Work Text:
"I think Supergirl has been flirting with me."
Kara almost chokes on her potsticker. She coughs loudly, eyes wide and watering from the food going down the wrong pipe.
"W-what?"
"I mean, it's getting a bit obvious," Lena says calmly, as if she isn’t just delivering earth-shattering news. "The lingering touches when she saves me. The way her voice gets soft when she says my name. The other day she even brought me a specific vintage of wine from a vineyard in France she just 'happened to fly over'."
"What? What are you talking about?"
Lena arches a delicate eyebrow. "Come on, Kara. You can't be that dense."
I can't be that dense?, Kara thinks, dumbfounded. You're the one saying that to Supergirl’s face!
She forces a laugh that comes out as a strangled hiccup. "Well, maybe she's just... really friendly! She's a hero! It's her job to be nice!"
"Kara, darling," Lena says, her tone dripping with fond amusement. "I'm a Luthor. Heroes are not 'nice' to me. They are suspicious and distant. Supergirl is... neither. She's attentive. Intimately so." She pauses, studying Kara's crimson face. "You look faint. Do you need water?"
Kara absolutely needs something much stronger than water. "I'm good!" she squeaks, her voice an octave too high. "Just... spicy! The potstickers. Very spicy today." She fans her mouth with a hand, hoping Lena will attribute the flush on her cheeks to culinary heat and not existential panic.
Lena’s eyebrow arches higher, a silent testament to the fact that the potstickers are from their usual order at a decidedly non-spicy Chinese takeout place. But she mercifully doesn't comment. Instead, she swirls the wine in her glass—that wine, Kara realizes with a fresh jolt of panic.
"It's just... intriguing," Lena continues, seemingly to herself more than to Kara. "I've spent my entire life building walls. Fortresses, really. And she just... flies over them without a second thought. It's disarmingly persistent—I rather like it.”
Kara's mind is a whirlwind of conflicting information. Disarming. Persistent. I'm being persistent. And disarming? Is that good? That has to be good. She says she ‘rather like it’. The hopeful thought is immediately crushed by a wave of terror. But she's talking to Kara about Supergirl. This is a disaster. This is a cataclysmic, friendship-ending disaster.
"Maybe..." Kara starts, then clears her throat, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly. "Maybe she's just bad with boundaries? You know, alien culture and all that. Personal space might be different on Krypton." Ha! I nailed it. Deflected with facts. Safe, neutral facts.
Lena's laugh is a soft, melodic sound that usually makes Kara's heart soar. Now, it just makes her stomach clench with guilt. "Oh, I don't think so. She seems perfectly aware of human social customs. No, this feels deliberate. Purposeful." She fixes Kara with a look that is far too perceptive. "You're her friend. Has she said anything to you?"
Kara freezes, a potsticker halfway to her open mouth. Abort. Abort mission. "To me? About you? No! No, of course not. We mostly talk about... uh... alien threats. And cats stuck in trees. Very important, saving cats. Priority one." She shoves the entire potsticker in her mouth to stop herself from babbling any more.
Lena watches her, a small, unreadable smile playing on her lips. She seems to be enjoying this far too much. "I see. Well, if she does happen to mention it, you'll let me know, won't you? I'd be curious to know her intentions."
Kara just nods vigorously, chewing manically, her mind screaming. My intention is to not have a heart attack at my best friend's dining table. My intention is to somehow be two people at once.
"Of course," Kara finally manages to choke out once she's swallowed. "I'll be your... top secret intelligence operative on the Supergirl front."
Lena's smile widens into something genuinely warm, and she reaches across the table to squeeze Kara's hand. "Thank you, Kara. I know I can count on you."
The touch is electric and it is short-circuiting the part of her brain responsible for basic motor functions and secret identity preservation. Kara feels her whole arm tingle. She gives a weak, wobbly smile in return.
“So!” Kara says, a little too loudly, pulling her hand back to gesture wildly with her chopsticks. “This… flirting. What’s the, uh, endgame here?”
Lena leans back in her chair, looking thoughtful. She has that face, the one she uses to analyze market trends and hostile takeovers. Kara feels a fresh wave of dread and quickly pulls her phone under the table to send a quick message while the other woman is distracted:
Kara: Alex. Code Blue. I think I've been flirting with Lena without realizing it and now she's asking me to spy on myself. Send help. And more potstickers.
Her sister, helpfully, answers:
Alex: What.
“Well,” Lena begins, tapping a manicured finger against her chin. “I suppose the next logical step would be to see if the interest is genuine or merely a… strategic gambit.”
“A gambit?” Kara squeaks. “Like in chess? You think she’s… playing chess with your heart?” The line is so cheesy she wants to fly into the sun immediately.
“Perhaps,” Lena says, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Or perhaps she’s simply awkward and doesn’t know how to express herself. That’s where you come in.”
Kara’s blood runs cold. “It is?”
“Of course. As my self-appointed intelligence operative,” Lena says, the title sounding utterly ridiculous and terrifyingly serious coming from her, “your first mission is to gather data.”
“Data,” Kara repeats numbly.
“Yes. The next time you see her, casually bring me up. Gauge her reaction. See if she gets… flustered. If her voice changes. If she finds an excuse to leave the conversation abruptly.” Lena lists the points off as if she’s drafting a project proposal. “You have a uniquely trustworthy face, Kara. She’ll never suspect you’re pumping her for information.”
Kara makes a sound that is half-gasp, half-hysterical giggle. She’ll never suspect because I AM HER. This is a catastrophic miscalculation.
“Right. Okay. Gauge Supergirl’s reaction to your name. Look for signs of… fluster.” Kara nods, her mind already racing. Note to self: When Lena’s name is mentioned, do not choke, do not turn red, do not vibrate from nervous energy. Simple.
“Precisely.” Lena looks immensely pleased with herself. “This will be fun. Our little project.”
Fun. Kara feels the word echo in the hollow, panicked cavern of her soul. She grabs her phone again under the table, her superspeed allowing her to type a frantic, misspelled text to Alex without looking.
Kara: ALEX. IT’S WORSE. I’M NOW OFFICIALLY SPYING ON MYSELF FOR HER. SHE CALLS IT A “LITTLE PROJECT.” I THINK I’M HAVING AN ANEURYSM. CAN I HAVE AN ANEURYSM?
The reply is almost instantaneous.
Alex: Oh my god. How should I know? DO NOT ENGAGE. ABORT.
Kara: TOO LATE! SHE’S SMILING AT ME! SHE TRUSTS ME! I HAVE TO COMMIT TO THE BIT!
Alex: THE BIT IS YOUR OWN IDENTITY, KARA. YOU ARE COMMITTING TO A BIT THAT IS LITERALLY YOU.
Kara looks up from her phone to see Lena watching her, that same soft, curious smile on her face.
“Everything alright?” Lena asks.
“Perfect!” Kara chirps, her voice cracking. “Just… Winn. From work. CatCo… drama. You know how it is.” She slams her phone face-down on the table as if it’s about to explode. “So! This data I’m gathering… what’s the final objective? After establishing the… intentions.”
Lena’s smile turns a shade softer, a little less analytical and a little more… warm. “The objective, Kara, is to see if the woman behind the cape is as interesting as the cape itself.”
And in that moment, Kara Danvers forgets how to breathe. The panic is still there, a live wire under her skin, but it’s suddenly, utterly drowned out by a single, overwhelming thought:
Oh. She wants to know me.
The silence stretches for a beat too long, thick with everything Kara cannot say. She realizes she’s been holding her breath and lets it out in a soft, shaky exhale.
“That’s… a really good objective,” she finally manages, her voice softer and more sincere than she intended.
Lena’s smile is gentle. “I’m glad you approve of my methodology.” She glances at her watch. “Oh, look at the time. I have a board meeting in twenty minutes.”
The sudden return to normalcy is a lifeline. Kara grabs onto it with both hands. “Right! Of course! Work. Busy. I should… also go.” She stands up a little too quickly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.
Lena rises with her customary, elegant grace. “Thank you for lunch, Kara. And for… well, for listening.” She walks Kara to the door.
“Anytime!” Kara says, her voice bright and brittle. “That’s what friends are for!”
She’s still babbling as the heavy L-Corp office door swings shut behind her. She leans back against the cool wall of the hallway, pressing her palms to her heated cheeks.
Get it together, Danvers.
She pushes off the wall and makes a beeline for the elevator. The second the doors close, she pulls out her phone. Alex’s last text is still glaring up at her.
Alex: THE BIT IS YOUR OWN IDENTITY, KARA. YOU ARE COMMITTING TO A BIT THAT IS LITERALLY YOU.
“I know!” Kara mutters to herself, typing furiously.
Kara: IT’S WORSE. THE OBJECTIVE ISN’T TO PROVE SHE’S FLIRTING. THE OBJECTIVE IS TO SEE IF THE “WOMAN BEHIND THE CAPE” IS AS INTERESTING AS THE CAPE.
Kara: SHE WANTS TO KNOW ME, ALEX. KARA-ME. BUT SHE THINKS SHE’S ASKING KARA-ME ABOUT SUPERGIRL-ME WITHOUT KNOWING SUPERGIRL-ME IS ACTUALLY KARA-ME.
Kara: WHAT DO I DO???
The elevator dings, opening into the bustling lobby. Kara power-walks through it, oblivious to the stares. She bursts out onto the sunny street, and the reply comes through.
Alex: First, stop yelling at me in all caps. Second, breathe. Third, you get your butt to the DEO. Now. We are having an emergency briefing.
Kara doesn’t even bother responding. She ducks into the first alley she finds and shoots into the sky. She flies straight to the DEO balcony, landing in a blur of blue and red. Alex is already there, arms crossed, with a look of profound exasperation.
“So,” Alex says, her tone flat. “You’ve created a self-spying, self-fulfilling prophecy where you, Kara Danvers, are spying on you, Supergirl, for the woman you ‘both’ have a crush on.”
Kara deflates. “When you say it like that, it sounds crazy.”
“It is crazy, Kara!” Alex exclaims. “You have to tell her. This has gone too far. This isn’t a white lie anymore; this is an entire counter-intelligence operation you’re running on yourself!”
“I can’t tell her now!” Kara wails, pacing. “Don’t you see? She just told me—Kara me—that she trusts me to find out Supergirl’s true intentions! If I reveal it now, it’ll look like I was lying to her face for weeks while she confided in me! It’ll look like a game! She’ll never forgive me!”
Alex watches her sister pace, her expression shifting from frustration to reluctant understanding. She sighs. “Okay. Okay. You’re not entirely wrong. But you can’t ‘gather data’ on yourself. This is madness.”
“So what’s the play, Agent Danvers?” Kara asks, desperation clear in her eyes.
“The play is you stop digging the hole deeper. The next time you’re with Lena as Supergirl, you don’t flirt. You be professional. A little distant, even.”
Kara’s face falls. “But she says she likes the flirting!”
“And that’s the problem! You’re taking information from your best friend and using it to optimize your flirting performance as your alter ego! It’s a feedback loop of ethical nightmares!” Alex pinches the bridge of her nose. “Let Supergirl’s behavior change… organically. Then, when you eventually tell her—which you HAVE to do—it won’t seem quite so calculated.”
Kara stops pacing, the logic cutting through her panic. “So… I stop the Supergirl flirting. Cold turkey.”
“Yes.”
“And I will just… be Kara. Her friend. Who she trusts.”
“Exactly.”
Kara takes a deep, steadying breath. “Okay. Okay, I can do that.” She looks at Alex, a new fear dawning. “What if she thinks Supergirl has lost interest? What if she’s hurt?”
Alex gives her a small, sympathetic smile. “Then Kara Danvers will be right there to comfort her. And maybe, just maybe, that’ll show her that the most interesting person isn’t the one in the cape at all.”
The idea is terrifying—and so full of hope that it steals Kara’s breath all over again.
“Okay. I can do that.” She nods to herself. “Right?”
—
The plan is simple. Be Kara. Just Kara. The best friend. The supportive, potsticker-bearing, utterly human and non-flirtatious anchor in Lena Luthor’s life. And Supergirl… Supergirl is helpful, but distant. A paragon of polite, super heroic boundaries. Easy.
A week later, she is in Lena’s office, a nervous bundle of energy disguised in a sweater and glasses. She is narrating a convoluted story about a mix-up with the office mail, her hands flying through the air for emphasis.
Lena listens, her elbow on the desk, her chin resting in her hand. A small, unreadable smile plays on her lips. She isn’t just listening; she is observing. Her eyes trace the frantic movement of Kara’s hands, the way her voice pitches slightly higher than usual.
When Kara finishes, she is breathless. “Can you believe it?”
“It’s a thrilling tale of postal chaos,” Lena says, her voice a low, amused murmur. She takes a slow sip of her tea. “You seem… energetic today, Kara. Everything alright?”
“Me? Yes! Perfect! Just… lots of coffee. Yeah, coffee. For my human nerves.” Kara winces internally. Smooth, Danvers.
“I see,” Lena says, her smile deepening just a fraction. She leans back in her chair, her gaze drifting past Kara to the skyline. “It’s been a quiet week, hasn’t it? Not even a rogue alien to spice things up. I saw Supergirl helping with a cargo ship mishap in the bay yesterday. She was in and out so fast. Very… efficient.”
Kara’s heart hammers against her ribs.
“Oh? That’s… good. Efficiency is good. Saves time.” Kara picks at a thread on her sleeve.
“Mmm,” Lena hums in agreement. She swivels her chair back to face Kara, her expression one of mild, casual curiosity. “You know, it’s funny. The other day, I was thinking about our conversation. About her… flirtations. The wine, the lingering looks.”
Kara freezes. “You were?”
“I am. And I thought ‘Maybe Kara is right’.” Lena brings her fingertips together thoughtfully. “What if it isn’t flirting at all? What if it’s just her personality? She’s from another culture, after all. Perhaps on Krypton, bringing someone a rare, priceless gift after a difficult day simply translates to ‘adequate job, citizen.’” Lena’s eyes sparkle with a hidden light. “It would explain why she’s suddenly stopped. Perhaps she realized she is being… misinterpreted.”
“No!” The word bursts out of Kara with more force than intended. She quickly tempers her voice. “I mean… I don’t think that’s it. I’ve talked to her. She understands human customs. Really well.”
Lena’s eyebrow arches. “Does she? You’re certain?”
“Positive,” Kara says, her voice firm with a certainty that comes from deeply, personal knowledge.
“How interesting.” Lena smiles. The silence hangs for a moment and Kara squirms. Then, with a grace that belies the precision of her strike, she changes the subject. “Well, regardless. The new efficiency is probably for the best.”
Kara can only nod mutely, her mind reeling. She has successfully defended Supergirl’s human social skills, thereby implying the flirtation was intentional, after all. Am I stupid?
Lena picks up a report, effectively ending the interrogation. “More potstickers?” she asks, her tone light and innocent, as if they’ve been discussing the weather.
Kara stares at the potsticker on the table as if it holds the answers to the universe, completely missing the way Lena’s shoulders shake with a single, silent laugh she quickly stifles by pretending to adjust her pen.
Finally, Lena places the report down and looks up, her expression the picture of innocent concern. “You’ve gone quiet. Did I say something wrong?”
“No!” Kara yelps, jolting back to the present. “Not at all! I was just… thinking about the mail. And cats. And… things.” She shoves the entire potsticker into her mouth.
“I see,” Lena says, her lips twitching. She leans forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, this whole situation has made me realize something.”
Kara chews frantically, her eyes wide. “Mmmph?”
“I think I prefer the flirting.”
Kara chokes. Again. This time, it is purely on air. She pounds her chest with a fist, her face turning a spectacular shade of red. “You… you what?”
“The efficiency is… well, it’s efficient,” Lena clarifies, her tone light and conversational. “But it’s also terribly boring. National City has plenty of heroes. It only has one Supergirl who brings me wine and looks at me like I’ve hung the moon.” She sighs, a theatrical, wistful sound. “I rather miss her.”
Inside Kara’s head, it sounds like a nuclear alarm is blaring. SHE MISSES ME. SHE MISSES ME. THE FLIRTING ME. This is the exact opposite of what is supposed to happen!
“Maybe…” Kara squeaks, her voice thin and reedy. “Maybe she’s just… playing hard to get?” She internally winces. What the hell I’m even saying?
Lena’s eyebrow shoots up, her interest visibly piqued. “Is that a tactic you think she’s employing, Miss Danvers? From a tactical observational standpoint?”
“I— well— I’m no expert!” Kara flails, realizing she is cornered by her own hypothesis. “But… in movies… it sometimes… happens? It’s a possibility!”
“Fascinating,” Lena purrs, her eyes gleaming. She makes a show of typing a note on her phone. “‘Consultant K.D. hypothesizes a hard-to-get strategy may be in play. Await further developments.’ There. For the project file.”
Kara feels a cold sweat break out on the back of her neck. She has just theorized about her own behavior to the person she is behaving that way for. The layers of insanity are making her dizzy.
“Right!” Kara stands up so quickly her chair rolls backward. “I should… go! I just remembered! I have to… help my landlord with a… spider. A big one. Very… spidery.”
Lena doesn’t even try to hide her smile this time. “Of course. We wouldn’t want the spider to win. Do give my best to Supergirl if you see her. Tell her…” She pauses, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Tell her the wine was excellent. And that her friend is hopeless at espionage, but terribly endearing.”
Kara flees.
She doesn’t even bother with the elevator. She takes the stairs—at a perfectly human pace, she reminds herself—bursts out onto the street, and practically flies into the first alley she can find.
Her phone is in her hand before she is even fully hidden.
Kara: ALEX. CATASTROPHIC SYSTEM FAILURE. THE PLAN BACKFIRED. SHE DOESN’T LIKE EFFICIENT SUPERGIRL. SHE LIKES THE FLIRTY ONE. SHE SAYS SHE MISSES HER.
Kara: AND I MAY HAVE ACCIDENTALLY TOLD HER THAT I THINK SUPERGIRL IS PLAYING HARD TO GET. SO NOW I HAVE TO FLIRT BY NOT FLIRTING WHILE SHE KNOWS I’M NOT FLIRTING ON PURPOSE??
Kara: I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING ANYMORE.
The three dots appear immediately, then disappear. They appear again. A full minute later, the reply comes through.
Alex: I’m sending a DEO extraction team. Not for an alien. For you. I’m having you committed for your own safety.
Kara: IT’S NOT FUNNY!
Alex: It’s a little funny. Look, just… go be Supergirl. Right now. Go do something heroic and simple, like stopping a bank robbery. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT go anywhere near L-Corp or Lena Luthor. Your brain can’t handle it.
Kara takes a deep, shuddering breath. Alex is right. She needs to be Supergirl. Not the flirty one, not the efficient one. Just the hero. Simple. Straightforward.
She spins into her suit, shoots into the sky, and focuses her hearing. A car alarm. A cat in a tree. A—
Her phone buzzes in her boot. A text. From Lena.
Her heart leaps into her throat. She fumbles for it, hovering high above the city.
Lena: Forgot to mention. There’s a 3 PM meeting with the board to discuss renewing our security contract with the DEO. I’d like Supergirl’s input on the proposed specs beforehand. If she’s available, of course. No pressure. Purely professional.
Kara stares at the message. It is a trap. She just knows that.
And she is going to fly right into it.
She types a reply to Alex, her fingers trembling with a mixture of terror and giddy excitement.
Kara: Too late.
On the other side of the city, Alex facepalms.
—
Kara lands on Lena’s balcony, smoothing down her cape. Professional. Efficient. Input on specs. That’s all.
She knocks on the glass door.
Lena looks up from her desk, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across her face. She stands and glides over, opening the door. “Supergirl. Thank you for coming.” Her tone is perfectly, maddeningly professional.
“Of course, Ms. Luthor. Always happy to be consulted on… security matters.” Kara steps inside, her posture rigid. She focuses on a point just over Lena’s shoulder.
“Please, have a seat.” Lena gestures to the sitting area. “Can I offer you anything? Water? I have a lovely Bordeaux open, but I suppose it’s a bit early for you, isn’t it? Duty calls and all that.”
Kara’s eyes flicker to the bottle on the sidebar—the same vintage from France. She forces her gaze away. “Water is fine. Thank you.”
Lena pours a glass of water from a crystal carafe and hands it to her, their fingers brushing. A jolt shoots up Kara’s arm. Lena’s smile doesn’t waver.
“Now,” Lena begins, sitting opposite her and crossing her legs. She picks up a tablet. “The proposed specs from the DEO are… adequate. But I am hoping for your… ground-level perspective. Do you truly find the acoustic motion sensors on page 47 to be ‘sufficiently sensitive’?” She looks at Kara, her head tilted. “Or do they, perhaps, miss certain… subtleties?”
Kara blinks. She hadn’t read the specs. Alex handled that. “I… um… well. They’re… fine?”
“’Fine,’” Lena repeats, typing a note. “Noted. And the proposed composition of the alloy for the reinforcement beams? The report claims it can withstand a force of 12 meganewtons. In your experience, does that hold true? Or does it… bend under certain kinds of pressure?” Her gaze is intense, loaded with double meaning.
Kara feels her professional resolve beginning to sweat. “It’s a… very strong alloy.”
“Strong,” Lena murmurs, typing again. “But not inflexible. Important distinction.” She sets the tablet down and leans forward. “You know, this is tremendously helpful. It’s so rare to get such… candid feedback from someone with your unique skill set.”
“Happy to help,” Kara says, her voice tighter than she intended.
“I’ll bet you are,” Lena says softly. She doesn’t break eye contact. The professional tone is still there, but it has grown thin, stretched over a palpable, teasing energy. “It must be a relief to focus on something so straightforward. No ambiguity. No… confusing signals.”
Kara’s mouth goes dry. She takes a frantic gulp of water. “Clarity is… good.”
“Isn’t it just?” Lena’s eyes drop to Kara’s lips for a fraction of a second before returning to her eyes. “Well, I believe that covers my questions. Unless there’s anything else? Any other… observations you’d like to add? From your unique position?”
This is it. The moment to be professional, to leave. But Lena is looking at her like that, and the wine is right there, and the memory of “I prefer the flirting” is screaming in her head.
“The sensors,” Kara blurts out. “They’re terrible. Actually. They wouldn’t detect a breaching drone if it was painted neon yellow and playing the trumpet. You should tell them to scrap the whole system and start over.”
Lena’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise, then delight. “Is that so?”
“And the alloy,” Kara continues, leaning forward now, her professional facade crumbling into passionate indignation. “It’s garbage! It stress-fractures under sustained cryo-force. I’ve seen it! I could bend a beam with my pinkie if I tried. Tell Alex— tell the DEO they need to go back to the drawing board.”
A slow, triumphant smile spreads across Lena’s face. “My. That is candid. I’ll be sure to pass that along.” She stands up, and Kara follows suit. “Thank you, Supergirl. This was… incredibly illuminating.”
She walks Kara to the balcony. “I feel so much more… informed.”
“Any time, Ms. Luthor,” Kara says, her voice barely a whisper.
Just as Kara is about to take off, Lena speaks again. “Oh, and Supergirl?”
Kara turns. “Yes?”
“This ‘hard-to-get’ strategy?” Lena says, her voice dropping back into that intimate, teasing register. “It’s… intriguing. But terribly inefficient. Don’t you think?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer. She simply turns and walks back into her office, leaving an utterly paralyzed, utterly lovestruck Supergirl standing on the balcony, her heart pounding like a drum.
A new text buzzes on Kara’s phone.
Alex: Well? How did the “purely professional” meeting go?
Kara looks at the text, then back at Lena’s retreating figure through the glass.
Kara: I think I just declared war on the DEO’s engineering division.
Alex: Please tell me you didn’t fuck up my proposal.
Kara: And she called me inefficient.
Kara stares at the phone, then back into Lena’s office. She can see her, already back at her desk, a faint, victorious smile on her face as she picks up her own phone. A second later, Kara’s screen lights up. Alex has sent her a forward message from a number she knows well:
Lena: My consultant seems to have strong opinions on DEO procurement. I trust you’ll pass her… fervent feedback along to the appropriate department? We want our heroes to feel supported, after all.
Alex: What does that even MEAN?
Kara’s breath hitches and her fingers register the moment her brain short-circuits:
Kara: klljl
Alex: Kara, are you having a stroke? Do I need to activate your beacon?
Kara: … you think she is flirting back?
Alex: You just figured that now??
Kara: ?????
Alex: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, JUST TALK TO HER.
Supergirl takes a deep breath. Alex is right—this is just ridiculous.
A strange calm settles over her. The fear of losing Lena is suddenly less terrifying than the absurdity of this situation. Lena knows. She has to. No one is that clever without knowing the punchline. She turns away from the city, her shoulders squaring with a resolve she hasn’t felt since facing down Worldkillers. She phases through the balcony door, emerging silently into the office.
Lena looks up, her smirk faltering for a microsecond at the sudden, silent appearance. She recovers quickly, setting her phone down. “Supergirl. Forget something?”
“Yes,” Kara says, her voice low and steady. She doesn’t move from her spot. “I forgot to be honest.”
Lena’s playful mask slips another inch. “Oh?”
“The sensors are fine. The alloy is the strongest the DEO has. It would take both my hands to put a dent in it.” Kara takes a step forward. “I lied.”
Lena leans back in her chair, a new, cautious interest in her eyes. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you weren’t asking about security specs.” Another step. “You were testing me. You’ve been testing me for weeks. And I’ve been failing spectacularly.”
Kara stops in front of the desk, placing her hands flat on the cool surface. She looks Lena directly in the eyes, no shield, no disguise.
“You want to know if the woman behind the cape is interesting?” Kara’s voice is soft, but it holds the weight of a promise. “She’s terrified. She can lift buildings, but she’s absolutely terrified of the woman sitting in front of her. Because that woman is the only person who has ever made her feel like flying was the second most incredible thing in the world.”
Lena’s breath catches. The teasing glint is gone, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.
“The flirting wasn’t a strategy,” Kara continues, her own vulnerability laid bare. “It was the only way I knew how to show you I was paying attention. That I see you, Lena. All of you. And the ‘efficient’ hero this past week? That was me trying… and failing… to follow a terrible plan because I was scared of messing this up.”
She straightens up, her gaze never leaving Lena’s.
“So here’s the truth, without the cape, without the glasses, without the… wine. I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And if you’re done conducting your little experiment… I’d really like to take you to dinner.”
The silence in the office is absolute. Lena stares at her, all pretense gone, her expression one of stunned wonder.
And then, a slow, real smile—not a smirk, not a mask—spreads across her face. It is the most beautiful thing Kara has ever seen.
“The experiment concluded about five minutes after it began, darling,” Lena says, her voice warm and full of affection. “The data was overwhelmingly conclusive. I was just enjoying the show.” She stands, walking around the desk until she is standing right in front of Kara. “And for the record… I like you, too. All of you. The reporter, the hero, the woman who panics over potstickers.” She reaches out, her hand gently cupping Kara’s cheek. “Dinner sounds perfect.”
Relief, warm and dizzying, floods through Kara. She leans into the touch, her own hand coming up to cover Lena’s.
“But just to be clear,” Lena adds, a flicker of her earlier mischief returning to her eyes. “This means you’re buying. Consider it reparations for the emotional distress caused by your ‘hard-to-get’ routine.”
Kara laughs, a real, free, joyful sound. “Deal.”
Then, a thought crosses her mind:
“Wait, when did you realize it was me all along?”
Lena smirks like the answer is the most obvious thing the universe.
“You really thought you could convince me there are two people on the planet who are pathologically, obsessively loyal to the same ridiculously specific brand of potsticker from that dingy place on 5th?”
Kara groans.