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“Oh, no, no, no. That’s fine, I flew here.”
Lena Luthor paused; her hand frozen halfway to her phone and the request to ask her assistant to handle the parking validation now that their interview had ended.
It wasn’t the cub reporter’s words that had startled Lena. It was Kara Danvers' reaction to them.
Kara had gone rigid. Her blue eyes huge behind the chunky glasses. Her hand darting up to adjust the frames as if she was a child trying to hide under her favorite blanket when the shadows got too long in the middle of the night.
The fear made absolutely no sense.
“On...on a bus,” the still blushing blonde added, with zero conviction.
There was a tremble to Kara suddenly. A nervousness Lena hadn’t seen since Kara had first introduced herself, standing side by side with her cousin, Clark Kent.
Dots connected with a speed that made Lena feel like she was the one flying. Or rather, like Lena was falling. In a helicopter. To her death. Until a certain blonde superhero appeared, side by side with Superman.
“Shite,” Lena gasped, her Irish accent bursting through years of elocution classes like a wrecking ball.
Kara swallowed so roughly she coughed.
Lena retracted her hand away from the phone. Beyond that, she wasn’t sure what to do.
Kara looked equally stunned into inaction.
It wasn’t the same thing, not by a long shot, but Lena’s stomach swooped at the memory of being outed to her adoptive mother as a teenager. She could still feel the horror of having that truth shared without her permission. It wasn’t a secret Lena had been ashamed of. It was the opposite. Which was why she had been so protective of her truth, then and now. Knowing what the world would do with it. What Lillian would do with it. What Lillian did do with it. Lena didn’t want to do that to Kara.
“I think it’s noble,” Lena blurted so loudly they both jumped a little. A rare blush stole into her pale cheeks. “Public transportation. Green initiatives are very near and dear to my heart. I commend you for your commitment. To riding the bus.”
Kara blinked at Lena. Rapidly. Then, her hand drifted up to play with her glasses again, adjusting them as she broke the eyeline, suddenly very, very interested in her own shoes. “I’m just doing what I can. For, for the environment,” the outed reporter whispered like a confession she wasn’t supposed to be making.
Lena stepped forward. It was all she could think to do.
Lillian had stepped away from Lena. Lena still felt that step. Eight years later. The loneliness of that step still stung in Lena’s veins. That silent rejection hurt more than the loud lectures that had followed. Lena refused to do that to Kara or anyone else.
Lena took another step. They were close now. Maybe too close.
“Earth would be a much better place if there were more people like you. People who rode buses.”
Kara suddenly met Lena’s eyes again. This time the look was smoldering. There was no shyness now. Just steel. If there had been any doubt left in Lena’s mind, it was gone now.
“You really think so?” Supergirl asked from behind Kara’s glasses.
“I do,” Lena said, her voice cracking under the heat of the other woman’s gaze.
“Most people don’t think of…buses like that.”
“I’m not most people.”
“No. You’re not,” Kara agreed.
“Neither are you,” Lena said unconsciously.
Kara, smirked. Kara. Danvers. Smirked.
Lena’s heart rate thundered dangerously.
Supergirl, Lena could compartmentalize. Supergirl was a symbol. Supergirl was untouchable. Kara Danvers on the other hand was a little too touchable.
“I should go,” Kara whispered after neither one of them spoke for far too long. “Not that this hasn’t been, um, it’s just, there are—”
“Buses to catch?”
“Exactly.”
“Until next time, Kara Danvers.”
“Next, next time,” Kara repeated, before she stumbled in a blunder of backwards feet out of Lena’s office. The Supergirl façade hidden once again by the big smile and slightly downcast eyes of the shy reporter. Or was it the other way around?
Lena sat down hard in her overly expensive desk chair. She was out of breath. Her heart hammering as if she’d just been in spin class for the last forty-five minutes. It wasn’t just the realization that Kara and Supergirl were one and the same, it was that Kara’s cousin was Clark Kent. Clark Kent who apparently was Superman.
Lena’s stomach rolled.
Lena knew Clark. Clark and Lex had been childhood friends. He’d been at Lionel’s funeral. He’d hugged Lena when no one else had thought to. It’s why she had let Clark in for the interview about the bombing on the Venture shuttle. A simple favor to the man who had once been kind to her all those years ago. A man, it turned out, who had also been the reason Lex had lost his mind.
“Shite,” Lena muttered again.
Lex could never know. It was unthinkable. Lena unconsciously rubbed a careful finger over her wrists. The marks were gone but the bite of the bindings was still there. The memory of being strapped to that chair in Lex’s office as he gleefully turned the sun red was fresh. It hadn’t even been a year yet.
Lena shuddered. Her eyes focusing away from the memories of her brother’s madness in favor of the view beyond her office windows. The sun was golden. National City stretched out in front of her, safe and whole. Including a little flash of a red cape and flowing blonde hair speeding away from L-Corp.
“I’m not him,” Lena promised to Supergirl. “I’m not him,” she repeated for herself.
***
Lena waited. For twelve hours.
Supergirl didn’t come back.
Neither did Kara Danvers.
It was a relief in some ways. A nightmare in others. Either way, the utter lack of response made no sense.
Once again, Lena was left baffled by Kara’s response. Supergirl couldn’t just accidently reveal herself to be Kara Danvers and then not do anything about that. Could she?
Unless, did this happen all the time? Or had it been a personalized test of some kind? Had Lena passed it? Had Lena failed?
What did it mean?
Did it mean anything?
Lena ran through every scenario. Every emotion too. Finally, unable to take the suspense any longer, Lena packed her bag, called her driver, and went back to her apartment. She kept glancing at the sky, over her shoulder, around the corners, out at the balcony, expecting repercussions. But none came.
She paced in her room for another hour before exhaustion won out. Lena slept, expecting to wake up in some clandestine dark site or worse, to not wake up at all. Somehow, neither happened. Her alarm went off like normal. She got up, got ready, got back to work, all without a sign that Lena held the secret of Supergirl’s identity in her hands. The day passed. Then another. And another. And another.
Kara’s article was published. There wasn’t much of their interview left in it. A single quote from Lena. That was all. The rest of it was focused on the work of the team from Lab 646. Lena reread it a dozen times, trying to find some sort of subtext, some hint, some bitter aftertaste, anything that made the article different than the one issued last week. There was nothing. Lena felt a little crazy.
Lena refused to be crazy. At all. Especially not over a Super.
She wasn’t her brother. She would never be her brother.
Lena stood up from her desk, leaving the office with a quick apology to Jess and a request to cancel the meetings for the rest of the day.
The lab in the sub-basement was overly bright and bitingly cold, just the way she liked it.
Lena rolled up her silk sleeves, wiggled her way out of her pencil skirt, swapping it out for a set of jeans she kept in her lab office, and got to work. Her mind settling as her nimble fingers brought tiny gears and complicated circuitry to life.
This, she understood.
This was the life she had wanted.
Alone in a lab, buried in creative creation.
The smell of it. The delicacy. The little bites of sharp metal and hot welds that nipped at her skin. The setbacks and leaps forward. Lena loved all of it. She could fix things here. The equations could be solved. It was all within her grasp.
Not like her office so many floors above.
Although, it was starting to look like Lena was going to be good at being CEO. Far better than she’d ever imagined. Far better than anyone had imagined.
But this, the lab work, the genius of spontaneous creation, this was Lena’s true element, the realm she had been born to occupy. She didn’t have to wear a mask here, didn’t have to pretend to be powerful, to be untouchable, to be someone else entirely.
It wasn’t the same. They weren’t the same. Lena was under no illusions of that. And yet…Lena had felt a kinship with Kara Danvers she couldn’t explain to herself. Until now. Now it made sense. That look in Kara’s eyes. Lena knew it. It was in her own eyes. After all, Lena had seen her world end too.
She’d been four. On the edge of a lake. Not understanding what was happening then. Not willing to remember it fully now. But she’d been there. She’d seen her world die when her ma didn’t resurface from the water that last time.
Lena had lived with that loss ever since.
Lived with the feeling of being foreign ever since.
Pretending to be a Luthor. Pretending to be an American. Pretending to be a CEO. Pretending to be whole. Pretending not to be two people embodied in one. Pretending that the weight of an inherited mantel wasn’t too heavy to carry alone. Pretending. Always pretending. But what if she could stop pretending?
What if there was someone who didn’t need her to?
What if she could offer that relief in return?
***
CatCo’s bullpen was bustling when Lena walked in. No one made a comment. A few double takes were taken. A few even longer looks were held. But no one stopped Lena Luthor as she nervously wove her way in between reporters, runners, and the regret pulsing in her veins.
Kara was the last person to notice her. It was charming how focused she was on the computer screen in front of her.
Lena imagined Kara had to be. The chaos of the room, let alone the city, must have been one unrelenting cacophony of noise for her to filter through.
Lena started unconsciously drafting noise cancelling headphones for the hardworking Kryptonian in the sweater vest. They’d have to be adjustable of course; something that blocked out everything except sirens and screams.
Lena shivered at the thought, right as Kara finally blinked up from her screen to find the youngest Luthor a foot away from her desk.
Kara bit the pencil she’d had in her mouth clean in two.
Lena pretended not to notice as Kara picked up the ruined pieces, shoving them into a drawer that looked filled to the brim with broken office supplies. Lena pretended not to notice Kara’s blush either.
“Hello, Kara,” Lena said instead.
“Hi,” Kara squeaked back. Her blush got that much worse. Her eyes closing for a moment as if it was an undo button. “Hi,” she repeated, her voice dipping a bit too much towards her Supergirl voice than she had maybe intended.
Lena shivered again. Her heart ticking up treacherously.
Kara’s head tilted, eyes darting down, as if the sound of Lena’s panic was now the loudest thing in the world, let alone in the room. It probably was. Lena was going to have to take up meditation to learn how to control that.
“I wanted to thank you for your excellent article. Lab 646 already has it framed,” Lena said by way of abrupt explanation as she held up the carefully wrapped present, hoping that Kara looked past her shaking hands the same way Lena was ignoring Kara’s blush.
“Oh. That’s, uh, you didn’t have to do that,” Kara said, rushing to stand up and round her desk to take the offered gift with all the excitement of a child on Christmas.
“I did,” Lena insisted, because she did. She really did.
Kara worked the wrapping paper open with her pinkies and a slight underbite of concentration.
“You can tear it,” Lena encouraged softly.
“The paper is too pretty.”
Lena preened at the praise. She had designed it herself. A blue-on-blue cherry blossom pattern that matched Kara’s eyes and the elegance of her flight patterns.
“Wow,” Kara gasped, when she’d pulled the paper free, setting it carefully on her desk, her fingers running along the wood grain of the box. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Lena.”
“That’s just the box.”
“What?” Kara glanced up; her eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “This isn’t it?”
“Um. No. I mean, the box is yours to keep. So, I suppose it’s part of your gift. But that’s just the case…” Lena trailed off under the look in Kara’s eyes. Maybe this was a mistake.
Lena wasn’t good at this.
She knew how to impress business partners and heads of state. She knew how to turn the heads of pretty women for a weekend away. She didn’t know how to do this.
Because, honestly, how was she supposed to say thank you for saving her life, literally and literarily? What was appropriate for that? How was Lena supposed to ask Kara to become her friend because she thought they had more in common than perhaps anyone else on the planet?
In the moment, down in her lab, this had seemed to walk that impossible line. But now...Lena should have done something else. Not this. This isn’t what people did.
No one bought presents like this, let alone handcrafted them in the first place. Just Lena.
Lena who had spent an entire night working on the Japanese joinery alone, not to mention the coats and coats of linseed oil, and the layers of hand dipped dyes to get the lining the exact shade of Kara’s cape.
It was too much time.
Way too much.
And if the box was too much, the present waiting inside was—
“Oh,” Kara gasped when she lifted the perfectly nested lid. “Lena.”
Lena’s mouth opened to justify the existence of the 1940’s vintage model bus, complete with working lights, a tiny internal solar powered engine that made the wheels turn and the door open, with red upholstery and a blue metal finish that matched Kara’s suit perfectly, with gold leaf lettering spelling out National City Express along the—
“It’s perfect.”
Lena’s teeth clicked, she closed her mouth so quickly.
“It’s absolutely perfect.” Kara marveled. “How did you find it?”
Lena swallowed. “I made it.”
“You.” Kara’s eyes finally lifted to find Lena’s. There were tears in her eyes. “You made this?”
Lena nodded. She had no words to deal with tears.
“Golly.”
Lena swallowed. Her heart stuttered back to life.
Kara set the bus back in the box, sat the box on the desk. Then, with one quick steadying breath, she pulled Lena into a hug that rearranged the atoms in Lena’s soul. “No one has ever said thank you before,” she hushed into Lena’s ear.
Lena shivered for the third time since walking into CatCo. She held on tight. Hugging Kara until Kara remembered they were surrounded by her co-workers and deadlines that didn’t give a damn about sentimental sincerity.
“Do you eat?” Kara asked as she carefully separated herself from Lena.
Lena’s eyebrow quirked up. “Do I eat?”
“Lunch. Do you eat lunch? With, with someone like me?”
“There’s no one like you,” Lena said accidentally.
Kara, irresistibly, went deep pink, her eyes sparkling happily behind her glasses.
Lena’s knees felt impossibly fragile. “Yes,” she gulped. “Lunch sounds perfect.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Kara grinned. She took a moment to gather up the box, after folding and tucking the wrapping paper inside it, cradling the gift to her chest with one protective arm, she set the lock on her computer, then led Lena out of the bullpen with the other hand, her fingers dancing at the small of Lena’s back the whole way. When they reached the elevator, Kara’s confidence seemed to melt. She hesitated at the buttons, her finger frozen between the arrows.
“What’s wrong?” Lena asked, leaning closer than she usually would in public, then again, she had essentially been holding Kara not just hugging her, not a minute before, so at this point, why not?
Kara swallowed. “Would you, would you want to take the bus with me?”
Lena froze. She didn’t need to ask what Kara meant. She knew. Of course, she knew. But. It felt impossible. She had to be wrong. Lena’s eyes darted to the innocuous up arrow and the shake in Kara’s outstretched hand before glancing over her shoulder at the bullpen going about its business at their backs.
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Lena asked, her voice edged with fear.
Kara flinched. Her hand dropped to her side, her fingers curled into a shy fist.
“For you,” Lena clarified quickly. “What if someone sees you with me? I mean. The commuting you. Your reputation—”
“I can live with that,” Kara interrupted rapidly. “Can you?”
Lena answered by pressing the button herself.
***
The elevator took a lifetime to ascend to the roof access.
Lena didn’t mind. At all.
Kara stood close. Way too close. There was no reason to stand that close. The carriage was empty save for the two of them. Lena couldn’t take her eyes off Kara. Kara wasn’t looking away either.
When the doors eventually slid open, Kara stepped out backwards, her hand extended, offering it to Lena. Lena took it at once. She held it all the way up to the roof. Letting go only when Kara carefully placed the wooden box with the perfectly crafted replica bus back into Lena’s hands so she could strip into her super suit.
Lena blanked out after that.
She was aware of Kara picking her up in a bridal carry. She was, very, very aware of that. Yet, how they had gone from the industrial rooftop of CatCo to a snug brick loft, Lena couldn’t recall. One moment they had been outside, the next Lena found herself in Kara’s home, windblown, and warm from the sun and something much hotter.
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Kara said, the words casual, but the tightness in her voice betrayed her. Kara was flustered too.
“Thank you,” Lena said primly, trying to push her hair back in place and straighten her clothes as Kara darted over to the bookcase in the corner.
Kara took her time arranging the box and the bus in a spot that was both subtle and somehow center stage all at once.
“Rao. It’s beautiful,” she whispered to herself when she stepped back to admire the new addition to her home, her hands propped on her hips, her hair fluttering as if it was still dancing on the wind.
Lena’s mouth dried out. She forced herself to look away from the surreal sight of Supergirl in all her caped glory and took in the small but open space of the loft.
It was in a terrible neighborhood. The building was old and surely not up to code. The ceiling was vaulted though and there were windows. So many windows. The room was filled with natural light. There was also an overabundance of artificial lighting, as if the most powerful woman on Earth was— “Afraid of the dark,” Lena voiced in astonishment.
“Hmm?” Kara asked, turning back to face Lena, a happy smile still glowing on her face.
Lena didn’t want to repeat herself. She also didn’t want to lie. Nervous, but trying not to be, Lena gestured at the various light fixtures filling up the apartment. “You have so many lights. I was just wondering if you were afraid of the dark,” she explained trying to keep her words, ironically, light.
Kara still flinched at the question. “Oh. Uh. I…” She shifted. Scratching at the back of her neck, making the blonde locks ripple unfairly as her bicep, also unfairly, rippled prominently. “That’s, uh, well spotted. Most people don’t, um, pick up on that.”
“Sorry,” Lena whispered shocked that she was right, and that Kara had admitted it.
“No, it’s fine. Um. Impressive. Actually. You have a good eye for detail. Clearly,” she added, glancing over her shoulder at the bus.
“Kara—”
“I got stuck in space when I was thirteen,” Kara said, still looking away, her wide shoulders curling in on themselves. “For twenty-four years. My escape pod. It got knocked off course when Krypton exploded. I got trapped in the Phantom Zone. Where my people used to send our worst prisoners. Time doesn’t pass there. Your body stays asleep. Your mind is still awake though. It’s just your body that doesn’t age. So. Um. Yeah. I’m not, uh, fond of the dark. Or small spaces.”
Lena’s heart tripped over itself. “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”
Kara glanced down at her feet. She seemed surprised to see she was still in her suit. She tugged at her cape. She looked young. So astonishingly young. “That’s, that’s kind of a secret though. Please don’t tell anyone. I’m not supposed to be scared anymore.”
Lena was stunned by everything in that statement. She could also relate a little too much to the idea that the worst thing to admit to wasn’t having served a life sentence in limbo, but rather that Kara was ashamed of being afraid because of it.
“I’m afraid of water,” Lena offered. “Terrified, actually. I can’t even take a bath.”
Kara found Lena’s eyes again, the look of gratitude was equally astonishing.
“My mom. My real mom. Elizabeth. She, she drowned,” Lena explained. “I was four. I was there.”
Kara, not Supergirl, stepped forward, crossing the short distance with gentle steps until she had her hands on Lena’s shoulders. “Rao. Lena.” She didn’t need to say anything else. It was enough. Kara understood.
Lena swallowed hard. Looked away, trying to will the tears back into the archive of boxes she stored her trauma in. Her eyes landed on the bus. The gold lettering was glinting in a shaft of sunlight.
“The bus lights up. Interior and exterior. The battery will last all night and then recharge automatically during the day.”
“You made me a nightlight?” Kara asked in a hush, joy curling the edges of the word.
“Not on purpose,” Lena corrected. “I didn’t know about the nyctophobia. I won’t say anything about that. Or. Any of the rest of it. I promise. Your secrets are safe with me.”
“I know.”
Lena blinked. Totally floored by the sincerity in Kara’s voice. “You know?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.” Kara squeezed Lena’s shoulders, before removing her hands and taking an abrupt step back. “I’m going to change.”
Before Lena could demand an actual answer to how a Super could have so much trust in a Luthor, Kara whooshed away to the back of the loft to change behind a small screen that only half covered the designated section that made up Kara’s bedroom.
A moment later, Kara was back, barefooted, in a blue button-down shirt and tight dark chinos with a leather belt. Her glasses were back on, and her hair was up in a ponytail that was still swinging from the blur of movement.
“How about stir fry? I’m guessing you like vegetables?” Kara asked, casually stepping into the open kitchen and getting to work pulling ingredients from the fridge.
“You don’t?” Lena asked with a laugh.
Kara wrinkled her nose. “Not unless they’re like this. Or in potstickers.” She hummed so low it sounded like a purr. Lena bit her lip and tried not to chop the end of her own finger off. “Pizza is good too,” Kara added. “Cheeseburgers. Lasagna. Chili.”
Lena laughed again. “In other words, anything that hides the fact that there are vegetables involved?”
“Exactly,” Kara agreed without an ounce of shame.
They finished making lunch, the conversation stalling out when they sat side by side, knees and elbows almost touching.
The silence of the meal had Lena buzzing almost as dizzyingly as the flight to the loft.
“Kara?” Lena finally worked up the bravery to ask as they finished the washing up.
“Yeah?”
“Is this... How often do you do this?”
“Eat? Almost constantly,” she chuckled. “My Kryptonian metabolism means I have to consume at least ten thousand calories a day to avoid going into a deficit. Well, technically I don’t have to eat. I can go a really long time without food or water actually. But I hate it. And I’m horribly unpleasant to be around when I’m hungry. Alex says, I’m Super Hangry. So, yeah, for everyone’s sake, I eat as much as possible. All the time.”
“That makes sense. However, I actually meant, this,” Lena corrected, her body shaking with insecurities.
“This?”
“Bringing women back to your flat like this.”
The fork in Kara’s hand bent clean in half. She blushed crimson as she smoothed it back into shape. “Oh. Uh. Um. I. Well. I. I don’t. I’ve never. Um. You’re the first.”
“Oh,” Lena gasped, so startled she didn’t know what to say or do.
Kara put the last of the dishes away in a rush.
Silence filled the apartment.
“Is that, okay?” Kara asked at last, her shoulders hunched again, her eyes focused on the sink.
“That you don’t do this?”
“Um. That we are.”
Lena swallowed. The shake in her hands grew worse. “What are we doing?”
“I’m not sure. But. I like it.” Kara turned then; blue eyes fixed on green. “Do you?”
“I like it too,” Lena answered, biting at her bottom lip to keep from grinning like a fool. “But I think we should talk.”
“We have been talking,” Kara pointed out, adorably confused.
“We have. And it’s been great. It’s just. I have questions. About you. Lots of questions. And I think you have questions too. About me. At least I hope you do.”
“Maybe one or two,” Kara admitted with a shyness that was so disarming, Lena, despite a lifetime of PR training, didn’t stand a chance.
***
The questions started out cautious. Gentle. Surface level. So polite they were almost pointless. But, slowly, carefully, they started to get real. At some point, Kara shifted closer on the couch, Lena did too. It stopped feeling like a dual interview. It started to feel like the best date of Lena’s life.
Kara produced a blanket to cover their legs.
They kept talking. Their voices getting softer as their answers grew less guarded. Sometimes they looked at one another. Mostly they talked at the tv and the musical Lena had never seen but Kara seemed to have memorized.
One movie turned into two.
Lena made tea.
Kara ordered dinner. It was the most Chinese food Lena had ever seen. The number of potstickers alone were astonishing.
The room got darker. Without prompting, Lena got up to turn on the lights. All of them. Even the little headlights, taillights, and the ambient lighting of the model bus’s interior. Kara watched Lena the whole time with a softness Lena didn’t know what to do with.
Lena had to excuse herself to use the bathroom.
She had never experienced this. Ever.
It had been one thing to suspect they were similar, it was another thing altogether to now know it for a fact. Lena had been right; they weren’t the same. But they weren’t different either. They were each other’s parallels. So perfectly balanced it felt fated. Not that Lena believed in fate. Yet the empirical data was starting to stack up in a way Lena didn’t have the cynicism to ignore.
It was thrilling in a way that absolutely terrified her.
Lena didn’t know what to do with this much good. She suspected Kara didn’t either.
Weirdly, the idea that Kara was as overwhelmed as she was, in the best possible way, gave Lena the confidence she needed to finally leave the shelter of the bathroom to return to the warm glow of the living room. The sight that greeted her made her stomach swoop and her steps falter to a stop.
Kara had detangled herself from the couch. She was back in her Supergirl suit. She was pacing. The window was open. Distant sirens were sounding through the city blocks. Kara was opening and closing her hands like she was trying to hold onto something she’d already let slip through her fingers. A thin line had appeared on her forehead, deep with worry. It was wonderfully endearing.
“I’m so sorry. There’s an emergency at the wharf,” Kara explained as soon as their eyes met, her tone so contrite she sounded like she expected to be in trouble.
“Oh. Right. Of course. I’ll let myself out.”
“You don’t have to go. I can still take you home. After. If you want?”
Lena glanced at her watch. It was already late. Insanely late. “I would like that. But I really should be getting home. You’ll be exhausted when you get back and I don’t want to be an imposition—”
“You’re not an imposition,” Kara said in a rush, a blush chasing up her neck. “You’d never be an imposition. Not, not to me.”
“Oh,” Lena breathed out.
“Stay?” Supergirl all but whimpered. “If you want?” she repeated with a soft desperation that broke what little resistance Lena had had to the idea.
“Alright,” Lena said, barely having the strength to nod.
It was all Kara needed. Her grin was earthshattering. So was the speed of which Supergirl disappeared out the window to save the day.
***
Lena was still awake, curled up against the edge of the couch, the blanket over her legs, a book from Kara’s shelf in her hands, when Supergirl returned, hours later, covered in grime, and a grin that kickstarted Lena’s heartrate to dangerous levels.
“You stayed,” Kara said absolutely delighted.
“I said I would.”
Kara’s eyes twinkled. “Yes. You did.”
Lena wasn’t prepared to deal with the level of happiness radiating off of Kara. She closed the book on her finger, gathered her thoughts enough to ask, “How’d it go?”
The domesticity of the question followed by a surprisingly detailed description of Kara’s night fighting the fire, and the subsequent alien it had turned out to be, left them both a little stunned by just how not stunning it all was. It felt natural. Too natural.
Lena was already addicted to this. All of it.
It was dangerous how much Lena didn’t want to leave this moment. So, she stood up before she lost the will to go. She closed the book completely, set it on the table, hoping she’d get to come back and finish it one day. She folded the blanket carefully, draping it over the arm of the couch. She slipped her heels back on and only then had the confidence to look up and smile at Kara who was still standing there clothed in the regalia of her super suit.
Kara was frowning. She wasn’t mad. She looked confused. And a little hurt. And a whole lot sad. “What are you doing?”
“Going home. Now that you’re back. Unless you rescinded your offer to be my bus ride?”
That startled Kara enough to flex a smile back onto her face. “No, no, no. I. I would be happy to fly you home.”
“Thank you. Sorry to rush you, it’s just, I have to be awake in,” she checked her watch, “three hours. I have a board meeting in five. I really need to get home. Not to mention I need to make up today’s meetings tomorrow too.” And the more pressing matter that if she didn’t leave now, Lena never would.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept you so long.”
“Don’t apologize, Kara. I loved every second,” Lena assured.
“Yeah?”
“Every second,” Lena repeated.
“Me too,” Kara mumbled happily.
“Perfect,” Lena said, stepping up to the blushing superhero. “Now. Take me home?”
The flight home was needlessly slow. Lena loved every second of that too. She closed her eyes and snuggled into the heat and solid muscle that was Kara’s bridal carry. Kara’s arms flexed, her hands splayed, her chest rose and fell with a steadiness that was entirely encompassing. When they finally arrived at Lena’s balcony neither one of them was quick to separate. Eventually, propriety and the ticking clock brought Lena back to her senses.
“Thank you,” she said sliding her arms from around Kara’s neck but leaving them on Kara’s shoulders for just a little longer.
“Any time,” Kara husked back.
Lena couldn’t help herself. She reached up, shifting blonde hair behind Kara’s ear, her palm resting lightly against Kara’s neck. “You mean that, don’t you?”
Kara hummed. Leaned into Lena’s touch. Her windblown skin cool against Lena’s hot palm. Her bright blue eyes closed, savoring the moment with an innocence that was overwhelming. “Just ask,” she whispered. “I’ll be there for you like a Super Uber.”
“Super Uber?” Lena teased. “Isn’t that redundant?”
“That’s how fast I’ll be there. For you. If you want me to?” Kara’s hand drifted down to Lena’s hip, her fingers not quite landing there, just playing with the fabric, like she needed the feel of it to ground herself. “I want you to,” Kara added, her confession shaky. “I want to do this again. If you do? I do. I. I want to do this some more. If, if this was a…a date? Or. If it wasn’t…I still want to, um, see you again. Unless you’d rather we were just friends? Not just friends. Friends are awesome! We would be awesome friends. Excellent friends. Just, if, you want to be more than friends that, that would be excellent too. But it doesn’t have to be that. If you don’t—”
Lena rocked up to press a soft kiss to Kara’s flushed cheek.
Kara stopped babbling.
Kara stopped breathing too.
“It was a date,” Lena whispered, her lips drifting over Kara’s skin as she spoke. “And I would love to see you again too.”
“Oh. Okay. Yeah. Great. That’s. Yes. Good. Perfect. Me too. Let’s do that.”
Lena laughed.
Kara blushed.
“I’ll call you,” Lena promised, stepping away before she couldn’t.
Kara nodded dumbly.
“Until next time, Kara Zor-El,” Lena said opening the balcony door with a hand they both could plainly see was trembling.
“Goodnight, Lena,” Kara breathed back.
Kara was already floating. She might’ve been since Lena’s lips had touched her skin for the first, but certainly not the last, time. She was hovering high enough now she drifted, backwards, over the railing without a second look. Her eyes fixed on Lena so hotly, Lena would feel them on her for days.
Lena would hear the echo of Kara’s voice too, long past the lifespan of any sound frequency. It was gleeful, relieved, exuberant, meant to be a private whisper Kara cheered up to the moon right as Lena closed her door.
“Thank, Rao!” Kara declared with a fist pump Lena wasn’t meant to see out of the corner of her eye either.
Thank, Rao indeed.
And nervous reporters who couldn’t lie.
And shy scientists who didn’t know how to say thank you.
And model buses that doubled as olive branches and nightlights.
“I flew here on a bus,” Lena whispered to herself, smirking at the irony, until she slipped into dreams that were almost as sweet as a certain cub reporter with chunky glasses and a bulletproof cape.