Archive of Our Own ^beta

i.

2:27 pm.

Lena sighs. Still thirty-two minutes to go. She looks to the floor, swinging her feet back and forth, frowning when they barely scuff the ground. She wishes she’d remembered to bring her book with her this morning, but Lilli- mother had been in a particularly bad mood, and she hadn’t wanted to do anything to set her off even further. She already dislikes Lena enough as it is, she doesn’t need to give her any more ammo against her.

She can hear her peers laughing loudly around her, but she keeps her eyes trained on the floor, trying her best to tune the noise out; she knows she shouldn’t, knows that she should probably be jumping at the chance to get involved in the little Christmas party they’re having, but even just the thought of getting involved, of trying to socialise with all of the people who she knows think she’s a freak, makes panic claw at her chest.

She wonders, just for a second, what her new mother would say if she could see her, sitting alone in the back of the classroom and counting down the minutes until she gets to go home.

Probably something scathing, she thinks. A comparison to Lex paired with a (very) thinly veiled barb about how real Luthors behave.

But, well. Her mother isn’t here. And all Lena really wants is to go home, which is not something she ever foresaw herself wanting until now, miserable in a classroom with - ugh, twenty-nine torturous minutes to go.

She tasks herself with counting all of the ceiling tiles, sure that it’ll help her pass some of the time left. Of course it’s not the first time she’s done so and she can almost certainly guarantee it won’t be the last, but she thinks she can get her number more accurate this time if she just counts one row up and one row down and multiplies them together, rather than actually trying to count them all individually.

Sure, it’ll take her less time, but Lena’s nothing if not a stickler for accuracy.

She’s almost there, just a few tiles away from making her calculation, when suddenly someone speaks, startling her so badly that she almost jumps out of her own skin.

“Hi!” the voice says, almost offensively cheerful. “You’re Lena, right?”

When she looks up, she finds Kara Danvers beaming at her, smile bright enough to be blinding. One of her front teeth is missing and there’s a little smudge of blue paint on her cheek, like she’d wiped her face with her sleeve without thinking; really, the combination should make her look unkempt, messy even, but paired with the loose braid tumbling down her back, it just makes her look teeth-achingly charming.

Suddenly, ridiculously, Lena feels overdressed in her green dress and frilly socks when compared to the faded overalls Kara’s sporting that are just that little bit too big, hanging off her wiry frame.

(The thought that Lena doesn’t let herself entertain, not even to herself, is that Kara reminds her a little of herself before.

The rosy tint to her cheeks, the grass stains on her knees…

Her chest tightens uncomfortably at memories of big, open fields; a flower crown made of daisy chains placed precariously atop her head; her head rested on a lap, eyes closed and drifting off to sleep to the sound of a lullaby, low and soothing in an almost familiar language).

She blinks. “Yes?”

She chides herself mentally as soon as she hears the lilt at the end of her voice, accidentally posing what should be a simple one-word answer as a question. And what a stupid thing to mess up on, she thinks - is she Lena? Well, she wouldn’t know, it’s only been her name for the past six years.

Kara just giggles, clearly completely unaware of Lena’s current inner turmoil. “You sure?” When she gets no reply, she sticks her hand out, undeterred. “I’m Kara.”

Lena narrows her eyes suspiciously at the proffered hand, making no attempt to accept the handshake. “I know…” she says, making sure this time to keep her voice steady, even if she fails to mask her apprehension particularly well.

Kara’s eyebrows shoot up, half hiding themselves in her hairline, mouth making a little ‘o’ shape before she excitedly says, “You do?”

“Of course I do,” Lena says, knitting her brow. Everyone knows Kara, even people who aren’t in their class. She always holds the door open for everyone and she helps the kindergarteners with their finger painting and she knows all the bus drivers by name, and sometimes, some of them even let her sit in the drivers’ seat and greet all the other kids as they get on.

(Well, Lena can’t be too sure about that last one. 

She’s heard about it from multiple different people, but her driver George is always there to get her at 3 on the dot, and she thinks her mother would sooner keel over and die before letting Lena ride the bus home).

“How come?” Kara asks, finally removing her hand from where it had been hanging dangerously close to Lena’s face. She shoves her hands unceremoniously in her pockets, tilting to one side when she shifts her weight almost entirely to one leg, head tipping ever-so-slightly to the side with the movement.

Lena doesn’t answer for a while, mulling over all her potential answers in her head; she doesn’t want to come off as weird (or, weirder than she already knows everyone thinks she is), and she also doesn’t want to give away too much about herself, because she doesn’t even know what Kara wants yet, and who knows what she could be fishing for?

(She swallows down the lump in her throat when she realises that, not even ten months ago, she would have never even thought to consider that someone may be fishing for something or have ulterior motives when talking to her.

Not even ten months ago, she was a normal five year old girl, who had tea parties with her teddy bears and liked dancing to her mom’s old records, and now -

Well. Now, things are different).

So, considering her attempts to keep composed in front of Kara, to not let her guard down or let her in too far, Lena would love to know why she chooses to answer her question with:

“Who doesn’t? I mean, you’re Kara.”

When a furrow appears in Kara’s brow, almost mirroring the one in Lena’s, she feels the panic set in and immediately jumps to rectify it. 

“No, not - not badly! I just mean… you’re like, totally awesome, everyone always talks about how cool you are.” 

Dear God, Lena, her mind practically screams at her. Stop talking!

“I mean, not that I… I don’t really- talk. To anyone. But everyone… they really like you.”

The crease in Kara’s brown is gone now, a goofy expression on her face in its place, and surely that should be it, that should be enough for the words to stop pouring out of Lena’s mouth at this almost inhumane speed, but -

“I’m sorry, if I upset you, or said something wrong, or -”

“Lena!” Kara interrupts, giggling boisterously again, and irritatingly, that’s enough to put a stop to the demon that recently overtook Lena’s body and made her spill every thought that entered her head. Not like she could have done with that about thirty seconds ago or anything. “Stop. You’re funny.”

Lena frowns. “Like, bad funny, or… ?”

Kara lets out a huff and rolls her eyes, but there’s no malice there, only poorly masked affection hidden behind exasperation. “There’s no such thing as bad funny, silly.”

“Oh.” Lena doesn’t really know what to say then, so she lets silence envelop them, fidgeting awkwardly in her seat. “Sorry. I’m not good at… talking. Or making friends.” Another pause, and then she says, closer to a whisper, “Being… normal.”

There’s not an ounce of hesitation in Kara’s body when she flops down onto the floor in front of Lena’s seat, smile big and silly, like Lena’s said something funny again without realising. “Well you made me laugh. More than once. So you can’t be that bad.”

Lena rolls her eyes. Kara seems sweet, but that’s hardly difficult to achieve - everyone makes her laugh. 

When she tells Kara as much, she gasps like Lena’s said something truly heinous, and looks away from her dramatically. “Mean,” she says, voice the image of offence. “You’re mean. Don’t think I wanna be your friend anymore.” When she turns back to look at Lena and sees the way her eyes have widened at the words, she’s quick to clarify, “Kidding! Actually, that’s why I came over.”

“What do you mean?”

This time, it’s Kara’s turn to look sheepish. She squirms in her seat a little before saying, “I got you something. Or like. Made. I made you something.” When Lena still looks confused, she adds, “Y’know… for Christmas.”

Her clarification does little to assuage Lena’s confusion, because… what?

Why would Kara, who she’s never said more than hi to in her short time at this school, have gotten her something for Christmas? Was she meant to get her something in return? Was she meant to have somehow known that this is a thing they’re apparently doing? Will Kara be mad at her for not knowing, and not having something to give her in return?

But before she can think to ask any of her burning questions, Kara’s fishing in the pocket of her overalls and producing a little bracelet, clearly handmade. It isn’t very thick, or very large, probably just wide enough to wrap around Lena’s wrist, and it’s made up of blue and green threads, winding in and out of each other to make a pretty pattern.

“It’s a friendship bracelet.”

Lena thinks it’s probably the best gift she’s ever been given, but she doesn’t say so, can’t quite figure out the words she’d need to put that across, so instead she just asks, “Why?”

Kara’s quiet for a few moments, like she needs time to put her thoughts into words. Lena waits patiently while she collects her thoughts, the whole time staring a little awestruck at the thing still resting in Kara’s hands, so small and yet absolutely everything all at once.

When Kara finally speaks, her voice is softer than it was before, like she’s not quite sure how Lena’s going to take what she has to say and wants to tread gently. “Well, I just… you were adopted, right? This year? That’s why you moved here?”

Immediately, Lena stiffens up. The fact that she’s adopted certainly isn’t a secret - if it were, it would probably be the world’s worst kept one, considering the gala her parents had thrown in announcement. But nonetheless, it’s not something she particularly likes talking about, not with her mother and father, or the social worker, or even Lex.

“Um. Yes. And?”

“And… I know my first Christmas with my new family was like, super scary, so I thought… I thought you might be scared, too.” After she says the words, she looks vaguely terrified again, miles away from the overly confident girl she was when she first approached Lena.

“You - you’re adopted, too?”

She brightens a little, seemingly grateful for Lena’s response. “Yeah! When I was four.”

“That’s… I didn’t know that.” She takes a deep breath, before admitting quietly, “I am, a little. Scared, I mean.”

“I totally get it,” Kara says. “The Danvers are super great. Really. But it was so scary, ‘cause like… I hadn’t even done Christmas before I came here. We were Jewish so we always did Hanukkah at home, had all our traditions ‘n stuff. And then I was just part of a new family and doing a new holiday and it was so weird .”

Lena reaches over, index finger gently tracing over the bracelet still resting in Kara’s palm. She doesn’t pick it up yet, just runs the pad of her finger over the ridges where the two threads interweave; thankfully, Kara doesn’t say anything about the way she’s staring at it like it’s the eighth wonder of the world.

“Was it okay, then?” she asks eventually. “Your first Christmas?”

Kara’s face softens, as if she’s reliving the memory right there and then, blue eyes wide and full of wonder and innocence. “It was great. Eliza bought us a menorah, and they gave me and Alex a present for every night of Hanukkah, and presents at Christmas. It’s like double!”

She’s so overjoyed at the idea that Lena can’t help but grin along with her, but their shared moment of happiness is short-lived, both of their smiles disappearing when Lena asks, “And… do you still miss them? Your parents, I mean?”

Kara stares down at her shoes. “Oh, yeah.” Her voice is quiet, a little sad. “Eliza says that never goes away.”

Lena sighs. She figured. “Yeah. I thought so.”

(She’s not sure what she’d expected, really.

Of course Kara wasn’t going to tell her that she didn’t miss her parents anymore. Of course she hadn’t moved on from losing them after only three years. Of course this thing was going to hang around Lena’s neck for the rest of her life, weighing her down, keeping her from ever really breathing properly).

(She’s not sure she’d have it any other way, actually.

Missing her mommy hurts more than anything she’s ever felt, but she can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to not anymore).

“Here!” Kara exclaims, considerably brighter than before. “Let me put this on you.”

Lena pushes the sleeve of her dress up and holds her wrist out for Kara, smiling at the realisation that her bracelet’s going to match her dress.

“That year,” Kara says as she delicately wraps the bracelet around Lena’s wrist. “Alex made me a friendship bracelet kinda like this one… I mean hers was better than mine, but she was nine when she made it, so she had a head start. Anyway, it was kinda like a promise, she said? To stick out for me and stuff.” She ties the ends into a little knot, pulling it tight against Lena’s wrist. “She was the first real friend I had here, I thought I could be the same for you.” She slides the bracelet around Lena’s wrist so that the knot is pressed against her pulse point, hidden from the main view of her hand. “There you go!” she exclaims proudly. “All done.”

Lena beams at the sight, the bracelet slightly clunky against her wrist, but still by far the most beautiful thing she’s ever worn, much nicer than any of the bracelets Mother’s bought her.

“Also, I mean, I know you have a brother, but boys are yucky,” Kara says, almost as an afterthought, and the two dissolve into a fit of giggles, all traces of their slightly morbid conversation from before gone as Lena finally lets herself indulge in what she wants to do for the first time in… well, in nearly ten months.

And as she works herself into hysterics with Kara - her new friend! - in a way she knows Lilian would find extremely irritating, wearing a bracelet Lilian will probably think garish, and rolling around on the floor with Kara in a way Lillian would probably find completely unladylike, she finds that she can’t quite bring herself to care, or to worry that she might be trying to get something other than genuine friendship out of her, not when Kara lights up like the sun herself every time Lena laughs.

(She thinks, silently to herself - hopes, really - that somewhere up there, her mommy must be breathing a sigh of relief.

Because as long as she has Kara, Lena’s going to be just fine).

ii.

When Lena’s mother died, she had been devastated.

She’d cried for what felt like days; cried in the back of the ambulance to the hospital, cried while she spoke to the social worker, cried as one of her mother’s friends had helped her pack all of her stuff into a bag, cried throughout the whole flight to Metropolis and then the drive up to the mansion.

Even as she’d walked up to the door to greet her new parents, tripping over her own feet under the weight of the little red backpack she was carrying, she’d been sniffling into her own sleeve, barely able to stop sobs from wracking her tiny little body again after finally managing to stop right as the car pulled up outside.

When Lena’s mother died, she had been completely and utterly destroyed, and naturally, when the doctor finally told them Lionel’s fate, she had been expecting the same reaction to come.

When she didn’t immediately break into tears, she pinned it on:

1. The shock.
2. The fact that Lillian was stood right beside her, eyes directed right at Lena like she was expecting a repeat of how she had reacted the last time she’d been in that situation.

And then later, when she couldn’t get a tear out in her bedroom, or in the shower, or even when she was staring right at the order of service, the photograph of her late father’s poised face had been almost accusing, staring what felt like directly into her eyes and asking, am I not good enough?

She’d teared up at the funeral, just a little bit, just enough to have Lillian seething, her grip on Lena’s wrist just that little bit too tight as she dragged her out of the funeral home, hissing something under her breath about proper funeral etiquette and disgracing her father’s memory.

Lena had just set her jaw and choked out an apology, choosing not to mention that she was fairly sure proper funeral etiquette actually included crying, especially when you were fourteen years old and losing a parent for the second time. It hadn’t been worth the scolding that would be sure to follow.

In the months after her father had died, Lena had tried to access some deeper sadness within herself, really. 

She’d stared, long and hard, at the photo of her and her father that sat on her dresser, until her eyes had started to water not with tears, but from the sheer strain that had come with her intense and unblinking gaze.

When that hadn’t worked, she’d visited his grave, but sitting talking to a piece of stone wasn’t really very her, and there hadn’t been anything burning that she’d wanted to say to him before he’d died.

She supposes she could have cursed him out for leaving her with Lillian, could have asked why he’d let her be so awful for so many years, could have thanked him for loving her even when Lillian so clearly didn’t, for favouring her over Lex even if he’d never admit it.

But, well. He was dead. It wasn’t like he could answer her, and she wasn’t really sure that she’d like to hear what he might have to say in reply if he could.

And it wasn’t that she didn’t - doesn’t, miss her father. Because she does, still, nearly a year after he died. It’s just… she thinks that she had expected it to feel the way it did when she’d lost her mom - like someone had reached into her chest and torn her heart out with their bare hands. This is more like a dull ache humming around her ribcage - always there, but so quiet she barely remembers to feel it unless she’s really thinking about it.

She’d asked Kara about it once, in the dead of night. They were curled up on Kara’s little twin bed, too cramped to really still be comfortable after all those years, something neither of them would ever admit; Lena had been able to hear Kara drifting off to sleep, her breath warm and even on Lena’s neck --

(By that point, she’d gotten so good at ignoring the shiver that crawled down her spine that she barely even felt the goosebumps on her arms at the feeling).

-- when she’d shaken her gently, rousing her from her almost-slumber.

“Hmmph?” Kara had murmured sleepily, nuzzling her face further into Lena’s neck. “Lee, whas’ wrong? M’awake, promise.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Lena remembers whispering into the air, eyes screwed shut. Kara’s palm was warm against her belly, even over her shirt, and her grip around Lena’s waist was so tight she could just feel the flex of Kara’s forearm against her ribcage as her fist screwed up into her shirt in her tired state.

“Mm, yeah, anything.”

Lena had twisted in Kara’s grip so they were facing one another, had made sure not to react to the fact that they were so close their noses were brushing, so close she could feel Kara’s breath warm on her cupid’s bow.

“When Jeremiah died,” she’d started, keeping her voice low and her eyes closed, more so she didn’t have to face up to either looking into Kara’s eyes or staring at her lips than anything else. “Did it feel… different?”

She’d woken up more then, shifting ever-so-slightly, but still never loosening her grip on Lena’s waist. “Different to what?”

“Your parents.”

Lena had made the mistake of opening her eyes at that moment, just in time to see the maddeningly adorable furrow of Kara’s brow and the way her front tooth had sunk into her lip, like she had no clue what to make of Lena’s question. She screwed her eyes shut tighter.

“What do you mean ‘different’?”

Lena had taken a deep breath then, only then really considering that maybe Kara wouldn’t know what she was talking about. She’d never really considered it a possibility before; Kara always knew what she was thinking, always understood her exact thought processes, even when Lena herself didn’t.

Lena was pretty sure that she could tell Kara she sometimes felt like a two-headed, big blue Rottweiler called Axel and Kara would just smile and say yeah, me too, Lee.

But this… this was different, Lena knew. This was their parents. And it wasn’t that they didn’t speak about their previous lives, the families they’d lost - they might not have talked about them often, but that didn’t mean it was never - but that at the core of it all, Lena didn’t really know how Kara felt about losing them at all.

When they spoke about then, they only really traded memories. Usually in a situation just like this one, curled under Kara’s duvet together, or sprawled out across the floor of her and Alex’s treehouse. Always when they were alone. Kara would usually start, with a story seemingly plucked out of nowhere, about her mom or her dad or sometimes her aunt; Lena would follow afterwards, voice much quieter than Kara’s, trying not to let her voice shake even though she knew Kara would never judge her.

Neither of them have very many memories of their parents anymore, but each and every one that they do, also rests precariously in the hands of the other.

(Lena almost snorts thinking about it -

What’s mine is yours.

How she wishes).

When Jeremiah had died, she’d been there for Kara every way she knew how. Had sat beside her at the funeral, perched at the end of the family pew like she had any place there, Kara’s hand tightly clasped between hers. She’d spent hours at the Danvers house, even more than she had before Jeremiah had died, which had been a lot; they watched Disney movie after Disney movie, gorged themselves on ice cream and pizza; took all of the quizzes in those teen magazines Kara loved so much.

(Lena thought they were ridiculous, but Kara, for some reason, was enamoured.

Apparently, Lena was a winter and Kara a summer.

Yeah, she thought that was about right). 

She’d wiped Kara’s tears after every fight with Alex, whispered every comforting thing she could think to say, everything she’d wished someone would say to her when she lost her mom. She’d even been there for Alex and Eliza, in whatever little ways they’d allow - washing the dishes after movie night, swearing that she’d heard Alex come in before curfew when she knew she hadn’t.

And when Lionel died, Kara had tried to return the favour, of course, but she’d had to sit at the back of the funeral, and she was rarely allowed round to the manor anyway, and it wasn’t as though Lena was bursting at the seams to talk about it. And she hadn’t cried.

So there wasn’t much that Kara could do, and they’d left it. Lena knew she was there if she ever wanted to talk about it, anyway.

“Lena?” Kara had prompted, bringing Lena back to the moment; her voice was gentle, kind of like she thought she might spook Lena if she spoke in a normal register.

“Oh, sorry.” She remembers that, hidden in pitch black of Kara’s room, her hand had moved up, almost of its own volition, until her fingers were weaved between Kara’s hair, knuckle just brushing her skull. Kara hadn’t said anything, had just turned her head ever-so-slightly so she was pressing into Lena’s touch. “I mean, the pain? Did it feel different, when Jeremiah died, than when your parents did?”

Kara thought about it for a while, humming softly to herself while she pondered Lena’s question. “I don’t know. I guess so? But it was all different. It didn’t hurt any less to have lost him, but… I don’t know. I had Eliza, and Alex.” Months later, Lena still isn’t sure whether or not she imagined the hitch in Kara’s voice before she said, “You. Maybe it felt different, but… it was all different.”

“Yeah,” Lena had breathed out. She’d moved down at some point, shuffled in Kara’s arms, and ended up eye-level with her neck rather than her mouth. Only when she’d realised that did Lena finally open her eyes, although the return to her vision was short-lived, because as soon as she did, she found herself burrowing into Kara’s chest, nose digging into her collarbone. “That makes sense.”

It had felt like Kara wanted to ask something else, maybe about Lionel, or even just if Lena was okay, but Kara --

(Perfect, lovely, wonderful Kara.

Kara, her best friend, who always somehow knew what it was Lena needed.

Kara, her favourite person in the world, who Lena just knew had the potential to one day be her downfall).

-- just pressed a kiss to Lena’s head, gentle, like Lena was something precious, worth being treasured, like she’d do anything to protect her.

And that was the last time they’d ever spoken about it. Not that Lionel’s name had even come up, or that Lena could really be a hundred percent sure Kara knew why she was asking, but.

They haven’t mentioned it since. There’s not much to say, really, not on Lena’s part anyway, and she knows Kara will never bring it up first.

Which is exactly why she’s so surprised when, seemingly out of nowhere, Kara does.

She’s sprawled across the bottom of her bed, chemistry homework all spread out in front of her and Kara’s tinny voice chattering away through the phone pressed between her shoulder and her ear. This is one of her favourite ways to spend time, even if Kara’s presence has been relegated to phone-only in the wake of midterms - Kara and science, what’s not to love?

“What are you guys doing for Christmas this year?” Kara asks, voice a little muffled in a way that is suspiciously familiar. Lena frowns. Is that..?

“Uh, nothing, I think,” she says. Surely Kara isn’t..?

Kara gasps. “ What? Lena Luthor, tell me you’re joking?”

“No, why would I be?” There it is again, that muffled sound. Of course Kara would be. “Kara, are you seriously eating right now? That’s gross.”

She can practically hear Kara’s eye roll from across town. “Alex got me Twizzlers, Lee, what was I meant to do? Say no?” Before she can answer, Kara’s talking again. “And what do you mean, why would I be? Uh, because it’s Christmas?”

Lena snorts. “You were supposed to wait to eat them until I couldn’t hear you munching on them down my ear. And Kara, you’re Jewish, I don’t think you’re supposed to be lobbying this hard for Christmas.”

Just for that, Kara starts chewing exaggeratedly loudly, loud enough for Lena to hear the saliva being passed around her mouth. For a minute, she almost thinks the sound might be gross enough to quash her crush on her best friend.

(Almost).

When she finally stops chewing the food loud enough Lex can probably hear it in Metropolis, Kara says, “Yeah, Lena, exactly - I’m Jewish, you’re not, and I’m the one doing Christmas here. Something isn’t quite adding up.”

Lena really doesn’t see why Kara is making such a big deal out of this. Sure, their friendship had sort of come about because of Christmas, but it’s not as though Kara’s ever put up much of a fight about the pathetic excuse for a Luthor Christmas before.

Sure, this’ll be the first year she’ll be spending not doing anything, which is weird to think, but she’s kind of excited. For nearly ten years, her Christmases have consisted of stiff dinners, public appearances and forced socialisation with the kind of people she’d rather roll over and die than ever utter another word to.

Will it be weird to sit at home, most likely all alone, probably getting a start on her holiday homework, while every other kid her age sits under the Christmas tree opening presents with their family? Sure. Maybe even a little lonely. But it’s really not as dramatic as Kara’s making it out to be.

She tells her as much, and Kara very clearly makes her disagreement known.

“Is Lex coming home, at least?” she asks eventually, half-sigh, like she might acquiesce if Lena just tells her this one thing, and she’s almost tempted to lie, but, well.

Lena’s never much liked lying to her best friend. “No, he couldn’t get away from Metropolis. Busy time of year for Luthor Corp - that’s why I doubt Lillian will be there. Although that’s a good thing.”

Kara sighs, and Lena can seriously hear her frown over the phone. She can picture the worried expression on her face; the little crease in her forehead, right beneath her eyes; front teeth burrowed into her lower lip - it’s infuriatingly cute. Ridiculously, Lena can feel her thumb itching to run her thumb over the crease, to soothe it, even if she can’t see it.

“I just don’t like the idea of you being alone on Christmas,” she says eventually, a huff in her voice, and oh. There’s that swooping feeling in Lena’s stomach again, the one she tries to ignore at all costs. The one that she always gets when she realises just how much Kara truly cares about her, how true it is every time Kara vows to always protect her.

It’s a little dizzying.

“I won’t be alone, Kara,” she says, letting her voice soften a little. “The chefs will be here, and Lydia - I’m sure Lex will call, at some point.”

“Lena, that’s not the same.”

“Well, it’s all I have, okay?” Her voice is sharp again, almost like her acquiescence a second ago had never happened, and she hears Kara exhale softly. “Really, Kara, I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s just the way it is. I’m fine with it - why can’t you be?”

Kara’s silent for a long few moments. For a second, Lena worries she’s been too harsh, has to pull the phone back to check if Kara’s still on the line, or if she’s scared her off, but there she is. When she brings the phone back to her ear, she strains to hear Kara’s breathing, almost a little annoyed with herself at the flood of relief that fills her when she hears it, steady and soothing as ever.

“Lena,” she says eventually. “It’s your first Christmas without your dad. I just don’t want you to -”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

Her voice is strained, she can hear it, but she can’t help it, because God. What? Of all the things she thought Kara might say, that was nowhere near the list.

It’s not that they don’t talk about their losses, because they do. But it’s always been - just an unspoken thing between them, Lena supposes, that they don’t talk about this loss, not unless Lena brings it up herself.

“Lena, I didn’t mean to - I know it’s scary, like it was then, but -”

Lena grits her teeth. “I said,” and it’s not a snarl, not quite, but it’s certainly close, “I don’t want to talk about this.” There’s a heavy silence for a second, and then, “ Please, Kara. Just. Drop it. Please.”

So Kara drops it. She changes the subject to the chemistry homework Lena’s now all but neglecting, and the conversation carries on for another ten minutes, awkward and stilted, before Kara says she has to go, that Eliza gets mad if she stays on the phone too long.

School’s over, so they don’t see each other after that, and other than a quick, slightly awkward five minute phone conversation with Alex in which she wishes Lena a gruff, merry Christmas, or whatever, there’s no contact. Something about it all sets Lena on edge - she’s not gone this long without talking to Kara in, well.

Ever.

Okay, maybe not ever, that’s probably being a little dramatic, but it certainly feels like that. She doesn’t know if she’s annoyed with her, or if Kara thinks she’s annoyed Lena, or if she’s just been busy, or what.

She knows she’s being dramatic, she knows, but she can’t help it. That’s just how everything is with Kara, all of her feelings are just amped up by ten and she can’t help but feel them all in all of their almost excruciatingly intense glory.

But she pushes it down (this time anyway), because it’s Christmas, and Lena knows what that means to Kara. She’s not stupid, she knows why Kara places so much importance on the day - sure, she may be Jewish, may have no real connection to Christmas other than presents and family, but …

For Kara, Christmas was the first time she ever truly felt like a Danvers. The first time she ever felt like she could be part of a family again, instead of just an add-on tacked on to someone else’s. It was the first time she felt like a daughter again, the first time she felt like she had a sister.

Lena knows, deep in her heart, that Kara had always wanted that from her, right from the first time they’d met. She’d spoken of her first Christmas with the Danvers with so much excitement in her eyes, and Lena could feel it, Kara’s palpable hope that it would be the same for Lena.

But it never was. And instead of being a reminder of the things she’s gained - a brother, a home, a legacy she never wanted in the first place - it just reminds Lena of all that she’s lost.

When she wakes up on Christmas morning, more than two hours later than she’d usually let herself sleep in, her bedroom is cold and she just knows, knows somewhere in her heart that Lillian didn’t even bother sticking around to see her wake up. As glad as she is for it, something inside of her still twists, because God, sometimes she just wants her to pretend. Even just for one day.

She pads downstairs still dressed in her pyjamas, deciding to take advantage of Lillian’s absence while she can. The chefs make her a delectable feast for breakfast, one Lillian would certainly never let her eat if she were home, stacks of pancakes and waffles piled high and drowned in maple syrup. Kara’s mouth would be watering if she could see it.

After breakfast, their maid, Lydia, hands Lena a beautifully wrapped present, movements a little sheepish; it’s just a notebook, something you could get at any stationery store, really, but Lena feels tears prick in her eyes at the kindness all the same, and before she knows it, she’s enveloping her in a hug, and then it’s Lena’s turn to be sheepish.

Lex calls just a little after ten, full of apologies and platitudes and promises to visit in the New Year. Lena can’t even bring herself to be mad at her brother for not coming home - she thinks that as soon as she gets out of here, she might never come back. She leaves him on the (likely to be broken) promise to call again later that night, and then finds herself snuggled under the duvet in his old room, watching some old movie being played on the Christmas channel.

It’s… probably not the ideal Christmas for any other fifteen year old girl, but it’s certainly better than she’d expected.

That’s where she spends the next few hours, tucked into Lex’s old bed like she used to when they were kids, dozing off to the sounds of Home Alone on the TV, and that’s where she is when Lydia creeps in sometime around two, keeping her footsteps light like she doesn’t want to disturb her.

“Miss Luthor, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor.”

She pokes her head out from under the duvet, confused. “I do?”

“Yes, it’s Miss Danvers.” 

There’s a little twinkle in Lydia’s eye that Lena’s not sure she knows what to make of, but there’s no time to dwell on it. “Thank you, Lydia,” she says, and then she’s wriggling out of Lex’s bed and practically running through the house, socked feet sliding against hardwood floor.

“Kara!” she exclaims when she opens the door, voice a little breathless, and sure enough, there her best friend is on the other side, grinning away like…

Well, like a little kid on Christmas.

She’s bundled up in her winter coat and the scarf that Alex got her for Christmas last year, but Lena can see her ugly Christmas sweater peeking out from under the layers. Her cheeks are bright red from the cold, and she looks so unbelievably adorable that for a second, Lena thinks that the tug of affection in her heart is too much, feels like it might finally rip her in half like it’s always threatened to.

“Merry Christmas!” Kara exclaims, jumping forward and pulling Lena into a bone-crushing hug, arms like a vice around her neck. Lena doesn’t mind.

She is, however, very confused. 

“Wh-what are you doing here?” she exclaims, but she can’t help the silly grin on her face, surely mirroring Kara’s. It’s ridiculous, the way that Kara can calm all of her nerves from before with just a simple hug and a smile.

“I’m here to rescue you, silly. Christmas isn’t Christmas if you’re alone; you’re coming home with me.”

For the second time that day, Lena can feel stupid, pointless tears building in her eyes, and she refuses to blink, refuses to give them the time of day that would come with allowing them to spill down her cheeks.

“Kara, I can’t,” she says, even though her heart is thudding away in her chest, so loud she’s sure Kara must be able to hear it screaming that she wants to, more than she’s ever wanted anything in her life. “You- I couldn’t possibly intrude… Christmas is, it’s for family, I couldn’t do that to Eliza and Alex, really, it’s-”

“Lena,” Kara says in that voice of hers that means she won’t take any arguments. “Who do you think drove me here? We all want you there, silly.” And then, just when Lena thinks she can’t be any more perfect, she gives her that little smile that she reserves solely for Lena, and says, “ You are our family.”

She blinks, and the tears come spilling down her face. She doesn’t try to stop them. “Kara, I…”

Kara just smiles, so big and goofy that it kind of looks like it’s away to envelop her whole face. “I know, I know, I’m like, the coolest best friend ever. Come on, let’s go get you changed!”

And that’s how, fifteen minutes later, she finds herself in the back of Eliza’s SUV, bundled up in the warmth of one of Kara’s hoodies that she’d pulled from her closet, after telling the staff that they can go home for the day. It’s just her and Kara in the back, but her best friend is sat in the middle seat anyway, knees knocking Lena’s as she croons along to the Christmas songs on the radio, using Lena’s fist as a microphone and jabbing her with her elbow every time she bursts into giggles at one of Kara’s particularly dramatic high notes.

Christmas with the Danvers is… eventful, in that they do absolutely nothing all day.

When she arrives, she finds that Kara’s cousin, Clark, and his wife, Lois, are there too, Clark watching over all of the pots and pans like a hawk in an attempt not to let them burn. They’d already opened their presents before coming to get Lena, and she and Kara had already exchanged earlier in the week, so while Eliza continues cooking the dinner, she, Kara, Clark and Alex play board game after board game, Lois cheering them on (read: heckling) from the sidelines, with Kara coming out triumphant nearly every time.

Eventually, her and Alex team up to try and take Kara down, and just they’re so close to finally winning their first game of Pictionary, Eliza calls for dinner. Alex lets out a pained grumble, and mutters something about how she and Lena will “get their vengeance soon” before delivering a swift kick to Kara’s shin before taking her seat at the table.

The food is delicious, just as Lena expected, and she watches in delight as Kara wolfs it down like she’s afraid it might disappear before her eyes, like Lena hadn’t just watched her devour a whole tray of pigs in blankets whilst simultaneously destroying her at Battleships.

She can’t help but keep her eyes on Kara throughout the meal, and she knows, knows she should be less obvious, knows that the expression she’s wearing as she watches Kara and Alex practically wrestle in their seats is probably like a big neon sign, blinking I’m in love with my best friend for the whole of the table to see and laugh at, but.

She allows herself this, just this once. As a present to herself, or whatever.

The problem that comes with staring at Kara for the whole of dinner, however, is that she fails to notice the way that Eliza is staring at her, like she knows something Lena doesn’t want her to. Because if she did, she’d probably at least try and avert her gaze, or pretend like she isn’t just blatantly watching her best friend like she’s the most exciting thing she’s ever seen.

Which is why she’s completely blindsided when, as she helps Eliza wash the dishes after dinner, she says, “Lena, can I just say, I’m really glad that Kara has you in her life. It’s rare to see two people with such a strong connection - especially at your age - and I’m glad that she knows you.”

Her hand comes to a still on the plate it’s scrubbing, fist tightening around the cloth in her grasp. “Um,” is all she manages to say, completely inarticulate, and she mentally curses herself for still not being able to string a sentence together in front of Eliza, who she’s known for nearly ten years now and has almost certainly seen Lena in some of her more embarrassing moments.

(See, getting her first period while sleeping in Kara’s bed, and having to have Eliza show her how to use a pad).

Eliza just laughs, like she can see right into Lena’s mind and knows exactly what she’s thinking. “I just mean… it’s obvious to me that you care a great deal about her. And as a mother, that’s all you can really want for your child.”

“I, um,” she stutters again, eyes screwing shut in embarrassment. “I’m not. We, um. I.”

Eliza’s eyes soften then, like she can tell she’s freaked her out, and all of a sudden Lena can feel herself wanting to cry again. She doesn’t, of course, because that would be a ridiculous amount of tears to shed in a day, especially for a Luthor. But the want is there.

“Relax, Lena,” she says, voice painstakingly motherly in that way that Lena’s ached for for the past nine years. “I’m not… I’m not accusing you of anything, or trying to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I have, I truly didn’t mean to. I just want you to know that… that there are people out there who are there for you, who are in your corner, who appreciate you. That I’m one of those people.”

The plate slowly slides out of her grip, bobbing back below the surface of the soapy water, as she puts all of her might into not blubbering like a baby in front of her best friend’s mom. They stand in silence for several long moments, Lena trying her hardest to squeeze the tears back into her eyes without having to open them. Eventually, she manages to at least half succeed, because when she opens her eyes, the tears are mostly at bay, only blurring the edges of her vision a tiny bit.

“I… thank you, Eliza,” she gets out eventually.

Eliza smiles, and reaches out to squeeze her arm. “Of course.” She clears her throat and moves over, gently pushing Lena away and taking her place at the sink. “Now, I’ll finish these; I believe I heard something about you and Alex finally getting your vengeance on Clark and Kara?”

She blushes, but nods readily, and slinks away to join the game in the living room.

Later that night, when Kara and Clark have devoured all of the food and the board games have all been packed away, Lena finds herself changing into a t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts she digs out of Kara’s drawers.

“You’re gonna be freezing in that,” Kara says from across the room, shrugging Lena’s robotics club sweatshirt over her head on top of one of Alex’s t-shirts.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep me warm then.”

Okay, probably one of the bolder things Lena’s said, but she blames it on the eggnog Lois gave her that she knows with almost a hundred percent certainty she spiked.

But if Kara thinks anything of it, she doesn’t mention it.

“Oh, I see how it is,” she says, affronted. “That’s all I am to you. Human furnace.”

Lena giggles. “Yup, pretty much.”

“You’re mean,” Kara grumbles, shuffling into bed. She takes the right side, just like always, and turns onto her side, ready for Lena. “Think I was right, y’know, the first time we met. Not sure I should have been your friend.”

“Shut up, you love me.”

She slides into bed and curls herself into Kara’s body and, as expected, Kara’s warmth ensures she never feels the chill from the shorts she’d chosen. Kara lets out a sleepy little hmmph into her neck and slings her leg over Lena’s, drawing her closer, like she needs her that much closer. The movement makes Lena’s heart beat so fast she feels like it might explode out of her chest.

By the time Lena no longer feels like she’s going to throw up, it’s been at least fifteen minutes, and she’s sure Kara must be asleep. She closes her eyes and zones out, refusing to let herself focus on the way Kara feels wrapped around her, somehow managing to cling to every crevice in Lena’s body.

Unfortunately, not letting herself think about the fact that she’s currently spooning with the girl she thinks might be the unrequited love of her life means she has to think about other things.

Other things like the fact that today’s Christmas, and she hasn’t seen a single member of her family.

Other things like the fact that this time a year ago, she had been in her bed at home, and her, Lex, Lillian and Lionel - her family, no matter how they sometimes made her feel - had all been asleep under the same roof.

Other things like the fact that today was the first Christmas in nine years that she didn’t wake up to her father shaking her awake and giving her his present, the one he’d picked out for her, just for the two of them.

“Kara?” she whispers into the pitch black of her best friend’s room, not quite expecting a reply.

(Suddenly, she’s hit with a memory of another time, almost exactly like this, and she almost laughs).

“Mm?”

“I… I miss my dad.”

Immediately, Kara disentangles herself from Lena so that she can nudge her onto her other side, making her face Kara. She reaches up to tuck an errant curl behind Lena’s ear, and when she starts crying - again, really? - surges forward and cradles Lena in her arms, holding her close like she might break.

And it’s only then, nearly a year after losing him, tucked in the arms of her best friend in the world who she may be just a teeny little bit in love with, that Lena lets herself cry over her father’s death.

iii.

Lena’s drunk.

She’s ridiculously, embarrassingly drunk. Tripping over her own feet drunk. Spilled a whole vodka soda down her dress drunk. Won’t remember a thing about this in the morning drunk.

That’s her only explanation - her only excuse - for how she finds herself starfished on her bed at eleven o’clock on Christmas night, shakily dialing a number she doesn’t think she’ll ever forget.

The phone rings one, two, three times before she picks up.

“Hello?”

Kara’s voice is tinny and slightly garbled through the speaker of her phone, but hearing it in all its glory for the first time in nearly seven months is enough to knock the air right out of Lena’s lungs.

It’s enough to startle her, and her phone slips out of her hand with a soft fuck. She turns onto her side ever-so-slightly, heaving a little when the room starts spinning around her, and grasps at the sheets trying to find it. When she finally does, fingers clasping around the back of it and accidentally skidding over the LCD screen, bringing up the keypad, she lets out a triumphant little ah! before rolling back into her previous position.

“ Lena?” she hears, once again pulling her from her thoughts, and as shakily as she’d dialed her number, she exits out of the keypad and jams her finger onto the speaker button.

“Hi.”

She can hear the slur in her own voice just from the one word, and she wonders if Kara can, too, or if six and a half months of radio silence has taken away the power she once had for reading Lena like a book.

“What are you- are you drunk? Is everything okay?”

Ah. Clearly not.

“M’fine, m’fine. I just…” Just a little too late, she realises that she doesn’t know what she wants to say. She hadn’t gotten that far before she’d been calling. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

Kara’s voice is as soft as it once was, still sweet like honey and addictive like sugar. She rolls the word around over and over again in her head, replaying the way Kara had said it, unable to stop herself from falling into old habits. Hey. Hey. Hey hey he-

“Lee? You there?”

“Mm. Yup. M’here.”

“What’s up? Why are you calling?” A moment. “Not that it’s not great to hear from you! It is, I just… you haven’t.. we haven’t… in months. Did something happen?”

She considers this for a moment. Why is she calling? Did something happen?

Really, she’s not quite sure. She’d been having a perfectly pleasant Christmas at home before she called, all things considered.

She’d drank steadily all throughout the day, starting with some vodka in her orange juice at breakfast and ending just before she made her call, standing outside her bedroom door with her neck tipped back at an unnatural angle, pouring the last dredges of a bottle of scotch into her mouth; she’d ordered Chinese takeout for dinner, and while the delivery boy gave her a look of poorly hidden disgust when he’d realised who she was, he didn’t spit in her face (or her food), which she’s counting as a success; she’d even spent the whole day on the couch, watching the cartoons Lillian had always forbidden her from during her childhood, the ones she’d only managed to catch glimpses of while at the Danvers house.

And, to top it all off, she hadn’t seen or spoken to a single member of her family once. All in all, it was one of her more successful Christmas days, she thinks.

Except for the part where, two weeks ago, her brother dropped a bomb that killed thirty-two people.

Except for the part where, for the past two weeks, she’s been holed up in her apartment, only leaving when strictly necessary, because every time she leaves it’s like she’s wearing a massive sign on her back that says my brother probably killed your best friend!

Except for the part where all of her friends, even Jack, have resorted to pretty much just… pretending that she doesn’t exist anymore, or at least that they don’t know her, if she does.

Especially except for the part where, for the past two weeks, she’s let herself think about Kara more times than she has in the past six and a half months, because every time someone treats her like she’s a piece of shit on the bottom of her shoe, all she can think is that she knows Kara would never do that.

And then she was lying in her bed, eleven o’clock on Christmas night, and her mind had wondered, not for the first time that day, what Kara was doing. If she was with Alex and Eliza, or if she was spending Christmas with her new friends from school - maybe a boyfriend? Was she drinking, like Lena was, or was she going sober this year after the embarrassment that was Christmas Day 2012? It was only eight o’clock in National City, were her celebrations still in full swing?

Wherever she was, was she thinking about Lena, too?

“Nothing happened,” she says eventually, head lolling back against the pillow. She stares at the ceiling and tries very, very hard not to let the swirls in the texture mix together. “‘Cept, dunno if you saw the news, but Lex… think he might be on the naughty list this year.”

“Lee…”

Kara’s voice is soft, imploring. It makes Lena want to cry and scream and throw up and burrow herself into Kara’s arms all at the same time. Although preferably they wouldn’t all happen at the same time.

“No, no, s’fine, really. I just…” She lets out a deep exhale. “Knew you’d answer.”

“Of course, I- I’ll always answer, Lee, you know that.”

Lena lets out a small, pitiful whine. “Stop,” she pleads.

“Stop what, Lee?”

“ That. Calling me… M’not Lee. Lena.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, I’ll stop,” -- a pause, and then, for good measure -- “Lena.”

Lena sighs. Somehow it’s worse, hearing Kara use her real name.

She doesn’t know why she called. She had thought, for a moment, that it might make her feel better, to hear Kara’s voice. That it might remind her of the good parts of life, or something.

But instead it just reminds her of yet another way she’s royally fucked up.

“Sorry, m’sorry, this was dumb, I should go.”

“No! No, don’t go.” Silence hangs heavily in the air between them, and Lena’s seriously tempted to just hang up, delete Kara’s number from her call log, and wake up tomorrow, gloriously unaware that any of this happened. But then she says, “Please, Lena. Please stay. For me,” and Lena has the sudden awful realisation that even now, what she wants to do doesn’t stand a chance against what Kara does.

“Okay,” she breathes. “I’ll stay.”

She hears Kara sigh a breath of relief. “So,” she starts, so clearly trying to keep her tone casual that it makes Lena smile, just a little, for a moment. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Oh, y’know… school, n’stuff.”

“Sounds boring.”

“It is. But fun.”

Kara laughs, and Lena wants to capture the sound and keep it forever, has the silly notion that she should wrap it up in a bow and give it to herself for Christmas sometime in the next hour.

God, she’s drunk.

“Of course you’d think that. Some things never change.”

Lena snorts gently, just under her breath. “And you? What… what ‘bout you? Wha’ you been up to?”

“Mostly the same, to be honest. School. Alex. More school. Oh! I got a job, at a restaurant. I’m a waitress!”

Now, that’s a mental image.

“You’d be a terrible waitress,” she says, rolling her eyes at Kara’s exaggerated ouch. “So clumsy.”

“Not as bad as you’d be, little miss ‘I-don’t-serve-I-get-served.’”

And, well, Lena has to give her that one.

“Fair,” she concedes. “And… a boyfriend? Do you- have you- um. Boyfriend?”

The words tumble out of her mouth much more clumsily than she’d imagined when she’d practiced them in her head, and she can practically hear the smile in Kara’s voice when she replies, “No, I don’t have a boyfriend, Lena.” She can’t help the loud laugh she lets out when Kara asks, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Wha’was it you said? Some things never change, Kara.”

“Okay, okay, I didn’t think so, but I had to ask. I’m glad to hear it.”

Lena purposely ignores the way her stomach twists at the words, the implication behind them. She feels like she’s sixteen again, working herself up into a frenzy, taking Kara’s completely innocent words and twisting them into something else, something they weren’t, something they never would be, just for her own peace of mind.

“Why did you call, Lena?” Kara asks, and all of a sudden, the lighthearted tone of their conversation turns much more somber.

“Just… wanted to hear your voice.” A half confession. And then, because she’s drunk, and she’s already said half of it already, so why not, “Missed you.”

She can hear the hitch in Kara’s breath.

“I… I miss you, too.”

The silence is palpable, but Lena doesn’t want to be the one to break it.

“Why haven’t you called, Lee? Shit, sorry. Lena.” Lena screws her eyes shut. “Where did you go?”

And the thing is, if Lena herself knew the answer to that - knew why one day, six and a half months ago, she’d suddenly started declining Kara’s weekly calls and dodging her texts and ignoring her voicemails, why she had let them go from best friends to nothing for what felt like no reason whatsoever - she thinks she’d sleep a lot better at night.

But, as it is, she rarely gets more than two hours, and she has no clue what Kara wants her to say here.

“I don’t know,” she murmurs. “Really, I… It was just. Hard. N’ I thought… don’t know what I thought, I just. Thought you’d be better off without me.”

Kara’s voice is pained when she says, “Lena. No. No, I’m. Couldn’t be better without you. I’m only ever better with you.”

Lena sighs and rubs at the crease between her brow.

“S’not true, Kara. S’not. You’re so… so good, Kara, n’you don’t need me there, messing things up. S’all I do, always. Just mess things up.”

“Lena, stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Saying those… those things about yourself! It’s not true, or fair to you. You’re amazing, Lena, you know that.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes. You are.”

Lena laughs, but it’s not kind, or warm, or any of the things Kara is, any of the things Kara deserves.

“No, m’really not. An amazing person wouldn’t… wouldn’t ghost their best friend, just ‘cause they couldn’t…”

“Couldn’t what?”

All of a sudden, Lena is all too aware of Kara’s voice beside her, echoing out of her speakerphone and bouncing around the room. It’s too much, all of it is too much - her heart thudding in her chest, the room spinning around her, the way Kara sounds a little like she’s on the verge of tears.

She just needs it to stop. She just needs… just needs all of it, to stop.

“Nothing,” she breathes out eventually, all too aware of how uneven her voice is.

“No, what were you gonna say? Couldn’t what?”

“S’not important, Kara.” The lie feels thick in her throat. “Promise.”

And she should leave it there, she’s going to leave it there, but, well. She’s drunk. Ridiculously, embarrassingly drunk. Tripping over her own feet drunk. Spilled a whole vodka soda down her dress drunk. Won’t remember a thing about this in the morning drunk

And Kara always has been her downfall.

“Y’know,” she says, and she regrets it as soon as she starts speaking, but the words are tumbling out before she can stop them, and it’s almost like something out of a horror film. “Back then… y’know, high school… I kinda always thought we might- always hoped we might…”

When Kara replies, her voice is a little strangled, and it kinda sounds like she isn’t breathing. “Might…?”

And the words are right there, on the tip of her tongue.

Might date.

Might kiss.

Might like each other.

Might love each other.

But when she opens her mouth to say them, already resigned to ruining the already very unsteady remains of their friendship, nothing comes out. She tries again, and again, and again, but nope. Nothing.

“No, never mind.”

“Lena, please,” Kara pleads - begs, almost - and it’s nearly enough, but.

She can’t do it. Not to herself, and certainly not to Kara, who definitely doesn’t want her drunk, sister of a mass murderer, (ex?) best friend confessing her love to her at… eleven (eight?) twenty three pm on Christmas Day.

“M’drunk, ignore me.”

“No, Lena, tell me.”

“Kara, please, drop it.”

“Lena, come on.”

And then it’s Lena’s turn to beg, almost mimicking Kara with an utterly pathetic, “Kara, please drop it, please.”

Kara’s silent for a long while, but eventually she sighs, resigned, and murmurs, “Fine. Okay. I’ll drop it.”

Silence stretches on between them for so long that at some points, Lena’s sure Kara must have hung up, but she doesn’t want to check, lays extremely still on her back, eyes squeezed shut whilst trained on the ceiling the whole time.

If Kara is gone, Lena doesn’t really think she can handle it right now.

Eventually, however, she hears some shuffling on Kara’s end, and then, “Lena? You still there?”

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Good. Good, that’s… I’m glad.”

And then, ridiculously, Lena’s eyes start to fill with hot, wet tears, the way they only ever seem to when Kara’s somehow involved. She doesn’t even know what it is that’s set her off, other than Kara’s presence, and the fact that all of a sudden, she’s filled with the overwhelming knowledge that she could do this forever, and it would be enough for her.

Just lying here, listening to the ins and outs of Kara’s breathing, committing every little hitch in her breath and lilt in her speech to memory.

This, right here, just speaking to Kara, being around her, even from three thousand miles away? It’s enough to make Lena feel just that little bit more whole again, almost like an actual human being.

She knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that if she were just able to have Kara, she could handle having everything else in her life ripped out from under her. She’d survive. They’d survive.

Which is probably why she does what she does next, because Lena Luthor is notoriously self-destructive, and that’s probably the one rule in her life that Kara isn’t the exception to. In fact, Lena thinks bitterly, she’s probably most of the examples of it.

(Example 1 - all the nights she spent curled up in Kara’s tiny twin in high school, hands and bodies and legs intertwined, Kara’s breath warm and fuzzy on her neck.

Example 2 - all the time she spent listening to Kara talking about the different boys she liked, every time she encouraged her to make her move with them, every time she willingly let herself be the messenger between some dumb nerd who wanted to know if Kara was free on Friday but was too shy to ask her directly.

Example 3 - taking Kara to senior prom, and having to watch her dance with several different boys while she sat alone at their table, watching wistfully and probably completely obviously.

And so on).

And, the one fact at the core of it all that remains as true now as it was when they were fifteen:

She’ll never truly have Kara. Not in the way she wants, anyway.

“Um, I don’t think we should…” she starts, but she doesn’t even know how to word what she wants to say next, can’t even fathom the idea in her own head, never mind actually saying the words out loud to Kara. “S’not safe for you, Kara.”

“What’s not safe for me?”

“Me. Talking to me. Being my… my friend.”

“What are you talking about, Lee?”

This time, Kara doesn’t correct herself, and neither does Lena.

Another indulgence.

“I’m… I’m a Luthor, Kara. D’you know what tha’ means, now?”

She can hear the frown in Kara’s voice when she speaks. “You’re not Lex. Or Lillian. Or Lionel.”

“No?” She smiles humourlessly, even though Kara can’t see her. “Then what am I?”

“You’re just Lena. You’re my Lena. That’s it.”

“What, and you’re my Kara?”

“Yeah.” She sounds a little breathless.

Lena wants to be mad at that, wants to make a comment about how possessive that is for two people who haven’t spoken in more than half a year, but instead she just blinks more tears down her face.

“Maybe, but… but s’not safe, anymore, okay, not for me and definitely not for you. People are out to get me now, they hate me, and I… I can’t, Kara, can’t let them hurt you.”

“Nobody’s going to hurt me, Lee.”

Lena wants to believe her. Really, she does. It would be so easy to, and she’d be so happy if she did.

But. Kara was always the optimist out of the two of them.

“I… I didn’t think Lex could ever hurt anyone. He was so sweet. My big brother. He- he loved me, loved you. He was- I thought, so stupid, I thought he couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Lena.”

“But he did. He hurt thirty two flies. More, actually… and I can’t, Kara.” She takes a shuddery breath. “I can deal, if I become a fly. Can handle that. But… but if you… I couldn’t.”

“Come on, Lena, don’t do this.”

“Please, Kara,” she breathes. “You… You always protected me. Always. M’hero. But now. Now I need to protect you. Please. Please let me protect you. Please.”

Her voice is frantic again, begging, and Kara must sense it, or must hear the little hiccup she lets out as the floodgates open and the tears start pouring down her face, because she takes pity, and says, “Okay. Okay, Lena. You can protect me, just this one time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you, Kara.” She hiccups again. “M’sorry, I don’t… I don’t want to let you go, I. Please know that, please, I don’t want to, really.”

Kara’s voice is broken, and quiet, when she whispers, “Then don’t,” and for the first time Lena considers that maybe she’s not the only one who’s crying.

But she’s done being selfish. She can’t keep putting herself and her wants first, not when her wants are Kara, and having her could mean someone might try and hurt her, just to get at Lena.

“Have to,” is all she murmurs in reply, and then she feels the effects of the crying and all the booze really kick in. “Kara?”

“Yeah, Lee?”

“M’sleepy.”

“Go to bed, then.”

“I… will you stay? Till I fall asleep?”

“Lee…”

“Just one last time.”

(She thinks, this sounds an awful lot like a breakup.

She thinks, this feels an awful lot like a breakup).

Only a few seconds pass before Kara sighs and murmurs a low “yeah, okay, one last time,” and then before she knows it, Lena’s drifting off into the most peaceful sleep she’s had in weeks - no, months - to the sound of Kara’s breathing on the other end of the phone.

When she wakes up in the morning, her phone is dead and Kara’s gone, and if she cries in the shower while she shampoos her hair, well, nobody’s around to hear her.

iv.

She’s really not sure why she’s surprised when it happens.

In fact, she thinks she should probably be surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.

She’d known this was a possibility, had prepared for it in fact, right from the moment she’d decided to go ahead with the relocation to National City, although she wasn’t going to admit that - thankfully, her new assistant Jess had never mentioned the time that she’d walked in on Lena staring at herself in a tiny little compact mirror, practising the million different ways she could think of to say Hi, Kara to herself.

But, when it does happen, on an unassuming Thursday in the middle of December, she is surprised.

So surprised, in fact, that when she turns around to see Kara Danvers waiting behind her in line, typing something on her phone and seemingly completely unaware of her presence, she spills the cup of piping hot black coffee she’d just bought down her shirt and immediately hisses, “Jesus fucking Christ!”

That gets her attention.

Her head snaps up at the commotion, and when she sees Lena, her face turns into the picture of shock, mouth hanging open in a little ‘o’ shape that, if Lena’s shirt weren’t currently sticking to her skin and probably giving her at least a second degree burn, she’d probably find funny.

“Lena?” she sputters, and she immediately reaches out to place a hand on Lena’s arm, like she can’t quite believe her eyes, like she has to touch to make sure.

And then she’s burning in a whole other way, under the touch of a girl - no, woman - she hasn’t seen in God, what must it be now, three years?

She doesn’t even know why seeing her shocks her so much - like she said, she’d known this was a possibility right from the moment she’d okayed the relocation. In fact, maybe even a little part of her was kind of hoping this might happen, although she’d need a lot more scotch to make her admit that.

And the thing is, it’s not like they haven’t ever spoken since that night on the phone or anything. They’re still friends on Facebook, and Kara will occasionally like one of her Instagram posts, kind of like she expects it to get lost in the notifications, and Eliza still wishes Lena a happy birthday every year like clockwork. 

She’d even once bumped into Alex in a gay club, right after she first moved to National City, which had been a barrel of laughs; she hadn’t known that bumping into your ex-best friend’s sister, who had been supposedly straight the last time you’d seen her, and having to stumble through awkward introductions with the woman she’d just been grinding on not seconds before could be so awkward.

But, actually seeing Kara in person? In all of her cute, unassuming, cardiganed glory?

It’s just a little different to karadanvers liked your post.

There’s a few seconds of stunned silence before Kara finally looks down and processes what had just happened, and then it’s, “Oh my God, your shirt!”

(Lena decides almost instantly that she must be imagining the way Kara’s eyes linger on the way her shirt clings to her chest.

Wishful thinking, or something like that).

“Here, come with me.”

She abandons her place in line, moving the hand currently splayed across Lena’s forearm so that it’s instead curled around her wrist in a loose grip, and drags her through the crowds of people, all pretending not to stare in her direction.

(She must admit, it’s kind of nice, not knowing why they’re staring for once.

Is it because they recognise Lena Luthor, mega-bitch CEO and disappointment little sister of Metropolis’ most notorious killer?

Or is it because there’s an attractive woman currently being traipsed right past them with her once-white shirt now sticking to her body?)

Eventually, Kara leads them into a bathroom, and immediately starts dabbing at Lena’s shirt with a wad of wet paper towels. Lena’s pretty sure that this is exactly what you’re not meant to do with a stain, but if she’s a little too distracted by not only seeing Kara Danvers in the flesh after several years but also having Kara’s hands on her, well, then sue her.

Admittedly, when she’d imagined this when she was younger, it had been a little more sexy and a little less ‘I-can’t-believe-I-just-spilled-coffee-all-down-myself-after-seeing-you’, but Lena will take what she can get.

Eventually, though, it starts bordering on little more than inappropriate groping in a semi-public space, and Lena thinks it likely wouldn’t bode well for the CEO of L-Corp to be caught getting felt up in a public toilet.

Even if she is embarrassingly touch-starved enough that this is probably going to end up being the highlight of her week.

“Kara,” she sighs. When she doesn’t even look up, Lena leans down and covers Kara’s hand with her own, letting it rest for just a moment before (begrudgingly) removing it. “Kara, I don’t think this is doing anything.”

“Lena, I am so, so sorry, I can’t believe I- I just- you’re here,” Kara babbles, and Lena wishes she didn’t still find it so charming. “I mean, you’re here, in National City, in-in Noonan’s, and, I mean, I-I knew you were, but I just. There’s knowing and then there’s like, actually seeing you, but still, I shouldn’t have -”

Lena lets out a laugh she didn’t know she’d been holding in. “Kara, stop, it’s fine.” At Kara’s weary look, she rolls her eyes. “Really. I was shocked to see you too. So shocked I couldn’t even keep hold of my cup, apparently.”

Kara’s eyes are still comically wide when she says, “But I shouldn’t have- I surprised you!”

“Kara, you hardly did it on purpose. I mean, it’s not as if you knew I was standing in front of you.” Lena narrows her eyes playfully. “Unless you’ve been having me followed, in which case I’ll need to up my security detail. Have you been having me followed, Kara?”

“God, no! Lena, why would you- I would never!”

She laughs again, probably just a little too gleeful at Kara’s stricken expression. “Kara, darling, it was a joke. I do occasionally make those, remember?”

Kara breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh. A joke. Of course. That makes sense. Sorry, I’m just. Kinda short-circuiting right now.”

“Oh, well, I’m flattered.”

“No, I just- I kinda just. Didn’t think I’d ever see you again. And now you’re here. And… oh, my God, you’re still soaked.”

Let the record show, Lena is extraordinarily proud of herself for managing to hold back the comment she desperately wants to make at that.

“Lee, you can’t wear that, you’ll freeze! And-and probably be arrested for public indecency.” Lena feels that telltale sensation of her heart skipping a beat at Kara’s casual use of her old nickname, the one she’d been well-acquainted with when they were still friends. “Not that I’m looking! It’s just. Well, they’re very- it’s kinda hard to miss.”

For the first time since Kara dragged her into the bathroom, she looks away from Kara long enough to look at her reflection in the mirror, and snorts at what she sees. She’s right - Lena’s stark white shirt is sticking to her chest in a way that’s borderline obscene, and she thinks if she were to go into public looking like this, her board members would likely try and oust her from the company on grounds of insanity. Again.

Plus, that’s not to mention the fact that her chest is beginning to feel weirdly slimy, and she’s fairly certain it can’t be healthy for her skin to be trapped in her shirt like this, absorbing the coffee that really was very hot. But it’s not exactly like she can just take her shirt off and walk around in her bra, and she hardly carries a change of clothes with her when she’s on her morning coffee hunt.

And of course today had to be the one day she left her jacket in the office, deciding it was warm enough out to go without.

As if she can read her mind, Kara’s eyes light up, and then, before Lena can do anything to stop her, she’s stretching her arms up and pulling her sweater over her head, recreating another one of those mental images that, as a teenager, Lena had played over and over in her head.

Although, of course, this has to be ten times better than teenage-her’s imagination, because the world is out to get Lena today for some reason.

Kara had always been strong, lean and sinewy where Lena was soft, but now, she is, for lack of a better word, buff. Which Lena feels ridiculous using to describe Kara Danvers, maybe the gentlest person she’s ever known, but really, there’s no other word for it. Her shoulders are much broader than they’d ever been before, and her biceps strain against the sleeves of her button down, and she looks like she could probably snap Lena in two without any struggle - which, if she’s being honest, is looking more and more appealing the longer she stares.

“Here!” Kara says excitedly, holding the pastel blue sweater out to Lena and smiling like she has no clue the effect she’s having on her. Which, to be fair, she probably doesn’t; Kara always was especially clueless when it came to the way Lena looked at her. “You can wear this.”

Lena scoffs, only slightly shakily, and shakes her head. “Kara, don’t be ridiculous. I can’t wear that.”

A furrow appears between Kara’s brow. “Why not?”

“Well, first of all, you and I are hardly the same size, I doubt I’ll be able to get it over my chest.” Kara’s cheeks pinken at that. “Secondly, it’s your sweater; if I take it, what are you going to wear?”

“Okay, well first, we’re not that far off each other, and it’s a little big on me, anyway. And I run hot anyway, you know that.”

Lena does know that. All of a sudden, she’s assaulted with a horde of very unwanted memories, of being tucked against Kara’s body in that tiny little twin bed in Midvale, wearing a ridiculously small amount of clothes to bed just so she could feel Kara’s warmth.

And it’s ridiculous, really, because they never did anything untoward in that bed - never did anything untoward ever - but all of a sudden she can’t think about anything but the way it had felt, having Kara curled around her, arm bracketing her waist and breath hot on her neck.

Jesus fuck. She feels fifteen again, and she does not like it one bit.

If Kara notices the blush slowly but surely crawling its way up Lena’s neck, she doesn’t mention it.

“Come on, Lena,” she says, waving the sweater a little aggressively in Lena’s direction as if to prove a point. “You’ve never had a problem stealing my clothes before, what’s got you shy now?”

She probably deserves that one; they haven’t been friends in years and yet half of Lena’s pyjama drawer is t-shirts and hoodies that once belonged to Kara.

But still.

“Kara, I have to go to work today.”

“What, and you’re gonna go in wearing that? ” She gestures at Lena’s sodden shirt.

Another point to Kara.

Coming to terms with the fact that she isn’t going to win this one, Lena lets out a grumble before snatching the sweater out of Kara’s hands and retreating into one of the stalls. For a second, she considers just taking her shirt off right there, just to see how Kara might react - what can she say, she’s a scientist, she loves a good experiment.

Unfortunately, however, the idea of someone else, someone decidedly not Kara, walking in and seeing her - seeing them - like that, is enough to make her nix the idea. She really hates being a CEO, sometimes.

(Fucking Lex.

Still managing to cockblock her from behind bars).

She looks, as expected, truly ridiculous in the sweater, which strains against her chest and doesn’t quite reach the bottom of her torso, but Kara’s delighted little smile when she sees her in it almost makes it worth it.

Almost.

“I look ridiculous,” she says as soon as she steps out.

“You look adorable.”

She tries to put on her best angry-CEO look. She can’t see herself in the mirror from where she’s standing, but because it’s Kara, she knows she probably fails. “Kara, I’m a grown woman, I don’t look adorable.”

Kara just leans out and pinches at her cheeks, grinning away at Lena beautifully, and God, she hates the way she can feel her heart thudthudthudding away in her chest. “Adorable.”

As Kara leads her out of the bathroom, guiding her with a hand edging alarmingly close to the small of Lena’s back, and towards a table near the back, Lena refuses to let herself think about how easily they’ve slipped back into their old dynamic. How it feels like no time has passed at all, like it was just yesterday that she was in National City, surprising Kara before their first semester at college was even over, because she couldn’t handle being away from her for even that long.

For a moment, as she watches Kara chat happily away to the barista making their drinks, Lena considers running. Getting up, walking out the door and away from Kara, going to work and pretending this never happened, pretending that she doesn’t feel like a silly sixteen year old every time Kara so much as looks at her. She could go home, and delete Kara from Facebook, from Instagram, from her life, the way she hadn’t been able to bring herself to all those years ago. Get a fresh start. Move on.

But then she imagines the look on Kara’s face, coming back with two coffees in hand and already talking away animatedly, only to be met with an empty chair. The confusion she’d feel, logging onto Facebook that night and seeing no trace of Lena anywhere.

She texts Jess to push the rest of her morning appointments to the afternoon and puts her phone in her pocket.

When Kara comes back, they talk for what feels like hours, catching up on the others’ lives as they (read: Kara) make their way through the small mountain of pastries Kara had bought to go with their coffees. Kara oohs and ahhs as Lena tells her about all of the new initiatives she’s introducing at L-Corp, rubs soothing circles on her hand when she talks about the way she’s treated by the public, and in return, Lena feels her heart swell ten times its normal size with pride as Kara tells her about her job at CatCo, how she worked her way up from Cat’s assistant to reporter.

She makes a mental note to read every article Kara’s ever published as soon as she gets back to the office, pushed appointments be damned.

As they talk, Lena can feel that telltale feeling in her stomach rising up again, the one so characteristic of her friendship with Kara that she recognises it as soon as it rears its head. She’d felt this way every day for years, every time she’d looked across a room and made eye contact with Kara, every time Kara had pushed the blanket aside and patted the space on the sofa beside her in invitation of what she called a “classic Kara-Lena cuddle sesh.”

The feeling has been notably absent the past four years, and while she’d been glad, at first, to be rid of the incessant butterflies in her stomach, hindering almost everything she did, the relief she feels at its return is almost crushing.

How stupid she was, Lena thinks, to have ever believed Kara could be just her best friend.

They talk and talk until Lena thinks there must be nothing left to say, and just as she thinks Kara must be getting ready to say her goodbyes, she’s proven wrong.

“So,” she says conspiratorially, her tone low, leaning across the table and getting just a little bit too far into Lena’s personal space to be comfortable. Not that she’ll ever say that, of course. “What are you doing for Christmas this year?”

Of course. She realises, then, that she’d been a fool - if she hadn’t been so distracted by being back in Kara’s presence again after so long, she would have noticed almost immediately that Kara hadn’t even mentioned the upcoming holiday once yet, despite how close they were to it.

“The same thing I do every year.” Kara raises an eyebrow in question, and Lena sighs. “Nothing.”

Kara gasps, affronted. “Lena! It’s Christmas, you can’t do nothing.”

“You know, I’m getting the weirdest sense of deja vu…”

Kara rolls her eyes. “We wouldn’t need to keep having this conversation if you would just stop being such a Grinch all the time.”

“Kara, can you really blame me for hating Christmas?”

She frowns. “Yes! What’s Christmas ever done to you?”

“Oh, you mean, other than remind me of how quintessentially alone I am? Other than remind me of the fact that the only person who bothers to wish me a merry Christmas is my secretary, likely still riding the high of her Christmas bonus?”

It’s a little on the nose, a little too self-deprecating, and Lena cringes inwardly the second the words are out of her mouth, but there’s no taking them back now.

Kara frowns deeper for a second, before her eyes light up. “Oh! I’ve got it. You’ll spend Christmas with me.”

Lena nearly balks. “What?”

“Yeah!”

Kara’s grinning away like she’s just found the solution to world peace, like she’s so pleased with herself that she can’t quite believe it. It’s a look Lena’s been privy to more times than she can count, one she’s missed more than she’d like to admit, but now it just feels weird, burrowing itself under Lena’s skin and sinking its teeth in, hard.

“Kara, don’t be ridiculous,” she says. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? It’s not like we’ve never done it before.”

Which, Lena has to acquiesce, is true. There had been a good few years there, after that first year and even during their first year of college, where Lena had done exactly that. After the second year, Eliza hadn’t even bothered inviting her - her presence in the Danvers house had just been expected.

But that was a long time ago, what feels like a whole lifetime, and Lena doesn’t understand why Kara’s pretending it wasn’t.

(Neither of them mention the last Christmas they’d spent together, Lena drunk enough that she could barely move and Kara practically begging her to stay.

Somehow, though, Lena knows that Kara is thinking about it, too).

She doesn’t know what Kara wants her to say. What do you say when your ex best friend, who you haven’t seen or really even spoken to in nearly four years, who you’ve been pathetically in love with since the first time she ever spoke to you, invites you to spend Christmas with her, like you’re still sixteen and everything’s normal?

Eventually, she settles on, “Really, Kara, I appreciate the offer - truly, you don’t know how much it means to me - but I couldn’t possibly impose like that.”

Kara’s mouth sets in a hard frown, a crease forming between her brow. “You wouldn’t be imposing, Lena, I want you there.” She looks down, suddenly finding her clasped hands the most interesting thing in the world, and fidgets in her seat a little before saying, “It hasn’t… it’s not the same, without you.”

Right then, as soon as Kara says that, Lena knows she’s going to agree. She’ll put up a bit more of a fight, give some half-assed reasons why she couldn’t possibly say yes, but, inevitably, she will. And Then on Christmas Day, she’s going to find herself wedged in between Kara and Alex, unable to meet Eliza’s kind eyes for longer than a second and fielding far too many questions about where she’s been all these years.

Kara sits and needles at her for at least another ten minutes before Lena calls it quits, throwing her hands in the air and exclaiming, “Fine, fine! Okay, Kara, you’ve worn me down.”

Kara breaks out into the biggest grin Lena thinks she’s ever seen on her, which is saying something. “Really?” she asks, voice a little incredulous, like she can’t quite believe it.

Lena thinks she’d probably do anything to keep making Kara smile like that. “Yes, yes, fine. I’ll be there.”

Kara shoots across the table, knocking the (now-empty) basket of pastries as she goes, and pulls Lena into a hug. It’s a little clumsy, hindered by all of the stuff blocking their way, but, as cliche as it sounds, Lena feels all of the worries and anxieties and sadness that have built up over the past three years melt away as soon as she’s in Kara’s arms.

She leaves Noonan’s that day with Kara’s address stored in a note on her phone, and the dreading feeling that she’s made a terrible, terrible mistake by agreeing to spend the day with Kara.

The next six days before Christmas pass far too quickly for Lena’s liking, and before she knows it, she’s standing at Kara’s doorstep, holding an over-expensive bottle of wine in one hand and a bag full of presents in the other.

Before she can reach out to knock, the door’s swinging open and Kara’s ushering her in, as if she’d been waiting with her ear pressed against the door so she’d know exactly when Lena arrived. Knowing Kara, she probably was.

“Lena!” she exclaims happily, wrapping her arms around her neck and pulling her flush against her body; all Lena can do is try not to let the bags smack Kara’s back too hard. Kara presses a sloppy kiss against Lena’s cheek, the imprint of her smiling burning along with it. “Merry Christmas.”

“Happy second day of Hanukkah, darling,” Lena murmurs into her neck, letting herself linger for just a second longer than is probably friendly.

When she finally pulls away, cheeks flushed, she immediately makes eye contact with a glaring Alex over Kara’s shoulder, and the floaty feeling that had briefly risen in her chest while Kara had hugged her immediately disappears.

And then, when she makes her way into Kara’s apartment and sees James Olsen sitting on the couch shooting daggers into the side of her head, she knows for sure that agreeing to come here today was a mistake.

As the day goes on, the sinking feeling in her stomach only gets worse - when Kara introduces her to her friends, James and another, slightly geeky guy named Winn, and James can’t even bear to look her in the eye; when she introduces herself to Alex’s girlfriend, Maggie, and Alex drags her away before Lena even manages to get the words out; even when she’s talking to Eliza, who is as lovely as ever, but whose eyes still linger just that little bit too long, like she can’t quite believe she’s seeing Lena in the flesh again.

The only moments she feels even a little at ease are when it’s just her and Kara, squashed up on the sofa together or laughing at whatever stupid movie’s on TV. Every so often, she gets a flash of a long buried feeling, and it almost feels like Christmas used to, when they’d spend it at Eliza’s house in Midvale and Lena had her own stocking.

But then, inevitably, someone always interrupts - Winn bustling over with a trayful of pigs in blankets, or Alex accidentally smashing a glass in the kitchen, or Eliza calling the two of them over so that she can coo over an old photo that came up in her Facebook memories, of her and Kara at seventeen, curled up on the sofa together after finishing their Christmas dinner, dead to the world.

Dinner is even worse.

As predicted, she finds herself squeezed in between Kara and Alex, and she’s certainly not oblivious enough to not see the tension coming off the pair in waves, that she suspects probably has everything to do with her presence at the table. James’ ‘friendly questions’ begin to feel more like an interrogation after he asks her for the third time in twenty minutes about the last time she heard from Lex, and by the time that Eliza slips away from the table to serve dessert, she knows what she has to do.

And she feels bad about it, really, but the relief coming from James and Alex when she makes a show of checking her phone, before declaring that there’s been an emergency in one of the labs, and she really must go and check it out, is palpable, and she knows she’s made the right choice.

Kara looks a little bit like a kicked puppy and the expression tugs at something in Lena’s chest, but she thinks it’s for the best. She can’t keep pretending things are like they used to be, can’t keep wilfully ignoring everything that’s happened since the last time they did this, just because it feels good.

This time three years ago, she promised herself she wouldn’t be selfish anymore, promised herself she wouldn’t hold Kara back just to make herself feel better, and even though she may currently be in the middle of a quick detour from that, she plans on sticking true to that promise.

“Do you have to go?” Kara asks when they’re at the door, fingertips grasping one of the lapels of her jacket a little desperately, looking utterly distraught.

“I’m afraid so, darling.”

“But it’s Christmas.”

“What can I say, CEOs don’t really get to celebrate Christmas.” She knows she should go then, she knows, but, just this one last time, she pushes up on her tiptoes and presses a gentle kiss against Kara’s cheek, maybe a little too soft to be careful. “I truly am sorry, Kara. It’s been lovely seeing you.”

Lena knows she isn’t just apologising for leaving early, and she suspects Kara probably does too, but she’s out the door before she can say anything in protest.

She barely makes it halfway down the street - of course it had started snowing and of course she’s wearing some of her worst heels, of course she couldn’t have anything go right for her today - before Kara’s voice is bellowing down the street, stopping her in her tracks.

“Lena!” she shouts, sounding slightly out of breath, and huh, Lena thinks this may be the first time she’s ever heard Kara’s voice like that. She does not let herself think about any other contexts in which she could hear it. Definitely not. “Lena, would you- would you stop!”

She kind of considers pretending not to hear her and just speeding up, maybe sending an SOS text to George and telling her to come pick her up now, but then she remembers the baby George’s daughter just had last month, and God damn it.

She stops.

“Lena, I’m serious, would you- oh thank God, you stopped.”

She keeps her eyes squeezed shut while she hears Kara approach, apparently treating the snow-caked sidewalk as an obstacle course or something, if the very uncharacteristic stream of curses she can hear Kara whispering under her breath are anything to go off of; despite herself, Lena can’t quite bite back her smile at the sound.

Eventually, though, Kara’s in front of her, and she’s forced to open her eyes; when she does, she’s met with the absolutely devastating sight of Kara Danvers, bundled up in a thick coat, a scarf and a beanie, snowflakes dusting her hair and her nose and cheeks tinged red with the cold. Not for the first time in the past six days, Lena feels fifteen again, like she’s standing at her door on Christmas morning and being met with the sight of her best friend, there to drag her away for the day.

It’s all a little overwhelming, to be honest, the crushing wave of nostalgia that takes over her, coupled with the expression on Kara’s face, one she finds she can’t quite read. It’s a little bit angry paired with a little bit sad, and a lot confused, which Lena supposes makes two of them.

“Why did you lie about getting called out to work?” Kara asks, voice sharp. Oh.

Lena steels herself before replying with, “Whatever are you talking about, darling?” and hoping her voice is a convincing combination of casual and confused.

“Don’t lie.” Lena can tell Kara’s gritting her teeth from the sharp line of her jaw, and. Fuck.

She wavers for a moment before giving in, letting regret wash over her face. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“So then why did you?”

“Because I shouldn’t have been there in the first place!”

Kara’s frown deepens, her brow knitting in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, Kara, don’t be dense. It was obvious nobody wanted me there. James looked like he was going to burst into flames every time I so much as opened my mouth and you and Alex had clearly had some words about it.”

Kara moves forward, hand coming to rest heavily on Lena’s forearm, her hold a little desperate. “But I wanted you there. I want you there. Isn’t that enough? Why- why do you care what everyone else thinks?”

“Kara, you’re being ridiculous.”

“How am I?” When Lena averts her gaze, she tightens her grip on her arm. “No, Lena, how am I being ridiculous for wanting to spend Christmas with my best friend?”

She can’t help the scoff that comes out of her mouth. “Come on, Kara, we haven’t seen each other in years, I’d hardly call us best friends.”

Kara sets her jaw. “Well, I don’t know about you Lena, but when I said you’d be my best friend forever, I meant it.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “Kara, that’s just a thing kids say to each other, it doesn’t mean anything.”

She doesn’t know why she’s being so horrible, why she’s acting so desperate to hurt Kara, especially not on Christmas, but she just knows that she needs to get out of there, far, far away from Kara, now.

“Not when I said it, and I know it didn’t mean nothing when you did, either.”

“Kara, go back inside, be with your family, please. It’s Christmas, you should be with them.”

Kara’s voice is pleading, and Lena can tell she’s close to tears when she says, “You’re my family. I don’t understand why you’re being like this.”

When Lena doesn’t respond for several moments, Kara takes a deep, shuddery breath. The silence is thick in the air between them, and she wants to say something, wants more than anything to reach out and comfort Kara, to wipe her tears or give her a hug or just do something, but she knows she can’t.

“Fine,” Kara says eventually, voice hard. “Fine. You don’t wanna talk about this? We’ll talk about something else. How about we talk about that phone call, the last time we spoke?”

“Kara.”

“No, let’s talk about how you said, I always thought we might, and then you refused to tell me what the end of it was.” She feels panic wash over her like an ice cold bucket of water, dumped unceremoniously on her head from ten feet. Of all the things she’d prepared for Kara to bring up at some point today, this was not one of them.

“Kara, I…”

“No, tell me what you were gonna say. You always thought we might what?”

Kara’s frantic now, eyes wide and begging, hands restlessly flapping about in the air for a few seconds before once again finding purchase on Lena’s arm.

Lena takes a deep breath in before speaking again, not quite trusting her voice not to crack right down the middle. “Kara, I was so drunk that night I hardly even remember calling you, never mind what I-”

“Stop. Lying.”

Lena’s never seen Kara like this before, so desperate and pleading for answers. She’s not quite sure what to make of it other than to be scared. Not of Kara, never of Kara, but for her instead; Kara’s always been the softest, gentlest thing Lena’s ever known, and here she is, hard and angry and begging, almost a mirror of herself.

It’s terrifying, to think that she’s the one who’s done this to her.

“Why does it matter so much, Kara?”

“Because I need to know.”

“Need to know what?”

“Need to know if you felt- feel, it too.” A pause. “That it isn’t all in my head.”

Lena’s heart takes flight then, thudding away against her chest so hard she’s honestly worried it might crack a rib. Surely Kara can’t be talking about what she thinks she is. Surely not. It’s not possible… if her feelings were mutual, Lena would know - sure, she might not have spoken to her in a while, but she always has been able to read Kara like a book, and she’s never had even the slightest inclination that Kara felt the same about Lena as she did her.

“And what would that be, exactly?” she asks, trying to sound confident, failing miserably.

Kara stills for a moment, fingers fidgeting where she’s gripping Lena’s jacket, almost like she’s trying to make up her mind about something, and then-

Oh.

Kara’s mouth on hers. Kara’s forehead against hers. Kara’s hand moving from its deathgrip on Lena’s arm to the swell of her hip. Kara’s other hand moving up to cup Lena’s cheek, thumb rubbing little circles on her jaw, holding her like Lena’s the most precious thing in the universe.

The kiss takes Lena so much by surprise that she forgets to kiss back, too caught up in the sensation of kissing Kara Danvers after more than fifteen long years of waiting and wanting . When she notices, Kara pulls back tentatively, an apology already forming in her mouth and on her features, and that’s all it takes for Lena to take charge, tilting her head up and capturing Kara’s mouth in an even softer kiss.

They stand there like that, on the sidewalk kissing like a couple of teenagers, for several long minutes before Lena finally pulls away, begrudgingly, needing to catch her breath. She rests her forehead against Kara’s, noses brushing, and melts just a little when Kara leans in to brush one last, chaste kiss against her lips, like she can’t help herself.

“Hi,” she whispers incredulously, afraid to break the moment, and it’s all she needs to say, apparently, Kara bursting into a fit of giggles when she does so.

“Hi,” Kara whispers back, the hand currently cupping Lena’s jaw moving down to connect with Lena’s. She presses a soft kiss to Lena’s fingers, tangled in hers, and Lena doesn’t think she’s ever been quite as happy as she is in this moment, being regarded like she’s the most special thing Kara Danvers has ever seen. “So um, that was-”

“I’m in love with you,” Lena breathes against Kara’s mouth, unable to keep it in any longer. She closes her eyes on instinct, preparing herself for the worst. For the oh, wow. The I’m sorry, I’m not…

But it never comes. Kara just lets out this quiet, reverent little laugh, like she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. “You do?” she whispers, voice a little shaky.

“Yeah, I… Yeah. I- I always have, always, that’s what I-” She opens her eyes, making eye contact with Kara when she does, and God. Fuck. Jesus. How is this real? “I always- always thought you didn’t feel the same.”

“So did I,” Kara laughs, kissing her again quickly, gently. “God, we’re idiots. I- me, too, Lee. Always. Always. I always thought I was just making it up, but then, when you called that nightI thought… But then we didn’t speak again. And I just. Convinced myself I’d made it all up in my head.”

“No,” Lena says insistently, tightening her grip around Kara’s fingers. “No, no, you were right. I… that night, I just. I couldn’t say it. I was too scared. Was always too scared.”

“Me too,” she says. They kiss again, Kara bringing their clasped hands to a rest against Lena’s cheek. “Fuck. Well, you don’t have to be scared anymore, okay? Never again. I love you.”

At some point, Lena realises she’s started crying, cheeks stained with tears, but she doesn’t make any move to wipe them away. “Say it again,” she murmurs against Kara’s mouth.

“I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Another kiss. “I love you.”

They stay out there for a while, until the cold finally catches up to them and Lena’s jaw starts chattering into Kara’s mouth. She manages to coax Lena into going back up to her apartment with her, arm wrapped solidly around her waist the whole time, keeping Lena pressed flush against her side. She whispers encouragements into her hair the whole walk back up, little you’ve got thises and I love yous, each one punctuated by a kiss that makes Lena feel like she’s going to melt into the floor before they even get to the apartment.

When they finally make their way back into the apartment, everyone’s sitting staring at the door, as if waiting for their return, and Lena has the sudden realisation that they probably just sat and watched from the window.

Meaning Kara’s mother and sister just watched them make out like dumb teenagers.

Great.

“Lena’s here to stay,” Kara says, ostensibly addressing the room but delivering particularly pointed looks towards James and Alex. “If you don’t like that, you can leave, but she’s not going anywhere, so if you want to stay then you better get used to that.”

Things are awkward for a little while, and James still avoids her for the rest of the day, but Maggie gives her a warm smile, and Eliza wraps the two of them in a hug, murmuring something about finally into their hair, and towards the end of the night, Alex even brings Lena a glass of scotch, sliding it across the table towards where her and Kara are sat together and muttering, “S’good to see you again, Luthor.”

For the first time in years, Lena feels like she’s getting her family back again, even if it is slowly.

v.

“Mommy!” is the first thing Lena hears when she wakes up, before she’s promptly crushed in the bone-shattering and slightly smothering embrace of her eldest child. “Wake up, wake up, s’Christmas!”

“Oh, it is, is it?” she murmurs, rubbing at her eyes, trying to stretch herself awake as best she can with a five year old crawling her way up her lap. “And why would we need to get up for that, hmm?”

Lily frowns at her, crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture she can only have learned from Lena herself, the frown only deepening when a loud laugh bubbles out of her mother’s chest at the expression. “Mommy, don’t pretend you don’t know. Santa’s been!”

Lena grins, leaning forward to take her daughter in her arms and pulling her closer towards her. “And you know that for sure, do you? Because…” she brings her hands to rest on Lily’s ribcage, waiting for just a second before tickling her mercilessly, delighting in the loud squeals her daughter lets out when she does so. “... I thought Santa only came to good boys and girls?”

“Mommy, mommy, stop!” Lily squeals, wriggling around on her lap so much that she slides off, landing in the spot directly beside Lena. She lets out a little scream when Lena leans over and blows a raspberry right on her cheek, but she can’t help the giggles that overtake her little body, shaking with laughter alongside her mom while trying to squeeze out of her grip.

Eventually, Lena takes mercy, stopping her endless tickling and reaching over to gather Lily in her arms. She presses a kiss into the mop of blonde curls on her head, inhaling deeply and smiling against her hair at the smell of the strawberry shampoo Kara always buys in mulk. “Merry Christmas, baby,” she murmurs, pressing a wet kiss against her daughter’s cheek, laughing at the way she squirms.

“Merry Christmas, mommy,” she says back, curling up like a cat into Lena’s chest, resting her head in the crook of her neck and humming contentedly when Lena’s hand comes to rest on the small of her back, rubbing soft little circles.

They both doze off for a little then, or at least Lena does, and when she wakes again it’s surprisingly not to Lily’s impatient cries about opening her presents from Santa, but to the sound of Kara creeping in the door, her footsteps light.

“Hey, sleepyheads,” she says, eyes softening at the sight of her wife and daughter curled up in their bed together. “Where was my invite to the cuddlefest?”

“Musta got lost in the mail,” Lena says, extending her arms out wide and beckoning for Kara to come join them. “C’mere.”

“Love to, baby, but we gotta get up.” She doesn’t join them in bed, but she perches herself on Lena’s other side, hand coming up to thread itself through her wife’s hair almost of its own accord. “Don’t know if you guys heard, but today’s kinda a big day.”

“And why’s that?” Lena asks, turning her head to press a kiss to the palm Kara’s got in her hair.

“Oh, y’know. Turkey. Booze. Family coming ‘round, all that. And…” She leans across Lena’s body, shaking their sleeping daughter awake gently. “Someone left some presents for you downstairs, Lilybug. I wonder who that could be?”

Lily shoots up, the reminder of Santa enough to wake her completely. “Santa?” she asks, eyes wide and full of wonder.

“Yeah,” Kara says, grinning at her daughter’s excited expression. “Yeah, I think that’s maybe who it was. The milk and cookies we left out last night were gone, so.”

Lily’s excitement is so palpable Lena could swear she can feel her buzzing. She can’t help but smile at the sight; she doesn’t think she was ever this excited about anything as a child, not even when her mom was still alive.

“Can we go open them? Can we?” She looks between both of her mothers expectantly, eyes flitting between them like a madwoman. “Please, Mommy? Please, Mama? Pleaaaase?”

Kara and Lena share an amused look.

“Hmmm,” Lena draws out, doing her best to look unaffected. “I think… I think that sounds like a good idea, what about you, Mama?”

Kara smiles. “I agree, Mommy - in fact, Lilybug, I think it might be your best idea yet.” Lily squeals, jumping up in her spot excitedly and clambering over Lena, desperate to get out the bed. “Hey, hey, before you do, can you go wake your brother up for me? We can’t open presents without him, that wouldn’t be fair.”

“Yes! Of course!”

A woman on a mission, Lily darts out the room at a frankly impressive speed, leaving Kara and Lena alone in the room together. Kara wastes no time in leaning over and pressing a long, indulgent kiss to her wife’s lips, humming a little against them as she does so.

“Morning,” Lena says, voice still slightly gravelly from sleep, smiling against Kara’s mouth.

“Morning, you,” Kara practically beams. She strokes Lena’s cheek for a second, smiling at the way her wife presses into her hold. “Y’know, there’s another reason today’s kinda important.”

Lena laughs. “And what’s that, hmm?”

“Oh, just, y’know, nine years ago today we finally got our heads out of our asses and admitted we love each other. No biggie.”

“No biggie at all,” Lena agrees, but she’s smiling so big it feels like her face might break in two.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” Kara says, kissing her again, deeper this time, slower. She presses her body against Lena’s, laying down with her on the bed and wrapping her arms around her wife’s waist, pulling her as close as she physically can.

“Happy anniversary,” Lena repeats into the kiss, feeling tears prick in her eyes, and God. Nine years of this, of Kara, in every way she could ever possibly imagine, and it still doesn’t feel even the slightest bit real. Every time Kara kisses her, or holds her hand, or just looks at her in that way she always does, like Lena’s the only thing she can see on this Earth, she half-expects to wake up in her sixteen year old body and to find it was all just a dream.

They lay like that, swapping kisses until their lips are sore, for God knows how long, until they’re broken out of their trance by Lily’s telltale shriek and a loud, “Mommies, we’re both up, come on!” and Lena’s reminded that yeah, this is real.

This is her life - Kara, Lily, their son - the one she never let herself dream of having. The one she never thought herself worthy of having. Every little fantasy she repressed for all those years, every wish she ever made on a shooting star.

Here, materialised, right in front of her.

And, as her and Kara drag themselves out of bed to go open presents with their kids, she thinks that if she could do it all again, she’d probably do it all the same, even all the awful parts, just so she could guarantee she’d end up here, living exactly this life.