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It’s 6AM. Well, almost.
Like every weekday Lena Luthor wakes up minutes before her alarm clock goes off, and just like every other weekday she turns over in a bed that’s always felt too big for her and nuzzles her face into her pillow. She curls her toes into the mattress and rubs her legs together underneath crisp sheets, enjoying the peace and quiet until an all-too-familiar tune starts playing and urges her to get out of bed.
She’s always liked the minimalism of the penthouse, how there are little to no colors to distract her from what truly requires focus. She’s always liked how clinical it feels, and recently, she’s started liking how its dull whiteness makes the contrast with certain visitors even bigger, like they are colorful bursts of sunshine in her otherwise monochromatic world. The robe she puts on is soft to the point it feels like an ever-present hug, the Italian coffeemaker she imported a few years ago reliably whirs and buzzes when she presses a couple of buttons and when she wraps her hands (cold, always cold) around the cup a few moments later, she realizes just how content she feels in the early morning hours.
The view she has from the penthouse’s balcony is par to none. She looks out at National City’s skyline, glances at a far-away helicopter hovering above the river, hears the low hum of the traffic below as she sips her ristretto and closes her eyes. She feels content.
*
It’s 1PM. Well, almost.
Her lunch reservation is at one, and she knows full well Frank will manage to drop her off at the Shake & Muddle exactly five minutes in advance. If there’s one thing that she’s been grateful for to Lilian, it’s how she instilled the importance of punctuality in her as a child. The car comes to a standstill a couple of moments later and natural daylight floods into the car the second Frank opens the door for her.
“Pick up as usual, Miss Luthor?”
“Half two, yes please.” She takes his hand as he helps her out of the car, “Go have some lunch on me.” She adds, pushing a neatly folded crisp $50 note into the palm of hand, “Don’t.” She raises a brow when she notices he wants to object, “Please.”
Frank good-naturedly smiles in defeat and closes the door behind her. She knows he’ll watch until she’s gone inside, then drive off no further than a block away. It’s routine, it’s secure, she feels safe. The maître d’hôtel greets her at the entrance and immediately guides her to a more private table in the back where her lunch partner is already seated down.
“Lena,” the woman greets her as soon as she walks into sight, “you look great.”
“Andrea,” Lena smiles, pulling her old friend into a one-armed hug as the latter presses her cheek against Lena’s swiftly, “thanks for meeting me.”
“Anything for you.” Andrea sits back down, reaching for the cloth napkin she’d thrown down onto the table the second she got up and putting it back into her nap. Boarding school habits never die. Lena copies her, smiling. “Drink?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
“Something called Black Cadillac,” Andrea smiles, “excuse me,” she waves over a nearby waiter, “two more of these, please.” She holds up a nearly empty glass, “Thanks.” She watches the man walk off before turning back her attention back to Lena, “So, this Lena Luthor Foundation idea you have - tell me all about it.”
Half an hour later, in between bites of cioppino and a few mouthfuls of Andrea’s cochinita pibil she insisted Lena tried, Andrea agrees to pump a few million dollars into the foundation and promote it, get her in touch with more donors, and Lena’s never been more grateful for solid friendships that have outlasted time and a whole lot of shit. Andrea cheers her with a fourth cocktail and Lena feels giddy, on top of the world, even.
*
It’s 6PM. Well, almost.
She’s waiting on the sidewalk near CatCo’s entrance, waiting for Kara to walk out at six on the dot so she can take her to that little new eatery on Highland Ave Kara had mentioned she wanted to try out. It’s been a good day, she contemplates. Successful board meetings, great lunch with Andrea, excellent review of the first quarter of her new start-up, now hopefully dinner with -
“Excuse me, Miss Luthor?”
She spins around on her heels to see two men looking at her from a few meters away. Oh no. Frank’s parked on the other side of the street and of course, of course, she left her purse with the mace on the backseat of the Royce, figuring it would only take a minute to wait for Kara to finish her daytime job.
“Gentlemen.” She nods curtly, hoping her paranoid streak got it wrong, “Can I help you?”
She brings her left hand up to her right wrist, hoping she can press the alarm button on the watch Kara gave her, wonders if the blonde can hear her from wherever she is in the building, but one of the men is already walking toward her and the other is pulling a pin out of some sort of grenade and shit. She’s terrified. Suddenly, the square seems to be doused in smoke, there’s a siren going on a couple of meters away from her and there, from the shadows, a silhouette sprints towards her and grabs her, slamming her down behind the statue in the middle of the square.
“An -” She grunts as she looks into blue eyes behind a black mask, “Acrata?”
“Saw it happen from my office window,” comes the response, much more sober than Lena would expect someone to sound after four cocktails and a bottle of wine, “stay down.”
She’s gone into the shadows a fraction of a second later and there’s another flash of color and then Kara’s getting up from where she touched down, walking over to her in a rush. There are more armed men coming toward where she is lying down and of course, Lena realizes, her quarterly assassination attempt would happen on a seemingly perfect day. Kara throws one of them aside, not caring where he lands and then she’s at Lena’s side, worried.
“Are you hurt?” She asks hurriedly, “I was downtown, I didn’t - why didn’t you -”
“Your seven, watch out.” Lena mumbles, and Kara turns around with a huff, punching a balaclava-clad man, “Ow.”
There’s a crash and she thinks the statue’s may have collapsed right next to her. Acrata is back, grabs her by the arm and looks past her at Supergirl.
“I’ll get her out,” she tells the blonde, “You take care of this.”
She ends up hunkering down in a private villa on the other side of National City, with Andrea fetching her an ice pack for her foot and calling up the secure line to the Royce so she can give Frank instructions. The assassination attempt has made the evening news and Lena clutches her ankle as she watches the police round up the domestic terrorist cell and some CatCo reporter interviews Supergirl.
“Do you have any idea where Lena Luthor is right now, Supergirl?”
“I’m sure she’s somewhere safe.” Kara pauses and looks at the camera, “I’m sure she’ll be home soon.”
“Frank will be here at eight.” Andrea walks into the living room again, “I’m going to send some of my people with you as an escort,” she holds up her hand to shush Lena’s protest before it begins, “no arguing, chiquita.”
Lena knows it’s no use trying to convince Andrea to let her leave any sooner. They sit side by side, watching the news report mention a new superhero and speculate on how many more assassination attempts it will take for Lena Luthor to walk around National City with a flock of bodyguards. Lena nudges her friend gently when one of the witnesses is particularly positive about Acrata’s appearance, calling her spectacular.
“Spectacular,” Lena teases, suddenly very aware of the throbbing in her foot, “look at that.”
“Callate,” Andrea mutters, taking the foil off a small container she brought in, “want some more of this cochinita, considering you’re gonna be here for a while longer?”
Lena does feel hungry. It’s unnerving how much almost getting murdered spikes her appetite. She nods and mouths a thank you when Andrea passes her a fork and they share the leftovers while the news broadcast continues playing.
*
It’s 9PM. Well, almost.
She knows because the heavy-security door between the garage and the basement with her private elevator is not yet graced with the two armed guards that appear from the main security room, which is an implementation that takes place at exactly nine at night. Frank helps her out of the car and Andrea’s private security detail dutifully watch on until she exits the garage and makes it into the compound’s basement. Lena sighs, hoping she’s not going to have to talk to anyone else this damned day. She can faintly hear the door to the main security room swing open while she waits for the lift to ping at the subterrain level.
“I’m good, boys.” She pre-emptively shuts down any chance they have to voice their worries, to inquire she’s alright.
She thinks she might burst out in tears if they do.
The lift doors slide open, and she quickly steps inside, leaning against the furthest wall. Her heels hurt. Her back aches. She just wants to get out of this dress and wash the soot off from her arms and wash out the small pieces of debris that are tangled in her hair and she just wants to get into bed.
The penthouse is quiet and sterile-looking and ordinary-looking apart from the silhouette dressed in red-and-blue that’s perched on the edge of her recliner near the fireplace. She barely sets two steps into the foyer before Supergirl, Kara, is by her side, cupping her face and looking at her carefully, the worry in her eyes spilling over when she speaks.
“Are you okay?” The superhero whispers, the pads of her thumbs gently stroking Lena’s cheeks, “I’m sorry I didn’t get there in time, I was -”
“I’m fine,” Lena cuts her short, “truly. I just want to -”
She doesn’t even finish the sentence, instead gesticulates at her feet and within seconds, Kara’s kneeling down in front of her. A soft hand wraps around her calf and gently lifts her leg up far enough for Kara to take off the red-soled shoe, before repeating the same action with her other leg. Lena balances herself by keeping her hand onto the blonde’s shoulder, only letting go when the Kryptonian stands up again and tucks a whisp of hair that’s fallen in front of her face behind her ear.
Kara looks so soft it almost makes her want to cry. “Shower?”
Lena can only nod. Kara mirrors the nod, barely noticeable, then scoops her up as if she’s weightless and carries her through the penthouse. Nothing gets said between them as Kara gently puts her down next to the sink and walks behind the glass screen of the walk-in shower, turning it on and getting out of it fast enough to stay dry. Kara cups her face again, gentle as if she was the most fragile thing in the world and presses their lips together even gentler. When she pulls away, Kara reaches behind her and blindly finds the top button of her dress, flicks it open and gently pulls the zip down.
“I’m gonna be out there,” she murmurs gently, nodding toward the hallway, “Do you think you’ll want to eat something after?”
God, she feels like shit.
“You’re alright, darling.”
“Okay,” Kara inhales sharply, “right. Okay. Yeah. I’m just gonna,” she takes a step back, gesticulating at the bathroom door, “take your time.”
*
It’s 11PM. Well, almost.
The TV is still playing, the movie they’ve been watching reaching its end and the small banner in the top right corner alerting them the news will begin shortly. She’s still curled up into Kara’s side, letting the blonde idly rake her fingers through her hair, blunt nails scraping against her scalp every so often.
On the coffee table, her phone lights up with a notification of her health app. It’s just about time to get some rest! She sighs and nuzzles her face deeper into the nape of Kara’s neck. The Kryptonian must’ve seen the notification too because there’s a slight shift as she puts a bit of distance between them, angling her head so she can look at Lena better.
“Bed?”
Lena nods, lazily kicking off the blanket Kara draped over both of them a while ago. She pushes herself slightly more upright and rubs her eye with the heel of her hand. God, she is tired. Kara waits for her to get up before swinging her legs off the edge of the couch and getting up to, smiling down at her while she tucks a loose strand of wavy hair behind her ear.
“I love your hair like this,” she says unprompted, “so soft.” Kara purses her lips, “Right, if anything is up at any point, use the watch this time, okay? I’ll patrol, and I’ll check in on you in the morning, and -”
“Kara,” Lena interrupts, “can you stay?”
“Do you want me to stay?” Kara asks gently, and Lena finds it oddly endearing to see Kara Danvers be so typically Kara whilst she’s wearing her superhero suit.
“Obviously.” Lena murmurs, fingering the slight gap between Kara’s suit and the clasp where her cape connects to it, “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” Slight pause. “It’s just - I didn’t know you had superheroes at your beck and call. Apart from me, obviously.”
If her day had not been this hectic, Lena likes to think she would have spotted this a while ago. Kara not searching out her heartbeat as soon as she disappeared off scene at CatCo, Kara talking to the camera, Kara waiting for her to come home, the way she had been even more careful than usual when she touched her, the fact she’d let Lena essentially use her as a body pillow and spent close to two hours stroking her hair. Kelly would call it a class book example of overcompensation.
“Are you jealous?”
“No,” Kara frowns, “of course not. You can be friends with any superhero you like,” there’s a pause and the Kryptonian sighs, “okay, real talk, maybe I’m slightly jealous.”
“Of Acrata.”
“If you’d tell me who she is, maybe I’d be less jealous.” Kara tries, “Like, is she pretty?”
“You out of all people should know that it’s bad form telling someone about a superhero’s identity, darling.”
“Fine, fine,” Kara runs her thumb over Lena’s jawline gently, “just… don’t like her more than you like me.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” the youngest Luthor mumbles, leaning into Kara’s personal space and brushing her lips against the taller woman’s gently, “trust me.”
They end up in bed together, something that’s started happening after Kara’s returned from the Phantom Zone and Lena’s come back from the Newfoundland. They fit together like perfect little pieces, even though Lena thinks they are both shattered and broken - which makes all of this even more miraculous than she would’ve ever thought.
Kara is all over her, gentle at first and less gentle when Lena spurs her on, touching her relentless until her whiney don’t stops turn into moaned stopstopstops when she thinks she’s about to combust if Kara drags one more orgasm out of her. She’s a mess, and slightly overwhelmed, but Kara wraps her up in her arms and spoons her and mumbles little nothings into her skin until she drifts off.
*
It’s 6AM. Well, almost.
Like every weekday Lena Luthor wakes up minutes before her alarm clock goes off, but unlike most weekdays, she turns over in a bed that’s exactly the right size and nuzzles her face into the nape of Kara Danvers’s neck. She feels the blonde stretch beneath her, feels how Kara tenses her abs under Lena’s fingertips and shifts, rolling onto her side so she can face the younger woman.
“Morning,” Kara sounds sleepy but still presses her lips against her hairline, “are you feeling alright?”
In all fairness, her ankle throbs each time she tries to move it. There’s a faint buzz in her ear she’s sure will take days, if not weeks, to pass. There’s a distinct bruise forming across her ribs and unrelated to yesterday’s events (more related to last night’s) her thighs feel like she’s exerted herself. And yet. She feels more than alright. For the first time in a long while, she feels wondrously happy.
She turns to face Kara, ocean-blue eyes already looking at her like she’s the sun the superhero revolves around, the only sun that matters.
“Never better, darling.” She murmurs, cupping Kara’s face gently with one hand when the blonde leans in and kisses her softly.
The rest of the day flies by in a blur because unlike Lena, everyone in her close environment seems to think she should not go into work the day after an assassination attempt. Kara in particular seems very fond of the idea of keeping her in the penthouse, preferably in bed. Lena manages to dissuade Kara from getting Alex to come over to look at her ankle but begrudgingly agrees to stay in bed all day, shaking her head in mock annoyance each time Kara cheeks in on her to ask if she needs anything else.
“Just you.” She says gently when Kara asks her for the umpteenth time that day, “Only you.”
Kara super speeds her way to the bed and gets underneath the covers and kisses her more and - Lena thinks this is what unadulterated joy feels like, just Kara Danvers here with her.
She’s never felt happier.
Well, almost.