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“I don’t even know what that would feel like, connecting with someone as my whole self. To not be afraid to just be who I am.”
Kara knows her words are not true the second she says them. She feels it in her bones, in the pit of her stomach, feels it with such striking, painful clarity that it makes her breath hitch and her hands tremble.
She knows.
She knows exactly what that would be like, to have someone as her whole self, as Kara Zor-El, open and honest. It’s Lena sharing potstickers with her at the Tower after missions, scrunching her nose in mock disgust at Kara’s table manners. Lena holding her hand when she has to lie on the sun bed, drained and aching but feeling safe still, because Lena is by her side. Lena poring over Kryptonian scripts from the sunstone Kara gave her, murmuring to herself in an almost-impeccable accent, memorizing a prayer that she would later say with Kara at the Fortress of Solitude at the Feast of Rao. Lena pressing her icy feet to Kara’s thigh under the blanket at game nights and laughing at Kara’s indignant yelps. The slow, peaceful beat of Lena’s heart when Kara wraps her in her arms. It’s–
Lena, with hands are pressing to Kara’s shoulders now, a gentle, calming touch, and Kara realizes she’s trembling, teeming with the nervous energy of I know exactly what I need to do, but I’m terrified. It doesn’t need to be more than three words to take that leap of courage that she longs for, but it feels like the hardest task of all, to dare and do it.
“If anyone tries to come after our family, we’ll take them on together,” Lena’s voice is soft, the look in her eyes so achingly tender that Kara feels like her heart might burst. “El mayarah.”
Kara dives.
She leans in, a bit too hastily, her nose bumping against Lena’s but her surprised little yelp is swallowed immediately as their lips press together. The world stills.
Then Lena sighs and kisses back and Kara feels like every nerve in her body is set alight, exhilarated: the charge of ten thousand yellow suns could not bestow godhood on her like the feeling of Lena pressing against her, fingers digging into Kara’s shoulders, kissing her with the same deep, desperate passion, finally finally finally. There’s a giggle when they break apart for a moment and wetness against Kara’s cheek when they press together again and she doesn’t know which one of them is crying but she doesn’t care as long as she can keep holding Lena in her arms.
She doesn’t quite dare to open her eyes when they do part again. Lena’s forehead is pressed against her own, her arms wrapped around Kara’s neck, and they sway a little, sinking into the magic of this moment, so lost in their own world together that when Kara murmurs I love you against Lena’s lips, it feels as natural as breathing.
(“I love you, Kara Zor-El,” Lena whispers back a moment later, and as Kara wraps her arms around her and spins into the air, laughing, she feels invincible.)