Chapter Text
Three Months Ago, L-Corp Charity Gala
Kara Danvers stood awkwardly between two precariously stacked champagne towers, her fingers fidgeting with the stubborn zipper of her clutch. She told herself she was just killing time, just people watching like any good journalist would. But even she wasn’t buying that. Her eyes kept drifting again and again, to one particular corner of the ballroom.
It wasn’t the ornate ceiling or the glittering chandeliers that drew her attention. Nor the murmurs of old money deals floating through the air like perfume. No, Kara’s gaze had fixed itself, almost magnetically, on the striking woman standing effortlessly apart from the crowd. She was all angles and elegance in a floor-length emerald gown, a glass of scotch balanced carelessly in one hand and an expression that made it clear she answered to no one.
Lena Luthor.
Kara had read about her, of course who hadn’t? Tech genius, CEO, the cold steel behind L-Corp’s meteoric rise. A woman with a reputation as sharp as her jawline and a smile rarely seen in public. But what the tabloids hadn’t captured was the way she moved, like she was aware of every gaze in the room but completely indifferent to it. She looked untouchable. Unbothered. And absolutely, unapologetically dangerous.
Kara should have looked away. Should have focused on literally anything else. But her curiosity personal and professional, kept pulling her back. She didn’t know Lena Luthor, not really, but she wanted to. And the wanting was starting to feel like gravity.
And then, as if summoned by sheer mortification, Lena turned and walked straight toward her.
Kara froze.
“You’ve been watching me for twelve minutes,” Lena said, her voice smooth and low, like dark velvet with a blade beneath it. “Are you planning to interview me or undress me with your eyes?”
Kara choked on nothing. “I? What? No! I mean ..I wasn’t!”
Lena smiled. It was slow, deliberate. Predatory. “You’re blushing. That’s adorable.”
Kara opened her mouth, tried again. Still nothing coherent. She could feel the flush rising from her neck to the tips of her ears.
“Relax,” Lena said, stepping closer, her perfume a subtle blend of jasmine and something smoky and expensive. “You’re not the first woman to stare. Just usually, they do it with a little more subtlety.”
Kara blinked. That pulled her brain back into gear, barely. “Wait… you think I was?”
Lena tilted her head slightly, amused. “Weren’t you?”
Kara’s heart was pounding. Her voice, when it finally emerged, was shaky but honest. “I… yeah. I mean, yes. I’m gay. Lesbian. Not the experimenting-in-college kind. The… actual kind but I didn't watch you this way, I find you incredible, I read all your research and works and you are amazing.”
Lena’s brow lifted, eyes sparkling with interest. “So, hypothetically, if you could pick any woman in this room to… experiment with, let’s say who would it be?”
Kara’s mouth moved before her brain could intervene. She nearly said it nearly said You, because of course she would. But Lena’s gaze was too direct, too unreadable. And Kara barely knew her. Just because the air between them was charged didn’t mean it was safe.
So she deflected.
“Andrea Rojas,” she said quickly, nodding toward the sleek media executive holding court by the bar.
The shift in Lena’s expression was instantaneous.
“Andrea,” she repeated, flatly.
Kara tried to laugh it off. “What? She’s gorgeous. Smart. Stylish.”
“If you’re into narcissists with the emotional depth of a puddle,” Lena replied coolly. “Her idea of foreplay is probably reading her own press coverage out loud.”
Kara blinked, caught off-guard. “Wow. Okay. Do you two have… history?”
“No,” Lena said too quickly. “She just… isn’t worth my attention and more importantly yours.”
That was a weirdly personal opinion. Kara tilted her head, curiosity flaring. “And who deserved it?”
Lena stepped in again, so close now that Kara could feel the warmth of her presence, smell the soft, intoxicating mix of her perfume and scotch. When Lena spoke, her voice dropped to a near-whisper, intimate and deliberate.
“Maybe someone who actually sees you. Who notices the way your lips twitch when you’re nervous. Who’s been waiting for you to look their way all night.”
Kara’s breath caught. Her world narrowed. “You mean…?”
Lena gave her a faint, enigmatic smile. “Have a good night, Kara.”
And with that, she turned and walked away—hips swaying, glass in hand, leaving Kara standing there speechless, flushed, and kicking herself for not saying the one name she really wanted to.
Lena.
+++
Later That Night
Lena Luthor didn’t usually let herself get distracted. In fact, she prided herself on being the picture of control. A sharp mind, a steady hand, her ability to focus on the task at hand was unmatched. Tonight, at the glittering gala that wrapped around her like an intricate dance of champagne bubbles and glistening gowns, it should have been no different. The room was alive with the hum of laughter and clinking flutes, a symphony of wealth and influence. The orchestra, positioned in a corner of the ballroom, played perfectly in time with the elegant movements of the guests. Each note swelled, weaving through the atmosphere like a ribbon of sound, accentuating the exclusivity of the event.
Around her, businessmen and investors, men with too much ego and too little originality tried to edge into her orbit. They were all the same, their eyes glinting with ambition, their smiles polished and practiced. They offered compliments, about her company, her dress, her vision, each one hoping to attach their names to hers in some glittering, mutually beneficial headline. They fawned over her in the hopes of making their mark in the world, a world they could never hope to touch without her approval.
Lena smiled politely, her expressions a practiced art of diplomatic detachment. Her eyes would flicker with interest at the right moments, her gaze steady and assured. She nodded at appropriate intervals, the mask of a gracious hostess always in place. But beneath it, her mind wasn’t there.
It wasn’t with the men circling her. It wasn’t with the dazzling chandeliers above, or the hushed whispers of business deals being made in the corners of the room.
No. Her focus was elsewhere. Across the ballroom, at the far end near the dessert table, a familiar figure stood. Kara Danvers.
Lena’s gaze tracked her with an intensity she couldn’t suppress. Kara was standing alone now, plate in hand, balancing it with an awkwardness that made Lena’s lips twitch in a suppressed smile. Three macarons, delicate, colorful confections and what appeared to be a slice of strawberry tart. There was something almost endearing about how Kara moved, so absorbed in the small pleasures of the evening. She wasn’t chatting to anyone, not drawing attention to herself. Instead, she simply observed, her eyes flicking from person to person, lingering for a moment too long on Lena when she thought Lena wouldn’t notice.
But Lena noticed.
From the moment Kara had walked away from their brief conversation earlier, Lena’s attention had followed her like an invisible tether. She hadn’t meant to, of course. She’d intended to slip into the crowd and disappear, letting the night unfold as it always did. Let the moments blur together until they meant nothing. Until Kara’s departure would fade into the background. But then...then Kara had smiled at a waiter, and it was as if the world slowed down for a brief, surreal second.
The dimple in her cheek appeared, soft and disarming, and Lena’s chest tightened, something unfamiliar and inexplicably warm blooming in her ribs.
She blinked, refocusing on the conversation happening beside her.
“Ms. Luthor?” A deep voice cut through her thoughts, and she turned to see the hedge fund CEO beside her, his hand hovering just a touch too close to her lower back. His words didn’t matter. She wasn’t listening.
“Merger opportunities, we could—”
Lena’s gaze snapped to him, the icy chill in her expression freezing the words in his throat. Her eyes, dark and sharp, pinned him in place like a specimen under a microscope. The air around them seemed to drop several degrees.
He flinched, realizing his mistake. The hand at her back disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and his posture stiffened, as if hoping to regain his composure. But Lena didn’t acknowledge him further. She simply turned away, her attention immediately drifting back across the room, back to Kara.
She could feel the pull in her chest again, the sense of something tugging her toward that distant, unassuming figure.
Kara, who had just turned away from the dessert table, was speaking with someone Lena didn’t recognize. Her posture was open, easy. There was no pretense, no calculation, just a natural charm that radiated effortlessly. And yet, despite the lightness in her movements, there was a vulnerability to Kara. It was something Lena had caught glimpses of before, something beneath her bright smile and enthusiastic energy. A hidden depth, like a secret she wasn’t quite ready to share, but one that seemed to call out to Lena in ways she couldn’t explain.
Kara’s gaze flickered briefly in Lena’s direction, and for a moment, their eyes met. There was that same lingering look, a glance that said everything and nothing all at once. It was a silent exchange, a current running between them that neither could fully control.
Then, Kara’s expression softened, her lips curving into another of those disarming smiles as she excused herself from the conversation. She moved through the crowd with a grace that belied her earlier awkwardness, her eyes once again seeking something, someone across the room. And when she reached the edge of the crowd, she gave a quick, almost imperceptible glance over her shoulder.
It wasn’t a goodbye. It wasn’t anything specific. But it felt like a promise, or perhaps a question.
Lena’s breath caught in her throat, a strange, undeniable ache unfurling within her as she watched Kara slip away, disappearing into the sea of well-dressed strangers. That moment, the brief connection, lingered like the faintest echo, vibrating in her chest.
She stayed a little longer than she should have. Long enough for her exit to seem strategic rather than personal, for the timing to appear calculated. She made her way through the crowd with all the grace of a woman who had spent years learning to appear untouchable.
But her thoughts? They weren’t with the gala. They weren’t with the executives still trying to make their mark. They were still with Kara, and the warmth that seemed to follow her around like a halo, a warmth Lena couldn’t shake.
When she finally slipped into her town car, a sense of unease crawled beneath her skin. The night, the people, everything felt distant now, as though it were all a dream fading in the distance.
She didn’t want to go home.
But she knew she had to.
The penthouse was quiet. Too quiet. City lights glittered through the vast windows, casting silver shadows across the sleek, modern space. Lena slipped off her heels and poured herself a second scotch she didn’t really need.
She stood at the window for a moment, staring down at the city she helped shape.
And then without even thinking she turned toward her desk.
Her fingers hovered over her laptop keys for a beat, like some part of her still wanted to pretend this was innocent. Curiosity. Nothing more.
But that wasn’t true.
She typed the name before she could second-guess herself.
Kara Danvers.
The search results came quickly. She skimmed through the articles, photos, digital footprints. Pulitzer-nominated journalist. Works at CatCo Magazine. A handful of op-eds. A glowing piece on alien refugee rights that Lena actually remembered reading once thoughtful, incisive, passionate.
There was a photo from last year’s journalism awards: Kara in a navy dress, smiling too wide, a little awkward. Authentic.
Lena caught herself smiling too.
She leaned back in her chair, sipping her drink, eyes scanning lines of text without really needing to read them anymore.
This wasn’t research. Not in any professional sense.
She wasn’t looking Kara up to do business with her. Not to interview her. Not to vet a potential contact.
She just wanted to know her.
And knowing Kara was a lesbian, truly out, and proud, and unapologetic well.
That made Lena smile wider.
Not the smirk she wore in public. Not the razor-edged kind.
This one was real. Soft. Dangerous in its own right.
Because now Lena knew exactly what the tension between them was. What that heat beneath their words had been. And it wasn’t just one-sided curiosity.
It was potential.
It was spark.
Lena closed the laptop gently and whispered aloud, to no one but the night: “She’ll come back. She’s too curious not to.”
But even if she didn’t, Lena knew one thing for certain now.
She would find a way to see Kara Danvers again.
Not as a Luthor.
Not as a headline.
But as something far more complicated and far more dangerous.
Something personal.