s new, and kind, and… propositioning her? It’s better than one more drink. A different kind of regret.

So, Maggie leans in, cups Lena’s face and kisses her.

The warmth of Lena’s lips. The taste of her, wine-sweet. 

For an instant, Maggie thinks Lena’s hand on her shoulder is an invitation, but Lena pushes her away with harrowing gentleness.

~

Not unwelcome, but strange, the kiss lingers. Lena touches her fingertips to her lips.

She kneels by the couch and tucks the loose ends of the sheet under the cushions, glances at the bags and suitcases they retrieved from Maggie’s motel. There are so few of them.

The bathroom door opens and Maggie pads into the living room in her sleep shirt, looking unsure and considerably more sober.

Lena smiles up at her. “One or two pillows?”

“One’s fine. Thank you.” Maggie scratches her forearm, eyes darting around the room. “I’ll be out of your hair in a couple days, tops.”

Lena lets out a noncommittal hum, fluffs up a pillow. “I’ve left you some Advil and a glass of water over there, just in case.”

“Thanks.”

Maggie swallows, and it cuts through the silence. Lena takes a seat on the makeshift bed and pats the spot next to her.

Maggie sits, heavily. She looks defeated, blinks at the ceiling. “I’m sorry about what happened, earlier. It was inappropriate.”

“I’ve been to enough cocktail parties with entitled businessmen to know what inappropriate looks like.” Lena watches the warm glow of the lamp behind Maggie. Kara would find it beautiful, the way it traces the outline of her neck. “That wasn’t it, Maggie. We’re good.”

Maggie hunches over and lets out a weak, shaky sigh. Hides her face in her hands, fingers pressing into her closed eyelids. Lena hesitates. She’d like to comfort her in a simple, wordless way, draw her close. But she’s not sure it would be welcome.

Her eyes flit about the room in search of the one basic item on her endless move-in shopping list she forgot to buy. Tissues. Kara would say there’s something hopeful to it, that forgetting tissues means you don’t think you might ever be sad enough to need them.

Lena can no longer tell whose voice it is, her own, or Kara’s, murmuring kindnesses to her every day, about the smallest things. It doesn’t matter. Her presence makes Lena’s feel like a stubborn weed pushing through the cracks in the concrete, reaching for the sun and beating the odds.

She watches Maggie struggle to quietly swallow her tears, wonders how to go about this, and opts to  reviews her findings. Maggie seems confident when it comes to her job, doesn’t think very highly of herself in other respects. She’s witty. Guarded until she’s not. Self-destructive and aware of it. Resilient. Smart. Laidback or high-strung, no in-between.

In the end, she places a light hand on Maggie’s back, the way she did at the bar, hoping she’s struck the right balance between present and unobtrusive. It probably needs a dash of light-heartedness, too.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Your billionaire friend invites you over, you rightfully expect a luxurious guest room, but it turns out the couch is all you get?” She rubs Maggie’s back gently. “What a betrayal. But this too shall pass.”

Maggie’s back rises and falls quickly under her hand. A wet, muffled laugh makes its way past her hands. “I can’t believe you live in such a tiny apartment.”

“I’m cheap like that. I don’t even have a box of tissues to offer you.” Lena pats Maggie’s back, stands. “I’ll get you something to drown your sorrows in.”

She returns from the kitchen with a bunch of paper towels in hand.

Maggie looks up with reddened eyes. “Thanks.”

Lena sits back next to her, squeezes her shoulder. “So… I hate to ruin your good mood, but I’ve got a multi-time zone team call in the morning. I have to be at work by six, so unless you fancy getting up at four thirty, I’d suggest taking the bedroom. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”

“Four thirty’s fine.” Maggie half-heartedly dabs her eyes. “My plan for the foreseeable future is to head over to the station as early as I can and leave as late as possible.”

“Hoping work will keep you sane? I’ve been there.”

“Lena Luthor, a workaholic?”

“Hey, I’m doing better, these days.”

Maggie’s smirk turns wistful. “I can tell National City’s been kind to you. Assassination attempts aside.” 

“Oh, you know. They keep things interesting.”

“That, they do.” Maggie looks at her, absently biting her lip. “Hey, I don’t mean to be rude, you’re going out of your way to help me out and I really appreciate it, but why? We hardly know each other.”

Lena thumbs her palm, takes a moment to articulate it to herself. “It’s always been difficult for me to connect with people. But I met Kara, and she’s really done a number on me. I feel a lot more secure, and I think it’s opened me up to just… giving in a different way. Not just with my money, or through what we do at L-Corp, but personally. With my time, my presence, if they’re wanted. I’m starting to accept that actually, they might be.”

Maggie nods, eyes faraway. “Yeah, it’s… A nice feeling. I thought mine were, too.”

“It doesn’t sound like Alex no longer wanted you in her life, though. You just had different futures in mind.”

Maggie rubs her face, exhaling loudly. “I know, I know. But it still feels like rejection. It hurts like hell.”

“For now.” Lena gives her a lopsided smile. “There are so many people you haven’t met yet who will matter to you. People who will build you up, give you the drive to cultivate the best parts of yourself. I would know. If you’d told me a year ago, when I moved to National City, that I would meet my best friend here, buy a tiny apartment and that all this stress, depression, the feeling of being a pariah… That all of it would soon feel less harmful? I’m not sure I would have believed it.” She wraps an arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “It will happen, Maggie. It’s already happening. You’ve got us.”

“Us?”

“Kara and I.” She nods when a confused frown creases Maggie’s brow. “Who do you think asked me to make sure Alex wasn’t the only one with a support system?”

Maggie opens her mouth, closes it. She gives a hard nod, wipes her eyes briefly. “I see.”

Lena can tell she’s trying to swallow the lump in her throat, so she squeezes her arm affectionately before standing.

“All right, I’ll let you get some rest. Don’t hesitate, if you need anything. I’m right next door.”

Maggie looks up at her with a wobbly smile. “Okay. Good night.”

“You, too.”

Lena heads over to her bedroom with parting smile, and closes the door behind her. She lets out a slow exhale. God, what a night.

She feels her way to her bed, doesn’t bother turning on the bedside lamp, and collapses onto it. Face buried into a pillow, she turns her head just enough to open one eye, unlocks her phone and hurriedly dims the brightness.

Before the fear of appearing needy can make her waver, she texts Kara.

Lena [00:12 AM] Can I call you if you’re still up? No emergency, I just want to talk.

She drops her phone and rolls onto her back. The chill of the night starts to crawl up her legs. It’s something to focus on. Physical sensations help when her mind is acting up like a sugar-addled toddler.

A couple of minutes pass until her phone vibrates. She groans in exhausted relief as she pats the comforter blindly until she finds it.

“God, it’s good to hear your voice.”

Kara chuckles. “I haven’t said anything yet.”

“And now, you have. My plan worked.”

“Smarty pants.”

Lena smiles. “You know me. Thank you for calling. I know it’s late.”

“Don’t worry, I’m still up. How did it go with Maggie?”

She kissed me. “She’s still reeling from the breakup, obviously, but she’s strong. We had a drink, talked. Turns out you were right, she’s not staying with friends. She’d booked a room at a motel, so I offered to let her stay with me until she finds something more permanent.” She kissed me.

“Wow. Did she say yes?”

“She’s sleeping on the couch as we speak.”

“Gosh, Lena. Thank you so much. You’re incredible.”

“No, you are.” Lena wiggles her way under the comforter, settles herself more comfortably against her pillow as warmth seeps into her. “What about you, how is it going with Alex?”

“Oh, boy. The drive was… Uneventful and silent. I did get Alex to eat something, so there’s that. She headed straight for the scotch the minute we got home, though.”

Lena winces. “Not ideal, but… Understandable, I guess.”

“Yeah. She’s been snappy all evening. Mean, even, when we went to bed. There’s no getting through to her when she’s like this. I kind of fled our room and Eliza made us some late night coffee.”

“Oh, I had no idea. I’ll leave you two be.”

“No, no, you’re not interrupting anything. She went to bed a while ago, though I’m not sure she’s going to get much sleep.” A beat. “I’m glad you texted.”

Lena rubs her stomach absently. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not sure.” Kara stays quiet for a while. “Eliza told me she was worried about me. Said that I didn’t look happy.”

“Well, I too have been told I’ve got a resting bitch face, so.” It makes Kara laugh. Lena wishes she could see her smile.

She can hear it though, when Kara says softly, “I bet I look happy, right now. I bet Eliza will change her mind when you come to Midvale. I’ll look happy all the time. I’ll be happy.”

Lena grips a fistful of her shirt and shuts her eyes tight. God, this earnest love. And to return it in kind.

“I’m happy around you, too,” She tries. “Even when I’m sad or preoccupied about something.” She runs her tongue over her lips. They’re dry. Maggie kissed me. “So, what did you say when Eliza told you that?”

“There wasn’t much to say. She feels like I’m giving up on a lot of things because I don’t think I can have them, and she’s right. She thinks I could have them, but I really, really don’t. And that’s that, you know? I really appreciate her concern, but we just disagree, on that one.”

Kara sounds calm, almost peaceful. Lena’s fingers relax around the fabric of her shirt.

“Do you… want those things?”

She hears a soft sigh. “You know, at some point, the line between Can and Want starts to blur. I know I can’t have them, so do I even want them? I’m not sure. It might be better not to know. Like… Does a disabled person wish they could do what they can’t? Is that even a relevant question, when there’s no chance of that happening and— And they can focus on making the most of what they do have, instead?”

“Is it working? Focusing on what you do have, what you think you can have?”

“Sometimes. I mean, I miss the mark a lot, but I try. I like my life better this way. I want to have hope, just… Not the painful kind.”

Lena splays her fingers over her chest. She can’t feel her own heartbeat. She can hear it, though, her blood pumping rhythmically against her eardrums.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t know where the line is between acceptance and giving up?”

Kara’s silent for so long, Lena thinks she’s pushed too hard.

“Every day.” 

“Most people do, I think, the older they get,” Lena muses. “Roads not taken, and all that. You’re not special, cub reporter Kara Danvers.”

Kara lets out a cute little cackle. “Leave it to you to bring the ordinary out of me.”

“It’s a skill I have.”

“It really is.” There’s fondness in Kara’s voice. “You’re like most people, too. Do you know that?”

“Maybe.” Lena curls up in the tangled comforter, puts her phone on speaker and sets it down on the pillow. “Reassure me, anyway?”

“All right, let’s do an ordinary person thing,” Kara says softly, and Lena closes her eyes. “Most people like bedtime stories. My aunt told me so many, when I was little. She’d stroke my hair and tell me about all sorts of wonderful things, constellations and extinct creatures, and I’d just… drift off. Has anyone ever told you a bedtime story?”

Lena smushes her cheek into her pillow, hopes Kara can still hear her. “My biological mother, maybe? But if she did, I don’t remember.”

“Can I tell you one, then?”

“Please.”

“Okay.” A harsh, clanging noise. “Shoot, I knocked my mug over. Sorry.”

“Is it broken?”

“Not this time.” Kara clears her throat. “Anyway. I’m out on the porch, right now, enjoying the quiet. Eliza has a lovely garden. She tries to takes care of it, but she works a lot, so everything’s growing a bit wild. Honeysuckle, bluebells, dark hazels… It smells so good. The sea’s not far, you can hear the waves from here at high tide. There’s salt in the air. I wish you could feel it.”

“I am feeling it.”

“I’m— Oops, that plank on the porch is always creaky. I’m taking my socks off, and I’m coming down the stairs that lead down to the garden. There’s grass and dew under my feet and it’s the best sensation. It’s vibrant, alive.” She can hear a smile in Kara’s voice when she speaks again. “When I got here, I really hated the smell and the texture of my clothes when they came out of the dryer. So, Jeremiah rigged a clothesline just for me, and my clothes would end up smelling like grass and wind. Like sun.”

Lena inhales, and she swears she can smell it.

“I’m not warm. I’m not cold. I can hear an owl nearby. I love gardens.”

“Do you have a favorite garden?”

“Many, many. Do you know about the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

“A little. I know they’re one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World,” Lena murmurs. “Isn’t their existence disputed?”

“The legend says they were built by a king for his wife, almost three thousand years ago. She was missing her homeland so much, how green and good it was, and he wanted to comfort her. Create a little piece of home for her in the desert.”

Lena’s limbs feel heavy and there’s a lightness in her chest, spreading out.

“I have seen… many landscapes. I think I will see more. We will see more.”

~

Kara cradles her pile of dirty plates. She doesn’t know how to open Lena’s brand new dishwasher without ripping the handle apart. She usually figures these things out through trial and error, but she’s never been alone in Lena’s apartment, and she can’t risk winging it in front of her.

So, she just stands by the sink and watches the hot water redden Lena’s sensitive skin, the light glinting off her beautiful earrings, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth. The verse comes to her, unbidden, from one of their weekly poems. Lena always chooses poems with such physicality to them. Always real, touchable.

Lena glances her way. “Oh, sorry. You can drop those in the sink.”

“Not the dishwasher?” Kara chances against her better judgement, heart pounding.

Lena lifts an eyebrow and juts her chin at the machine.

Oh. It’s already running. How had Kara not noticed?

“Right. Sorry.” Kara sets the plates down carefully. “It’s your earrings. They catch the light, it’s distracting.”

Lena hums. She looks so relaxed, running the soapy sponge around the edge of a pan as if she were polishing a sculpture. “Was someone was a magpie, in a previous life?”

“Ms Grant called me a silly goose, once, but I didn’t mind. I love birds. Magpies? They’re curious, intelligent, brave…” Kara touches a fingertip to Lena’s dangling earring. “I think you were a white dove, once.”

Lena smiles without looking at her, sets the pan on the drainrack. It’s sweet, the way she reacts to random compliments. Without fuss, a little shy.

Kara leans a hip against the counter and slips a dishtowel off the oven’s handlebar to dry the pan. The cast iron weighs nothing. She run the scratchy linen over it and imagines it’s a flower, imagines touching its petals. That way, it’s easier not to bend the metal.

“I know doves are technically pigeons,” She continues, “But pigeons are lovely. They’re so delicate, and smart, and they make beautiful sounds.” She watches Lena, the soft curves of her neck and shoulder, the faint shadow of tiredness under her eyes. So very human. “They’re beautiful. Your earrings.”

“Thank you. I had a free afternoon on my trip to Paris last month, so I dropped by Cartier. Tried these on, and…” Lena sighs. “I know it’s a waste of money.”

“A little. But I like that side of you.”

Lena snorts. “My vanity?”

“Yeah. But also… The way you take care of yourself.” Kara chews on her lower lip. “How feminine you are. I don’t know, it’s just really touching.”

Even though she isn’t looking at Kara, there’s a lingering tenderness to Lena’s small smile as she washes a pot. “And I think the way you can show up one day in a lovely sundress and a perfect Dutch crown braid, and—” She glances at Kara’s current attire, “Rock those jeans overalls with a white tee and a sporty ponytail the next? Amazing. You always look beautiful.”

There’s nothing intense to the way Lena says it. It’s just kind. Supportive. Kara wants to kiss her cheek. She does.

Lena returns the gesture playfully before flicking a few droplets of water her way. Kara shakes herself out like a dog, and Lena laughs, and everything is tangible.

They continue washing the dishes. Kara thinks their silence is full of the easy affection that comes with familiarity and love.

She’s watching Lena run a sponge inside the sink once all the dishwater has disappeared down the drain, when she hears the elevator coming up and stopping at their floor. Footsteps approach. Maggie’s back.

She pretends to be as surprised as Lena when the apartment door opens and Maggie steps inside. She kicks her boots off, hangs her jacket and ventures further into the living room, smiling, hair windswept.

“Back already? Lena asks, grabbing a towel to dry her hands. She winks at Maggie. “Just in time for dessert.”

“After the feast that was dinner? You spoil me. Anyway, yeah, false alarm. Just a harmless guy with Down’s syndrome who’d wandered away from home. He was roleplaying in a superhero costume on a parking lot and a lady freaked out. She thought he was an alien, couldn’t tell the difference in the dark, what with the cape and the lightsaber.”

Kara smiles. “I hope he wasn’t too scared when the cavalry got there.”

Maggie plops down on the couch with a contented sigh. “Not one bit. He wanted us to help him fight the bad guys.” She gives Kara a pointed look. “Like Supergirl, he said.”

“Did he?” Kara tilts her head. “The next time Supergirl helps out NCPD, maybe you could ask her to pay him a visit, make him an honorary sidekick.”

Maggie’s eyes soften. “That’s not a bad idea. It would make his day.”

Lena hums in agreement while pulling a cake out of the fridge. She nudges the door closed with her socked foot. “Every time I read a news story about something she did with a kid, or someone with… A childlike disposition, it restores my faith in humanity. So to speak.”

Kara looks down at her own socks, shoves her hand in her pockets and balls them into fists.

“She’s certainly good at hope speeches,” Maggie singsongs, and Kara thinks it’s a little teasing, but the affectionate kind. “So, what was that about dessert?”

“Ah-ha! One of my sources,” And at that, Lena points at Kara over her shoulder as she dusts the cake with cocoa powder, “Let it slip that you’re a fan of tiramisu. So, I made one.”

Maggie frowns at Kara, who meets her eyes with a small smile. “You mentioned it when we had dinner with Alex a few months ago, remember?”

“Oh.” Maggie rubs her lips. “Wow. Thank you. Both of you.”

Lena turns towards them, does a theatrical little bow and presents the tiramisu. “It’s your last night at my place after two weeks of genuinely pleasant cohabitation, and new beginnings await. It calls for celebration. It’s my first attempt, though, so I make no promises.”

Maggie rolls her eyes, but Kara can tell that she’s touched. “One more thing you get to be unfairly good at on your first try, what else is new.”

Kara drapes a light arm around Lena’s shoulders. This close, it makes their small height difference more pronounced. Kara smiles down at her. “That’s our Lena.”

Lena leans into her for a second, before gently extricating herself to cut the cake. “Can you get me three dessert plates, please?”

“Sure.” Kara reaches over her, opens a cupboard stacked with a new set of simple plates. She gingerly puts three small ones down on the countertop.

“When did you even find the time to bake this without me noticing?” Maggie asks from the couch.

“Last night, when you were on stakeout duty.”

Maggie raises an eyebrow at Kara and drawls, “Well, if that isn’t wife material, I don’t know what is.”

Kara smiles. It’s good that Maggie can joke about marriage, now. Alex does, too, a little, but her jokes are cutting, not healing.

“Oh, I’m a real catch. I bet my spouse would even take my name,” Lena quips with an undignified little snort. She turns around to squint at Maggie, nods to the digital piano across the room. From what Kara understands, it’s been collecting dust since Lena’s MIT days. It was a gift from Jack. “I’ll have you know I’m bad at some things. My piano skills, for instance.”

“Ah,” Maggie says with exaggerated smugness. “That’s why it’s been sitting here since it got delivered and you played a total of like, two notes just to see if it still worked.”

Lena sticks her tongue out at her.

Kara touches Lena’s sleeve to catch her attention. “Can you play us something?”

“I really am terrible.” Lena throws her an uncertain glance. “Well, terribly average.”

“I like average.” Kara tries to imagine what it must feel like, to press your fingertips down the keys and create so much beauty. She’d snap the piano in half after a few notes. She wants to see. Wants to feel, through Lena’s fingers, what it’s like. “Please?”

Lena studies her for a moment, then offers a little nod as she slides the third piece of cake onto a plate. “All right. For you.” She glances at Maggie over her shoulder. “And for your entertainment, I suppose.”

Maggie pushes herself off the couch. “Vindication aside, I’d love to hear you play, actually.”

Lena moves across the room to take a seat at the piano. She wipes her hands on her thighs, and Kara loves her nervousness, how she doesn’t hide it.

She stands close, wants to touch her again, maybe rest her hands on her shoulders, but she’s afraid Lena might find it distracting rather than comforting. Maggie comes, too, keeps a respectful distance, but Lena smiles up at her all the same.

“So, I think I’ll go for something I learned as a teenager. It’s called For Elise. Beethoven composed it.” She flexes her fingers, hits a few random chords for practice, flexes her fingers again. “Okay. Here goes nothing…”

She plays. It’s hesitant, hits a few wrong notes. She winces and soldiers on. Like all things human, Kara believes, it’s imperfect and beautiful for it.

In the end, Lena pulls her trembling hands off the keyboard with a relieved sigh.

“Well, that’s about all I remember. I love that piece,” She says thoughtfully. “I should find the sheets online and practice it again.”

Kara wants to kiss her fingers. Instead, she leans down and wraps her arms around her, as loosely as she can manage. They’re barely touching.

It surprises her when Maggie engulfs them both in a hug of her own.

“You should. And by the way, liar,” Maggie says, her voice muffled. “You’re not terrible. Just rusty.”

Lena chuckles, a hand on Kara’s arm and the other on Maggie’s. Kara sees her squeeze both affectionately. She doesn’t feel it in her body, but in her heart, a little.

“I want to hear you play all the things,” She whispers close to Lena ear.

Lena turns her face and briefly nuzzles Kara’s cheek. “Done.”

“Come on,” Maggie mumbles, “Let’s eat my tiramisu, you saps.”

“Look who’s talking,” Lena retorts with a playful slap to Maggie’s forearm.

“Shut up.”

Kara knows there’s no bite to these words when Maggie hugs them both tighter for a second. After that, she pulls away, and Kara takes it as her cue to let Lena go.

Lena stands and goes to retrieve their plates from the kitchen. She sets them on the coffee table. Kara sits on the floor so that her friends can have the couch. Lena doesn’t have a lot of furniture, yet. Kara’s grateful she gets to witness a home in the making.

“Even if the tiramisu turns out to be awful, I want to thank you,” Maggie says, looking intently at her plate. “Both of you. You’ve been there for me. You haven’t made me feel like a burden, you gave me a space to process my feelings in peace. I think—” She rubs her lips, one of her nervous ticks, Kara’s noticed. “I think it’s helped me.”

Lena bumps Maggie’s shoulder and they exchange a smile. Lena’s so good at this. Wordless communication. Kara wishes she could do that, too. But words are all she has.

“That’s what family’s for, right?” She tries hesitantly.

Maggie looks at her for a while. Oh, no. Was this too much? Too many words, too intense?

“You like me that much, huh?”

Kara thinks Maggie’s joking. Maybe because she’s emotional. But Kara doesn’t have anything witty to say in response, so she just nods. “Yeah. You were almost my sister-in-law, and you’re my friend.”

“She pulled the same one on me,” Lena sighs, and Kara is grateful. Lena always lighten things up in the right way. “Well, minus the sister-in-law part.”

Maggie huffs out a laugh, has a spoonful of cake and groans. “Oh, it’s delicious. I hate you.”

Kara takes a bite and hums in agreement, her mouth full.

Lena preens, takes a dainty bite, and seems satisfied. “I suppose it’s hard to mess up a tiramisu, but still. Go me.”

They eat in silence for a while. Kara tucks a throw pillow under her arm, just for contact. She watches them. They’re relaxed. Maggie wipes a trace of cocoa off the corner of her mouth, Lena tugs up her bunched up sock. It’s all so ordinary and precious.

“I read an article,” She says impulsively. “About neutrinos.”

Maggie cocks her head, perplexed. Lena just looks curious.

“Oh, yeah? What about them?”

“About the CERN’s LHC Faser experiment.”

Maggie lifts an eyebrow. “Uh, in English, please?”

“Sorry.” Kara wipes her mouth. “The CERN is the European Center for Nuclear Research. It’s in Switzerland, near Geneva. A while ago, they built the LHC, the Large Hadron Collider. It’s so powerful people were afraid it could create black holes once they started experimenting with it.” She puts her plate away, hugs the pillow to her chest. “It’s designed to detect neutrinos, and recently—” She cuts herself off when Lena puts up a finger to silence her with a gentle smile and turns towards Maggie.

“Neutrinos are electrically neutral particles, hence the name,” She explains. “They’re a pain to detect because they don’t interact with matter, so we need a particle collider like the LHC to study them.” 

Maggie nods slowly.

Kara smiles up at her. “At any moment, the sun is beaming billions of them through the Earth, through you, through everything.” It’s why she can almost never solar flare. Day or night, outside or inside, eclipse or not, this Earth’s yellow sun is relentlessly charging her up. She thinks of this Greek word, pharmakos, illness and cure alike. “Recently, the Faser experiment detected the very first interactions between neutrinos at the LHC. It’s amazing.”

Maggie doesn’t seem all that amazed, but nods again anyway. “I’m sure it is, but I’ve gotta say, it’s flying over my head.” She cocks her head. “I didn’t know you were a science nerd.”

At that, Lena snorts. “Why do you think I like her?”

Kara beams, hugs her pillow tighter. “I just keep up with the latest discoveries.” She almost leaves it at that, but something tugs at her heart. A whiff of home, and she blurts out, “I was supposed to go into science, actually.”

“Really?” This time, Lena looks as surprised as Maggie. “Why did you study marketing, instead?”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Kara shrugs. She shouldn’t have said that. Gosh. She touches her glasses. “It’s just… Alex gave up so much to take care of me, and she wanted to be a scientist like her mom, but her grades in high school weren’t all that good when it came to maths. I didn’t want to take one more thing away from her. So, when I applied to college, I picked something unrelated to science. It worked out. It’s fine.”

Maggie seems dubious. “Alex may have given up a lot, but it sure sounds like you did, too.”

Lena doesn’t say anything, just nods, and her silence hits harder than words. She looks at Kara like with inscrutable eyes.

“It’s fine, really,” Kara repeats. She eats a big piece of cake to make herself shut up.

“If you’re interested,” Lena ventures, “I’ve got access to a lot of science-related publications and databases, courtesy of being an MIT alum. I could give you my logins and passwords. It’s got all sorts of articles about cutting-edge research that hasn’t yet trickled down to journals or sites the general public can access.”

Kara sets her spoon and plate aside. She’s not sure she can keep them intact, right now. “Sure. Thanks. That’d be great.”

“You’ll have to keep me updated about interesting discoveries in exchange, though, because I just don’t have time to keep up.”

“Alex was right,” Maggie interjects breezily. “The two of you really are huge nerds. Hey… Speaking of Alex,” she says with a quick glance at Kara. “How is she?”

Kara finishes her cake to buy herself a few seconds to find the right words.

“Going through it.” She rubs the corner of the pillow between her fingertips. “Better than two weeks ago, but she’s still pretty down. Questioning everything, coping in less than healthy ways… Don’t worry, though. I’m keeping an eye on her. I don’t know if Lena told you, but we went back to Midvale for a couple of days. It helped a little, I think.”

Maggie nods, wets her lips. “Good, good.”

“Will you be okay?” Kara asks, hesitant. “With moving out tomorrow and living alone again, I mean.”

Maggie smiles, looking tired. “Honestly? I don’t know. I wouldn’t have admitted that two weeks ago, so I guess that’s progress?”

“It sure is. You know we’re here, right? Anytime.”

“Yeah. And for what it’s worth, I’m here for the two of you, too.”

“Oh?” Lena perks up. Lightness, again. “Does that mean you’re going to waive all my traffic tickets?”

“You don’t drive,” Maggie deadpans. “And I wouldn’t, even if you did.”

Lena huffs out a dramatic sigh, looks at Kara. “Tragically by the book, this one.”

Kara rubs her cheek to her pillow, looks up at them fondly. “Opposites attract, I guess.” She pushes herself off the floor. “Hey, it’s getting late. I should go home. And, Maggie, if you need help moving in to your new place tomorrow, I can come by after work and give you a hand.”

“Thanks, Kara, but it’ll be fine. I travel light.”

“Kara, it’s almost two AM,” Lena says with a frown. “I’m not sure I want to let you go home this late by yourself. I’d get Frank to drive you, but he’s off-duty, right now.”

Kara waves it away and gathers their empty plates. “It’s fine, I’ll get an Uber.”

Lena follows her to the kitchen. “That’s my point. I don’t want you alone in a car with a stranger in the middle of the night. Stay here tonight, please?”

Kara puts the plates down in the sink. “I don’t have a change of clothes. And you don’t have a spare bed.”

Lena comes close, takes her hand. “You can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the floor, or we can share. Whatever woks for you. We’ll get up early, and Frank will drop you off at yours so you can get ready for work. I just don’t want you to go home by yourself this late. Too many creeps out there.”

Kara glances down at their hands, then back up at Lena’s soft face, devoid of makeup. Lena, who worries, wants to keep her safe from the random, senseless brutality humans are capable of in the dead of night. People whose bones Kara could shatter with a touch.

“Okay.” Kara swallows. “I’ll stay.”

Lena holds her hand a little longer. “Thank you.”

“Neither of us is sleeping on the floor, though.” Her voice breaks a little. She hopes Lena hasn’t noticed. “We can share the bed.” I love you.

It means Kara won’t be able to sleep. She can’t control her movements and strength when she’s asleep. She won’t risk putting whoever she’s sleeping next to at risk. But she wants casual, she wants normal. She wants to share a bed with her best friend. A sleepless night is a small price to pay. She doesn’t even need to sleep, it’s just a nice transition between days, a time for her mind to let go. Something she trained herself to do during her years in the Phantom Zone. It’s fine.

~

I am the rain coming from the dew,

That causes the grasses to laugh with the joy of life.

I am the yearning for good.

Lena tears her eyes off the page when the door opens. Kara comes in quietly, a glass of water in each hand. She closes the door behind her with her elbow, sets both glasses down on the nightstand and sits on the bed in that ginger, careful way of hers. Hair down in loose waves, one of Lena’s night shirts falling off her shoulder, she looks so lovely. She angles her head to read the title of Lena’s book. Love Poems to God. Her gaze lingers, travels up to meet Lena’s with a hint of a smile.

Here, in the silent privacy of her room, Lena feels sensitive. Aware. She watches Kara brush the back of her fingers to the hemp sheets.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Kara whispers.

She takes Lena’s book and slips the bookmark in.

“Have you ever had a proper sleepover?” Lena asks, leaning back into her pillow.

Kara shrugs, adjusts her glasses. “Not really. Back in Midvale, our bedroom was in the attic. Alex had this friend, Vicky, and whenever they had sleepovers, they’d eat candy and I’d hear them whisper until they couldn’t keep their eyes open.” She looks away with another small smile. “Stolen time and falling asleep together… That’s what a sleepover is, I think.”

Lena gathers Kara’s hair over her shoulder, fingers close to her skin but not touching, before shifting closer to the wall and patting the side of the bed she just vacated. 

“All warmed up for you. Come on, let’s steal some time together.”

Kara slips under the comforter, presses her face into the pillow, causing her glasses to sit crookedly across her nose. Lena mimics her posture, smiling at the adorable sight of her. Kara hardly ever takes her glasses off. From what Lena can tell, they’re barely corrective, so she thinks it’s more of a calming thing, for Kara. Something familiar to touch frequently.

“Ready to turn off the light?” Lena asks.

“No. I want to look at you.”

Kara says these things so simply. Lena can never respond with a quip, a dodge. Truth calls for truth.

“I want to look at you, too,” She whispers back. “I shouldn’t have taken my glasses off. You’re a little blurry.” She wiggles closer. “There. Much better.”

With searching eyes and a hesitant hand, Kara touches the tips of Lena’s hair. “Are you starting to feel at home, here?”

Lena treasures each and every one of these rare, spontaneous touches. “I’m getting there.” She picks up a strand of her own hair and tickles the back of Kara’s hand with it. “I’m starting to know where the light switches are, in the dark. I found the right spot for the bed.”

Kara smiles. “There was an article about Feng Shui in CatCo mag’s latest issue. It said you’re not supposed to place your bed with one side up against a wall. But I like it.”

“Yeah?”

Kara nods into her pillow. “You like feeling… contained, right? Supported. Cozy little nests do that for you.” Her smile is so gentle. Lena feels so loved. “Little white dove.”

Lena wants to touch her, just lightly, to make up for the words she doesn’t have. She hooks her pinky finger with Kara’s. It comes easy, here, tucked between the wall and Kara’s solid, grounding body. Lena loves her steadiness, and those deep blue eyes that tell her Kara wishes her all the good in the world.

The scent of her own moisturizer wafts over to her. She’s never shared skincare products with anyone before. With Kara, seconds, thirds and umpteenths often feel like firsts, anyway. She’s the one Lena wants to share this with. Privacy, late-night company, books, musings. Time.

“You must have been miserable, this past year. In that big hotel suite,” Kara says after a long time.

Lena nods. “Some nights, I felt so lost in that king-sized bed, I’d go sleep on the couch. It was one of those hard, fancy leather ones you can barely sink into.”

“Some nights,” Kara offers back, “I feel so alone I hug a pillow.”

Lena’s seen her do it, once. She was sleeping over at Kara’s, got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. She had to walk past Kara’s bed, and there she was, in the moonlight, clutching a pillow to her chest.

“Not just at night,” Lena teases gently. “Whenever we’re on a couch, you hug a pillow.” She almost tells her it’s one of her many endearing habits, but she suspects Kara mostly does it to offset some kind of discomfort. “Does it help?”

Kara rolls on her back, an arm folded under her head. “A little. I’m so awkward when I hug people.” She looks at Lena with a slight smile. “I know you like my hugs, but still. With a pillow, I’m not worried about doing it wrong.”

Lena nods. Kara seems serene. Often, she looks like she’s both here and somewhere else. It’s something Lena is familiar with, but while she gets lost in her inner labyrinths, Kara seems to float above hers.

“Do you like hugs? I mean, do you enjoy them?”

Kara looks back to the ceiling, hums thoughtfully. “I like the idea of them. What they communicate. But I find the execution… lacking. On my part. I wish I could feel more, I guess. Or feel it better.”

Lena takes in Kara’s profile in the warm light. “I love it when you tell me what your world is like.”

Kara turns her head to look at her. “I know. Talking about it is really hard for me, but you never seem concerned, when you ask. Just curious. That makes a huge difference, so… Thank you.”

Lena separates their linked fingers to cup Kara’s cheek for a brief, loving stroke.

“It’s not like I don’t live in an unusual world, myself,” She says, tapping her own temple. “It takes one to know one.”

“And you do,” Kara smiles, eyes kind. “Know me. Can I tell you something sad?”

“I once drank out of a stagnant pond in the garden because there was nobody to babysit me at the mansion, and the gardener wasn’t around, and I was four. I was trying to create a potion that would bring my mom back. So, yeah,” Lena deadpans. “Bring it.”

Kara frowns. “I’m sorry you were so neglected. Just invent a time machine already, and I’ll head back there and become your undercover babysitter.”

“I appreciate the sentiment. Weirdo.”

Kara snorts. “Pot, kettle?”

“Touché.” Lena shuffles even closer and asks, her tone conspiratorial. “So what’s your sad thing?”

Kara looks at her for so long, Lena thinks she’s not going to say anything. 

“I’ve never spent a night besides anyone.” The words seem to tumble out of Kara lips, leaving her a little breathless. “I mean, maybe as a baby? But never since.”

Lena swallows quietly. “Okay.” Sometimes, her own solitude pales next to Kara’s. Whatever god Kara believes in, she hopes they love her back, give her what she needs. For Kara’s sake, she’ll believe, too, and ask them to take good care of her. “Is there a reason?”

Kara shrugs. It comes off more nervous than nonchalant. “I can’t fall asleep next to people.”

Lena props herself up, pokes Kara’s stomach through the comforter to offset the slight distance she’s put between them. “Did you feel pressured into sharing the bed? I told you, I can sleep on the floor. I don’t mind. Nice, thick Persian rug and all, straight from the Luthor mansion. Or I can call you a cab and stay on the phone until you get home safe.”

Kara laughs. It’s shaky. “No, no. I want to be here with you. I might not get much sleep, but don’t feel guilty about it. I love being close to you. I just thought you should know it’s my first time.”

“Okay.” Lena lies back down. “Earlier, I was thinking that things I’ve done countless times feel new when I do them with you. So, it’s sort of my first time, too.” She presses a swift, careful kiss to Kara’s cheek, and retreats to her side of the bed. “That, and I haven’t slept next to anyone since the ice age.”

It’s with a rosy-cheeked grin that Kara turns away to switch off the bedside lamp. In the abrupt darkness, Lena hears her fold her glasses and put them away. Feels her settle down, close. “Was it with Jack?”

It’s a whisper. Lena hasn’t had time to have curtains installed, so there’s quite a bit of light streaming in, but her eyes haven’t adjusted yet.

“Yeah. He snored a little, though, so I think you’re an upgrade.”

She hears Kara’s soft chuckle. And then, quiet. 

“Are you interested in meeting someone else, at some point?”

Lena considers the question. “I don’t know. I don’t really do casual hookups, and dating’s never been high on my priority list. I stumbled into my relationship with Jack — he asked me out after years of friendship, I said yes. I never regretted it, but I didn’t seek it out, either.” She blinks slowly, detailing the faint outline of Kara’s hair, her ear, her shoulder. “Maggie kissed me.”

Between them, only stillness for a long moment.

“The day she came here,” Lena says. The words are painful, pushed out of her lips. “She’d had too much to drink. I was trying to comfort her, and I guess she thought I was coming on to her. Don’t tell Alex, all right?”

“I won’t, don’t worry.” Silence again. “Are you okay?”

Lena shrugs, even though she’s not sure Kara can see it. “I don’t think it had much to do with me. She needed to wash away the pain, somehow, and I happened to be there. I stopped her.”

Kara moves a little, and Lena feels her palm on her arm through her sleeve, barely there. “Was it before or after you called me, that night?”

“Before.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me, on the phone?”

“I don’t know.” Lena puts her hand over Kara’s, to keep her warmth, her love, close to her skin. “I wanted to, but I wasn’t sure how I was feeling about it.”

Kara withdraws her hand but shifts closer. “And now?”

“I’ve thought about it. I didn’t want to go any further, but I liked the attention. It made me realize how much I miss intimacy.”

“Intimacy, as in sex? Or just physical closeness?” Kara asks.

She sounds calm, a little curious. Lena’s not sure she’s ever talked about these things in a way that didn’t feel charged or dicey, until now.

“Physical closeness. Don’t get me wrong, the sex was good, with Jack, but… I don’t know. When Maggie kissed me, I thought, oh, I’ve missed that. Skin against skin, being touched.”

Kara hums in understanding. “I know it’s not the same, but we could cuddle? If you want.”

Lena stills, but she doesn’t want to stay silent for too long and give Kara the impression that her offer was off-putting.

“You’re not asking only out of kindness, right? Because I’d love to, but I don’t want you to feel crowded and uncomfortable.”

Kara doesn’t answer right away. “I’m not sure how it will feel. I’ve never done it. I’ve had long hugs here and there, but snuggling? Not really.” Her voice is small. “I’d like to try, though.”

Lena allows herself one deep, silent breath. “Me, too. Let me know if it’s too much, okay?”

“I promise.” 

Kara’s breathing is uneven. Eyes now accustomed to the dark, Lena brushes Kara’s hair off her shoulder. “What do I do?”

Kara extends an arm across their pillows. “Lie down, please? I want to hug you.”

Lena complies, rests against her. Kara’s upper arm fits under her neck, supporting and unobtrusive. Her skin is soft, clean and warm. Lena drapes an arm across her waist, and Kara makes no move to hug her back. Maybe she needs some time.

It’s okay. Lena plays with the hem of Kara’s short sleeve. Is something bothering her, right now? Lena’s breath ghosting over her neck, her hair brushing against her arm? She doesn’t want to ask outright, doesn’t want to make Kara feel like she’s a problem to solve.

“Are you ticklish?” She asks instead.

“Not really.”

She tickles Kara’s side through her shirt, keeping it light and harmless. “Not even a little?”

“Nope.”

“Amazing.” Lena presses a light kiss to Kara’s shoulder, rubs the spot where she pretended to tickle her, just in case. “Flabbergasting. Stupendous.”

Kara chuckles, a soft little sound close to Lena’s ear. “What about you?”

“You know, that’s a good question. I don’t believe I’ve ever been properly tickled.” She thinks back to her nights with Jack. She was pretty sensitive when he kissed her neck or ran his hands down her calves. She can get a bit squirmy when she’s having a pedicure, too. “I think I might be.”

Kara rests her cheek against Lena’s forehead. “You know, tickle torture was a legal form of interrogation or punishment in a lot of different cultures.”

“Was it effective?”

“Very. One form of it involved tying someone down, rubbing their feet with salt and letting a goat in. It sounds funny, but it was actually horrific. The goats would end up licking the skin away.”

“Jesus. How… imaginative. Humans truly are strange creatures.”

“That, they are,” Kara says softly.

She wraps her arms around Lena, and Lena wasn’t expecting it anymore, had almost forgotten this was a very one-sided hug. Kara’s hold is loose and so, so careful. Lena feels like a small child, again. Just… safe.

Kara lets out a slow, shuddering breath and whispers, “Sorry it took a while.”

Lena rubs her cheek to Kara’s shoulder. “I don’t mind.”

“Thank you for being patient with me, always.” Kara shifts a little, hand landing like a warm feather on Lena’s waist. “I’m not hugging you too tight, am I?”

Lena’s never been held with such heartbreaking care and tenderness.

“You’re the gentlest person I know. So, no.”

Kara swallows thickly. “Okay.”

Moments pass, and she lets herself bask in Kara’s warmth. Kara brushes the lightest of kisses to her forehead. If it wasn’t for the lack of drowsiness, Lena might think she’s falling asleep.

“Thank you. I needed this, more than I knew,” She whispers.

Kara nods against her. “I’ve read that human beings benefit from regular physical touch. Something about a rush of oxytocin.”

Lena smiles. “You’re not just any human being, though.” She lifts her head to kiss Kara’s cheek. “I don’t want to get my oxytocin from anyone else, right now.”

“You make me sound like a drug dealer,” Kara says with obvious delight. “Careful, maybe that’s just the freebie that gets you hooked.”

“Can’t you give your favorite customer a discount?”

“Hm, I’ll think about it. Okay, I’ve thought about it. How about… a two hundred percent discount?”

“Sounds like you’re paying me full price. That’s not a savvy business strategy.”

“I’m not sure,” Kara says, turning her face a little. Lena feels her breath against her lips. “I think I’m the one getting the most out of that deal, so… It’s only fair. I love you so much. I’ll give you all the oxytocin you need.”

Kara does this thing, when things suddenly veers from playful to heartfelt. It always throws Lena off-balance, and Kara is always there to catch her.

“Yeah?” Lena’s voice sounds thin to her own ears.  “How are you feeling? Still good?”

It doesn’t surprise her when Kara takes a moment to think about it. Once upon a time, it might have made her feel insecure, but no longer.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. Physically, I mean. I really like having you here, though. It’s making me feel a lot of new and old things. Whatever I’m getting out of this, oxytocin or who knows, I don’t want it from anyone else, either.”

Lena focuses on the soft rise and fall of Kara’s chest against her, on the way her voice, so very close, seems to vibrate between them. It’s overwhelming. Every time. Every time, she thinks for sure she will buckle under the weight of that intensity, and every time, it’s… just enough.

She nudges Kara’s nose with the tip of her own before turning her face back down to hide it again in the hollow between Kara’s shoulder and her neck, cheek smushed against her collar. She groans, inelegant and grateful.

“You okay?” Kara asks. She doesn’t sound alarmed.

That’s what love feels like. Something that builds, and builds, and invents.

“Yeah. I’m just feeling a lot of things, too. You’re better than I am at expressing them.”

Kara laughs, a soft shake of her body against Lena’s. “It sounds like we’re both emotionally wrung out.”

Ah. Is Kara signalling the end of their cuddle session? 

“Do you want to call it a night? Just tell me if you’re ready for me to give you some space. Whatever you want, really.”

Again, Kara gives herself a few long seconds to think it out. “Stay right here, if that’s okay. I’m good. We can talk, or you can drift off… It’s just nice. This, tonight.”

“Yeah, it is.” Lena briefly lifts her hand off Kara’s side to rub her tired eyes, before settling back with a heavy, contented sigh. “Tell me some random space fact.”

“Why? You know all of them, already.”

“Hush.”

“Okay.” Kara clears her throat. “Let’s see… The Andromeda galaxy will collide with the Milky Way in a few billion years. By then, humanity will most likely be extinct.”

“Oddly comforting,” Lena mumbles into Kara’s shirt. “Your turn to ask me something.”

“My turn? Oh, are we doing this? Like, trivia?”

Lena’s moisturizer has faded from Kara’s skin, by now, and Kara’s borrowed shirt smells like nothing, because Lena’s switched to organic, scentless laundry detergent ever since she figured out Kara was sensitive to smells. It’s been a while since Lena could just take in someone’s natural scent.

“Trivia, charades, personal questions… Anything goes. Until we fall asleep.”

Kara wets her lips. “Let me think. Okay, What’s something you’d like to experience, but can’t?”

“I guess… EVAs? To be outside a spacecraft, with only a suit between me and the terrifying vastness of space. My heart would stop, or I’d lose my mind.”

“Afraid of space, afraid of flying… Only Earth and solid ground for you. I like that.”

Lena’s not sure what that means. Maybe Kara likes the idea of people belonging somewhere.

“I’m not sure how I feel about space,” Kara muses before Lena can think of an answer. “The scale of it is incomprehensible.”

“You’re fascinated with it, though.”

“It’s beautiful, but it kills you.” Kara lets out a halting chuckle. “We’re not made for it.”

Lena squeezes her side softly, but Kara doesn’t react.

“Still doing good? Just making sure.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Anyway, you turn. What’s your next question?”

Lena hums. Something lighter, perhaps. “You told me you wanted to get back to painting regularly. I’d like to start playing piano again, so… How about we start over together? You could come over with your art supplies, next weekend? I can’t exactly bring my piano over to yours.”

Kara nuzzles her cheek to the crown of Lena’s head, just barely. “I’d like that.”

Lena imagines it. The two of them, in her living room, all uneasy brush strokes and hesitant chords. Was it this way, in Jack’s old garage? No. They were working towards something practical, losing sleep, worrying about funding. She misses it, but… What would it be like, practicing a craft just for the beauty of it?

She should guard her heart. But God, Kara’s tapped into something larger and deeper within her. It’s been joy after joy and Lena doesn’t have it in her to be scared. It lights her up from inside, whispering to her, believe.

She’s know sure in what, yet. She thinks Kara will help her find out, somehow.

“Are you falling asleep?” Kara asks, so quiet it wouldn’t have disturbed Lena if she’d been drifting off.

“No, I’m just thinking.” She hugs Kara tighter. “Your turn. Do you have a question?”

“Yeah, but it’s pretty personal.”

Lena chuckles. “Come on.”

Kara brushes her lips to Lena’s hair. “Have you been with a woman, before? When you told me about Maggie kissing you, it didn’t sound like her gender was the reason you didn’t go with it.”

Lena frowns, turning the question around in her head. “I suppose it didn’t factor in, much. Or at all. But no, I’ve never been with a woman. Never wanted to, or not wanted to, you know?”

“Right.” Kara takes a short breath. “So, if the situation had been more appropriate, and she wasn’t a brokenhearted friend you were trying to comfort… Would you have considered it?”

Lena looks up so she can see Kara better. “If she’d been free as a bird and not besides herself with grief? Maybe. She’s beautiful, respectful. It’s hard to know, but I’m leaning towards no. I need more.”

“Okay.”

Lena grins mercilessly. “I’ll take a cuddle with you over pelvis-shattering sex anytime.”

“Ew,” Kara groans, but she’s laughing.

“What? You’ll waddle like a duck the next day, but it’s worth it.”

Kara seems to consider it. “I do like ducks.”

It’s Lena’s turn to laugh, and she can’t help it, she burrows into Kara’s soft body again. “All right, you’ve had two questions in a row. My turn. What about you, have you ever slept with a woman?”

“No,” Kara answers easily. “I’ve never been with anyone, actually. I mean, I dated James for like two days,” She says witch a rueful little chuckle, “But we didn’t do anything.”

Oh. Lena had an inkling, but… She grabs Kara’s chin and tilts her face towards hers. “Would you like to? Not with James, necessarily, just in general. Or is sex just something you’re not interested in?”

Again, everything is quiet, save from the distant hum of traffic. National City never sleeps.

“I don’t know about sex,” Kara muses softly, “I have no idea what it would feel like, if I’d enjoy it. But I’d like to touch someone. I’d like them to touch me. To just… Feel and be felt. I try not to think about it, because, well,” She says breezily, “It hurts.”

Lena presses a kiss to Kara’s cheek. “Did that hurt?”

Kara laughs. “A little. A lot. Try again?” 

Lena lets out an indignant little huff and almost swats her playfully on the arm, but Kara is sensitive, and she deserves gentleness, so instead, Lena complies and kisses her again.

“Still awful?” 

“Nope.”

Lena grins. “Come on, it’s time to sleep. You can’t show up at CatCo tomorrow with racoon eyes.” She frowns. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you with raccoon eyes, even when we stay up late. You barely wear any makeup and you’re always glowing. Unfair.”

Kara tentatively wraps her up in her arms. “I’ve got to have something going for me.”

Contained, is what Kara had said earlier, and she was right. That’s what Lena feels right now. All the volatile parts of hers, kept calm, on solid ground.

“Thank you, by the way,” Kara continues. “Nobody talks about sex with me in a normal, fun way. They think I’m a prude, or that I’m too innocent.”

“Have you ever watched porn?” Lena asks, stifling a yawn.

Kara snorts. “Unless you count that time I was about to open the door to our bedroom in Midvale, and I heard, uh… Well. No, I guess. You?”

“A couple times,” Lena mumbles. “It was terribly boring.”

“Okay. No porn for us, then. Can we watch this documentary I’ve been wanting to see, instead? Not now, just… When we get the chance. It’s about the oldest living turning turtle that we know of. Jonathan.”

Lena nods against her.

“Good,” Kara murmurs. “And for the record? I love your racoon eyes in the morning.”

~

Hours blend together and the moon travels across the sky towards morning. Kara keeps her ears perked, tries to determine what emergencies could justify her flying out of Lena’s room and blowing her cover in the process. She thinks of Maggie. A good cop, trying to do her job. EMTs. Nurses. Surgeons. Brave passersby. Can she truly rely on them to take over for a few hours, just because she wants to keep Lena in her arms?

It’s unforgivable. What can she do, when a few seconds of rest for her means people dying and suffering in accidents, natural disasters, wars, petty robberies? She’s going insane.

She forces herself to breathe deep and even.

She runs trembling fingertips along Lena’s naked arm.

It will come to a head, one day. It has to.

Starting over together. Art, music. There are so many ways to love someone.

Chapter Text

Alex parks in front of Kara’s building. They sit in silence. It’s dark. Rain pelts the windows. Alex casts a glance towards the passenger seat.

In the wan glow of the street lamp above, she’s never seen Kara like this. Pale, exhausted shadows under her eyes. It hurts, seeing her so human, so beaten down. To see the scab on her brow, where Reign pounded her hammer down on her so hard the impact was deafening, and concrete shattered all around them. The memory of it is nauseating.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m not sure.”

Alex chews her bottom lip. Kara, so unused to hurting that she can’t even put words on it.

“Does it hurt anywhere in particular?”

Kara tips her head back against the headrest. “I’m just… sore, I guess. What is it you say, sometimes, after your workouts? I feel like I got hit by a truck?”

Alex shoves her, not too hard. “Brat.” Kara winces anyway. Jesus, she’s like a newborn.

Kara rubs her upper arm. “Brute.”

“You know me.” Alex clears her throat. “Hey, uh… The DEO’s not the most welcoming place for a recovery, I’ll give you that, but are you sure you don’t want to stay at mine until you get back on your feet? You just woke up from a thirty-six-hour coma.”

“I didn’t just wake up, it’s been a whole day,” Kara protests, giving her a gentle look. “It’s going to take a while before I’m all charged up again. No point in staying at the DEO.”

“But what if she comes for you in the meantime?”

“She’s stronger than me, with or without my powers. For now. A true product of Kryptonian engineering,” Kara murmurs, closing her eyes. “I might as well stay home.”

“Is this home, though? Alone, in your apartment? You could wait it out at my place, or go to Midvale so mom can look after you while you rest up.”

Kara nods, eyes still closed. It’s unnerving. “You don’t want me to be alone.”

Alex’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Of course not. Do you want to be alone?”

“I want my things, you know? My towels, my wonky oven, my sheets.”

Alex rakes a hand through her hair. “I get it. Do you want want me to bring a few things over so I can stay with you when I’m not on call?”

“I’m good. Thank you, though.”

Alex tries to relax her grip so her knuckles don’t whiten. “Call me often, all right? And drop by the DEO every day until you recover, so I can examine you, and… Kara, look at me.”

Kara does. She looks miserable.

Alex takes a deep breath, takes Kara hand, holds it tight and firm. It’s nice to know Kara can feel it, for once. And Kara does glance at their linked hands, but she seems absent.

“If you need me for anything? To talk, to keep you company, to take you out for ice cream? You ask me. You’ve just been through one of the most traumatic events of your life, mentally, physically. Even I’ve never been beaten within an inch of my life like you just were. Don’t shut me out.”

“Alex, I love you. Thank you for everything you do for me. But right now, please, let me go home. My powers or Reign, whichever comes back first, it’s not up to us. And how I choose to spend my time until then isn’t up to you, either.”

Alex knows Kara is still looking at her, but she can’t bring herself to reciprocate. She can’t. She lost Kara, two days ago, and tonight she’s not sure she’s truly gotten her back. Merry shitty Christmas.

She stares ahead. “As long as you know I’m here for you.” She clears her throat. “So, let’s catch you up on your cover stories. Reporter Kara Danvers left in the middle of a family Christmas gathering to cover the duel of the century and inform the public. She got injured and her phone was broken. We’ll forge whatever medical paperwork we need to justify your absence from work. Your job is safe. But your phone was fine, actually. You’d left it on the kitchen island. I had to smash it. Sorry.”

Kara’s not exactly smiling, but the affection is clearly there. “Thanks for having my back.”

“Always.”

Seconds pass and Alex starts tapping her thumb to the wheel rhythmically. She throws another furtive glance at Kara, who’s running her palm up and down her thighs. It’s a gesture Alex’s seen her do it a million times, but now, she does it slowly, and with great attention. 

Okay. Alex knows that sometimes, Kara checks out, lost in her own little world, but her silence is stretching beyond what she’s is comfortable with.

So, she pokes Kara’s thigh, startling her. “You’re getting more and more taciturn, in your old age. Where are the rambles of yesteryear?”

“Do you miss them?” Kara answers with complete seriousness.

Kara’s questions often land exactly where they weren’t mean to. Or maybe the opposite? Alex can’t figure it out, anymore. She used to be so good at it. 

The rain running down the windows turns the city into a blurry mess. “Sure, they were cute.” Those excited little rambles, about mole rats, or whatever. They made her melt, like she was Kara’s whole world. Oh, well. She turns back to her. “But hey, whatever works for you at the moment.”

Kara gives her such a kind, piercing look, that she almost turns her head away again.

“Although,” Alex continues, cautious, if only to break the silence. “I wanted to ask you something. I got a text from Maggie. Obviously, she knows what happened with Reign, she was on the ground with the NCPD. The funny thing is, she mentioned that Lena, who doesn’t know you’re Supergirl, called her to let her know Kara was injured but safe and doing better. Maggie wanted to make sure we kept our stories consistent. What’s up with that?”

Kara gets that thinky little crinkle between her eyes, guileless. “What do you mean?”

“Seriously? Why would Lena have Maggie’s number? They only met once. Well, twice, technically, but you know, jail and all that. Why would Lena feel the need to inform her you’re safe? They’re not friends. You and Maggie were… amicable, at best. What’s going on?”

“Oh! Okay. No, no, we’re friends, actually. Lena, Maggie and I,” Kara says like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “She was Maggie’s shoulder to cry on after you broke up, and they get along really well. We had dinner. I like Maggie, I’m glad I got to know her better. So, I guess Lena wanted to make sure she knew that I was doing okay.”

Alex gapes at her “Kara, what the— Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kara looks confused. “You were dealing with your breakup, I wasn’t going to bring up what Maggie was up to. Lena was there for her, helped her out until she found a new place.”

Alex narrows her eyes. “What do you mean, she helped her out until she found a new place? Wait—” Oh, Jesus. “Lena was the friend whose couch she told me she’d crash on when she left?”

Kara sighs, and it’s so devoid of annoyance it makes Alex’s skin crawl. “Nobody hid anything from anyone. Okay?” Infuriatingly, Kara waits for Alex to nod curtly before continuing. “Maggie lied to you, she had no friends she could stay with. Only a motel. The day you and I drove to Midvale, I asked Lena to check up on her, in case she was alone, because I had this feeling. And I was right. Lena’s a kind person, so she offered to let Maggie stay with her until she found somewhere suitable. The night before she left, we had a celebratory dinner. Lena’s a great cook. That’s all.”

Alex deflates. Yeah, that’s all. Kara and Maggie are friends, Lena and Maggie are friends, they had dinner together, Lena calls Maggie to update her about Kara’s condition. Fuck. Alex rubs her face harshly. Everything is changing. The train is leaving the station without her. What else is new.

“Alex.”

She plasters on a smile to contain her frustration. “Yes, Kara?”

Kara’s not smiling. “No more pity parties. I understand that you and Maggie had different priorities in life, but you broke up with her, not the other way around. You don’t get to complain about a damn thing.”

Alex almost chokes. “So, wanting a kid is too high a standard?”

“No. But it’s a standard. Just like Maggie had hers.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

Kara chuckles. “I almost died. I will kill one of the last of my people on Earth, if I can, and even if she’s a monster, it hurts. To protect all of you. I’m the only one who can do it. Kal—“ She shuts her eyes briefly. “Clark, can’t help me. She’d eat him up. I’m stronger, you know that. And I’ve been through hell, several times over. So, I’m done with your bullshit. Never, ever again bitch to me about the fact your first girlfriend wasn’t everything you needed her to be. Understood?”

Her voice is gentle but firm, her gaze unwavering. There’s none of the sweetness of Kara the little sister, none of the steel of Kara the superhero. Alex stares at her. She’s never used that kind of language, before. Who are you?

“You think I didn’t try?”

“You’ve got to admit you kind of sprang it on her. Children being a dealbreaker. After proposing. And after she said yes.”

Alex wants to scream.

Kara shakes her head and continues, “Look, you had someone who wanted to spend her life with you. You gave it up, rightly so, for your own reasons, for your own happiness. But now, you’ve got to do the work. Find someone else. Someone to build whatever you think a family is. Or do it alone. It’s up to you.”

Alex snorts. “Oh, here’s the expert.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a virgin, Kara. You’ve never been in a relationship. You don’t know anything about what it takes.”

Kara shakes her head. “I know more than you do.”

“What?”

“I do have someone. And I’ve worked to be with her a whole lot more than you ever did with Maggie. You’re the novice, here, not me.”

Alex stumbles. “Are you fucking kidding me? Is it Lena? Are you in love with her?” She waves it off. “I can’t believe it. You’re telling me I should have brought up the kids thing sooner while there’s a mammoth in the room between you and Lena? Jesus, that’s rich.”

“Ah, yes. That’s exactly the same thing. And you were always ever supportive of me telling her.” Kara rolls her eyes, just barely, but gives her another gentle smile. “See? I love you so much, but you don’t understand what it means, yet. To be with someone. To build. Go find yourself a girl who wants the same things you do, or don’t. And let me live my life on my own terms. I am done with the DEO, with having to report to you, to J’onn, to anyone, done training in a room with kryptonite, done with those sun lamps that don’t work because they’re nothing compared to the real thing.”

And here’s she is, after all. the Girl of Steel. Even defeated and weak. Alex doesn’t see her sister, she sees a Kryptonian who’s lived longer, been through more, been wiser. Someone who could burn the world in seconds. Alex blinks. “All right.”

“All right.” Kara traces the path of a drop of water down the window. “So, what’s the story you gave Lena?”

Alex drags her nails through her hair again, tries to pull herself together. “I knew the broken phone wouldn’t be enough of a deterrent. So, after you woke up, I went to L-Corp, flashed my badge so they’d let me into her office. I kept it consistent with the CatCo version, just added a few more details. Minor injuries, a couple nights at the hospital.”

Kara’s eyes linger on the water. “Did she ask to visit me? At the hospital?”

Alex huffs. “Why do you even ask? Of course she did. She looked like she was about to vomit all over her fancy desk when I barged into her office. She thought I was about to tell her you were dead. I didn’t want her to start asking questions about visiting hours or room numbers, so I said I was about to pick you up and take you to my place so I could keep an eye on you. That you’d call as soon as you felt up to it. And she, being the gracious lady we all know her to be, nodded politely and only asked for my address so she could send you flowers.”

“You played her like a fiddle, huh?”

“Oh, how I loved using her stupid manners against her. I knew she’d do it first thing, too. You should have seen me, rushing back home to catch the delivery guy. You’ll have to come by to pick up the bouquet. And…” Alex fishes a thick card out of her pocket. “Here. This came with the flowers.” 

Kara looks at it, a baby fawn in the headlights.

She takes it with an unsteady hand. Whether it’s because she doesn’t know how to handle paper without super strength, or because the thought of Lena’s private words makes her emotional, Alex doesn’t know. She looks at the asphalt beyond the windshield. She respects Kara’s privacy, but she’s not a saint, she’s read what Lena wrote on that folded card. It was pure love. Adoration.

But Kara doesn’t unfold it, just tucks it in the pocket of the zipper they gave her at the DEO, and gives Alex a strange look.

“I’m sorry, you know. For all the lies you’ve had to make up for me, over the years.”

Alex shrugs. “You’ve had to lie ever since you landed here. I lie all the time about my job… That’s what we do. We lie. Hide.”

“Yeah.”

“Come on, you need to get some rest. I’ll walk you up.”

Kara frowns. “You’ll get a parking ticket.”

“Consider it waived.” Alex unclips her seatbelt. It coils back into place with a snap, startling Kara. “Perk of the job.”

“You used to be big on rules and following them, back in high school,” Kara says. “What happened?”

You happened.

~

Kara takes off her shoes, watches Alex place the painkillers on the kitchen island. “Two pills—”

“—If I’m sore or headachy, every six hours,” Kara recites gently. “Got it.”

Alex nods stiffly. Kara worries all the time, about these ailments, these diseases and conditions humans can and do get. It’s only fair that Alex would worry about her, too, on those unconceivable days when something like paracetamol might be relevant to Kara.

Alex shoves her hands in her jacket pockets. “Okay, I’m off. Unless you need anything?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks for driving me home.”

Alex steps closer, and the hug she give Kara feel crushing. Is this how Alex hugs her all the time?

“Be good.” Alex opens the door and steps outside. “Oh, and be careful if you use a kitchen knife or put something in the oven. All these things you don’t normally pay attention to. You’re not made of steel, tonight. Don’t get hurt.”

Kara nods, still stunned from the hug. It was loving, but so… Brusque. “Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

The door closes behind Alex, and the silence that settles over Kara’s apartment hits her. She can hear the hum of the fridge, a truck passing along the building, but that’s about it. It’s nothing like the usual cacophony. Nothing flowing through pipes, crawling in walls, screaming in pain a thousand miles away. Just her own slow, shallow breathing.

She touches her fingertips to her forehead. It’s a little tender. A lot? She’s not sure, doesn’t have much of a point of reference.

The last part is hazy. Reign held her above the void, at the edge of that skyscraper. What thoughts crossed her mind, what prayers for her loved ones, if any? She doesn’t remember. Did she black out before even touching the ground, oblivious to the sinking of her body into an explosion of concrete? She remembers other things, though. The relentless pounding of Reign's blows. Violence, powerlessness. Relief, too. To be helpless, outmatched, for once. All choices taken from her, made for her. The certainty that something would embrace her, take her somewhere peaceful and let her see her world again.

She unfolds Lena’s card. It doesn’t tear.

Thank you for not leaving me alone, here. I love you to the moon and back.

Yours always,

Lena

Kara smiles at Lena’s vivid handwriting, her brave words. Yes. She’s the one. The one what, Kara’s not sure. 

She walks over to her bookshelves. Humans feel the heaviness of their body, gravity tethers them,  pulls them down. It’s unfamiliar. She plucks out her old copy of The Odyssey. It’s heavier than she imagined it to be. She flips through the pages.

Pour out your libations now, and send me safely off. Farewell to you, now everything my dear heart once desired has come about — a convoy and these gifts of friendship. May the gods of heaven make me content with them. When I come home, may I find my peerless beloved, and all my family safe.

She safely tucks the card between the pages, before returning the book to its spot on the shelf.

She wipes her forehead, licks her lips. They’re dry. Is that thirst? It’s somewhere between foreign and forgotten, this feeling.

Usually, she only drinks mineral water. The kind that comes in glass bottles, not plastic ones. The water in those tastes full of disgusting particles, almost as bad as tap water.

But today, it might not. It might taste normal.

She pulls open a cabinet and comes face first with Lena’s Eeyore mug. Her fingertips inch towards it. There’s no need to be careful, tonight, no need to handle things like they’re made out of crepe paper. But she doesn’t remember how.

The weight of it takes her by surprise and the mug slips from her fingers the second it’s out of the cabinet. She slaps a horrified hand to her mouth as it clatters into the sink. No, please. Not this one. Please.

It rolls a bit and stills, intact.

Kara heaves out a big sigh, presses a palm to the worn of her zipper, feels her roaring heart and almost laughs in relief. She rights the mug, this time using enough pressure that it actually stays in her hand. She’s never had a chance to learn the weight of things, here. The difference between a leaf, a mug, a book or a thirty-pound dumbbell…

But not tonight. Tonight, Lena’s mug sits cold and solid against her palm.

Keeping it prudently low in the sink in case it slips again, Kara fills it to the brim.

She smells the water. No ammonia, no chloramine. They’re there, but undetectable.

She drinks, careful, and then not so careful, because it finally tastes like water, fresh and quenching.

To feel the cold again, and her body coming alive, thirsty for something vital and good. Halfway through the mug, her body tells her to stop. It’s enough, she’s hydrated. God… She wishes her body could communicate with her like that every day. Like it used to, on Krypton.

She tips her head back and stares at the lights above, feels the air brush across her wet lips. A kaleidoscope of lights dances across her retinas, blinding her. Her eyes can’t stare at bright lights, or see in the dark, or see through things, see the infinitely far, the infinitely close.

The human world feels, then, smaller. More alien. It pushes back, limits her. It’s good.

She looks down from the lit mason jars above and waits for the spots clouding her vision to dissipate. 

She imagines Lena making her tea and warning her about how hot the mug is, the way she always does, but this time, it would be true. She once told Kara she’d warmed up her side of the bed, and if she said it again, it would be true. It would all be true, for a day or two, three, if Kara’s lucky and Reign’s thrashing was enough to drain the sun out of her long enough.

A strange gift, like a black flower.

She leaves the mug in the kitchen, moves to the gauzy curtains separating her bedroom from the living room area. Runs her palm over the material with with a heady sense of safety. She slips into the bathroom, turns the shower on and smiles when she gets to stick her hand under the water feels it turn from icy cold, to lukewarm, to—

She pulls her hand away reflexively, looks at it with curiosity. Did she almost get burned? 

Sensations are so immediate, so clear. Nothing like the endless numbness of her life.

She adjusts the temperature, playing with it just for the newness and fun of it. When she undresses, her clothes slide off and the air touches her skin. It makes her shiver. She prods at her bruises, and then it’s a shock of water against skin, a shock of warmth, a rain of touches. She has to step out for a minute, just to process it. It’s gentler, when she steps back in. It relaxes her. She cries a little.

~

Lena tries to pay attention, she really does. It’s a documentary Kara recommended, and it’s beautiful, calming. But even meanderin shots between the Sudanese pyramids of Meroe, aren’t enough to distract her. 

She misses Kara. Against her better judgement, she texts Alex, now that she has her number. She doesn’t care if for once in her life, she appears needy.

Lena [8:47 PM] : Hi, Alex. Is Kara back at her place?

It’s like her first texts with Kara, awkward and stilted.

Alex [8:49] : I dropped her off an hour ago.

Lena is still thinking of a response when Alex sends another text.

Alex [8:49] : Go cheer her up.

Lena [8:49]: I don’t want to spring a surprise visit on her. I know she doesn’t like that

Alex [8:50]: Sure, Emily Post. You know the dork still has a landline, right?

Lena lifts an eyebrow at her phone.

Lena [8:51]: Can you send me her number? I’ll trade you my priceless original edition of Post’s Etiquette for it.

Alex [8:53]: Keep it and sell it, you need the money more than I do.

A few seconds later, Alex texts her the number.

Lena [8:54]: Thank you.

She waits in case Alex has anything else to say, but no reply seems forthcoming. She runs her hand over her face as the reality of the situation sinks in. Kara’s fine. Well enough to be home by herself. The relief twists her stomach.

She saves the number and presses the little phone icon with a shaky thumb.

It rings, and rings. Maybe Kara’s resting with her headphones, or too far gone to hear as she sleeps.  Or not in the mood to talk. Lena is thinking about what kind of voicemail she’s going to leave when the click of Kara picking up startles her.

“Hello?”

Kara’s voice is hesitant. Her voice. Like landing, stepping out of a plane on solid ground.

“Hey, it’s me,” Lena manages. “Alex gave me your number.”

Silence. Lena wonders if she made a mistake, calling impulsively like that, but that stabbing thought is snuffed out like a wet match. And really, that’s the thing. The certainty Kara brings into her life, and her own strength to trust it.

“She makes fun of me for still having a landline, but I knew it would be important, some day.”

“So that vintage rotary phone on your desk isn’t just for show.” With Kara, nothing is for show. Lena gets up from her seat and stands in front of her endless windows. Imagines the stars beyond the light pollution. Hears Kara take a breath in.

“I know you’ve been worried. Everything’s been… a lot. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out.”

“I thought I’d lost you.” Lena presses her cheek to her phone.

“I thought of you, you know.” Kara sounds a little out of breath, like it’s too much. “Before I passed out, and I was pretty sure I was going to die, I thought of you.”

“I love you,” Lena says, borrowing a page from Kara’s book, her devastating simplicity. “How are you? Do you need anything? I can bring you meds, food… — I won’t overstay my welcome.”

Kara’s breathing is still shallow.

“I love you, too. Come over. Please.”

~

Kara shivers, pulls the blanket over herself and welcomes the cold, and the warmth, and everything, all the sensations usually denied to her. She wants to sleep. It’s been so long since she’s felt tired, but the doorbell rings, and it can only be Lena, so she stumbles off the couch and opens the door.

And there she is, the friend that made a nest in her heart in, what, barely a year? She obviously came straight from the office, elegant and all dolled up. Wisps of hair escape her neat bun. She looks as human as Kara feels. She thinks Lena will never look more beautiful than she does now, but she knows it’s not true. Humans will always be radiant, alive in all the flaws they think they have.

She smiles, and Lena smiles back, puts the paper bag she was carrying on the floor and hugs her. There is none of the tragedy and tearful reunion Kara was expecting. It’s contact, and lightness, a  hug and fading perfume.

Lena, who has a small inch on her in her torturous high heels, even lifts her up a little in her arms. It feels so new.

“I can’t spin you around,” Lena whispers. “But one day, I will. Once I use that damn gym membership I’ve been uselessly paying for.”

A stubborn smile makes its way onto Kara’s lips. “Okay. One day.” Joy, joy, joy. The deep, irresistible kind that cuts through all the sadness. She knew, abstractly, visually, that Lena always hugged her gently. But now, she feels it. In all of her bones, her flesh, her synapses, everything. Everywhere.

She pulls back, touches a finger to Lena’s face, because tonight, she won’t break it.

Those eyes, those green eyes, and the tiredness even her flawless makeup can’t hide. Has anyone ever been more touching?

Lena mimics her gesture and brushes the pads of her thumbs under Kara’s eyes. “I’ve never seen those before. These dark circles. They look good on you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Kara asks, mesmerised. Dark circles under her eyes, beautiful. Finally. Someone knows.

Lena’s smile grows brighter, a little mischievous. “Human, all too human.”

Kara almost smiles at the reference, but she doesn’t have the energy for banter. Lena’s insight  should make her nervous, worried about her secret, but she can only touch the soft sleeve of Lena’s coat, carefully enough that Lena probably won’t notice. Her secret isn’t threatened, at least for now. It’s seen for what it is. The truth behind the truth. 

“Stay with me, tonight?”

Lena nods and touches Kara’s sleeve in return. It hadn’t go unnoticed after all. She’s the one person who can hold her gaze that long in silence, as if she was diving into Kara’s eyes as much as Kara plunges into hers.

“Can I kiss you?” Kara asks, reckless and torn.

Lena nods again. She looks so peaceful.

Kara kisses her cheek, and the sensation of Lena’s warm, pliant skin overwhelms a little. And then, she cries. She breaks into tears. Can’t help it. Tonight may be a night for tears, happy and sad. Lena smiles down at her and envelops her into another hug, like it’s all fine.

“Sorry, I—”

“No, no, no.” Lena cradles the back of her head. “Don’t talk. My sweetheart. My baby. My little darling.” Kisses her temple. “I will take care of everything as long as you want me to.”

Kara’s tears seep into Lena’s coat, half collapsed into her.

“I’m tired,” She says hoarsely. Her voice never gets hoarse. This, too, is new. Just for a couple of days, maybe. Then it will fade. It hurts.

Lena pulls back and lifts her face with a finger. “Chin up, Kara Danvers.”

And that makes her cry harder, and she’s a mess. It sucks and it’s wonderful.

Lena rubs her back with that same, puzzling smile. “Go lie down. Put on a documentary, a romcom… I’ll make myself presentable and then we’ll have dinner, if you feel like it.”

Kara opens her mouth but Lena places a soft finger over her lips. “Not now. I’ve got you.”

Kara nods, wrung out of words.

~

She’s half asleep on the couch, listening to a soft-spoken researcher detailing the wonders of the Minoan civilisation, when Lena crouches next to her. No more makeup, no more designer clothes, no more nothing. Just Lena, in Kara’s worn pyjamas. The Laika shirt. Of course. Always the Laika shirt.

“Hey.”

Kara offers a sleepy smile in response. Lena runs the back of her fingers down her cheek.

“Hungry? Or do I store it all in the fridge and make sure you get to bed?”

Kara closes her eyes, breathes out, slowly, and then in. Go back to the living. Live, suffer, and thrive. 

She pushes herself up into a sitting position with a little difficulty, dizzy and resolute. “Hungry.”

Lena offers her the loveliest, most knowing smile she’s ever given her. “Coming right up.” And then a tilt of her head. “Why this documentary?”

Kara feels like an alien because of all the love pouring in and out of her. Well, she is an alien, but— “They were happy, you know? The Minoans. Vibrant. They created so much art, and they were peaceful, but they just went… dead. And—” And what else? But Lena doesn’t seem worried, or anxious, just attentive.

“So…,” Lena ventures. “I’ve got a naughty proposition.”

“Oh?”

“Lentil soup.”

Kara touches Lena’s hand, gives it an experimental squeeze. “Okay.” And nothing happens, bones don’t get broken, no suffering on either side.

“And Turkish bread, mango lassis, and a complimentary mint tea from the cook when I told him you were feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Is that from our secret place?”

Lena smirks. Her boardroom smirk, but with a glint of playfulnes. She pulls the blanket over Kara’s knees and leaves for the kitchen, soon coming back with a tray laden with steaming bowls and bread.

She sits next to Kara and carefully balances it over their lap. Hands her a spoon with a little flourish.

And it smells so good. Not in the overwhelming way it usually does, just simple and rich, real. Something within Kara takes over, the desire to taste food the way humans experience it. She digs in and burns herself.

As she’s trying to deal with the foreign pain along her palate, a terrifying fear washes over her, that she’s just given herself away. But Lena hands her a glass of water she hadn’t even even noticed was on the tray. Maybe Lena’s right. Maybe it’s all… right. Perhaps not before, perhaps not after, but now.

Kara drinks up, and the cool water washes the heat away. “Sorry.”

Lena points at the small glass of Turkish tea, garnished with its little sprig of fresh mint. “Careful, this one’s hot, too.”

~

When Kara comes out of the bathroom after brushing her teeth and washing her face, she finds Lena arranging a clean sheet on the couch. It’s odd, not being able to tell what Lena’s doing from another room, another block. It’s not a bad feeling.

“Can I steal one of your pillows?” Lena asks as she carries their dishes to the sink, like she’s home.

Kara comes close and offers her hand, palm up. Lena looks puzzled look but goes along with it, slips her hand into hers. It’s so harmless.

“Come to bed with me,” Kara murmurs, and she’s not an idiot, she knows how that sounds. “Like last time?”

“Like last time.” Lena rubs Kara’s shoulder with her free hand. It’s warm through Kara’s shirt. It’s only going to last a little while before the sun decides otherwise. It’s cruel. “Let me just finish tidying up, I’ll join you in a minute.”

Kara manages a little smile and goes to her room, all but collapses onto her mattress and struggles to lift the duvet and slip underneath it. Everything is so heavy, it’s uncanny.

She hears Lena clean whatever dishes were left, then put the leftovers in the fridge.

She’s lying on her stomach in the most ungraceful way when Lena arrives.

Lena bends down and kisses her back.

“Lights off, or do you want to read, watch something?” 

Kara swallows, loud. “Lights off. Can we cuddle again?”

Lena pretends to give it some thought, taps a finger to her lips. She frowns down at Kara, but there’s mirth in her eyes. “Maybe. But this time, I’m cuddling you.”

Oh, all this beauty, all this sorrow, wrapped up into one. Into love.

Lena turns off the bedside lamp and slips under the covers. “Come here.”

For once, the darkness is truly blinding. Kara feels her way across the bed, into Lena’s waiting arms.

Lena presses her close, but not the way Alex did, earlier. It’s not tight, it’s… supportive. Embracing. And it doesn’t end. All these new sensations seep into Kara’s own senses. Lena’s scent, perceived differently. Her warmth. The shape of her body, felt, not just seen.

She nestles her face into the crook of Lena’s neck. “What did you call me, earlier?”

Lena thinks about it, starts stroking Kara’s hair. Wow. 

“My baby?” She suggests.

Kara shakes her head against her.

“My beloved?”

Kara smiles, eyes closed. “You just added that one.”

“You got me. So, what else was there,” Lena muses, still running her fingers through Kara’s hair and lightly scratching her scalp now and then. “My sweetheart, was it?”

“Yes, but no.”

“Ah, I see. My little darling? That’s the one you like?”

“Mhm,” Kara admits, face heating up.

“Why not just darling?”

“It’s formal. Impersonal. It can be playful, I guess, but… I don’t think I like playful, for these things.”

Lena shifts so they’re facing each other, still holding her. Kara touches her lovely hair, without risk, without fear.

“What do you like, for these things?” Lena asks, sneaking a small kiss to Kara’s hand in the process.

“I’m not sure. Something more personal, just for the people sharing, uh…” She swallows. It’s loud. “These intimate moments.”

Lena lets out a thoughtful little hum. “I think I’d prefer that, too.” A pause. “I wasn’t just asking about loving little names, though.”

“Oh.” Kara licks her lips. “You know I’ve never been close like that with anyone, before. So, how would I know?”

“Fair,” Lena opines.

Kara knows Lena’s not indulging her. She always respects her. But she also knows Lena is a few steps ahead in whatever conversation they’re having. Kara can usually keep up, but now? She’s more than happy to let Lena guide her. Well, when is she not, if she’s being honest with herself?

“Then,” Lena continues, “Is there something you think might like?”

Kara searches her face in the dark. “Now? With you?”

“No,” Lena answers firmly. “That would be very presumptuous of me. And pushy. I just love getting to know you.”

Kara thinks long and hard. All right. She’ll do it.

“There is something. But, um…” Oh, gosh, that’s hard to push out. “What if it was with you that I wanted to do it?”

Lena doesn’t answer her question, but the fact her hand doesn’t still in Kara’s hair, that her breathing is as even as ever, and there’s no stillness, no apparent surprise, is answer enough, Kara thinks.

“And what would that something be?”

Kara, on the other hand, feels almost feverish and can’t conceal it.

“I think I’d love to— to feel things. To be touched. Not in a weird way, but not by anyone else.”

Lena takes her hand and kisses the back of it. “How do you want me to touch you?”

Kara’s heart rate skyrocketing. Lena must feel it, even without super hearing.

“I trust you.”

Lena kisses her cheek. “Any sensitive spots since that devil hurt you?”

“A little bit of everywhere,” Kara breathes out. “I’ve got bruises all over.”

“Do you want some painkillers? I can go out to the nearest pharmacy.”

Kara places Lena’s hand to her cheek with her own trembling one. “I’ve had some, already. Alex said, every six hours.”

“Okay. I’ll be careful.” Lena takes her wrist and presses a kiss to her pulse point, probably feels it beat like a birds crashing into the walls. “You’re shaking. Do you want a massage? Just to bring things back down a little.”

Kara’s breath hitches. “I’ve never had one,” And even to her own ears, it sounds absurd.

Lena doesn’t respond right away. Instead, she brushes Kara’s hair back, kisses her cheek again.

“We could try. I’ll stop if you ask me to.” She rubs Kara’s side for a minute, in comfortable silence. “What do you think?”

Tears gather up behind Kara’s eyes, again burning. She manages to push them back, this time. “So far, so good.”

Lena hums, and Kara can tell she’s soaking up information in real time and adjusting to her.

“Can I lie on top of you?”

What? Oh, whatever. Lena knows what it’s like to be human. Kara doesn’t. So, she nods in the dark.

Lena moves a little. her body is on top of Kara’s for real, like she’s deliberately putting her weight on her, and it feels… Heavy, grounding. Kara doesn’t have words for it. It emboldens her, as her body relaxes, and she places her hands on Lena’s hips.

“Still good?” Lena asks.

Kara nods. “Really good. Can I touch you, too?”

Even in this darkness, she can tell Lena is smiling.

“You can do anything you want.”

So, she slips her hands under Lena’s sleep shirt. Feels her sides, her back, lightly digging her fingers into her skin.

“I love your body.” She’s crazy, why is she saying all these things?

The lightest little kiss on her nose. “I know. You’ve always made me feel beautiful. Inside and out.”

Kara’s wishes she has a smartwatch to tell her how fast her heart is beating. And it’s not even Lena’s words, it’s her tone. Kindness beyond kindness. “Where else can I touch you?”

Now that Kara’s briefly human, she can see how long it takes for their eyes to adapt to the night. It’s done, now, and she can see Lena, a little.

“Anywhere.” Another little kiss.

Kara hugs her. Brings her down against her, relishes the weight.

Lena slips an arm under her neck. It’s nice. Makes Kara feels supported, not contained.

“I don’t know what to do.” 

“There’s no script that I know of. It’s all pretty new. Let’s figure it out together.”

The magnitude of the betrayal that is to come. Fucking secrets.

“Can I kiss you, then? For real, this time,” Kara asks, desperate.

Lena tilts her head. “No.”

Oh.

“First things first. Let’s finish this massage.”

Kara closes her eyes and nods, lets go of everything. Come what may.

Lena lifts herself up on her elbow, and soon after, Kara feels her warm hand at the junction of her neck and shoulder, kneading gently, but firmly. After a while, Kara feels her neck relax even though she had no idea it was tense.

“Any bruises there?”

Kara can hardly breathe. “I don’t think so.”

A small kiss to her shoulder, through her shirt, and then the massage resumes.

Her upper arms, her lower arms, her fingers, her stomach, everywhere, and she has never felt so much. So boneless, like she’s resting for the first time in forever. She’s almost hyperventilating, at this point.

Lena lies back down, half on top, half next to her. “I know, my little darling. I know. You’re okay.”

And because Lena seems chronically unable to be wrong, Kara is okay. Her breathing slows over a minute or two.

“There you go,” Lena says. “Do you want some water?”

Kara shakes her head. You’re all the water I want.

Lena draws her back into their initial position, face to face, and strokes her back. “Hey. I have a little more experience than you when it comes to physical intimacy, but for what it’s worth, I’ve never felt that, either. When you touch me.”

Kara caresses her cheek, eyes closed. Feels her, under her palm. Lena leans into it. Silence again, for a long while.

And then, Lena speaks. “So, how about that kiss?”

“You still want it?”

“Hm,” Lena muses, “Not with these tears.” What? Oh. Kara hadn’t even realized. Lena wipes them off Kara’s cheeks. “No more sadness. You can kiss me, now.”

Kara chuckles. “I don’t know how to do it. Can you kiss me?

“Here?” Lena asks, light touching Kara’s lips. “Just to make sure.”

“Yes. Right here.”

Lena kisses her. Oh. It’s like a cloud passing over Kara’s lips, or an angel’s kiss.

“Again?”

Kara nods.

Lena kisses her again, and then below the ear. “You all right?”

“I don’t know,” Kara whispers, pushing the words out.

Lena watches her, gently scratches her scalp again. It make Kara’s eyelids flutter shut. “Is it too much?”

Kara manages a chuckle. “As if. You will never hurt me.” It’s more of a prayer than a certainty, but what are prayers for, if not for doubt.

“I will never hurt you.” Another feather-light kiss. “Do you want to try to deepen it a little bit?”

Kara holds Lena's wrist, keeps her hand there, cradling her cheek. “Yeah. I love you.”

Lena kisses her, lips more present, and moving against hers, and Kara feels herself doing the same, finding a rhythm, sharing breath. Kara’s never kissed anyone without that devastating fear that she’ll break their nose, their teeth, tear their lips apart in some horrific way… But it’s not that, right now. It’s soft lips, and soft curves, and soft everything. She even feels the brush of Lena’s tongue against hers, like a secret language.

It doesn’t last long. Lena pulls back slowly. 

Kara, uncharacteristically bold, kisses her neck. Lena shivers.

“So,” Kara whispers. “How are you doing?”

Lena touches her nose to hers. “A little overwhelmed. Can we just go to sleep, for now?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Lena presses a little kiss to her lips, wiggles off of her and out of the bed. The light coming out of the fridge briefly shatters the darkness. Soon, Lena comes back with two bottles of water. She sets one on Kara’s beside table, the other on hers, and slips back under the duvet, opens her arms.

“Fall asleep with me?”

Kara sinks into her embrace again. “Can I kiss you goodnight, though?”

Lena shakes her head, lovingly, and Kara’s pretty sure she’s rolling her eyes. They kiss, again. It doesn’t go past what they've done a moment before. It’s even a little chaste, but it lasts longer.

“As uncharitable as it might sound,” Lena confesses, sounding conspiratorial, “Jack doesn’t hold a candle on you when it comes to kissing.”

Kara blinks. “I’m good at it?”

“Oh, boy.” Lena strokes her cheek. “I don’t like messy kisses. You can be passionate without drooling all over each other, you know? You do it just right. For me.”

“For you.”

Lena nods. “And am I doing it right for you?”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, very much so.”

Kara pushes herself up a little, kisses Lena’s neck again and gets a small, shaky sigh in return. “Just right. Just enough.”

Lena ruffles Kara’s hair, not hard. “You know, you might be the love of my life. I wouldn’t admit that to anyone else, not before getting some sort of guarantee that I won’t get my heart broken. But with you? I feel safe. I don’t even know what to do with these feelings. It’s the first time.”

Kara feels something within her break under the weight of her secret.

“Will you forgive me, one day, if I hurt you?”

Lena draws her closer, and they haven’t bothered pulling in the curtains, so Kara sees her eyes, clear even in the dark.

“I said,” Lena murmurs gently, “I feel safe. Make of that what you will.”

Kara kisses the corner of her mouth.

Lena chuckles, and it’s so unexpected. Reassuring. “We’ll figure it out.”

~

Lena wakes up, bleary-eyed. Checks her watch. Ten minutes before her morning alarm goes off. She shuts it off, so as not to wake up Kara. She might be able to slip out of bed, get ready and leave discreetly, let Kara rest.

Kara stirs up, anyway. “Hey.”

Lena sinks back into bed, helpless. “Hi. How did you sleep?”

“Were you about to leave?”

“Kind of. Not running away, but I was hoping to let you sleep a little more.” She thumbs Kara’s ear. “I have a question. If you’re awake enough for it.”

“Go ahead.”

And Lena loves her so much, so strongly. “How are we? The two of us, after last night.”

“Are you worried?’

Lena nods. “A little. A lot.”

“Why?”

It’s like their roles have been reversed, and Kara is now the calm, inquisitive one. Perhaps she’s always been, in their relationship. Undercover.

“I don’t want to ruin things. I’m afraid I’ll make a mistake, chase you out of my life.”

Kara sits up, seems to consider Lena’s words. Her eyes are so blue, in the morning light.

Kara touches her, under the Laika shirt. Even brushes a hand over her breasts. “I will never intentionally hurt you. That’s the only promise I can make.”

Lena feels the words travel all over her body. “Good enough.”

Kara tugs at her hair, so gently she hardly even feels it. “Do you have to go to work now?”

“I’m going to be late, actually. But I’m the boss, so… I’ve got some leeway. Do you want me to stay for a bit?”

Kara leans back into the pillows. “You might be the love of my life, too.”

Well, shit.

“What are we doing?”

Again, Kara puzzles her with a little shrug. “Loving each other, I think. In whatever ways we can.”

Lena pushes back. “No, no, no. We’re not figuring this out over years. I want to know. Now.”

“No, no, no,” Kara echoes, soft. “Your brilliant mind’s rushing ahead of itself again.”

The sunrise streams through the window. It’s all… light. Yes, okay. Time.

She sighs. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” She tugs on Kara’s shirt. “What do you think lovemaking means?”

“It’s literally making love. Creating love. So… Anything shared, really. Truly shared,” Kara answers right away, her smile filled with something Lena can’t quite figure out.

Lena shimmies across the bed so their bodies touch, drapes an arm over Kara’s waist. “So… We’ve been making love all this time? When we go to the museum, when I make you breakfast, when I kiss you…”

“Yep.”

“Then, when you go to game night with your friends, you’re making love, too?”

“Sure.” Kara grins. “But not the same kind. You get a special brand of love from me.” She lowers herself a little, puts her head against Lena’s shoulder. “Breathe with me?” 

Lena kisses Kara’s hair.

“In,” Kara murmurs, and Lena follows, “And out. In… And out. God, I’m shaking again. Sorry.”

Lena strokes her side, something she’s noticed relaxes Kara.

“You sound a little sad. Apprehensive, maybe. What’s going on?”

“You’ll find out soon. Can we just… be, for now?”

What is going on? Lena doesn’t understand. It feels like something is ending before it began. Lena has a knot in her stomach, and kisses Kara with all the love in her world. Trust is trust, and goddamn it, she’s in.

Kara meets her more than halfway, cups her cheek. “I love you,” She whispers between kisses. “Never forget that. No matter what.”

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to find out about.” Something alarming occurs to Lena and she pulls back to look at Kara. “Wait, you don’t have some terminal illness, right?”

Kara laughs, sad and joyful at the same time. “No, I promise. The opposite, in fact.”

“I don’t get it.” Lena searches her eyes.

Kara scratches a sensitive spot behind Lena’s ear. So, she’s noticed things, too. “Give me three days. Then, you’ll know.”

“Okay,” Lena answers, dazed and confused. “Three days?”

“Three days. Until I get… better. But for now, breakfast.”

~

“Oh, no, that wasn’t the end of it,” Lena manages around a mouthful of Greek yogurt and musli, ten minutes later. “He was persistent. Hideous flowers every damn day, for a week.”

Kara looks at steadily, chewing on her own muesli. “Didn’t I get an office full of flowers from a certain someone just after meeting them?”

Lena rolls her eyes. “First of all, yours were beautiful. But yes, my intentions were perverse from the beginning. No such thing as a heartfelt thank you for saving my reputation.” She takes a drink of tea and looks at Kara. “You’re feisty.”

Kara takes a drink of her own, eying her over the cup. “Just letting loose before the big revelation.”

“God.” Lena shakes her head. “You’re such an enigma. It’s giving this overactive mind of mine a rest. Come to the couch with me?”

Kara glances down at her bowl of muesli. “I’m not done.”

Lena grins, stands up and extends a hand. “Yes, you are.”

Kara grins right back, and lets Lena lead her to the couch, then does a surprisingly graceful gesture towards it, inviting her to go first. So, Lena lies down, and Kara does, too, pressed up against her in this tiny space of theirs. She blindly reaches up for the soft blanket folded across the back of the couch and covers them both.

They huddle together in silence for as long as time allows.

Lena feels held, body and soul, it’s ridiculous. It shouldn’t be possible. Maybe something like god exists, after all. To surprise you like this. With beauty, with caring, with humanity. Beyond all definitions.

~

Kara looks up from her book when Lena comes out of the bathroom, looking perfect, ready for the kind of daily corporate work Kara would crumble under.

“You’re stunning.”

Lena cocks her head, confidence radiating out of her. “What are you reading?”

Kara holds it up. Lena takes a look at the cover.

“Well, aren’t we a scholar.”

“Missed opportunity.”

“There’s still time.” Lena looks so happy. Luminous.

This is the last time Lena will think of her as human. Kara feels shattered, here, in her pyjamas, as Lena is about to go to work and kill it, as she always does. She sets the book away.

“Kiss me goodbye?”

Lena looks puzzled. “Of course, I’ll kiss you goodbye.” She gazes at Kara intensely. “That sounded… pretty final. Is this about this great revelation, three days from now?”

“Yeah.” Kara tries to smile. “Love me, until then.”

Kara can practically see Lena’s mind going into scanning mode.

“I can’t think of anything you might tell me that would make me love you any less.”

“Right now, you can’t. But you will.” Kara gets up, tugs on Lena’s flawless ponytail, careful not to undo it. “My beautiful human being.”

Lena seems lost. “I will understand.” And then, she kisses her, and it’s the loveliest thing. Slow and deep, the way Kara didn’t know she liked. “I will love you.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“No, I do. That’s my secret. For all of your days, if you want that.”

Kara burrows into Lena like a terrified rabbit. For all of her days? When she will outlive anyone she loves for millennia? No, it can’t be that way. She can’t lose anyone else. But she can’t tell Lena that.

“I had an uncle,” She says instead, speaking into Lena’s lovely dress. “He’s dead, now, but… He had a son. My cousin.”

Lena makes a little intrigued noise.

“He said to us, one day,” Kara tries, “That our family stood for hope. And that embodied within that hope, was the fundamental belief in the potential of every person to be a force for good.”

They will stumble, they will fall. They will join you in the sun. All the hopes and dreams of Krypton live in you, now.

Lena pushes her away gently, regards her, but says nothing.

“I just thought you should know. So that it might help you understand, when the time comes.”

“I wish I could have met them. Your family. Mine was… Different. Obviously.” That smile again, the one that drives Kara crazy, like there’s a million years worth of knowledge and love, there. Lena puts a hand on Kara’s chest, right where the El crest would be if she was wearing her supersuit. Kara goes wide-eyed. Lena whispers, “I can’t wait to find out who you are. We’re going to be okay. Trust me.”

And something within Kara knows, down to her core, that Lena isn’t playing games. That this gesture wasn’t some coded message to tell her she’s figured it out. It was to feel her heart, calm it.

“You can’t promise me that.”

Lena chuckles. “I can, and I do.”

~

Kara closes the door behind Lena after hugging her goodbye, sits on the couch. She’s going to lose her. In three days. 

It’s not fair.

But truth, and justice… No. Not that terrible motto. Not her cousin’s. Hers. Hope, help, compassion. It is fair. It’s right. No matter the cost. She was sent here for a reason. Her uncle's words ring in her ears, even though they were meant for Kal.

You will give the people of Earth an ideal to strive towards. In time, you will help them accomplish wonders.

A sensation is coursing through her fingers. She watches her hand, palm up, moves her fingers experimentally. Ah. So, it’s starting already. She looks out the window. The sun. Always the sun.

She hugs her head between her hands, presses hard on her temples, eyes shut tight. Then, she stands up.

~

Two days later, Lena is exiting LCorp, about to climb into her car, when there’s a deafening noise in the sky. All of National City knows what it means, by now. It’s Supergirl breaking the sound barrier. The sonic boom that tells them that someone, somewhere in the world, is about to be saved. She’s back. Lena looks up with a smile and barely catches Supergirl’s silhouette before she disappears into the clouds. The next moment, she locks eyes with someone walking down the street. For a few seconds, they share something. Hope. Wonder.