Chapter Text
Lena isn't entirely sure why she thought she'd be good at this.
Is it because she's a genius? Because being intelligent doesn't automatically mean you'll be good at anything, especially on the first try, she's smart enough to know that. Is it because people always talk about baking like it's a science? Because there are a lot of different branches of science and they aren't all the same and understanding one doesn't mean understanding them all. Is it arrogance? Did she just assume she'd be good at baking because she said so? Because that is just ridiculous.
She supposes it doesn't matter now. Because instead of having an apartment that smells like the best parts of a bakery, she has a trashcan full of burnt cookies and a sink full of smoking pans and, god help her, this is not how she wanted this day to go. She'd had plans , damn it. She'd make perfect cookies and Kara would arrive right on time and she'd be so wonderfully surprised and then they'd settle in the living room to wrap presents for their friends and it would be exactly the kind of wholesome, normal day that Lena has always wanted but never had.
She glances at the clock and sighs. Still thirty minutes until two, until Kara's meant to arrive and will no doubt say all kinds of undeservedly nice things and make her sterile little world feel like a place worth living in. Thirty minutes for her to try and salvage some part of her plan. Hopefully.
She swipes angrily at the flour-covered counter because, damn it, she just wanted to do something nice for the woman who's not only her best friend but the love of her life, the one person who always believes in her, who trusts her, who loves her. But, like all normal things related to feelings and people and relationships, Lena is woefully out of her depth.
Heedless of the generally unflattering turn of her thoughts, her intercom buzzes once, twice, then a third time for good measure. She sighs again and makes her way into the hall, brushing the hair off her forehead with a tired hand. "Yes?" she snaps, wincing at the bite in her voice. Annoyed with herself or not, that's no reason to be churlish with someone just doing their job. "I'm sorry, Matthew; you didn't deserve that. It's...been a frustrating sort of day."
"No problem, Ms. Luthor. There's a, uh, delivery here for you. Should I have it brought up?"
"Delivery?" she repeats, brow creasing in confusion. She rarely orders anything for herself, these days, and everything work-related goes straight to the office. "Who sent it?" she asks, and if there's a dose of wariness in her voice, well, it's warranted. She's had more than her fair share of close-calls in the last few years and it pays to be careful.
"Kara Danvers, miss."
Kara? She feels herself start to smile. The Super hadn't mentioned sending her anything but it isn't unheard of. Setting up small surprises is a favored hobby of Kara's, something that's become even more obvious since they started dating. "Send it up, Matthew."
"Right away, Ms. Luthor."
Smiling absently to herself, she heads back to the kitchen where her mood instantly sours. Between the mess on her counter - and her floor, she's loath to notice - and the lingering scent of burned batter, she has no idea where to begin in fixing this mess she's made. But, though Lena Kieran Luthor is many things, first among them is her single-minded commitment to a job well done. Which is why, when a soft knock summons her to the door, she only just remembers to take off her flour-covered apron and toss it into the kitchen where it belongs.
Pausing long enough to snag a twenty from her purse on the way, she opens the door with a sigh as weary as she is. "Thank you, Matthew, I'll just-" Her eyes go wide. "You're not Matthew."
Because, no, the blonde standing at her door, clad in jeans and a seasonally appropriate red cardigan, is most certainly not her doorman.
Kara Danvers beams at her, all bright eyes and even brighter smile, as she rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Surprise!" she says happily. "I know I'm early but, look, I brought donuts to make up for it!" She presents said donuts with a flourish and Lena thinks this might be what having an aneurism feels like.
Because she adores Kara, loves her with all her heart, but she isn't supposed to be here for another - Lena takes a surreptitious glance at her watch - twenty-three minutes and she'll no doubt need every one of those minutes to try and salvage what's left of her dignity, to say nothing of her kitchen.
"Uh, Lena? Are you okay?"
She blinks, forcing herself to take a deep, hopefully calming, breath and loosen her white-knuckled grip on the doorknob. "What? Yes! Yes, I'm fine," she says in a rush as Kara's question finally registers in her ears. She shakes her head a little, an admittedly poor attempt at clearing her mind, before opening the door wide enough for Kara to enter. "Come in, please. But you know you didn't have to bring anything; when have I ever said 'no' to spending more time with you?"
Kara fixes her with a slightly concerned look as she carefully slips inside, mindful not to knock into her with the donut container or either of her large bags. "I know I didn't have to, Lee, I just wanted to. Donuts make everything better."
Lena can't help but laugh, reaching out to smooth the krinkle forming between golden brows away with the pad of her thumb. "Thank you, darling. I appreciate the thought... and the donuts."
And, just like that, Kara's smile returns full force, as bright and warm as the sun outside. "Want me to put them in the kitchen?"
Lena's eyes go wide. "No!" she cringes at her own awkwardness. "I, ahem, I mean no, no, thank you. I'll do it." She eases the brightly colored box out of her hand before she can think to try and stop her. "Why don't you start getting things set up in the living room? And I wrapped your presents in the lead-lined paper Alex gave me so don't get any ideas."
Kara's cheeks flush at her teasing and Lena uses the distraction to her advantage, topping it off with a quick kiss to a warm cheek before escaping back into the kitchen. She doesn't have the time, or privacy, to try her hand at baking again but maybe, if she's quick, quiet, and very, very lucky, she can destroy the evidence of her failures before Kara's curiosity gets the better of her.
She pushes the sleeves of her sweatshirt further up her arms and gets to work, scraping the last tray into the trash before putting it into the sink to soak with the rest. She races back and forth between the counter and the fridge, seemingly unable to remember to pick up more than one thing at a time, and she's only just grabbed a rag for the counters when she looks up and realizes she isn't alone. Because Kara is there, leaning against the doorframe with cardigan and glasses both abandoned, her eyes as warm as she's ever seen them.
"Hi," she says, swallowing hard against a sudden wave of nervousness. Because, despite being a grown woman - and in her own kitchen, besides - she can't quite manage to shake the feeling of being a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Kara's smile widens ever-so-slightly. "Hi," she says, drawing the word out playfully. "Whatcha doing?"
She hates it, and she'd deny it later if asked, but her first instinct is to lie or try to, at least. But she doesn't. Because she doesn't want to be that person, the kind that can't admit when they've made a mistake, when they've failed. Even if she is a Luthor, she's still only human and perfection has no place in that. "Trying to clean up my mess," she says softly, heat flooding her cheeks as her eyes fall to the flour-coated marble. "I wanted to make cookies for you. As a surprise."
"What happened?" she asks and the playfulness is gone, now, replaced by such impossible gentleness and, oh, but Lena doesn't deserve her at all, does she?
Lena laughs, more than a little wetly, as she gestures halfheartedly to the kitchen. "What didn't happen?" she asks, the question as rhetorical as they come. "I burned most of them, obviously; I'm not sure how, really. I wound up burning and undercooking one batch, which doesn't even make sense. And, even though I followed the recipe to the letter - to the letter, Kara - half the mixes were too watery and the other half were too thick."
She sucks in a sharp breath, eyes jumping to the ceiling because if she looks at the mess any longer she's going to start crying which is entirely ridiculous because, for god's sake, they're just cookies. "And then I think I started panicking because I was running out of time and everything just kept going wrong and I just-" she lets out a shaky breath, "I just wanted to do something nice for you. Because, because you're always doing things for me, like making coffee in the morning or bringing lunch to the office when you know I'm too busy to leave or just making me smile and I just wanted-"
She doesn't even realize she's crying until Kara's arms are around her and, by then, there's no stopping it. So she clings to Kara's t-shirt and buries her face in the crook of her neck and just lets it happen.
"You're not focusing on the right thing," Kara says softly, once she's quieted enough to hear.
She sniffles against her neck. "What?"
"It doesn't matter that you messed up," Kara says confidently. "It matters that you tried. You tried really hard, over and over again."
"But-"
"Before today, had you ever even turned your oven on?"
"...no."
"So, you've never baked before?"
"No."
"And you've never wanted to?"
"Well, no, not really, but-"
"Lena."
She stops short and looks up at her, completely amazed at what she sees. Because Kara doesn't look disappointed or like she's trying not to laugh. She looks warm and happy and even a little proud?
"You tried to bake cookies for me."
Slowly, completely overwhelmed by the way Kara's looking at her - like, even tear-stained and covered in flour, she's the singular most beautiful thing she's ever seen - Lena nods.
"You spent hours trying to bake cookies just because you thought it would make me happy?"
"...yes?"
To say that Kara smiles feels too ordinary, too small, to explain the way her lips curl and her eyes light up. And then she's pulling her close again, holding her as tight as she can without hurting her, and Lena doesn't think she's ever felt so warm, so safe, or so loved in her entire life. "That's what you should focus on," Kara says into her hair. "Because that's what matters, Lee. That's all that matters, okay?"
She nods against her shoulder. "Okay."
She feels lips against her forehead as Kara pulls away and, even though her cheeks are still red from a combination of crying and lingering embarrassment, Lena can't help smiling up at her. "I love you."
Kara hums under her breath and presses another kiss to her forehead, lips lingering against her skin as she whispers, "I love you too, Lena. And thank you."
Lena glances up at her with what feels like her first real smile of the day tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Anything for you, darling," she says softly. "And I do mean anything."