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After their Christmas Eve get together winds down and everyone has left – Sam and Ruby being last, flying back to Lena’s otherwise empty penthouse after helping Kara superspeed through cleanup – Lena allows herself to really, fully relax for the first time since the morning. She emerges from the bedroom, having finally changed out of the dress she wore for the visit to the children’s hospital in the afternoon into something more comfortable just as Kara is setting two mugs of hot chocolate down on the coffee table. She sits down beside Kara, groaning as she sinks into the cushions and closes her eyes for a moment. She hears Kara chuckle, and when she opens her eyes again finds her holding one of the mugs out for Lena. Lena takes it, and sips the hot drink. Unlike Kara’s towering stack of marshmallows and whipped cream, it’s made how Lena likes it – more chocolate, less sugar, and spiked with rum.
“I love seeing everyone, but I’m glad Alex and Kelly will be hosting tomorrow,” Lena says.
Kara makes an agreeable noise, taking a bite out her whipped cream. (Lena might watch a little too closely as she licks her lips after.) “Yeah, it was a lot. At least we didn’t have to clean up alone.”
“I didn’t have to clean up at all,” Lena says smugly, having been ordered out of the kitchen earlier to let the Kryptonians do the job as fast as possible.
Kara shrugs. “You deserved a break; you were handing out gifts to those kids all afternoon.”
“So were you.”
“Yeah, but,” Kara leans in a little closer, her voice soft as if sharing a secret “I’m Supergirl.”
Lena laughs, gently bumping her shoulder into Kara’s. Kara pushes back, just as gently.
“Hey,” Kara says, looking over at Lena, “You’re wearing your sweater!”
“I am,” Lena says, looking down at herself. It’s dark green, with a surprisingly tasteful snowflake pattern on the front. Kara got it for her, and a matching red one for herself. “I like it. It’s comfy,” Lena admits, though the swell of warmth stems not just from the actual sweater itself, but from the idea of Kara picking it out for her, from wearing something so blatantly matching with Kara. Judging by the quiet little smile on Kara’s face, Lena thinks she gets it too.
/
Later, their mugs are empty and set aside on the coffee table and the only sound is the murmur of a holiday playlist that had been turned down but not off after everyone left. They’re sprawled out across the couch together, Lena propped up on a pillow with Kara’s head in her lap. She’s enveloped by a sort of hazy, sleepy contentment, and thinks they might spend the whole night there if one of them doesn’t decide to move to the bed soon. Lena knows she should probably just do it – it’s likely sometime after midnight, and they promised to be at Alex and Kelly’s early in the morning – but she can’t find the willpower to get up. (Or more realistically, prod Kara into flying them over to the bed.)
Lena’s contemplation of whether the inevitable neck pain is worth letting them just stay there is interrupted by Kara squirming in her lap. She’s suddenly more alert, focusing on something on – no, something above the ceiling.
“Kara?”
She tears her attention away from whatever she sees, breaking into a wide grin as she looks at Lena. “It’s snowing again!”
Before Lena has even processed this, she’s standing in front of the window in Kara’s arms, her ponytail blowing wildly around her neck.
“Sorry,” Kara says softly, so close that Lena can feel her breath on her neck. “Got excited.”
“It’s alright.” She leans back into Kara, wrapping her own arms around Kara’s that are encircling her middle.
Looking out the window, she understands Kara’s excitement. Though she has no desire to actually go out (and she hopes Kara doesn’t either) Lena can vividly imagine it. The chill in the air, and the counterpoint of the warmth of Kara’s presence. The stillness and the quiet under the slowly falling snow. How the emptiness of the usually bustling streets and the city light being reflected back down on them make everything feel just a little unreal.
Thankfully, Kara seems as content with their cozy intimacy as Lena is, and settles for experiencing this through the window.
Lena quickly gets distracted, drawn instead to Kara’s reflection. The way she scans over everything before, not wanting to miss a thing. The little smile, the wonder in her eyes. The way she meets Lena’s eyes in their reflection, just for a moment. The briefest of contact, then she’s once more looking at the fluffy snowflakes falling outside. Lena doesn’t feel like she’s been caught staring, and Kara gives no sense that she feels she was caught either. Just checking in with Lena, sharing this little moment with her.
She watches Kara follow the snow up and up and up, until her gaze is decidedly inside the window. And not in a distant, looking past everything with her powers way. Lena follows Kara to where her attention seems to fixed, almost directly overhead.
“Oh.”
Lena knew it was there. She watched Kara hang it this morning, she helped with another one. But it slipped her mind after that, apart from the pretty blush her teasing drew. (Who are you hoping to catch under there, Miss Danvers? Sam, perhaps?)
“Mistletoe,” Kara says, her voice still low and close. Their eyes meet in their reflection again.
“Are you going to do something about it?” Lena challenges.
Kara freezes, just for a heartbeat.
Then gently, carefully, she lets Lena out of her hold and spins her around. Facing each other, they’re close, so close. Lena would barely need to move to close the space, to – but she waits.
She waits.
It should be tense. It should be agonizing. It’s not.
It’s been so easy for Lena to fall into this strange new normal with Kara. So comfortable, so natural. To let her through all her walls, to come home to her, to entwine their lives together. She still feels that now, just as strong as – stronger than – ever. There’s a certain sort of inevitability to it, being in Kara’s arms, being this close to her, the way she’s looking at Lena.
Lena waits.
Kara kisses her.
Gentle at first, hesitant. Not unlike the kisses on Lena’s cheek, or her forehead, that Kara has given her before. Lena pushes back, ever so slightly: asking a question, giving permission. More. Kara pulls her even closer, pushes back a little harder. A little more fervent, but still unhurried. Lena’s world narrows down to just Kara: strong hands squeezing her hips, the way Kara’s lips move against hers, the sugary-sweet taste of hot cocoa.
A small eternity or two passes, then they break apart. Lena lets out a breath, a little laugh, and tucks her head into Kara’s chest. For once, Lena can hear Kara’s heart, pounding out a frantic rhythm in time with hers.
“I want to say it. Can I say it? I mean, I think it should be obvious by now, but are – ”
Lena cuts her off gently. “I love you.”
“Yeah. That.”
Lena lifts her head up to look at Kara. Kara looks back at her, adorable lip bite turning into a little grin. Lena arches an eyebrow expectantly.
“Hey you.” Kara kisses her again, short, sweet. “I love you.”
Lena sighs, sinking back into Kara and smiling to match her. Kara starts to sway them side to side in time with the faint music, a not-quite slow dance. “It feels so good to say it. To not have to hide anymore.”
“I haven’t been hiding it for a long time,” Lena admits. “Since you got back, at least.”
“Yeah, me too. Still, it’s nice.” Lena hums in agreement. “Even if it took us a while.”
Lena laughs a little. “At least we worked out the important parts, even if we didn’t know how to talk about it.”
/
The quiet, slow instrumental song playing fades into another and they take little notice. But that too ends, and it’s followed buy something a little more upbeat. Lena can’t quite identify, but it’s enough to pull them out of their little bubble.
She makes a snap decision, resolving to do something she’s been putting off before she loses her nerve.
“Wait here,” she says, tapping a finger on Kara’s chest. “I’ve got a present for you.”
Lena almost runs over to the bedroom, digging a little lead-lined box out of the back of the bottom drawer on her side of the dresser. (She’s sure Kara has noticed it, and has probably been dying to ask about it, but Lena is grateful that she hasn’t.) With the box in her hands, she makes her way back over to Kara.
Now that she’s committed to doing it, the words she couldn’t find before come spilling out.
“I’ve been trying to make myself just give this to you for weeks now, and I suppose being Christmas, this is as good a time as any. I just want you to know I did this for you, just for you. I’ve seen how happy, how free you’ve been since you came out, and I want you to always be able to feel like. I want you to be able to just relax, and not have to think about your powers or the rest of the world if you don’t want to. If you – if you don’t like it, I can just take it back, we never have to talk about it again.” Suddenly desperate, she begs Kara “Please, I need you understand. I know how this might look, especially after last year. I would never use this against you, Kara, please – ”
“Lena.” It’s soft, barely a whisper. But it stops her in her tracks. With the lightest touch, Kara guides Lena’s wildly gesturing hands back down.
Lena takes a deep, steadying breath, nods, and hands the box over to Kara.
Kara takes it, but doesn’t open it, or look at it, or even try to scan it. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Please. Just – ”
“Okay, ok – oh. Oh, wow. Lena, this is beautiful.” Kara removes it – the bracelet – from the box carefully, almost reverently running a thumb over the House of El crest engraved on it. It lights up, the metal itself seeming to glow from with a faint gold. The light flows out along the lines of the flowy, abstract Kryptonian style engravings that encircle the band.
“I’m glad you think so, but it’s also practical.” Lena is a little more confident now that she can focus on a simple matter-of-fact explanation. “It’s a magic based power inhibitor. It can bring your strength down to about human, and your senses, but it won’t leave you vulnerable. And the effects stop instantly once it’s deactivated. It won’t hurt you; it can’t hurt you. I made sure only you can activate that one, and only I could replicate it.”
Kara’s eyes dart back and forth between the bracelet and Lena, giving no indication of her thoughts.
“Kara?”
“How do I – ?”
“Oh, right.” Lena takes it from her, sliding the oversized cuff over Kara’s right hand. “Press and hold the crest to make it size itself properly, then press and swipe all the way to right to turn it on at full strength.” There’s more features: it can inhibit sense and strength separately, an emergency forcefield, a portal beacon. Lena wants to babble on about them, to impress on Kara that this was all for her to –
Kara follows Lena’s instructions, and it’s immediately obvious when it takes effect. She sort of sags, as if settling under the weight of her bones for the first time in months. Then just as suddenly, she perks up, cocking her head like she’s listening to a distant sound, turning around and trying to look through the walls.
Then she’s taking Lena’s hands, her grip tighter, stronger than Lena can ever remember. “I can’t see everything. I can’t hear everything.” She close, so close, looking right in Lena’s and all that doubt, all that worry just washes away. “Just you.”
And Kara’s hugging her. She’s hugging Lena. It’s a normal thing for them, it happens at least twice a day now. But not like this. Not so freely, not with all her strength. Kara melts against her, that constant, almost imperceptible undercurrent of tension, of control, is finally gone. “Thank you,” she says, her voice rough and shaky with emotion.
This time it’s Lena that takes the initiative swaying them in time with the music, that is back on something slower again. It doesn’t last long though, before Kara is yawning against Lena’s shoulder.
“I really do love this, but everything I’ve done today is really catching up to me with the powers turned off. Bed?”
“Bed,” Lena agrees, pulling away from her. It’s actually harder now that Kara can be careless with her strength, but Lena manages after a bit of a struggle. “Come on, Sleepygirl.”