Work Text:
It was funny how utterly inconspicuous a hairnet could make one look. All the make up and hoodies and caps pulled down low in the world have not been able to do what an apron, a pair of latex gloves, and a simple hairnet have been able to do.
Then again, perhaps it wasn’t about being inconspicuous but just the plain absurdity of finding Lena Luthor—heir to LuthorCorp and sister to the notorious Lex Luthor—volunteering in a soup kitchen. Who would believe her even if she admitted it to their face? Just the other day she’d been caught on camera wearing a dress that cost more than most people made in a year—someone who could waste money like that could surely hire someone to volunteer at the soup kitchen, or at least donate lavishly (as the Luthors were wont to do) and dispel the desire to freely offer services entirely.
And yet, for whatever reason—the hairnet, the inability to suspend disbelief, pure and unbridled luck—she was at one of the many soup kitchens scattered across National City, doling out mashed potatoes and gravy while listening to the woman in charge bark orders at the grocers and cooks who were working in the back, and not a single person batted an eye at her.
It was refreshing, both in the maintaining anonymity and managing to do some good for the world sort of way. If only her mother saw her now, she thought wryly, grinning to herself as she snuck an extra roll for Franny, knowing the older woman would inevitably take half her food for the old man who lived in the alleyway near the soup kitchen.
“You don’t understand,” she’d told Lena when she questioned why he didn’t just come get a full meal. “You couldn’t understand.” And well, no, Lena couldn’t understand. She couldn’t remember a time when she wanted for anything, except perhaps for her father’s attention and mother’s affection. But she knew, had always known, she was privileged—that by some strange twist of fate or luck or sheer absurdity, she was a Luthor, with all that entailed.
She couldn’t understand, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do anything, even if that meant throwing money at a soup kitchen anonymously or spending a rare Wednesday afternoon out of the office in said soup kitchen, manning the mashed potatoes.
It was thrilling, this act of doing, of working and helping, feeling useful for once, feeling as though she was actually accomplishing something for others, and that high lasted even hours later, long after she’d helped clean up, promised she’d volunteer over the weekend, and pulled off the hairnet.
In fact, the high lasted until she ran right into Kara Danvers.
This wasn’t a bad thing, not really. She didn’t even know the reporter all that well beyond the single conversation she’d had with her what felt like years ago. She appreciated Kara’s honesty and integrity, liked that she hadn’t allowed Clark Kent to dominate the conversation (as he was wont to do, any Luthor could attest). She even was fond of the fact that Kara seemed content to never mention Lex at all, actually going as far as staring at Clark Kent disapprovingly when he brought up her brother. So no, Lena didn’t have an issue with Kara Danvers.
She had an issue with Kara Danvers’ boss, knowing for a fact she’d be plastered all over the next issue of CatCo Magazine, everyone debating on whether or not her efforts at the soup kitchen were…well, suspect, to be kind.
“Miss Luthor!” Kara said, dropping the enormous (how much could she lift, really?) sack in her arms and smiling wide. “What are you doing here?” Her smile faded as her eyes widened. “Not that I mean you can’t…I mean…you’re just—um, hi,” she finished lamely, fiddling with her glasses awkwardly, rocking backward on her heels.
“I didn’t know you volunteered here,” Lena said, hoping against hope that the last of the volunteers had already left and hadn’t heard Kara’s exclamation. She’d have to find a new soup kitchen, and in all honesty, she wasn’t quite keen on doing that. She liked working here, liked the manager, liked Franny’s no nonsense attitude and quips. She didn’t quite appreciate having to upend all that just because some reporter found her out and wrote an ‘exclusive’ about it for some washed up, gossipy, nonsense filled—wait, Kara was talking.
“—which is my sister’s fault completely, but here we are,” Kara was finishing, smiling at Lena widely, apparently not at all bothered by the same sense of impending doom as Lena was. “But I like it here, everyone is so wonderful and I like feeling like I’m doing something important.”
“Yes, exactly,” Lena found herself agreeing, momentarily thrown and feeling her panic ebb away only to be replaced by a certain partiality for Kara Danvers, something that placed her above other reporters. She appreciated it, more than she could say, that Kara seemed more excited about the work than she did about seeing a Luthor at a soup kitchen, hairnet hanging limply from one hand, coat pulled on only halfway. It was strange, inexplicable even, that this reporter hadn’t already pulled out a notebook and pen and begged Lena for a comment.
“Anyway,” Kara said, drawing Lena out of her thoughts and her increased appreciation for a bespectacled blonde, “I have to go. Dinner is on my sister. Hopefully I’ll see you around, Miss Luthor.”
(She said hopefully and sounded like she meant it.
Lena couldn’t understand that either.)
“Lena,” she blurted, watching Kara pick up the enormous sack once more, the ease with which she did so throwing Lena off more than her mouth’s unfortunate slip. “Call me Lena.”
Kara smiled brilliantly, all teeth and crinkled eyes, and it made something in Lena’s chest go flump.
“I’ll see you later then, Lena,” Kara said, and Lena’s heart went flump yet again.
It was inconvenient, really.
x
She rather expected a slew of reporters the next time she arrived at the soup kitchen. She thought she’d be greeted by flashing lights and invasive questions, was sure that the next day there’d be an unflattering photo of her in her hairnet for all the world to see.
(It was wrong, really it was, that a tiny—tiny—part of her wanted that to happen just so she could get a not-so-surprising visit from her mother and see the look on her face as she paled at the glove-apron-hairnet fashion choices her only remaining family favored.)
Instead she was met with Kara leaning against the back entrance, all alone and wearing an outrageously thin sweater despite the cold, a tiny smile on her lips. There was no phone, no photos, no notebook, and Lena stopped short, just out of Kara’s sight.
(She had several issues with the current situation:
First and foremost, she was a suspicious person by nature—or rather, she was skeptical—and she tended to believe that if something seemed too good to be true it was likely because it wasn’t true. And not being ambushed by the media only days after being discovered working at a soup kitchen by a reporter felt a lot like something that was too good to be true.
Secondly, despite believing a healthy dose of skepticism should be prescribed to all adults, she was alarmingly happy to see Kara, even with the nagging thought that she was being played for a fool taking up residence somewhere in the back of her mind, cheerfully ignored by the greater part of her that was practically giddy at the sight of Kara. Lena was no stranger to falling for the charms of a pretty woman, but this…this was like being doused with cold water on a hot day—refreshing and eye opening and more than a little annoying.
Thirdly, and most worrisome of all to be quite frank, Lena trusted Kara Danvers. Not in the ‘catch me, I’m falling’ sort of way, but taking comfort in that fact that she was sure Kara was an anomaly—kind almost to a fault, unbelievingly talented at reading people, and respectful of boundaries. And for Lena to trust someone so implicitly after only speaking to them twice? Practically unheard of, in all honesty.)
Lena blinked, then began looking around for any sign of reporters or paparazzi, feeling oddly vindicated when no one jumped out of a corner and shouted ‘boo!’ in order to capture the million dollar shot of Lena not looking absolutely put together. Allowing herself a small grin, she stepped forward, Kara’s head snapping over to her almost immediately.
“Miss Lutho—I mean Lena, hi!” she said, pushing off the entrance and smiling wide. “You and I are on washing duty today, so I thought I’d wait for you out here.”
(She looked terribly excited about it, and though that nagging whisper in the back of her mind was screaming that this must be a trap—how much would a photo of Lena Luthor elbow deep in dishwater sell for?—Lena couldn’t help but share Kara’s excitement.
It was terribly contagious. Like the plague.)
“Aren’t you cold?” Lena asked instead of her more pressing questions, namely why was Kara so happy about washing duty and was there a photographer hiding behind the dumpster?
“Cold? Why would I—oh,” Kara said, mouth falling open as she seemed to register Lena’s breath fogging in the crisp air, that she was shivering despite the gloves, the scarf, and the tightly wrapped coat. “Yes,” she continued, somehow sounding unsure. “I’m cold. But I had coffee earlier. So I’m warm.”
“Which is it then?”
“Warm. From being in there,” Kara said, panic entering her eyes for whatever reason. She hooked a thumb towards the soup kitchen’s entrance. “It’s stifling in there.” She blinked when Lena chuckled softly and seemed to pull herself together, pushing the door open and motioning for Lena to enter before her. But as she stepped by, Lena found herself pausing, reaching out to place her hand on Kara’s wrist before she could think better of it. (It was warm, even through the gloves Lena wore, and she wondered if that was possible—if somehow the rules of physics ceased to apply and took a backseat to the fluttering in Lena’s stomach and that apparently permanent flump of her heart.)
“You didn’t tell anyone I volunteered here.”
“Of course not,” Kara said, making a face like she couldn’t understand what the point of the statement was. “It’s not mine to tell.”
“It probably wouldn’t have mattered if you said anything anyway,” Lena said, pulling her hand away from Kara and stepping further into the building. She could hear the bustling of her fellow volunteers as they prepared the food, and it brought a smile to her lips. She really liked working here. “I doubt anyone would believe a Luthor volunteers at a soup kitchen.”
(She was trying to make light of it. She was trying to turn it into a joke.
Kara didn’t seem to get the memo.)
“Maybe,” she said with a shrug, arms crossed over her chest, glasses slipping just slightly down the bridge of her nose, eyes impossibly blue in the dim light overhead. “But that’s just because they don’t know you.”
Lena swallowed and couldn’t help the thought that crossed her mind at that precise moment:
Catch me, I’m falling.
x
“Can I get a little extra today?” Franny asked, biting her lip and turning her head a little, as if she was trying to listen for something.
“Your friend is hungrier today?” Lena said, not really expecting a response as she waited for the soup kitchen’s manager stepped away from the tough chicken they were serving today, and slipped Franny a few extra rolls and added an oversized dollop of potatoes. She technically wasn’t supposed to do this—she’d gotten narrowed eyes and askance looks from the other volunteers—but she couldn’t help it. It wasn’t as if the soup kitchen suffered for it. She made sure all the anonymous donations came in regularly, there was no danger to giving a little extra. Besides, Ellen—the manager—was already beginning to ‘expand,’ wanting to start making little lunchboxes for people to take.
“Something like that,” Franny answered, shuffling in the line and giving Kara an odd look, accepting the extra chicken portion with a frown. Lena watched her go worriedly, unused to a silent Franny. She tended to be loud, full of something to say.
“I wonder if she’s okay,” Lena muttered, not realizing Kara had heard her until she felt the reporter sidle up to her, an uncharacteristically serious look on her face.
“Her friend, the one you give extras for, he’s uh…” Kara swallowed, shrugging and briefly meeting Lena’s eyes. “He’s sick.”
“Well, why didn’t you say something sooner? I could help, I could take him to the doctor or bring one to him or—”
“Lena,” Kara interrupted, gently wrapping her fingers around Lena’s wrist until she dropped her ladle into the mashed potatoes, tugging her back into the kitchen and through the back door.
“Kara, stop, we can—”
“—you can’t help, Lena,” she just said firmly, shaking her head when Lena opened her mouth to argue. “Franny’s friend…he can’t be helped.”
“But why?”
“His food source doesn’t exist on this planet.”
Admittedly, and later she’ll give herself grief for it, it took a minute for it to actually sink in. One minute, she was desperate to help some strange man she’d become fond of through Franny’s secondhand stories, the next, her mouth was opening and closing soundlessly—the sister of the notorious alien hater, Lex Luthor, suddenly discovering that she’d been feeding an alien unknowingly.
“But she took extra rolls—”
“He didn’t want to tell her the truth, but he had to today.”
(He’s dying, Kara didn’t say, but she didn’t need to. It was written on her face, at the way she bit at her lip and fiddled with her glasses and focused so intently at a spot over Lena’s right shoulder.
And Lena couldn’t manage much more than an oh no.)
“H-how do you know all this?”
“I asked Ellen to help out with some hungry alien refugees. Other soup kitchens in the city said they barely had enough to feed their own,” she said those words angrily, and it pulled Lena out of her shock long enough to notice Kara’s stiff shoulders and stony expression, “but Ellen wanted to help.”
“I don’t understand, the one soup kitchen I volunteer at caters exclusively to aliens?”
(It was a fucked up joke, that was for sure. She thought maybe, in some dark cell somewhere, Lex was laughing his head off at Lena’s current predicament. She thought it would be bad to be discovered working at a soup kitchen—“Breaking News: Lena Luthor Attempts to Poison the Hungry and Homeless”—but it was far, far worse to be caught working at a soup kitchen that served aliens.
She could see the headline already: Lena Luthor, Sister of Notorious Superman-Hater Lex Luthor, Murders Alien Refugees in National City.
Her mother would be so proud.)
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lena,” Kara laughed to Lena’s shock. “There are just as many humans as aliens here.”
“Kara,” Lena managed weakly, the single word somehow sounding like a plea and a prayer all at once.
“You and I have been serving humans and aliens who can tolerate our food—mostly aliens that can pass as human,” Kara explained gently. “The aliens who require, well, specialized diets—or the ones that can’t pass—are handled by Ellen. That’s all.”
“How does Ellen find these special foods then?”
“Apparently, Supergirl has helped.” (Of course she did. It wasn’t like this wasn’t already a massive disaster. They just had to throw in Superman’s cousin.) “Can I ask you a question?” Kara continued, studying Lena oddly, a mixture between defensive and hurt. She barely waited for Lena’s nod before plowing on. “Are you upset because you’ve been helping aliens?”
(Was she—what?
If it had been anyone else asking, Lena would’ve just lied. She’d spin a tale, make up an excuse, change the subject. But this was Kara. And damn it all to hell, Lena trusted Kara Danvers.)
“Ellen manages this place,” Lena began slowly, leaning heavily against the wall. For the first time she noticed that Kara was still gently grasping her wrist. Which was, well, it was nice. Comforting. “But the funding comes from—”
“You—well, L-Corp, but I assumed the orders came from you,” Kara interrupted, smiling a little. “Why does that matter…unless you only want to help other humans?”
“No, Kara. But if anything goes wrong? If one alien gets sick and the press catches hold of it? It’ll be like Lex all over again, but worse. Once is a surprise, Kara. Twice is a pattern. L-Corp would be doomed.”
“So are you going to stop donating and volunteering?” Kara asked in a small voice, tugging her hand back, shoving it into her pocket. Lena immediately missed its warmth.
“Of course not,” she answered with a wave of her hand, furiously thinking. “But I need you to take me to Franny’s friend. There has to be a way to recreate the nutrients he needs.” She shrugged at Kara’s wide smile, uncomfortable with the softness in the reporter’s eyes. “After all, if we can make the Impossible Burger we can make anything.”
Kara didn’t say anything in response. Instead, in a motion that was far too quick to be entirely normal, Kara had pulled her into a hug, pressed firmly against her, Kara’s mouth right at her ear, whispering needless thank yous.
The fact that she was sure Kara could feel the pounding of her heart? Inconvenient.
x
They developed a…well, a routine of sorts.
They began to volunteer on the same days, Lena arriving at the soup kitchen only to see Kara leaning against the entrance, sometimes fiddling with her phone, other times looking at the wall of the next building next door so intently that Lena would swear Kara could see through it. They’d then pull on their hairnets and work for several hours before leaving together, sometimes for coffee, sometimes to spend time in the lab, other times to research what sorts of nutrients the different species of alien refugees would need. Between the chatting and the coffee and the copious amounts of potstickers Kara could consume in one sitting (a truly worrying amount), they became friends. In fact, it didn’t take too long before Lena could safely say that Kara was her best friend (her only friend, really, something she took almost masochistic delight in reminding herself of on a daily basis—having only one friend, but that friend being Kara Danvers, didn’t seem such a bad deal).
So she was understandably surprised when the other shoe dropped.
“I thought you understood that I don’t like being in the press,” Lena said tiredly, rubbing her temples and leaning back into Kara’s sofa. “Interviews, photos, exposés—I just can’t deal with that, Kara. Not after Lex.”
“But it wouldn’t be like that,” Kara insisted, sitting in the armchair across from the couch, perched at the very edge and looking rather anxious. “It would be an article about the good you’re doing, and I’ll write it. You know I wouldn’t say anything you didn’t want me to.”
“Kara, it’s not that I don’t trust you, but—”
“Why don’t you want people to see how amazing you are?” Kara interrupted, wringing her hands in frustration. “Because I see you at that soup kitchen every week, there’s all the work you’re doing on behalf of alien refugees, and Ms. Grant was talking about all you do for the Luthor Children’s Hospital—”
“—how does your boss know about that?” Lena asked with narrowed eyes, but Kara was on a roll and didn’t seem to much care for Lena’s interruption.
“—you walk around terrified that someone will snap a photo and run a story about you, but you don’t even realize just how good the things you do are. Lena,” she leaned forward, reaching out and grabbing Lena’s hand, something about the way she talked and acted making it seem as if she wasn’t just worried about a silly article she wanted to write, “do you know how good you are?”
It was a rhetorical question. At least, Lena took it that way because the prospect of having to respond to that was just too much to handle. She smiled awkwardly, squeezed Kara’s hand gratefully, and swallowed hard.
“One condition. I get to read whatever you write before you send it to Cat Grant, okay?”
“Done,” Kara said easily, head tilted to the side, glasses askew, a smile on her lips.
And for the first time, Lena didn’t quite mind the flump in her chest or the rush of emotion at the sight of Kara’s blue, blue eyes. It might have been inconvenient, but the inevitable tended to be.
x
Supergirl’s presence at the Luthor Children’s Hospital was unexpected at best, problematic at worst.
Lena watched National City’s caped hero stand tall in the middle of the hospital’s lobby, children in wheelchairs and covered in blankets looking over at her in awe, others with beanies on their heads and IV poles dragged behind them, momentarily distracted from their pain at the sight of the S and the heroic pose.
With a sigh, Lena handed the book in her hand back to Claire—an eleven year old with osteosarcoma who seemed to enjoy it when Lena read to her—and pushed her wheelchair towards where Supergirl was now kneeling on the floor, chatting with a grinning boy.
“Do you think she’ll shake my hand?” Claire asked in a whisper, making Lena pause when she tugged on her sleeve. “Patrick said she shakes hands every time she comes, but I’ve always missed her.”
“She comes here often?”
“Once a week since one of the kids hung a S outside his window in his room.”
“And she just shakes hands?”
Claire chuckled, looking up at Lena with a look that was far too knowing for an eleven year old. It was unnerving.
“Do you just boss around the billing department?”
“Are you sure you’re just eleven?” Lena asked, raising an eyebrow. Claire laughed.
“My birthday is next week,” she informed Lena proudly, digging through the pockets of her sweater before pulling out a scrap of paper. She reached up, gesturing for Lena to take it. “That’s my wish list.”
Lena studied the list briefly, unable to help the bark of laughter that escaped her.
“The only thing you want is to spend time with Supergirl?”
“And you. Always you, Lena.”
(Before becoming jaded and cynical, Lena had had the ability to feel her cold, cold heart. It would soften and warm and break for all sorts of things, and here now with Claire looking at her with her bright brown eyes, drowning in her oversized sweater and pajama pants, Lena felt that same cold, cold heart thaw out.
It was a Disney miracle.)
“You want me to talk to her, don’t you?” Lena asked flatly, seeing through Claire’s flattery even as her heart grew three times its size.
“Please?” Claire begged, making a face she must have assumed was charming enough that Lena would cave.
“You know, a Super and a Luthor is a pretty bad combination.”
Claire snorted, taking back her list with a roll of her eyes, pointing towards the elevator and indicating that she wanted to go back up to her room—even though Supergirl was still chatting with several of the kids, in the middle of a hug. It meant she was either in pain or was just exhausted, and Lena felt her chest constrict painfully.
“Come on, Lena,” Claire said dismissively, sounding much wiser than her eleven years should have allowed, “you’re not really a Luthor.”
And Lena wasn’t sure if she meant it in the ‘you were adopted’ sort of way or the ‘you’re not like the rest of them’ sort of way, but she found it didn’t really matter.
Because when Claire looked at her, Lena didn’t feel like a Luthor.
x
“So I need you to get into touch with Supergirl,” Lena told Kara several nights later. They were in the reporter’s apartment, both of them hovering over the stove and their failed attempt at making spaghetti sauce—something Kara had repeatedly argued was just as good out of a jar, but Lena wanted to try and make from scratch anyway. Kara’s eyes shifted from the pan to Lena, something about her expression becoming positively comical.
“Why?” she asked after nearly a full minute of silence, seeming to finally screw her head on straight, turning to face Lena completely.
“I know someone who wants to meet her.” She didn’t bother to elaborate, choosing instead to begin to flip through Kara’s seemingly endless stack of take out menus, wondering what she was in the mood for—though she was sure that they’d end up with pizza or Chinese. Kara tended to get her way, which had something to do with Lena consistently caving for a pretty face and a bright smile. (She’d say her crush was getting a little out of hand if it in anyway alarmed her. Unfortunately—or perhaps rather fortunately, she hadn’t yet decided—she wasn’t alarmed in the least.)
“Who?” Kara asked a little suspiciously, tugging out a Chinese menu and smiling charmingly at her, practically fluttering her eyelids.
“One of the patients at the children’s hospital wants to meet her for her birthday, I promised I’d try to arrange it.”
“Okay,” Kara said, picking up her phone and beginning to dial. “You can choose the movie, by the way.”
“Wait, okay? Just like that?”
“Yeah. Just like that,” Kara laughed, looking confused at Lena’s incredulity. “It’s not—hold on,” she turned around, rattled off a cheery hello and her memorized order, chuckling at whatever the restaurant owner (they were friends, Lena had asked) said, then hung up and turned back to Lena, “it’s for a kid’s birthday,” Kara continued, like she didn’t just cut herself off to order their dinner. “Of course I’d try to help.”
“You’re not suspicious of a Luthor asking to meet up with a Super?”
“Well, are you hiding Lex in some corner of the hospital?”
“No.”
“Then nope, I’m not suspicious. Besides, it’s for a great cause.”
Lena blinked, brain temporarily blank. Then, without bothering to meticulously agonize over the potential consequences, she stepped into Kara’s space, grabbed her best friend by the front of her button up shirt, and tugged her forward, pulling her into a hard kiss.
She didn’t have time to wonder if she’d made a mistake—before she could pull away in horror at what she’d done, Kara had wrapped her arms around her waist, pressing closer to her, and deepened the kiss.
x
It took a bumbling, blushing meeting with Supergirl and Claire, an awkwardly charged moment on her balcony after Supergirl pitched an idea for an alien refugee center that provided medical and other services for aliens, and a strange fixation on Supergirl’s part to keep Lena safe after Lex placed a long overdue hit on her before Lena put two and two together and realized that Kara’s biggest secret wasn’t that she had a great workout routine but that she was Supergirl.
(And to be honest, it was sort of a relief—all those times that Lena thought she was insane for thinking Kara was looking through a wall? Turned out Kara was actually looking through a wall.)
By that point, they’d been dating for nearly three months, had reached a milestone in the relationship in which Lena was comfortable with practically living in Kara’s apartment, had already had their first (and fourth and maybe half of a fifth) argument, one of which involved what Kara was doing at all hours of the night.
She could tell, from the way Kara’s hands kept clenching and unclenching and her right eyelid twitched, that Kara thought spilling the Supergirl secret would be a big deal—perhaps even a deal breaker. And maybe, had Lena not been in so deep (love was annoying in that it made you more inclined towards understanding) and hadn’t already figured out the truth weeks earlier, it would’ve all blown up in their faces. But she’d long ago realized she trusted Kara, perhaps more than she should, and that meant accepting that Kara must’ve had a reason for keeping her secret.
“Okay,” Lena said, nodding as Kara finished her painstakingly crafted speech, complete with apologies and a long segue into how the Danvers had been terribly good at making Kara afraid of telling people about who she was. Not purposefully, Kara hastened to explain, but their fear of discovery had rubbed off on her eventually.
“Okay? That’s it?” Kara managed incredulously, mouth actually falling open. Her cape was fluttering in the wind, the lights of the city only barely managing to illuminate her face. All Lena could really tell was that she seemed reluctant to come too near to Lena—as if she was afraid of pushing boundaries.
“Well, I already knew.”
“You—what? How? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lena said, waving Kara’s question off easily and shifting a little bit so that Kara could lean against her instead of the balcony’s railing. “You said some things weren’t yours to tell. Well, some things just aren’t mine to force.” Lena’s eyes narrowed, poking Kara hard in the stomach, watching her force out a grunt, the pretend wince of pain looking adorably human despite the cape and the S. It was adorably Kara. “But my understanding nature depends on whether or not you have any other secrets up your sleeve.”
“No!” Kara exclaimed quickly, holding up her free hand in surrender. “No more secrets! Well,” she bit her lip, clearly deep in thought, “okay, there’s one. I hate the green smoothie you make me in the morning. I can’t drink that anymore, Lena, I’m serious,” she added when Lena just started to laugh.
“Yeah, I knew you didn’t like it.”
“And you still made me drink it?” Kara demanded, offended.
“I thought it was funny,” she managed through her laughter, grabbing onto Kara’s cape when she pretended to huff and attempt to pull away, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but it was funny, Kara. You’d get a pinched look on your face, like you thought I was trying to poison you and—”
“—you owe me, Lena,” Kara said, trying to keep a straight face and failing, apparently endlessly amused at Lena’s amusement over the whole thing. She wondered if Kara was also just relieved—feeling that rush of elation, that high, of finally getting something off your chest and shoulders, the drunk feeling of finally getting something done and it going well. Lena watched as Kara stepped closer, trapping her against the railing, hands braced on either side of her. Lena expected a wide variety of things to come out of Kara’s mouth next (rather hoped for a few, too), somehow missing the one thing that she ended up saying. “I demand pizza,” Kara whispered, pressing a chaste kiss on Lena’s cheek.
“Oh, Kara. We’re going to have to work on this.”
Before Kara could ask what she meant, Lena pulled her in for a proper kiss.
x
They continued to volunteer at the soup kitchen, Lena going as far as to task Hector with finding the rarer food sources the aliens of National City needed.
Luthor Children’s Hospital began having ‘Supergirl Day’ once a month, something that had Claire looking at Lena with one of her knowing smiles—as if she knew who convinced the hospital and the superhero to do it in the first place.
Supergirl talked passionately about different sexualities at a charity auction benefiting National City’s LGBTQ youth center, and Lena hadn’t been able to contain her excitement when she realized that for the first time she wasn’t the only major donor.
Kara worked with Cat Grant to create a scholarship for women who wanted to work in journalism, and when Cat Grant challenged Lena to do the same, she did so with no qualms—her only condition being that applicants pursue a career in a STEM field.
And one day, months and years into her relationship with Kara, Lena found herself no longer looking over her shoulder, searching for the flash of a camera and the beginnings of an invasive question. One day, without really realizing it, she scanned through newspaper without fearing what she might read, didn’t much care when a photo of her in her hairnet finally leaked, didn’t even wonder what people thought.
Because Kara thought she was good, and Lena trusted Kara.
It was inconveniently cheesy.
x
Alex cleared her throat loudly as she stood, drawing the attention of the other guests almost effortlessly. Lena had known the agent for some time now, and yet still she was in awe at how Alex could silence an entire room with only a glare, the barest hint of pursed lips. Kara rolled her eyes like she could hear Lena’s thoughts (something she assured her several times was not one of her powers, though Lena still wondered) and grabbed her hand from underneath the table. Instantly calmed, Lena smiled politely and motioned for Alex to begin her speech, wondering if her recently made sister-in-law could tell that her middle finger was sticking out rebelliously from under Kara’s hand.
“By now all of you have heard the story of how Kara and Lena met,” Alex began, both hands gripping her flute of champagne. Lena worried she’d break it with all the nerves she was showing. “They love telling it because they’re…well, they’re gross. They say it was love at first sight in Lena’s office but the truth is more boring and it involved Clark and an article that Kara fought with her cousin over.” There was a flutter of polite laughter, but it was more than enough to have Alex straighten, suddenly looking much more comfortable—even slightly…was that playful? “But I’d like to admit today that that story isn’t accurate. You see, the truth is that’s the lame story. The real story happens several weeks later at a soup kitchen where Kara and I volunteered—a place, might I add, that Lena still spends her weekends at.” Alex paused dramatically, turning to Kara and Lena—both of them frowning up at her with identical expressions of confusion. “The truth is, Kara and I knew Lena worked there long before Lena knew we did. The truth is that Kara fell in love with Lena because, and I quote, she’s ‘selfless and good and generous, and look at her, Alex, she’s amazing.’” This time, when Alex paused, it was to a flutter of very loud and very sincere laughter as Kara buried her head in Lena’s shoulder, ears tinged pink. “Come on, Kara, why’re you embarrassed, you’re married to her now.”
“Alex,” Kara protested, seemingly grateful when Lena squeezed Kara’s hand reassuringly.
“She’s right you know, we’re married now,” Lena mock-whispered in Kara’s ear, unable to help herself, causing Alex to snort and another flurry of laughter to fill the room.
“So,” Alex said, turning to fully face Kara and Lena, her smile genuine and just happy (one that Lena thought was mirrored on her own face, though she was rather sure hers had become a little sappy), “while Kara’s busy falling in love with good and selfless and generous Lena Luthor, she fails to mention one very important detail: the only reason either of us were volunteering in the first place was because J’onn assigned us mandatory community service after we practiced my free fall out of a building. Apparently, that’s against the rules.” Alex waited until the laughter and chuckles died down, waited until Kara stopped hiding her face against Lena’s shoulder, waited until J’onn admitted his involvement with a grunt and a poorly hidden smile, waited until Lucy Lane stopped her whistling, and Clark raised his glass—prompting everyone else to do so as well. “The truth is, even if Lena only believes it when Kara tells her, there are very few people as good as she is out in the world. And there’s no better fit for my little sister. Congratulations you two.”
Champagne flutes were drained, music began to play, and Lena took the opportunity to turn to Kara.
“Community service, huh?”
“I tried to tell you, it’s not my fault you weren’t listening.”
“Sorry, what? I wasn’t listening.”
Kara ignored her joke (which probably didn’t bode well for their marriage, she thought idly, she wasn’t sure how in love Kara could actually be if she didn’t laugh at all of Lena’s terrible attempts at humor) and kissed her.
And if Lena forgave Kara for her slight then and there, if she pulled away grinning like a dope, she found it wasn’t inconvenient at all—she just chalked it up to romantic and left it at that.