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I wanna be loved, I wanna be whole again
So tuck my hair behind my ears and touch my soul again
The window is wide, the post unfulfilled
And I just ask you to be patient if you'll have me still
'Cause I wanna open up and try to love someone
'Cause I wanna overcome and try to love someone
Lena arrives with her overnight bag that after all this time is for show. Kara knows because one time she peeked and the only items inside were a bunch of socks. That’s because Lena will still opt to wear a pair of Kara’s lounge pants and her softest crewneck. And there's no need to carry toiletry items back and forth. Lena's skincare and shower products have had space in Kara’s bath for years (even if they gathered dust for a period of time). They order in, settle onto the couch, and start their first film of many for the night.
Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan bicker about caviar when there’s a sudden pressure at Kara’s side. She’s smiling before she even looks down, and when she does it's to find Lena sound asleep. Kara's movements are gentle as she shifts until they’re both snuggled in and covered by the same fleece throw. Kara drops her lips to Lena's forehead, and then turns her attention back to the television to finish watching two should-be rivals fall in love.
The only light in the apartment filters in from the streetlamps as Kara cradles Lena in her arms. She floats them the short distance from couch to bed, and then hovers at Lena’s preferred side. It's nice like this, having Lena, warm and soft, wrapped up in her arms. So forgive Kara for taking a moment to soak up the feeling when a quickened heartbeat pulls her attention. She looks down to find Lena’s eyes watching her.
Heat rises to Kara's cheeks, but she’s pretty sure Lena would need more than x-ray vision to make out the blush adorning her cheeks. So Kara decides the best course of action is to carry on.
“Ready for bed?” But Lena, still tucked into the safety of her arms, continues to watch her until an arm winds itself around her neck.
Kara may be made of steel, but Lena is the bravest of them all. Lena's the one who closes the gap Kara attempted to all those weeks ago.
They don’t talk about it the next morning. Not when Kara wakes in Lena’s arms this time. Not when she finds the hand tucked against her stomach and laces their fingers together. Not when she feels lips pressed against her neck curve into a smile.
They don’t talk when they’re hip to hip at the sink, grinning around toothbrushes, and staring at one another in the mirror, playing an unspoken game of who will break eye contact first. (It’s Kara, but Lena still offers up a minty-fresh kiss as consolation).
Kara watches Lena collect her belongings, and she almost breathes in enough courage to ask... Well, exactly what, she’s not sure. Because Kara knows they’re okay, better than actually.
But then Lena tugs her toward the door and promises, “I’ll text when I make it to the foundation." She leaves with a kiss to Kara’s lips and three squeezes to her hand. And that says it all, right?
They’ve been sleeping together for three months. Or twelve weeks (and four days to be precise). Kara prefers the exactness of that specification, too, because it’s how people track newborns. They measure progress of a life that’s so new by every small yet significant increment.
Over the past twelve weeks, too, full nights of sleep have become a rarity. Not that Kara’s complaining. Not at all. Not when she knows the taste of Lena on her tongue, has felt Lena come undone grinding against her thigh, and watched green eyes peer up from between her own legs. Kara has no complaints or regrets.
Except for giving her sister a key.
Her and Lena’s new relationship is full of life, but it’s fragile and delicate, too. They’ve only been at this for twelve (glorious) weeks, and Kara hasn’t wanted to do anything but protect it. But after twelve weeks, well, they can’t be like marsupials and hide away for another twelve weeks, too. Plus, Kara wants to tell the most important people in her life about this super awesome newborn thing.
With the gift of super speed, Kara redresses and skids out into the living area. Alex and Kelly are opening up the pastry box and unloading bagel-packed bags.
“Wake up, sleepy–” Kara’s at her sister’s side in a flash, a single finger pressed to her own lips as her other hand covers Alex’s mouth.
“Lena’s still– Aw, gross, Alex!” Kara forgets all about staying quiet as she whines and wipes her now saliva-covered palm against her sleep shorts.
“That’s what you get for interrupting. Plus, we brought breakfast for Lena, too, since you were having another one of your sleepovers.”
Kara swats her sister’s bunny rabbit quoting fingers from the air. “Don’t say it like that, Alex. It’s– It’s not like that.”
“Sure, Kara–” “Alex, we’ve talked about–” But Alex ignores her wife’s attempt at interjection. “Then what’s it like,” Alex presses, “if it’s not like that?”
Kara recognizes her sister’s posture. The tilt of her head and the raise of her brows. It’s the sister who’d greet her in the training room, so Kara knows the question is a challenge, and it’s one Kara wants to rise to.
Because of course she wants to tell her sister about everything. All that’s new and amazing and how she’s never been happier. Yet there's something that keeps Kara quiet, eyes trained to fingers toying with the fraying hem of her tank top.
“You know,” Kelly begins, a pointed look directed at Alex. “It’s such a beautiful morning, I think I’d like to have my coffee while we stroll around the block.” She grabs one of the to-go cups and then Alex’s hand before walking toward the apartment door. “We’ll be back in about twenty, Kara.”
And then the door closes, and Kara’s still trying to find her words.
She’s still trying to understand why it isn't second nature to share this kind of joy when a familiar set of arms wraps her up from behind. In a well-rehearsed move Kara bends at the knee just enough so Lena’s chin can hook over her right shoulder.
“I heard there’s breakfast for me, too.” Lena’s voice is sleep-rough in a way that makes Kara's knees want to bend for different reasons. But she’s still a little too stuck in her own head to respond. And of course Lena notices, because Lena always sees the little things. Sees her.
“Hey, you.” There’s a tug at her waist, one that will probably cause the hem to unravel even more, which feels right because Kara’s feeling a little like that on the inside. Like everything right now is perfect, but they’re also only a single breath away from complete destruction.
There’s a soft touch at her cheek that traces to her temple before settling at the space between her brows. Lena waits and is patient and in the safety of time and space, Kara finds her words.
“When I was first with the Danvers, Eliza showed me how to make houses out of cards.” It was a way to focus and trust all the work she’d done to control her strength and powers. “I kind of feel like that again,” Kara admits, finally looking up to find concern (but so much more) in green eyes. It’s a look that grounds Kara to the moment in the same way building card houses did all those years ago.
“I think, you and me, we’re building something together now.” Kara finds Lena’s hands and tangles their fingers together, sighing a bit at how they fit. Even if this is the first time they’re talking about everything in twelve weeks, they’ve been hard at work. They've been stacking and arranging shared hopes and dreams in every touch and kiss. They've created shelter each night and morning they fall asleep and wake up together.
But how does Kara begin to explain that every time she’s found a home, she’s also lost it. Lena hasn't been back for long, both as her best friend and this new-found thing, and Kara worries. What if she stacks her next set of cards wrong and everything they’ve built comes crashing down?
Lena leans in, like she did twelve weeks (and four days) ago, and stops a spiral that had begun to spin up once more. She anchors Kara to the present.
With their foreheads pressed together, Kara admits, “I needed that.”
Lena’s laughter causes their noses to bump. “Oh, I could tell.”
“Lena?” Kara finds Lena’s eyes once more. “You know I love you, right? Like I’m in–”
Lena steals the word from her tongue, and Kara feels Lena’s smile as much as her enthusiastic kiss.
When the kiss breaks, there’s triumph in Lena’s stance, and an almost dance to the way she sways in their connection. “Finally. Finally! I’ve been waiting three months for you to say that while you’re actually awake.”
Kara’s crinkle returns, and Lena tips onto her toes to press her lips to the patch of skin and explain. “You said it that very first night, once we had washed up and were back in bed. I answered that I love you, too, but then you had zero reaction whatsoever. I waited, and waited, and then realized you were sound asleep.”
“Well, you wore me out,” Kara protests. “You told me you loved me in your sleep, Kara. And you’ve been saying it since. Nearly every night we’ve spent together.” Kara can only grow sheepish at the knowledge that not only does she sleep float, but now she sleep talks, too. Offers up declarations of love while dreaming.
“You love me, too?” “Oh, sweetheart, of course I do. Of course I love you.” Kara knows it to be true, has known it if she’s honest. It also makes sense that she’s said what's truest in heart when she’s been at her most vulnerable, but also when she’s felt safest, too. Still, there’s relief in hearing it all the same.
Lena leans back into Kara, arms wrapped to hold each other close, and says, “What we’ve been building together has been years in the making.”
And Kara knows that to be true, too. From a first interview to lunch dates and movie nights, they created a foundation. The safest of places for them both to land. And while it’s had its cracks and fissures over the years, they’ve learned how to mend what’s broken to be stronger than before. Stronger together.
“El mayarah.”