Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kara pushed, as gently as she could manage, through the crush of bodies already sticky with sweat in the pervasive warmth of one of National City's latest summer heat waves on record. It didn't help that the club, usually sparsely populated at best, was full to bursting with hipsters and punks co-mingling, drinking, and pushing against one another in a rush of alcohol and hormones.

She could feel the late September humidity, already thick and brackish, causing the light fabric of her gauzy sleeveless blouse to cling indelicately to her now dewy chest. She may be an alien who thrived on sunlight, but this? This was offensive, all heat and tack with no brightness save the swiveling overhead stage lights, hazy purples and blues tracking across the audience and sliding over the equipment on stage.

This was so not her scene.

"Kara!" a voice called from over to her left, but she couldn't pinpoint its origin until a hand, arm, head popped above the crowd for a split second before disappearing again. "Over here!" it called and she caught a glimpse of Winn jumping above the heads of the teeming crowd again, a fish out of water.

She cut across the room as quickly as she could, apologetically upsetting one drink and stepping on a few toes, but more or less intact.

"Hey! You're here!" Her friend practically wheezed, "You look great!"

"I feel like I need a shower," Kara huffed, "and look like I've already taken one." She pulled the back of her hand across her forehead for show, shaking off the sweat already beaded along her hairline. "But," she corrected quickly, determined to stop her complaining, switching instead to 'supportive friend' mode, "I'm so excited to be here and to finally see you play!"

Winn beamed, his tousled brown hair and lopsided smile radiating boyish charm that even Kara couldn't resist. He practically vibrated with excitement, his usually pressed button down tied loosely around his waist and his plain black t-shirt already starting to stick to his chest in the oppressive heat.

"I'm so glad you could make it, it's not everyday we get to open for a secret show."

Kara glanced around, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, "I think this secret show is not so secret, Winn. Who's playing anyway?"

"I don't even know. Someone said Dave Grohl was in town and was going to do a set, but I doubt it. All we know is we booked the opener, who cares about the rest?"

"That's the spirit!" Kara chucked him lightly on the shoulder and he immediately rubbed the spot gingerly, always the recipient of her super strength slugs. She offered a sheepish grin and pushed a stray strand of golden blonde hair back from her forehead, "Sorry."

Winn just laughed and motioned for her to follow him. Together, they picked their way through the crowd to a booth over at the side of the club where two women were sitting, deep in conversation. One was petite, all knit brows and dark hair with a round, open face, but the other was so striking, Kara almost sputtered and stalled out as she peered around her friend.

"Hey, any sign of Mike yet? We go on in ten and he's already missed sound check?" Winn asked the two women, causing them to pause their discussion to shake their heads, almost in unison. "Aaaaand, guys, this is my best friend, Kara. Kara, this is Jess and this is Len–"

"Lee." The striking woman swept to stand in one fluid motion, and caught the hand Kara hadn't even realized she'd offered.

Lee was slightly shorter than she, but her presence was such that she seemed to tower over everyone at the crowded club, including Kara. She wore an open red and black plaid button down, which seemed to be perpetually falling off one shoulder. Kara wondered if it was purposeful in it's planning as the exposed shoulder revealed the clean, sharp edges of a tattoo that twisted and disappeared under the black fabric of the woman's undershirt. Numerous piercings trailed up the curve of each ear and a black seamless ring was barely visible at her septum. Her raven hair caught the light, highlighting deep tones of wine and mahogany, and was shaved into a severe undercut on one side, revealing the scalp above and around her right ear, the remaining length gathered into a messy bun. Distressed black skinny jeans mended with safety pins and punk patches disappeared into a pair of oxblood red, calf-high Doc Marten's and for a moment Kara stood speechless.

It was clear this woman's look was carefully cultivated, crafted to project "punk" to any who cared to look, and many did. Kara's shock, however, came not from the wardrobe, but from Lee's face, as it seemed to contradict every stitch of distressed clothing with its overly effusive warmth. Her eyes were lined darkly, but delicately, with kohl while smoky shadow and long black lashes, framed ice green eyes shining brightly. Her lips, drenched in some sort of glassy plumb colored gloss, pulled back over perfectly straight teeth in a wide, welcoming smile.

Kara practically staggered back, but instead, managed to eek out a "Hi! Kara... is me. Hi."

"So Winn said. Hey. You know, he's been talking about you non-stop, wasn't sure you'd show. I guess our stuff isn't really your thing?"

Kara sputtered and laughed awkwardly, ignoring the raised eyebrow from Winn, the furtive glance from Jess, still seated at the booth, "Not my thing? Why – why would he say something like that? I mean, it could, it could be my thing. How can I know if I've never heard you play, right?"

"Riiight." Lee pulled the vowels from the word, treating Kara to an increasingly wry smile, "He just said you were less Sex Pistols and more N*Sync."

Kara cut her eyes over to Winn, who was choosing this moment to whistle conspicuously and inspect a loose thread pulling up from the vinyl covering the booth seat. She tried to formulate a cogent answer, but whether from the temperature of the packed club or some other completely unrelated, willfully ignored, stir of heat, she was left stumbling over her words.

"Well, I mean yes, but you know, I, um," she grappled, stupidly, for words.

"Hey, no judgment here, love what you love." Lee laughed and Kara felt a rush of warmth flood her cheeks; this club was unbearably hot. "And if we're being honest, I'm the last person who would begrudge anyone a little JT in their lives."

"Right. Exactly," Kara brightened, finally finding her footing in the conversation, "And who knows, maybe I'll love your set. After all, I'm always open to new experiences."

"I'll keep that in mind," the woman winked, one perfect, amused eyebrow arching upward. Kara's cheeks flamed again at the unintended innuendo and she slid gracelessly into the vacant side of the booth.

"Hey nerds, let's do this." All eyes shifted to a clean-cut young man clad in snug Levis and tight white t-shirt with a black leather jacket slung over his shoulder. He treated them all to a smoldering grey-eyed gaze and ended up looking less James Dean and more Danny Zuko, which Kara supposed wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She couldn't get an immediate read on him, but after taking in the sour faces of Winn and his band mates, her initial reaction was one of wary dislike.

"Where have you been man? You missed sound check," Winn grabbed the newcomer by the elbow and dragged him to the side, away from the dagger-filled stares of his fellow band mates. Kara made the intuitive leap that this was their missing drummer, Mike.

"I needed some new threads. This show is a big deal and I need to look my best, man." Mike pulled at the sleeve of Winn's black shirt. "See? Look at you, you get it."

"Looking good won't matter if we don't sound good. You can't keep doing this, Mike." Winn, a good three inches shorter than Mike, was pushing up on his toes and hissing out his disapproval as quietly as he could, but Kara, with her gift of super hearing, could make out every word. "If you keep this up, Jess is going to kill you, like, actually murder you. And honestly? At this point I wouldn't stand in her way."

"I hear you, man, I do." Mike clapped Winn on the shoulder in some show of camaraderie and abruptly changed the subject, "Hey, who's the cute blonde?"

Winn sputtered, incredulous, "That's Kara, she's my – nope. No. We are not doing this now." Winn grabbed Mike's chin and dragged his focus back to the conversation at hand. "One, she's so far out of your league you're not even playing the sport. And two, right now, you're going to get your ass on that stage and make sure your kit – that I loaded out for you – is set up and that you are ready to do this, or so help me, I will help those girls throw you back to space so fast."

"Okay, okay. I'm going." Mike turned, laughing, and paused for a brief moment to touch Winn on the shoulder once more, "Seriously though, thanks. I owe you."

"You already owe me so many!" Winn whined through clenched teeth, raising his fists as he turned to follow Mike toward the stage door.

"Can we do this already?" Jess rolled her eyes and Kara noted the flame red shadow around her eyes flare with the motion.

Unlike Lee, Jess had a opted for a more clean, severe look, decked out in form fitting black dress and knee high, stacked rave boots - black leather with silver studs accenting the toe. Kara pulled at the hem of her shirt, a bit self-consciously; against all of this black and leather, her cream and rose polka dotted blouse and bright mulberry, fitted slacks seemed loud and garish. She couldn't hold too tightly to the disjointed sensation, however, as the band had taken the stage and, stepping over cables and around amps, were settling in to play.

Kara watched Winn put a small monitor in his ear and step up to the keyboard, testing out a few chords to get a level, giving a thumbs-up to some unseen sound engineer. Jess turned on a amp and crossed to the opposite side of the stage, slinging the strap of an electric bass over her head and snapping a few cursory strings, the low rumble reverberating somewhere deep in Kara's chest. Mike had taken up residence behind the drums pressing pedals and cracking at the snare experimentally.

And then there was Lee.

The blonde couldn't help but stare as the dark-haired woman slipped into the electric guitar. It had a strange, sharp body, like an angular, blown-out hourglass, and sparkled brilliant blue. She watched Lee's lithe fingers flick a switch then float over the frets, a smooth run of notes floating from an amp near the lip of the stage. She watched the woman tap a pedal with her left foot and the sound, a moment ago so clear and crisp, distorted, suddenly heavy and layered with grit. Lee smiled at the sound and continued her run of notes, warming up as the audience began to buzz with excitement.

The blonde was so mesmerized she barely registered the hand on her shoulder, jumping suddenly at the sound of her name.

"Hey, whoa, it's cool, Kara, its just us." James Olsen, smiling, hands up in defense, stood back as Kara clutched at her chest, heart racing. "We saw you over here and fought, like, twenty unwashed guys in ripped jeans glued to their girlfriends – not to mention a bunch of bearded hipsters in ironic t-shirts – to reach you."

Kara couldn't help but laugh and crush James into a tight hug. "I'm so glad you came! Where's Lucy?"

"Ugh!" the blonde turned to see a short, brunette shove her way between two disaffected punks in studded vests, "I'm here, I'm here. Hey Kara."

Lucy took a moment to collect herself, keeping her drink level as she hugged Kara before sweeping back cropped hair with a disaffected wave. She steadied herself, balancing on heels taller than the blonde might have otherwise thought possible for a human to wear successfully. She was dressed in dark colors, black tank top with a short vest and oil washed denim and James followed suit in similar palette. It seemed that Kara was the only one who missed the memo regarding proper attire and color schemes for this sort of event.

"Thank Rao you're here. I thought I was going to have to hang here all by myself!" Kara's relief must have been evident and Lucy bumped her shoulder genially.

"Like Winn would ever let me hear the end of it if I had missed this." James laughed, his impossibly white teeth flashing.

James and Winn had been roommates for over a year now, and Kara was glad that they had each other. For James, Winn was more like a brother than a friend and she knew Winn felt the same. Though Winn had initially been a sort of placeholder for the friendships left behind when James relocated to National City, the two eventually developed a genuine bond. As much as they would be loath to admit, they needed one another. When James and Lucy started dating, she seemed to fit right in with the rest of them as if she'd always been a part of the family.

Kara opened her mouth to respond when the amps crackled and popped and Winn stepped up to the mic. She felt Lucy link arms with her, excited, and adjusted her glasses one last time before Winn shouted across the room.

"Hello National City!" he backed off the mic and called over his shoulder to Jess, "I've always wanted to say that." Back to the mic, "We are Broken Legacy, and we cannot even begin to tell you how cool it is to be here tonight. I've just been told that we have the great honor to open for none other than Against Me!'s Laura Jane Grace, so stick around, cause her set is going to be amazing! Anyway, let's get this show on the road!"

Mike tapped a count with his drumsticks and the amps growled to life with a punctuated, staccato guitar riff. Winn leaned into the mic and started singing, somehow managing to balance his smooth voice against the harsh distortion of the guitar. Every so often Lee would jump up to her own mic, adding her voice to the mix, husky and warm, buzzing through the sound system. They were singing about failed romance and girls who play guitar and with the thrum of the bass and fuzz of distortion, Kara couldn't help but dance. Winn's fingers flew over the keyboard during a solo and the blonde whooped and hollered when he finished.

That song transitioned smoothly into another, and then another. They weren't punk, not at all; they sounded like those newer British rock bands Winn had forced her to listen to, but they were still loud and fast. All complicated guitar, organ solos, heavy bass, frenetic drumming. It was electric in a way Kara had never thought music could be and it lured her body into motion while her brain spun wildly, drinking in the sound and feelings. She tried to hold on to each moment, reveling unabashedly, sadder than she anticipated when the set flew by and the band finished their final song.

The last note rattled in the speakers and the club erupted, the disaffected youth moved to cheering and clapping. Kara beamed, her color high, her body overheating as all the dancing and cheering started catching up to her. That didn't stop her from clapping wildly, though, and screaming until she was hoarse.

"Thank you all, so much!" Winn called over the applause. "Once again, we are National City darlings, Broken Legacy! Find us wherever social media yells at you. Thanks guys."

Kara watched as they shed their equipment and exited stage left, Winn catching her eye and jerking his head at her to meet them backstage before he disappeared into the wings of the small stage.

Canned rock music flooded into the club and people started milling around, talking amongst themselves again. Kara, James, and Lucy pushed through the stage door and followed a narrow hallway as it hooked around, giving way to a series of doors. She followed the sound of Winn's excited chatter to a room at the far end of the hallway and found the band collapsed into a series of beat up, turn-of-the-century, crush velvet sofas, each of them leaning back, eyes closed, as the air conditioning rattled and gusted over them. Kara's usually docile friend was standing in the center of the room, practically raving, ecstatic over their performance.

"Did you see that?" he shouted, gesticulating wildly.

"I did!" Kara answered, matching his enthusiasm. "You were amazing! All of you. I don't think I've ever experienced anything quite like it!"

"'National City darlings?' Really, Winn?" Jess snarked, though she was smiling, obviously pleased.

"So I guess we are your thing, huh?" Lee perked up a bit, eyeing Kara curiously.

"Omigosh, yes!" the blonde responded. "I loved every second! It was so loud and so fast. It was like something alive. I don't know if I'll ever be able to find the right words to describe how it made me feel." Kara realized she was rambling and became suddenly self-conscious, shy, "It – it was amazing."

"Listen, Jess is going to stay and watch Laura Jane Grace's set, but the rest of us are going to head over to Saturn Café." Lee picked herself up and leaned, elbow on knees, toward Kara, still standing, tucked in, with James and Lucy. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. How about it, want to join?"

"Kara's always hungry." James answered before the blonde had the chance, "And I love Saturn's shakes. I'm in. Lucy?"

"I'm definitely in," Lucy chimed in, "I should probably get some food in me, stat. You know, soak up some of that whiskey."

"Cool. Well, we have to load out some of the equipment, but we can meet up there in about half an hour, sound good?" Lee pushed up from the sofa and stretched a bit, twisting from side to side then reaching up and back.

"Sounds great." Kara replied absently, momentarily distracted by the sliver of skin exposed by along the hem of Lee's t-shirt. She came back to herself at the sound of James clearing his throat, rather pointedly. "Uh, we'll meet you there."

"Perfect, see you in a bit then."

And with that, the three of them turned to go, each excited at the prospect of food and further conversation.

Chapter Text

What am I doing here? Kara wondered absently, picking at the label on her glass bottle of Coke and basking in the breeze of central air conditioning blowing through the diner. The bottle was thick and pleasantly curved, warming with repeated contact, and vaguely green under the strange lighting in the diner. She peeled at the tacky paper, gazing across the floor to where Lee and James were chatting congenially as they leaned against the laminate countertop of the bar while waiting for their milkshakes.

The Saturn Café was an old school dinner, complete with checkerboard tile floor, neon lights snaking around its perimeter, and glossy vinyl in flamingo pink and silver glitter pulled over each spinning stool and booth. The tables acted as small display cases and dioramas as thick, scarred Plexiglas pressed over old photos from the 1950s, postcards from Roswell and the Mystery Spot, tattoo flash sugar skulls, pages from indie zines, loose change, sequined fabric, and Mardi Gras beads.

Her eyes slid from a picture of the local Girl Scout troop to a black and white photo of a couple dressed in giant bug-eyed sunglasses and springy antennae headbands standing in front of a sign that read "Area 51." Kara liked the diner because it was modeled after those old space race diners that still dotted highways across middle America, featuring signs saying things like "Aliens Welcome" and "My Other Car is a Flying Saucer" – obviously more controversial now than they had been in the late 50's. With its quirky, alien-centric paraphernalia and always-friendly staff, Saturn had become an unspoken safe-haven for the aliens of National City.

She also liked it because the food was amazing.

Saturn was all vegetarian – and vegan, and gluten free upon request, for people who cared about that sort of thing, which Kara didn't really – but it was also some of the best food around. Kara had tried just about everything on the menu, from their stacks of fluffy pancakes to their mile-high burgers, which weren't actually burgers, to their spicy Thai burritos with peanut sauce. She could've happily drowned in all of the deliciously good-but-terrible-for-you food served; Lucy had elbowed her in the side when she had gotten carried away earlier, ordering over half of the entrée menu. The blonde had blushed prettily and scaled her order back to a respectably human size, glowering at Lucy once the server left.

"Hey, I don't police your food choices." Kara had huffed.

"Listen Kara, if I had your DNA, I'd eat every single thing on this menu and no one but no one could stop me," Lucy had fished around in her purse and pulled out a stick of gum, unwrapping it and popping the dusted pink strip into her open mouth. The sharp sting of cherry had piqued Kara's senses and she held her palm out, expectantly as Lucy went back into her handbag for another piece, "but you have this whole stupid desire to maintain your cover and most humans don't generally eat twice their body weight in one sitting." She had handed Kara the gum and the blonde unwrapped it, chewing happily within seconds.

Now the gum had lost it's flavor, turning papery in her mouth until she was forced to spit it out, replacing the faded cherry with the hiss and pop of soda. The band, minus Jess, had arrived ten minutes ago, placing their own orders for food and chatting amiably amongst themselves.

They had snagged a large circular booth in the corner and squeezed in: James on one end, followed by Lucy and Kara. Mike had sidled around from the other side to split center beside her as Winn followed behind him and Lee took the seat at the opposite end. Kara now found her attention caught between the chatter inside and the people walking by outside, smiling and laughing through the large plate glass windows, which bordered their booth on two sides.

It wasn't as if the conversation wasn't stimulating, it was. Winn, James, and Lucy were three of her closest friends and there never seemed to be a lull or awkward pause when they were together. Even Mike seemed moderately entertaining, cracking the occasional joke and flashing a ridiculous grin whenever possible. Rather, Kara found herself purposefully shying away from the chatter in an attempt to avoid meeting Lee's eyes. Each time her glance floated toward the dark-haired woman across from her, she found Lee's gaze already on her, as if daring her to look.

Her eyes were intensely focused – a piercing, vibrant green – and startlingly clear; the blonde found she could only hold up under their laser focus for a few seconds before the heat began crawling up her neck and she was forced to look away.

It was silly, she knew. The woman was beautiful, strangely intimidating, undoubtedly cool, obviously interesting, but she was only human, wasn't she? Kara pushed back a hank of hair that had fallen loose from her low braid, laughing at herself for spinning out as she tried to tuck it back into the complicated weave she had come up with that morning.

"What's so funny, Kara?" Lee asked, cocking her head and catching Kara's bright blue eyes.

"What?" Kara started, her hair falling back into her face as her fingers stilled, "oh, um, nothing, I was just, you know," she scrambled to pull something from the recesses of her mind, "I was remembering this thing Winn sent me yesterday."

"The Phantom of the Opera with Muppets thing?" Lee smiled and shook her head slightly.

"Yeah, actually. Did he send it to you too?"

"Of course. I don't know how I ever survived without being constantly bombarded by daily Internet memes from Winn."

"Right?" Kara laughed, her eyes going suddenly wide as a waiter came over with a tray, laden heavy with fantastic looking food.

"What? I like to share things that make me laugh. It's my dharma, my life's purpose, to spread joy." Winn gestured widely to the table and made a small, though exaggerated bow, "You're welcome."

"So Kara, Winn says you're a reporter with Catco. Do you need a cover model for the next issue?" Mike inched closer to Kara, casually draping his arm on the booth behind her and giving her a smolder. Or at least she thought it was a smolder. Kara assumed it was meant to be enticing, and she attempted to ignore whatever else it may have otherwise given off in the meantime.

She smiled, through a mouthful of food, having immediately attacked her plate as soon as it was set in front of her: a cowboy burger-but-not-actually-a-burger, rising in a small tower of lettuce, tomatoes, and onion rings, above a generous thatch of shoe string French fries. Kara chewed through the silence at the table; it seemed everyone was waiting to see how she might handle such a blatant show of narcissism from the band's drummer.

"Winn's generous with the exaggeration." She blushed at Winn's embellishment of her position, completely sidestepping Mike's self-indulgent quip, "I'm just an intern for now, working for journalists like James."

"Photojournalist." James amended, lightly, treating Kara to that brilliant smile he had absolutely perfected.

"Right, I mostly fetch coffee and do grunt work until I finish my journalism degree. I'm hoping to do well enough that I can move into a full-time position when I'm done with my Master's."

"What does retrieving coffee have to do with writing articles?" Mike asked incredulously, seemingly offended by the idea that she might be made to do menial tasks.

"Not a lot on the surface, but I guess it's sort of a Karate Kid type thing?" Kara laughed and Winn perked up at the reference, "They run me ragged with hundred of little jobs that seem like they have nothing to do with being a reporter but, in reality, a lot of journalism is running around chasing stories. Writing is only part of it. The best work, as they say, is done in the trenches, working the beat, chasing down dozens of leads, making sure you can support every claim made before publishing."

At this, James cut in and Kara was grateful for the break, too distracted by the burger in front of her to continue caring much about the conversation. She felt Lucy elbow her in the ribs, reminding her to slow down as she practically inhaled her food.

"The story always comes first and before it can be written it has to be right – verified and authenticated - which is where a thorough grounding in grunt work comes in handy," James expanded, though it seemed Mike, like the rest of them, was more engrossed in his food than the explanation he had prompted.

"Wax on," Winn sliced his hand through the air in front of his face. "Wax off."

"Exactly." Kara laughed and started eating sweet potato fries off of Lucy's plate before her hand was swatted away.

They all seemed to observe an unspoken break in conversation, absorbed in their meals, no sound but contented humming and the pleasant click of silverware for a handful of minutes.

After Kara had worked through most of her burger and all of her fries, she raised her eyes, immediately snagging Lee's gaze again, and gulped audibly, "Uh, speaking of getting the scoop, what's the story here? How did you all come together? I mean, you know, the band?"

It was Lee who spoke first, fork still poised over her salad. "Well, Jess and I started Broken Legacy back in Metropolis, so when we moved to National City together, it seemed only natural we start up again here."

Kara felt a slight flutter in her chest rise to her throat, a sort of ill feeling she couldn't quite name. She snatched a few more fries off of Lucy's plate, having eaten all of her own, hoping more food would help shove down the uneasy feeling.

"So you've been together for a while?" Lucy piped up, picking through her fries while attempting, and failing, to keep Kara from stealing them. She swatted unsuccessfully at the blonde and Kara hummed victoriously as she shoved her prize unceremoniously into gloating mouth.

Lee laughed, seemingly tickled by the two women; their back and forth over fries. Despite the lower timbre of her voice when she spoke, her laugh was light and clear, like a bell.

"Jess and me? Or the band?" as she spoke, Lee caught the eye of their waiter and whispered something low as he leaned down to her. He seemed to laugh and nodded before heading back to the kitchen.

"Both, I guess? Either." Lucy shrugged.

"Well, Jess and I have been friends since, I don't know, birth? We were stuck together a lot when we were little and only found each other again a few years ago. We've been through break ups, rejections, family drama – thick and thin, as they say. She's one of the best friends I've ever had. She's actually dating one of the sound engineers at the club, which is how we ended up swinging tonight's gig." Kara let go of the breath she hadn't even been conscious of holding. "She's always looking out for us."

"How long ago did you move from Metropolis?" James asked, polishing off the tail end of his Thai burrito.

"About five months ago?" Lee worked over a forkful of salad before continuing. "What about you? Winn said you're from Metropolis too."

"Yeah. Yeah, I am," James nodded, treating the woman to his trademark smile, "I moved here about a year ago. I miss it sometimes. A lot, actually. These guys make it easier, though. A mutual friend from Metropolis told me to look Kara up when I got into town and she got me set up with a room and helped me find my bearings." James cut his eyes over to his roommate, still noisily attacking his food. "How'd you guys end up stuck with Winn?"

"They found me on Craigslist!" Winn answered cheerily, smiling as he talked around a mouthful of club sandwich.

"Chew, Winn." Lucy carped at him, accessorizing her jovial smile with a pair of rolled eyes. "Swallow."

"That's only partly true." Lee corrected. "Jess and I saw him at an open mic night at Noonan's and we placed one of those 'missed connections' ads. It started out as a joke, but then we actually found him."

"Kara was actually there that night. She works at Noonan's whenever they need an extra hand." Winn had taken another bite of his sandwich and Lucy glowered as he spoke through bits of bread and bacon.

"I used to work more, but my internship and extracurriculars sort of eat up all of my time." Kara demurred adjusting her glasses, elbows resting on the table. Her own plate had been cleared, relieved of its contents with lightning efficiency.

Lee looked like she might have a follow-up question, but before she could get it out, Winn hiccupped out an exclamation and Lucy, again, reprimanded him, telling him to slow down and chew his food, "Maybe Kara helped you that night. You guys may have already met without knowing it."

"I would have remembered." Lee stepped on his last word before it left his mouth. She looked up at Kara from under dark, thick lashes then dropped her eyes back to her salad.

Kara cleared her throat, cheeks burning for the millionth time that evening, and turned to Mike, obviously pleased at the attention paid, "What about you, Mike?"

"I matched with Jess on Tinder." Mike adopted a cool tone and feigned disinterest, poorly. "The date was a bust, but we decided to give music a chance."

"That's very progressive of you," Kara smiled, "it's my understanding that not many guys would stick around if their date doesn't pan out."

"I think you'll find, Kara, that I'm a very progressive sort of guy." His smile was broad and his twitching eyebrows hinted at mischief.

Kara almost missed the exaggerated eye roll from both Lee and Lucy at Mike's attempt to impress. She chalked it up to silly boyish charm and they continued to chatter on a bit for another few minutes, pausing only when the waiter came back around with another plate piled high with thin sweet potato fries.

"Just there, please," Lee gestured vaguely to Kara and Lucy and the waiter placed the plate of fries directly in front of the blonde, whose eyes went instantaneously heart-shaped. Lee just laughed, "It looked like you could use some more fries, since you seem to have eaten all of Lucy's."

Try as she might, Kara couldn't contain her glee at the stack of fried goodness in front of her, and Lucy laughed outright as Kara unceremoniously grabbed a fistful and shoved it into her merciless, gaping maw.

"This is literally the best thing that's ever happened to me." Kara snacked through another dozen fries, "Thank you. I was starving."

Mike cocked his head, "You just ate, like, a whole burger and two plates of fries, how are you still hungry."

"Oh, Kara's always hungry." Winn answered, punctuating the final word with a decisive chopping motion, "Always."

Lee adopted a lopsided grin and shrugged, somehow managing to come off shy, which was a new look for her, attractive and sweet. "Well I'm happy to oblige; they're on me."

"Kara would say thank you, but her mouth is full." Lucy offered and Kara nodded, munching happily.

Between the salty sweet taste of the fries and the light blush coloring the cheeks of the woman across from her, Kara was feeling pleasantly warm and surprisingly happy. She sank back into the cushion of the booth, watching her friends as they picked up their own conversations again: James started talking to Lucy about her day at the law firm where she clerked. Lucy's hands were flailing wildly and James' attention was adorably undivided, laughing at exactly the right moments, and encouraging her to continue during each dramatic pause.

Lee, Winn, and Mike were reviewing their set for the evening, gesturing enthusiastically as they recounted the warm reception they'd received from the audience, adopting serious expressions when they discussed areas of improvement.

It was in these quiet moments, sitting full and content and nestled amongst her friends, that Kara could almost feel a sort of perfection, an almost out-of-body sense of completeness she had never felt on Krypton. True, she had been happy there, living among her people in the safe cocoon of her family, slated to serve on the science council and proud of the work her parents were doing for their planet. But the more she thought about her life there, the less real it all felt, further away; more and more just a honey-soaked dream she had from time to time than reality. Here on Earth, she had a sister, had a family and friends, had her powers, had her purpose. Sitting surrounded by the friends she had made, the life she had built, Kara felt whole, felt true. If nothing else, if gave her the sense that she was in the right place at the time. That here, surrounded by so much love, she was on Rao's path.

"Oo! You could teach Kara!" Winn's voice cut through her reverie and she smiled, shaking her head, the ghost of a perfect moment still lingering around them. "Kara!" He threw a wadded up straw wrapper at her and she screwed her mouth to one side in mock annoyance as it hit the crinkle right between the eyes.

"Teach Kara what?" She asked, skeptical of any plan that came from Winn.

"Guitar! You keep saying you want to learn so you could accompany yourself when you sing for open mic night –"

"You sing?" Lee interrupted their overly excitable friend. Kara only sputtered in response, never knowing exactly how to answer that question; telling people she could sing made her feel both self-conscious and overly self-important.

"She's amazing!" Winn supplied. "Really. Her voice, it's beautiful."

"It's, it's really not all that impressive, I, um," Kara groped for words. Thankfully Lee saved her the trouble of an extended struggle.

"I'd be happy to teach you, Kara. I don't have a ton of free time," Lee paused and Kara longed to fill that cavernous pause with a million questions she had for the enigmatic woman, "but give me a call and we can figure out a time that works. You sing, I'll teach, we'll call it even."

Lee pulled a small card from her back pocket and retrieved a pen from the tray holding their check. She scribbled something on the piece of paper and shot it across the table to Kara. It was a business card, heavy, slate grey cardstock with a faint sheen, a phone number in raised ink across its center. Next to the number was a hastily drawn heart, followed by a capital letter L.

Kara opened and closed her mouth a few times, experimentally, finally settling on, "Okay."

"Cool."

With that, Lee stood and shrugged into a beat up black leather jacket, tucking her hands under her hair and pulling it free from the collar with a flourish.

"You're not leaving already?" Lucy asked, pulling away from her conversation with James.

"Early morning." Lee answered, curt but smiling. Then, turning her attention to Kara, "You will call, won't you?"

"I – I absolutely will." Kara answered, a bit stunned by the direct hit of attention, the hint of need in the other woman's voice. It was... unexpected.

"Good." Lee's smile pulled slightly and her eyebrows fell, settling into an expression somewhat akin to relief, before leaning down to Winn, whispering something low which was met with a nod and a smile from their mutual acquaintance, and turning on her heel to leave the diner.

The rest of their time together passed without incident, Kara fell into easy conversation with Mike, who turned out to be surprisingly funny and charismatic, once his bravado had faded; she wondered, off-hand, if there might be more to him than met the eye. Before long, though, she started to yawn and they all grew restless, ready to retire for the evening. Each, in turn, slid from the booth and when Kara reached for her sweater, she found Mike holding it out for her, waiting to slip it over her shoulders. She went a bit pink around the ears at the gesture and shrugged into the light cardigan.

"The check, Winn," Lucy requested, holding out an expectant hand so she could to take it up to the register.

"No worries. It's been taken care of," Winn smiled, pulling his arms through his own jacket; the fading evening had been sweltering, but the night had taken on a decided chill.

"Aw, Winn, you didn't have to do that." Kara lilted, chucking him gently on the shoulder. He winced instinctively.

"I didn't. Lee asked me to put it on her tab."

"Curiouser and curiouser." Lucy murmured as James helped her into her own light jacket. Kara only hummed in agreement, lost in a haze of unanswered questions.

They pushed to the door and huddled outside in the dim lamplight for a moment, a round of hugs and claps on the back before parting their separate ways. Kara declined escort from all parties, including Mike, choosing instead to walk a bit before flying home to her apartment.

She turned away from the party, only to find the drummer trotting at her heels.

"I said I'm fine. I'm just going to call an Über in a block so, I just wanted some fresh air before I do." She said without turning.

Mike drew even with her, "That's fine. Well, I mean it's not really fine, because it's dark and your, well, a girl, and –"

"Are you implying that I can't take care of myself," Kara shot back, "because I'm a woman?"

"No! Well, yes? It's not so much that I don't think you can take care of yourself as I don't trust the guys that hang around this city after hours." He pushed a nervous hand through his hair as he fished for the right words, "I believe in safety. For everyone."

"So do I," she sighed, halting her pace. "And I know you don't know me very well, but I can take care of myself. I don't need your help or your protection."

"Okay, I get that. I do." Mike faltered a bit, "But if that's the case, maybe I could use yours?" He paused, trying to gage her reaction, "I don't live that far; maybe you could walk me home? I could, after all, use some muscle on these mean streets after dark. And I can call you a car when you get there."

Kara was slightly amused by his offer, she saw through it, of course. This was his way of trying to keep her safe without bruising what he thought was nothing more than ego. He didn't know she was bulletproof, that she could lift over a thousand tons, freeze or burn a criminal where they stood, so she let him have this small victory. She crossed her arms over her chest in a show of agitated concession.

"Fine," she huffed.

"Great, it's just this way."

They fell into step, matching their pace with the patter of conversation. Mike didn't offer up a lot of personal details, but instead gushed about movies he'd seen, music he was obsessed with, books he'd read recently. The way he talked, his unbridled enthusiasm, reminded Kara of an excited child, full of wonder at the world around him. Perhaps shed been too hasty in her judgment of him. Mike seemed genuinely enthusiastic, earnest when not peering out through a veneer of male ego and smarmy come-ons. He was pleasant, good looking, of course, and surprisingly easy to talk to. There was something else about him too, something familiar that Kara couldn't quite place, which made her feel strangely comfortable. A resonance or vibration that echoed back through her mind and stirred up forgotten memories. This she shook off, choosing instead to focus on her present.

They stopped in front of a simple row house, lit faintly from within.

"This is me." Mike swallowed audibly, "Thanks for walking me home. I felt much safer with you here."

Kara laughed and watched as Mike drew his phone from his pocket and held it out to her.

"I hope this doesn't seem too forward, but I'd love to get your number. It doesn't have to mean anything, I just – I like talking with you, Kara." His eyes darted away from hers then back again, slate grey meeting sapphire blue. He was nervous. "I'd like to talk more sometime. If – if you'd like to, of course," he added hastily.

"I think I would, actually," she took his phone and added in her contact information, shaking her head slightly as she did so. He smiled broadly and took his phone back, opening the app to call her a car and handing back his phone.

"Just put in your address and the car will be on its way."

"I'm onto you, Mike," she allowed a smile to pull at the corner of her mouth as she typed, "but if it will make you feel better, I suppose I could use a lift home."

"Excellent. It would make me feel so much better."

Within moments, a car pulled up and Kara slid into the backseat, greeting the driver amiably and waving goodbye to Mike. She settled in and clicked her seatbelt into place as her phone vibrated and chirped from her pocket.

Hey, it's Mike. Now u have my number. :-) she read from the screen. With the retrieval her phone, out came the business card, sleek and weighty in her hand. She stared at the phone in one hand and ran her thumb over the embossed numbers on the business card in the other, her eyes tracing the looping heart, the capital L.

This night had certainly turned out to be more interesting than she anticipated.

Chapter Text

"You're late, Ponytail."

The color drained from Kara's face as she stepped into the bullpen at Catco, "I – I had class Mr. Carr," she turned her wrist, careful not to upset the bag of Danishes clutched in her left hand, and regarded the time on her watch, "and I'm twenty minutes early." She thrust the bag toward him and added a hasty, "sir," to the end of her statement.

She pulled a paper cup of coffee from the tray she had just set down and held it out to him. Snapper Carr, a sour, balding man of forty-something, looked at her, eyes peering out from between glasses, set purposefully low on his nose, and a pair of bushy, unkempt eyebrows. His button down was clean but rumpled and his tie was uneven, the long tail swinging out from behind its almost-too-short mate. His general state of dishevelment gave the impression that he never left the office, a thought that evoked both fear and mild pity in his charges.

His mouth screwed to one side as he considered Kara's retort, and, decision hastily made, he snatched up the Danishes and offered coffee. He grumbled his concession, waving her off, and Kara picked the tray back up, making the rounds to the other reporters before poking a blonde head into the art department office.

"Hey!" she said, cheerily, "I come bearing coffee."

James rose from behind a sheet of slides slung over a light board and treated her to his trademark, radiant smile. His slate grey oxford was rolled up at the elbows and his tie was already hanging a bit loose around his neck, despite the fact that it was barely eleven AM.

"Yes," he sighed happily, crossing to her and taking up the still warm paper cup, "my hero."

"Late night?" she quipped.

"You were there, you tell me." He said, raising a suspicious eyebrow, watching as Kara fiddled with the frame of her glasses in the endearing way she always did. "I saw Mike double back to go after you. How'd that go?"

Mike had mentioned that someone ought to walk her home before peeling off from the group. Based on James' history with Kara, he knew very well how it should have gone, having tried that tactic himself once before to disastrous effect.

He and Kara had dated briefly – very briefly – but ended up deciding they were better as friends. He remembered nights trying to act as a valiant protector and guardian to Kara and having it backfire horribly. He had come to National City already knowing her Super status, having been a longtime friend to her cousin, Clark Kent, but still, he couldn't help but want to protect her.

Even seeing her now, in her clean-pressed khaki skirt, light blue button-down with sunny embroidered daisies, navy blue cardigan, and two-toned oxfords, he couldn't help but want to shield her from all the evils of this world. He knew, of course, that she was more than capable of defending herself, all well-toned arms and bulletproof skin; it wasn't that she was a woman either, or in any way fragile; rather, to know Kara was to want to protect Kara. Once she let you in, you couldn't help but want to shield her spirit – her unwavering dedication to goodness and light – from the corruption of the world. He didn't envy Mike his attempt to do exactly what they all had, at some point.

"He tried to walk me home."

"Oo," James hissed in a quick breath of air and shook his head, teasing her. They exchanged sunny smiles, a long-since established currency between them. "Poor guy."

"I ended up walking him home... then he called me a car back to my place as soon as I got there." She added, carefully avoiding any implication that she had lingered with Mike any longer than strictly necessary. Kara valued her friendship with James, but was always respectful of their past, tactfully skirting any details relating to her love-life, potential or otherwise. "It was sort of cute, actually. We had a nice walk."

"That," James eyebrows raised even higher, "I did not see coming." Good for Mike, he thought, painting the thought with only a mild stroke of sarcasm.

James Olsen was a lot of things, but jealous didn't generally happen to be one of them. Usually. He considered himself the luckiest man to be with Lucy; he was content in his work and in his life. In spite of this, though, he couldn't help the twinge in the back of his brain, the bitter taste in his mouth: this guy had flipped the script and managed to wrangle some face-time with everyone's favorite Kryptonian-next-door. He was supportive of Kara, but remained appropriately skeptical, ever the good friend.

"Yeah," Kara rocked back on her heels, feeling the conversation fade and fizzle as James sank into the strange, reflexive mire of his own thoughts, "Anyway, I've got to get back. Snapper's reviewing my piece on the pelicans at the garbage dump and if he likes it," he never likes anything, she thought, and amended her statement, "if he doesn't hate it, he might let me do my first solo interview!"

James beamed again, "That's great Kara! By all means, don't let me keep you," he gestured toward the door and raised his cup to her, "thanks again for the jolt, and good luck!"

She made her way back to her boss, her article now squarely centered on his desk, just in time to see him rip a Danish in half with his teeth, tearing at it mercilessly. It bled bright red strawberry jam from its flaky fissure and Kara subconsciously flashed on one of those nature documentaries where lions ran down fleeing zebras, mauling them once caught. She gulped audibly. He chewed through the pastry and whipped out a red pen, making furious marks across the page, though fewer than he usually did.

"This is," he paused, tilting his head from side to side as if the right word were rolling around, a marble trapped and rattling inside his skull, waiting to fall out of his mouth, "adequate."

Kara brightened for a split second, then carefully schooled her expression, tightening her mouth into a thin, pink line before he looked up. Adequate, in the world of Snapper Carr, was nothing short of amazing, but Kara knew better than react, lest he accuse her of being "too emotional."

"You misspelled pelican," he raised his eyes to her, "twice. But the prose is solid and it's definitely an improvement over the dreck you brought me last week."

Kara fidgeted. Carr handed her article back to her and picked up another piece.

"Um, Sir?" Kara gritted her teeth, hesitant to proceed. She couldn't seem to shake the feeling that she had a finite number of questions she was allowed to ask him during her internship, one of them being the ultimately terrifying request for employment at the end of her temporary stay, however she never knew when she might reach the end of his patience and so rationed her requests as best she could.

"What?" he said, without looking up from his work.

"You said that I might be able to do a solo interview if," He raised his eyes once more and Kara swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. There were few things that scared her in this world but Snapper Carr, Pulitzer Prize winning journalist and Editor-in-Chief for Catco Magazine, was definitely one of them, "if this piece was... um, passable."

He dropped the article he was reviewing and rose from his seat as Kara's eyes widened in unadulterated fear. She stepped back one, two steps and leaned away from him warily.

"I did say that, didn't I?" He turned and fished around in a nearby stack of sand colored file folders, plucking one from the pile. "Ah, here's one. This is a softball, a bunt. Even you should be able to handle it, Danvers. Lena Luthor, Metropolis' wunderkind, is all grown up and a guest lecturer at National City University – I guess she's slumming it in academia before taking over the family business. See what she's up too and why," he sidled back over and handed Kara the file folder. "Here's her info, learn it on the ride over. You leave now."

"N-now? As in, right now?" Kara stuttered.

"Now as in Luthor's class is getting out in twenty minutes, so for the next twenty minutes, you know where she'll be." Carr pushed his glasses up to his forehead, waiting expectantly as Kara leafed through the folder.

"There aren't any pictures, how will I recognize her?"

"Seriously? Google her, Ponytail!" He threw up his hands in exasperation before muttering to himself, " 'How will I recognize her?' You millennials, I swear," Carr rolled his eyes, "If all else fails, look for the woman down in front," he took Kara by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shove, "teaching the class."

"Does she even know I'm coming?" Kara called from the elevator into which she'd just been brusquely deposited.

Snapper raised a finger as if to answer and the doors promptly closed.

Kara had made record time, choosing to fly rather than risk delays on the bus, and was now loitering outside the lecture hall with a few minutes to spare. She had perused the material in the folder, reading over it until it was committed to memory: Lena Luthor – adopted by the Luthor family when she was four – had graduated high school at fourteen, left MIT at seventeen after earning degrees in biomedical engineering and nanotechnology, at twenty-one she'd completed a fellowship at Harvard where she earned her masters and PhD in particle physics, then she capped it off with an MBA from London School of Economics. Now she was twenty-four years old, a guest lecturer at NCU and slated to be one of the youngest CEOs ever to take the helm of a Fortune 500 company.

To be fair, Kara knew most of this already; her cousin had sent Lex Luthor to jail, after all. The Luthors weren't your average family, ruthless parents and genius children who often found themselves on Superman's radar for one reason or another. Lena's brother had been a madman of epic proportions, terrorizing Superman and citizen alike with his xenophobic zeal, before being apprehended and handed down multiple life sentences. Actually if it hadn't been for Kal-El and his determination to put Lex behind bars, Lena probably wouldn't even be in National City, poised to take over her brother's seat at the head of LuthorCorp.

She imagined Lena, like the rest of the Luthors, probably wasn't overly fond of the Girl of Steel and her Kryptonian cousin.

Kara's impression of the youngest Luthor, however, had yet to fully form. Unlike the coverage surrounding her brother, news stories on Lena were often full of hesitant praise, new discoveries and papers published, all invention and innovation. Kara wanted to believe that a person's family didn't necessarily dictate their path; she had to believe that Lena could be better, be more. If one couldn't separate their deeds from their family's, how could Kara hope make a name for herself, fulfill her own life's purpose with Superman's shadow looming so large? Perhaps Lena felt the same way about her own family.

She shifted her weight gingerly from one foot to the other, loitering outside the closed classroom door, fiddling with her phone. Kara couldn't help it, between the obvious genius and somewhat personal history, she was more than a bit nervous to meet Lena Luthor. And to top it all off, the science building had notoriously terrible reception and she hadn't been able to get a current picture of her to load on her phone. Kara would now be forced to sneak in, just to make sure she didn't miss the subject of her interview altogether. She was, admittedly, also more than mildly annoyed that she'd have to follow Snapper's patronizing advice after all.

Kara gathered her courage and slipped quietly into the lecture hall, sinking into a seat near the back of the room.

It was a large raked hall with rows and rows of theatre-style seating crowded haphazardly like uneven teeth in a shark's mouth. Scattered laughter was dying down as she shrugged down into the creaking wooden chair. Almost every other seat was filled and the air in the room was crackling, all students awake and attentive, almost jovial.

A voice, strangely familiar, floated up from the front of the hall. "Thank you for that truly haunting thought on ions, Jeremy. And now to round us all out for the day, who can tell me the greatest love story ever told?"

"Romeo and Juliet," someone shouted.

"Wuthering Heights," shouted another.

"Titanic," a third person offered.

"You're all wrong, especially that last one – they both could have fit on that door and we all know it." The class laughed again and Kara sat up a bit; she couldn't quite see the front of the classroom through the tangle of students, still staying low so as not to draw attention to herself, but something about that voice had struck a chord and she couldn't seem to settle. "Quantum entanglement. It's romance and science."

Kara shifted so she could just see between the heads of several students. She caught a flash of dark hair, red lips, white teeth.

"Quantum entanglement is the idea that, on a subatomic level, two particles can, ostensibly be linked. That even if they are separated by billions of light years, a change in one can affect the other. They're meant to be: soulmates, on a subatomic level, people." She paused for dramatic effect and the class murmured and buzzed. "Across the expanse of the universe, two particles find one another, feel one another, are drawn to each other. It flies in the face of explanation, of reason. Basically," she paused for dramatic effect, "science is love." More laughter. "And that's all I have for you today. Remember homework's up on the site and my office hours are posted."

The students suddenly became a hive of sound and flurried movements, rising and twisting, reaching into bags and hefting them over shoulders. Kara rose too, understanding that it was now or never; she had to force her way down to the front of the lecture hall and conduct her very first solo interview with Lena Luthor. Genius, philanthropist Lena Luthor. Apparently-a-bit-dorky Lena Luthor, with her science jokes and Titanic quips, though Kara filed that bit away for another time.

She pushed through the stream of students, an overly careful salmon fighting the current toward the podium, when a broad somewhat stocky fellow clipped her shoulder, spinning her slightly, sending her bag sailing to the floor. He simply rubbed his own beefy arm and kept walking, tossing off a quick, "watch where you're going" as he went. Kara took a small bit of satisfaction in knowing he'd most likely bruise from the force of impact and smiled to herself as she bent low to gather the contents of her bag.

"That sort of rudeness should be an automatic fail." Kara heard the voice huff, much nearer now, low and warm, so familiar, "Would it be wrong of me to knock him down a few grade points for bad manners?" The polished tips on a pair of very nice heels spun her way and nimble hands entered her line of sight as they set about scooping up notebooks and papers from the floor alongside her. They both stood slowly, arms full, "Here."

"Thank you, I –" Kara stalled out as her eyes rose, dragging up from the heels to the clean line of a charcoal pencil skirt and beyond, to the peplum of a starched and belted white sleeveless blouse. She followed a line of pearly buttons up to the split of the blouse and it diverged neatly, revealing a twisting rivulet of several thin, gold chains resting against gently curving alabaster collarbones. Her eyes continued to drift up, following the line of a regal neck to a sharply cutting jaw. Suddenly the face, its smooth planes and clean cut-crystal features, rippled and split into a ruby-framed smile that was startlingly familiar. And further up now, the eyes – she knew those eyes – ice green haloed in teal, piercing and clear.

"Kara!" the woman sounded more excited than shocked, and Kara stood, open-mouthed.

The woman's dark hair was pulled into a severe nest of very purposeful curls just behind her right ear, and if Kara hadn't known otherwise, she never would have suspected the undercut it concealed.

"Lee!" She gaped, then recovering slightly, continued her thought, "...na Luthor. Oh my gosh, you're Lena Luthor."

"You've found me out," Lee – Lena, Kara consciously corrected – laughed her high fluty laugh and helped Kara tip the notebook and papers in her arms into the waiting gap of the open messenger bag.

"You! Why? How?" Kara slipped the bag back over her shoulder and it settled against her hip.

"I would be happy to answer those and any other question I assume you're here to ask me, but I've been on my feet for hours already and could use some lunch." Her smile never faltered and Kara felt the almost involuntary curve of her own lips pulling up to answer it. "How about it, Miss Danvers? Care to join me for a quick bite?"

Kara simply nodded, dumbly. The woman before her – poised, imperial, confident – showed almost no trace of the person she had met the night before. Lena Luthor was put-together in much the same way Lee had been, that was true – carefully cultivated – though this time in clean crisp lines that implied time and effort and money. She seemed taller, her presence looming larger and Kara felt herself fall into step as Lena motioned for them to leave the lecture hall, eyes darting to lingering students. She turned no fewer heads, eyes obviously trailing them as the two women wound their way through the corridors of the science building.

Kara was, somehow, just as tongue-tied as she had been the night before, but the reason was completely different now, or so she told herself.

They emerged from the brick and mortar science wing of the university and Kara could almost feel her body sigh at the sudden rush of sunlight. She leaned against a guardrail next to a scattering of bike racks.

"You asked me why?" Lena stopped briefly, reached carefully into the bag at her hip, and drew out a pair of oversized, designer sunglasses, "Why what? Why didn't I just introduce myself as Lena Luthor right off the bat?"

"Well," Kara stuttered a bit and settled on, "Yes."

"Have you ever wanted to be someone other than who you are?" she slipped the glasses on and Kara turned to look back at her, "even for a moment? Have you ever wanted to get to know someone starting from zero, even playing field, equal footing?"

Kara narrowed her eyes against the flood of light. She wished she could see Lena's eyes, but the lenses were dark, purposefully so, she supposed.

"I don't often get that chance. With my name, my family's name, most people think they know me, my whole history, every choice I could possibly make, before I even open my mouth." Though Kara couldn't see her eyes, she'd have to be blind to miss the way Lena bit her lip, ever so slightly. "Sometimes it's nice to leave all of that behind and just be... I don't know."

"Yourself." Kara finished the thought for her.

"Exactly." Lena's black cherry lips pulled back into a smile, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth, and Kara could feel a blush flower and bloom, crawling across her chest in response to the brilliance. "Surely you'd never begrudge a girl her secret identity, would you, Miss Danvers?"

There was something about this woman, something in the way she carried herself, shoulders back, head high, something in that conspiratorial smile that drew Kara in. She wondered idly whether it was the warmth in her smile, the crystal peel of her laugh that seemed to so boldly underline the good heart hidden by layers of family strife and slight subterfuge. Conversely, that welcoming, good nature could merely be a bright lure, the brilliant bauble hanging before a sharp and gaping mouth, ready to snatch the blonde up in merciless, unrelenting jaws. Kara wasn't sure which Lena might be, but she couldn't deny her overwhelming desire to find out. She treated Lena to a coy smile, in spite of herself.

"Me?" Kara teased, feeling pleasantly loose, suddenly, "Never."

Kara wasn't a fan of Tapas, generally speaking. Small plates always seemed too small; she always had to order far too many of them to satiate her almost constant hunger and satisfy the caloric demand of her super-powered body. Lena seemed happy to oblige, however, ordering plate after plate, watching with thinly veiled fascination as Kara picked over each one in turn, fingers ghosting over each platter as she asked question after question, mouth full and chewing through Lena's long and winding answers. If Kara made note of the almost constant exchange of full and empty plates on their table, she gave no indication and Lena just kept them coming. It was an experiment, testing the gastronomic limits of her new companion, and she was more excited than she probably should have been to ply Kara with the beautiful food.

They'd been at the table for over an hour and Kara had done valiantly, asking all the average questions regarding the Luthor name, but with above average tact and tenacity. She could be surprisingly delicate, though, so could a scalpel in the right hands. She worked with a surgeon's dexterity, too, as she excised the intimate details of Lena's childhood and subsequent rise within the Luthor ranks without raising the woman's hackles or causing her to shut down. And all of this between bites of golden brown potatoes and sweetly spiced chicken.

Finally the questions began to fall away, giving way to pleasant conversation as Kara stopped recording and packed away her notebook. Once "off the record," both women seemed to settle deeper into their chairs, the tension stringing their spines now slipping from their shoulders.

Kara gave a contented sigh, finding herself suddenly full. How much had she eaten, she wondered, bracing her cheek against the pith of her palm.

"I almost recognize you now," she lilted at the woman across from her. Lena had propped her elbows on the table and created a bridge to cradle her chin. Her shoulders had slackened, but her eyes were still clear, alert, dark brows quirked up in interest. "The 'Lee' you, I mean. The punk beneath the professor."

"And there's the name of my memoir," Lena's light chuckle cut into her response.

"I feel like I could write it at this point." Kara matched her mirth, "well, half of it anyway. The professor part." Kara sighed and shifted a bit in her seat, feeling the effects of food and comfort spin into a cocoon of sleepy satisfaction. "But I feel like everyone knows that side. I'd really like to get to know the other part of you. She seemed – there was a, a sort of," Kara hummed, combing through her vocabulary in search of the right word, "I know the word, but I can't seem to think of it. At least not in English."

Kara blushed at her own admission. English, as complex and confusing as it often was, lacked many of the subtle nuances of Kryptonese or even other languages on Earth, most of which she had learned by now. She knew exactly what she wanted to say, but to do so would open her up to a level of scrutiny she was not yet ready to bear. Recent forays into the hero business aside, Kara was more wary than most with regard to revealing her alien status. True, most of her close friends knew, whether by accident or necessity, but to reveal herself to a veritable stranger was reckless, and to reveal herself to a Luthor? Potentially lethal. Why, then, did she feel this stirring in her chest, this unshakable desire to confess herself at every turn?

"Well then, if not English, than what?" Lena leaned forward a bit, fixing Kara with that unflinchingly steady gaze.

"Mmm, there are a lot of languages with more subtlety than English when it comes to describing the complexity of human emotion. There's a phrase in Japanese, 'koi no yokan,' for example, that suggests the feeling you get when you meet someone and can tell right away that you're going to mean something to one another." Kara blushed a deeper shade of crimson at the explanation, "Like, even though you've never met, you know you're meant to be friends. There's something there you can't put words to. A connection."

"Quantum entanglement," Lena murmured.

Kara smiled at this, "Yes. See? Even science has theories with linguistic subtleties that English does not."

"So you think we could be particles." Lena asked, her eyes narrow, but her smile coquettish. "Entangled particles."

Kara opened her mouth and closed it again, suddenly overcome by that familiar feeling of tongue-tied hesitance.

"I didn't say," She started, "Not exactly. I just, I meant –"

Her face burned and she scrolled rapidly through all the things she could possibly say to the woman across from her that might explain away the embarrassment currently coursing through her system. We could be particles...

"Of course we're particles. We're nothing but particles, all of us, scientifically speaking" Kara sputtered, huffing as she found her voice. "I just mean... Look, I think you're interesting and feel it's important to mention that I thought so before I knew your last name. I have a feeling you might have trouble with people who think this," she gestured to Lena, the upscale clothing, the perfectly twisted knot of raven-dark hair, "is the only part of you worth getting to know. I just thought you should know I see you. All of you"

Kara shrugged, allowing the weight of her admission to slide off of her like rain on a pane of glass.

"I just want to know you. However much of you you're willing to share."

It seemed Lena had adopted Kara's habit of searching in vain for the right thing to say. The Luthor's eyebrows fell into a light knit and her lips split into a terse, slightly compressed 'o.'

"You're something else, Kara Danvers."

The blonde cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses, "Is, is that good or bad?"

"Don't know yet; jury's still out." Lena took a protracted sip from her glass on the table, smiling around the straw. "You say you want to get to know me, and I feel inclined to let you, though I don't exactly know why. And if being a Luthor has taught me anything, it's that one should always foster a healthy amount of distrust in anyone taking a personal interest in me."

Kara hiccupped slightly, "That's bleak."

"Once burned, twice shy, Miss Danvers." Lena shrugged and took the bill from the waiter, sliding her card into the tray and handing it back in one fluid, obviously practiced motion. Kara moved to protest and was instantly silenced by the arch of a dark, sculpted brow. "I don't know, though. You've got an honest face and there's something about you; I think I'd like to get to know you too." Lena laughed and Kara couldn't help but greet the sound with a smile, "who knows, maybe we were destined to meet, particles pulled across the galaxy to be right here, right now."

Kara practically gulped as the Luthor leaned forward across the table, ever so slightly, looking up at the reporter from under long, dark lashes.

Lena laid a soft hand of lithe, ringed fingers over Kara's own, "Wouldn't you like to find out?"