Chapter Text
Kara feels rather hesitant and she behaves like it, too, as she slowly steps into the luxuriant restaurant right next to her fiancé like she ought to. His arm that is pleasantly yet vigilantly linked with hers doesn’t offer any real comfort, is merely a reminder that they have found themselves to be in a very formal setting, one that feels entirely too conservative, one that, despite not being alone, makes her feel somewhat nervous. She is not used to dining with the kind of people that she can find here, sitting at the expensive tables in their elegant dresses while they delicately nibble on what Kara can tell is even more expensive food.
The quiet and constrained atmosphere does nothing but unsettle Kara even more, wishing she was back at another place instead. One of her favorites, where it’s loud and people look like they are actually having fun, not just pretending to be with their faux smiles and the fraudulent excitement they allegedly feel upon eating food and drinking gin that Kara suspects doesn’t taste nearly as good as her simple, homemade dinner and the beer that some of her friends seem to enjoy immensely.
Now Kara knows that she is not a part of the lower, working class, her fiancé providing for her like it is expected of him, but she decides, in that moment, that she enjoys spending time with them, some of whom have become her friends, considerably more than she does with the pretty and reserved people here. The tension that seems to hang in the capacious room causes her to feel notably uncomfortable, almost compels her to hide her hands in the pockets of her pants, lets her wish she could do something similar with her face. Although she does not like that presumably everyone is looking her way as they enter, with either disdain or admiration, she can’t quite tell, her fiancé’s encouraging smile aids to calm her profoundly. And yet she feels her hands get sweaty as soon as she lays eyes upon the woman that is elegantly sitting at the table they’re now approaching, then stands up impossibly more graceful when she spots the two of them, a polite smile grazing her flawless lips. It looks genuine enough in this setting and Kara finds her own lips curving upwards despite the fact that her heart seems to be beating a little too fast all of a sudden.
Kara can’t quite fathom why, but she supposes it has to do with the dark-haired woman she can’t tear her eyes away from. She is sure, then, when said woman opens her mouth to speak. Her voice is deep, somewhat hoarse and laced with even more politeness than her smile. It borders on being more captivating than those green eyes of hers and Kara feels helpless. She watches the interaction play out in front of her as though in some sort of trance, watches as her fiancé and, who she can only assume is his business partner, shake hands.
“Mr. Matthews.”
“Miss Luthor,” he acknowledges her just as politely, then places his other hand on the small of Kara’s back in what is supposed to be yet another comforting gesture. “May I introduce my fiancée? Miss Danvers.”
Kara knows she should simply nod and smile and let the rest be her fiancé’s responsibility, knows how she ought to behave in formal settings like this so as to not disrupt her love’s plan to come across as inherently noble as Miss Luthor really is, but she interrupts nonetheless, makes herself known in a way that is not necessarily wanted.
“Kara, please,” she says smoothly, smiles a civil smile, proceeds even when she can feel Michael’s hand tighten on her back. She dislikes being called Miss Danvers, always had, and she hopes that being on a first name basis will make this whole encounter less awkward than what it had shown to be so far, hopes that it will make her feel more comfortable. She’s not afraid to bend the rules a little to her own benefit every now and then, in a way she feels is more honest, more genuine. Her smile broadens when at least one person at the table seems to appreciate it.
“Kara it is,” Miss Luthor repeats her name gently, nods softly in her direction before she takes Kara’s hand with such confidence that almost lets the blonde’s fade. It’s a different kind of confidence, one that has been learned, one of certainty and knowing a lot about the world. Kara’s is merely a certain amount of innocence, that of a dreamer and an artist who can’t fathom the ridiculous rules that society has brought upon them. And it’s with said innocence that she bites her lip, looks to the floor to avoid the other woman’s eyes when the tension becomes too much to bear, when she fears that everyone in the room might be able to hear how loud her heart is suddenly beating.
Nobody does, of course, and so she simply proceeds to shake Lena’s company’s hand as well, a well-groomed and elegant man perhaps a few years older than Lena, before they all sit down and pretend to study the menu. Business can wait, apparently.
Kara doesn’t have to ask for the other woman’s first name, wouldn’t have dared to anyways. She is not going to use it, either, but she knows it’s Lena. She knows her name is Lena Luthor, just like everyone else does. Everyone in town recognizes that name, knows that the only Luthor left is by far the most wealthy woman in the area, knows that she owns the huge mansion that edges on fields and forests and everything that inspires Kara, everything that Kara deems beautiful about the landscape here.
And while she believes asking for her first name to be inappropriate, she sees nothing wrong with admiring the dress that she is wearing, one that only emphasizes just how prosperous she is. Yet Kara can’t help but feel it to be wrong, the way she’s admiring Lena’s dress even though she usually feels rather indifferent about this specific piece of clothing. When Michael coughs, then, clearly not caused by any health problems but rather something else that he despises and wants to draw attention to, Kara almost fears that she’s been caught. She doesn’t exactly know what she has done wrong, but feels incredibly relieved nonetheless when she sees that instead of her own gaze, it had been Lena’s that had caused her fiancé’s dismay.
The blonde doesn’t allow her mind to wander for even one delicate second, doesn’t allow herself to explore the numerous reasons Lena could have possibly been staring at her. She doesn’t dare hope that it’s because, for some reason, the dark-haired woman seems to admire her outfit as well, knows it’s not the case. Kara knows that the only reason one might be staring at her is the indelicate way she likes to dress, the way she prefers shirts over dresses and thoroughly despises corsets. It’s something that never fails to set her apart from most other women in the room, something that usually deflects attention rather than attract it. Kara is indifferent to it, really, and she almost finds herself blushing when she realizes that she earnestly hopes that her masculine clothes don’t actively hide all of her feminine curves, hopes that a woman like Lena might be able to detect them anyways. She knows it’s rather unlikely and yet she naively hopes that exactly this is the reason for the smirk that has found its way onto the other woman’s red lips.
“My apologies, Mr. Matthews, I did not intend to be rude,” Lena’s words are, again, polite, but the tone of her voice paints another picture, one that is notably more impolite, sounds almost mocking in the most elegant way, in a way Kara herself strives for. “But I was just wondering, isn’t it a shame that your lovely fiancée wears her shirt and tie better than you do?”
It is supposed to be a joke. Lena is laughing, rich and beautiful and Kara is immediately besotted, if not only for the fact that the other woman actually dares to joke like this, dares to taunt her business partner upon their first meeting, knows fully well that she is in a position to execute all of that and come across as charming, still. It works. At least for Kara, it does, the blonde now smiling, though she feels flustered more than anything, a flush creeping up her neck ever so discretely. She is glad for that, of course, although she is sure Michael wouldn’t have noticed anyways, his smile tight lipped and forced. Kara is not sure whether it’s the insult that is causing his dismay, or if it’s the simple and ongoing fact that she likes to wear pants. Something so simple that had yet caused so many troubles in the past.
“I wouldn’t call it a shame, Miss Luthor. I, for my part, like to be surrounded by women as breathtaking as Kara. Don’t you?” His voice sounds similar to hers now, his gaze challenging. When Lena holds her hands up in surrender and seemingly decides not to dwell on the matter at hand, Kara grows curious. She has undoubtedly missed her fiancé’s argument, his sly implication, and it frustrates her for she is usually so observant.
They start talking business after that, once their waiter had taken their order, a choice that Kara’s fiancé had so gracefully made his own and decided on something that she ought to enjoy. Kara hadn’t objected, for once not wanting to put up a fight, not in this environment, she had simply watched Lena make her own choice like it was the most natural thing to do.
Once they start talking about typewriters, start talking about her fiancé’s new inventions and the company he wants to build, the one that Miss Luthor seemingly wants to invest in, Kara does nothing but listen. She is not supposed to interrupt, is only here to accompany her love, after all. Just like Jack, the man next to Lena, is. Though it is expected of him, as a man, to let his opinion be known every now and then, when it seems relevant. His ideas matter, after all.
And yet Kara can’t help but wonder, can’t help but let her mind drift off once again, until she is no longer able to contain herself. She has to ask, overlooks Michael’s expression when she does so.
“May I ask you a question, Miss Luthor?” Kara requests all of a sudden, causing everyone sitting at the table to face her. It’s not expected of her to ask questions, to think, even, and Kara thinks it’s ridiculous, another rule she neglects confidently, doesn’t consider in her wondering state. She knows that if she turned around, Michael would look rather furious behind that civil mask he had put on earlier that day, in the midst of being nervous and doubting himself. Kara doesn’t blame him, doesn’t criticize his behavior. She feels as though he simply doesn’t know any better, isn’t sharp enough to question everything around him like she does. He obeys society’s structures and gladly takes whatever he receives in return. What does spark something in Kara, however, is the gleam she can clearly make out in Lena’s eyes. Kara can’t be certain, but it almost feels as though the other woman is challenging her, in a way, to ask. To ask whatever is on her mind. She gets a rise out of it and even though Kara can’t quite comprehend why, it spurs her on. “Why, if you have as much money as they say you do, would you want to invest in a small company rather than use it for something far greater, something that actually helps people?”
Her question isn’t meant to be accusatory, is asked out of sheer curiosity. But even Kara realizes how her words sound and her heart stops momentarily as she waits for an answer, then speeds up when Lena smirks at her, doesn’t chastise her for her rude behavior. She shakes off Michael, who has already opened his mouth to apologize, looking at Kara while doing so. “That is quite the ambitious question, Miss Danvers. May I ask what this pretty mind of yours is thinking of, exactly?”
Before Kara can answer, before she even has time to get accommodated to her cheeks heating up notably, Michael scoffs and shakes his head. “Oh don’t worry about it, Miss Luthor, she has all these ridiculous idea-“
“Well, I believe I might enjoy them. Kara seems like a bright girl, I’m sure she can communicate her thoughts just fine on her own.” Lena smiles a smile that doesn’t even try to look polite this time, before turning to face Kara with a much more genuine one. She seems positively interested in what Kara has to say and that alone is a feeling so great and startling that the blonde is all too eager to comply to Lena’s next words. “Go on.”
And so her excited rambling starts as soon as the words escape Lena’s lips and she is no longer as intimidated by the other woman’s elegance, rather admiring her even more now that she has shown to be on her side, has shown to be just as bright as she claimed Kara might be. Her love for what she believes in surpasses every bit of inhibition she has previously had. Lena giving her the chance to finally, freely talk about the things she is passionate about. And being taken seriously, as well, instead of merely being tolerated for all that she believes in.
“I- it’s my dream to teach children. All of them, even the ones who don’t have a lot of money or the luck to have been born into a noble family. It’s- I just, I don’t think it’s even remotely fair. Everyone deserves to get educated and everyone deserves to have the same chances. I believe that every single child, every single person on this planet harbors so much potential to explore what it means to be human, to explore the world around us and everything that we are- I, I mean… if we’d just give them, the chance, you know. The poor child around the corner, the one who doesn’t know how to read yet simply because, because society is so infuriatin- I, they could possibly be the one to make the next great invention, they might show more compassion than most noble people do, than the government doe-“
“That is quite enough, my love,” Michael tries his best for his voice to sound sweet and loving, but his intentions are clear in the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, in the way he holds Kara’s hand tighter than necessary. It almost makes her feel embarrassed for having gotten so carried away, in a setting that doesn’t ask for her opinion. She’s here to accompany her fiancé, not to discuss her still impossible ideas with someone who might not even take her seriously, after all, who might think that her views are rather naive and childish, just like her antics and the way she presented them.
Instead, Lena slowly brings her hands together over and over again in what is a deliberate clap. Kara spots an amused and, dare she hope, admiring smile on the other woman’s lips and it’s enough for her to dismiss her fiancé’s disapproving expression entirely, to pay the way his lips are pressed tightly together and the way his eyebrows furrow no mind, to focus on the beautiful issue at hand instead. The aforementioned issue being Lena, who almost makes her feel lightheaded, with her bravely placed trust in a young woman she doesn’t know. A woman whom she lets speak her mind nevertheless, because she fathoms that so far she’s only scratched the surface of what she is undoubtedly capable of. “Those are very ambitious ideas, Miss Danvers. Quite determined, too. And endearingly progressive. I understand it you are a teacher?”
Kara shakes her head, almost wistfully, worries her lower lip between her teeth before she looks up at Lena again, eyes wide and impossibly more blue. A blue that could be interpreted in so many ways. “I’m an artist.”
“An artist?” Lena sounds surprised, at first, then nods in what seems to be understanding, as if Kara’s behavior makes much more sense all of a sudden.
“An artist, yes. I paint and write. Poems, mostly.” Although Kara sounds quite confident when she talks, said words having left her lips more often than she dares to remember, she’s hesitant. She’s hesitant and timid, almost, as if someone who is here for business might not understand the delicate and yet powerful thing that art in itself is, as if all there is to Lena is this dinner, this invention she wants to invest in. And so Kara admits that she is bewildered when Lena proceeds to confess things that she can’t help but respect greatly, admire.
“You write? What about reading, then? I believe my library at home is just waiting for you to explore it. If you and your fiancé ever want to visit me at my residence, that is.”
It’s not only a question for Kara, not only a query of mingling and socialization. They’re still here for business, after all, and Lena’s words ask for another answer entirely, imply her stance on the situation as well. And so the next few seconds are accompanied, determined by wide eyes and longing looks, mostly from Kara’s part, followed by a nod from Michael that conclusively seals the deal.