Archive of Our Own

“But, uh, you’re with me, right?” Kara asks as her best friend sits down in front of her.

“Always,” Lena answers. 

She wears a soft, dark-colored sweater which hangs slightly loose from her shoulders and an easygoing smile which seems to have been permanently etched onto her lips after the two seconds she stood at the door with such an unreadable expression, it seemed like she’d walked into a room full of strangers. 

Lena’s eyes settle on Kara’s, and she can’t breathe. The air around her feels hot and too dense — not made for Kryptonian lungs, after all.

“I’m gonna get some more wine,” she announces, voice tight and clinging to her own throat, and only after she’s back does she realize she probably should have offered Lena a glass, too.

Alex tells her she should wait to tell Lena the truth. It’s not a good time; the rug has just been pulled out from under the youngest Luthor and maybe she lost Lex long ago, but now he’s gone. Now he’s gone, and she can’t lose her best friend, too. She needs some sense of normalcy; she needs someone to lean on, and Kara is that person. Kara wants to be that person. So, she agrees with Alex. Not tonight. 

Not tonight, she tells herself as Lena’s raven, damp curls forming at the ends of her hair hang low above the Catan board she’s helping set up.

Not tonight, her inner voice repeats when Lena doesn’t share a look of exasperation with her as Kelly and Alex do their victory dance after acing yet another round of Charades .

Not tonight, the mantra echoes in her head every single time Lena thinks nobody’s watching and looks down at her own glass of wine before taking a measured sip, closing eyes that are so sad , Kara could see the loss of an entire world reflected into them. 

Lena doesn’t touch the plain glazed donuts Kara got just for her.

Not tonight. 

Lena doesn’t inch closer to her when she sits on the floor next to her feet as the night goes on. 

Not tonight. 

Lena gets up to go to the bathroom, and it’s not Kara’s fault — not really — that her hearing automatically zones in to the unique rhythm of frantic heartbeats and shallow breaths at the other side of that door. Lena doesn’t come back for twenty-one minutes and forty-three seconds.

Not tonight, not tonight, not tonight. 

It’s past midnight. 

Everyone helps clean up and bids goodbye. Lena is halfway out the door, and it’s past midnight, and Kara made it, and yet–

And yet.

As if of its own accord, her hand catches on the dark fabric of Lena’s sleeve. 

Lena jumps minimally, almost imperceptibly. She turns around and her eyebrows shoot up before she quickly schools one of them down, molding her features into the inquiring arch of a single brow Kara loves so much. It churns in her stomach.

It’s all wrong. 

She drops Lena’s hand.

“Sorry, I– Uh.” Kara rubs the back of her own neck, chuckling nervously as she searches her brain for words. She needs to look Lena in the eye. “I miss you. We haven’t been able to hang out nowadays, and I was just wondering if you’d wanna have a sleepover tonight. We could watch a movie on Netflix and I’ll bring out that patchwork throw blanket you like–”

“Kara, I’m sorry I’ve been so busy, but it’s late and I’ve had a long day at work...”

“No, I understand.”  Kara nods, trying to get herself to accept defeat. “Could I just walk you home, then? I’ve kinda been wanting to talk to you about something.”

For a fraction of a second, Lena’s eyes seem to bug out. Her body is already facing the door.

“I really think it would be better if we talked another time.” Lena points back over her own shoulder. “My driver’s waiting for me, and I’ve already kept him out too long.” 

“Lena.”

Something about her tone must get the woman’s attention, and she shouldn’t be doing this. She should be giving Lena space to deal with her own grief, but she can’t help but think that leaving her alone right now isn’t the right choice — that if Lena shuts herself off, she won’t let Kara back in. And, sure, Lena could make other friends. If they just look past her family name, anyone Lena’s heart chooses won’t ever want to let her go. Kara is no exception. She hangs on. “Please?”

Something akin to fire arises in the younger woman’s eyes — if Kara stands too close, she’s afraid she might get burned. She takes a step forward anyway. Lena’s shoulders sag.

“I’ll tell Frank he can go.”

~

The walk home is weird . Kara keeps trying to fill the silence with random observations and remarks, which are almost never actual conversation material, and so she doesn’t really blame Lena for mostly just chuckling from time to time and looking at her feet, hands buried into the pockets of her maroon coat. Kara’s actually quite impressed with how many different useless topics she can bring up while trying to figure out what the heck she’s doing. 

Lena breaks first. 

“Kara.” She cuts off a rant about the origins of ranch dressing, brows furrowed in a way that would be adorable if Kara didn’t know it means Lena’s anxious. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I–” Kara sighs, shoulders going up to her ears and back down. “I don’t know.”

Lena stops walking. Quirks an eyebrow. “You don’t know.”

“No, I- I know , but it’s just–”

Beautiful green is covered by eyelids, and anyone else — anyone human — wouldn’t be able to see the puffiness to them in this light. Lena inhales deeply. “Just say it,” she whispers. 

“How are you?”

Her best friend opens her eyes. “What?”

“Everything’s happened so fast. We haven’t talked.”

Lena resumes walking. “I’m fine, Kara.”

“Lena.” She places a hand on her best friend’s wrist, now purposefully. She knows this woman has withstood more than most people do in a lifetime, but the skin and bones under her fingertips feel so fragile. 

Lena stops, but doesn’t face Kara. 

“Lex died.”

“And the world is better for it,” Lena says, without missing a beat. 

“Are you?” The question is out before Kara can even think about it.

Lena pulls her hand back and crosses her arms. “Excuse me?” 

“Sorry, that sounded wrong,” Kara shakes her head, eyes tightly shut as though she can wipe her mind clean like an etch-a-sketch. She takes a deep breath and then makes to touch the woman’s arms, slowly enough that she can be shrugged off. “Lena, I’m sorry.” Kara tries to search for her eyes again. 

“It’s fine, just.” She steps back from Kara and starts walking again. “Just let it go, okay?” 

“I can’t,” Kara murmurs, but follows Lena’s steps anyway, low enough that she could be ignored, but that’s not what happens. 

“What?” 

“He was your brother.”

Lena’s expression is stony again, but her eyes shimmer under the city lights. “I lost my brother a long time ago, Kara. You don’t need to baby me.” 

National City Park is up ahead. In order to get to Lena’s house, they can either go around it, or through it. Lena makes her way to the metal gates.

“I’m– I’m not!” Kara sighs. “But I shouldn’t have tried to make you talk about it. Just remember however you’re feeling, it’s okay, yeah?”

Lena swallows, but she doesn’t reply. They step on the stones that pave the way among trees and gardens, probably looking at nothing and everything, both lost in their own thoughts. When they get to Lena’s apartment building, the younger woman turns to face her.  

Kara opens her arms tentatively; an invitation for a hug that might be unwelcome. Lena meets her halfway — one arm around her shoulders and one around her waist. But when they’re nearly disentangled and Lena moves to step out of Kara’s personal space, Kara’s hand once again moves as if of its own accord, this time tugging Lena back in. 

Lena comes back willingly, both arms now winding around Kara’s neck while Kara’s settle around her midsection, and time stops. She still smells the same, Kara thinks — a shampoo far too expensive for her to name, but something else under it. Something intrinsically Lena . The Kryptonian could still distinguish it out of a crowd, could be faced with the whole world and still identify exactly where Lena is. And yet, it feels different. 

There’s been a change. A big one. 

Lena’s afraid, and hurt, and feeling something so entirely new , Kara can’t even tell what it is. And Kara is afraid of what might become of that. 

For now, though, they hold each other, and it’s enough. 

Lena buries her face into the crook of Kara’s neck, and Kara is whole. Some time later — a second, an eon, — Lena blinks, her lashes drawing a warm pattern on Kara’s skin. She’s crying, Kara realizes. Lena is crying in public and in her arms. 

Kara readjusts her grip — softer, tighter, — and Lena does the same, as though she’d just been waiting for permission. 

“It’s okay,” Kara whispers, planting a kiss on Lena’s shoulder. She doesn’t know where it came from; hugs are their thing, but kissing is a whole other territory. Lena shudders. “It’s going to be okay, Lena.”

When they finally break apart, Lena wipes under her own eyes, face flushed and hair a bit messy on the side that was leaning against Kara. The blonde feels like she still has something to say, so she just stays there, feet shuffling on the ground as she waits for Lena to be ready.

“Would you go upstairs with me for a while?” 

~

In her apartment, Lena switches her weight from foot to foot and wrings her hands, walking further away from Kara while the blonde closes the door. Somewhere along the elevator ride, the comfort they found together dissipated, and now the air is laden with frantic energy.

“I need to tell you something,” Lena prefaces, her back to Kara and spine ramrod straight.

“Okay,” the blonde says, pacing herself. The last time her best friend started a conversation like this, she dropped a metaphorical ticking time-bomb on Kara’s lap, but even then, they were able to fix it together. What Lena had really asked for was reassurance. “Whatever it is, we can get through it—”

“When Lex let go of Supergirl’s hand, he used his portal watch to escape before hitting the flames of that explosion.” Lena turns around to face Kara, pulling on her fingers. “I thought he might do that, so I checked. He landed at a safe-house only I knew of.” 

Kara’s heart drops to her stomach. 

“Oh, crap, okay. Okay.” She does her best not to start pacing. Supergirl has been known to jump to conclusions with Lena, which means that Kara Danvers can’t dare to. “Is he still there? Do you know what he’s planning?” 

“No, I–“ Lena sighs, glancing down, then back up at Kara. She looks like she’s being held together by tape and glue. “He was never going to stop. He would just keep coming after us. Kara.” Lena’s eyes plead. “He went after you. He– He killed so many people , and he would have done it again.” 

“Lena, what are you saying?”

“I killed him.”

“You–“ 

“I shot him.” She inhales, then looks anywhere but at Kara. “Right ventricle. And then I watched him bleed out. I needed to make sure he wouldn’t weasel his way out of it.” 

“ Lena, ” Kara breathes out, walking closer to her best friend. 

“I know it’s not the way the DEO does things, but it was necessary and I won’t apologize for it.”

“I wasn’t gonna– Lena, I’m not mad. And I’m not the DEO.” Lena looks at the ceiling, seemingly to stop the tears brimming her waterline. Kara tries to get her to listen, because right now it doesn’t seem like she is. “I’m your friend. I just wish you’d told me sooner. You’ve been dealing with this secret for two weeks and I wish I could have been there for you.”

“No, no! Don’t you get it? I’m not like you, Kara. I’m capable of doing unspeakable things. I killed my own brother. Can’t you see what this means? I’ve done it.” Lena chuckles wetly. “I’m a Luthor, ” she spits out the last word.

“You were protecting us.”

Lena raises her eyebrows. “Wasn’t Lillian? Wasn’t Lex ?”

And it’s not her point, not really, but it kind of hurts Kara that Lena would make that comparison. They both know what it was that the other Luthors were trying to protect humanity from. Who it was.

Sometimes it’s really hard to remember Lena isn’t aware of the super-secret — Rao knows Kara’s made countless mistakes because of that. But she refuses to make another one.

“That’s different,” she settles on saying. “You know this. And, look: I don’t know– I don’t know if the DEO, or even Supergirl, would do the same if they were in your shoes.” Vaguely, over the cogs turning in her mind, Kara can hear her friend scoff lightly. She doesn’t really process it, though. 

“But, Lena,” she reaches for the twenty-five year old who carries the weight of so many sins that aren’t hers to bear. “I trust that you did the best you could with the situation you were in.”

“I murdered him,” she replies even as she lets Kara’s hands lay on her crossed forearms. Her voice is tight and small and Kara can’t believe she didn’t notice this sooner. She has once again successfully gotten so caught up with her own internal dilemma that Lena had to pay the price. “He’s dead,” she says, almost incredulously.

“ Oh, sweetheart, ” Kara sighs as she moves to embrace the young woman fully, one hand coming up to cradle her head. Lena lets in the tiniest sniffle as soon as her face lays on Kara’s shoulder for the third time that day. “I’m so sorry you were put in this position.”

“He’s dead,” Lena gasps again, but doesn’t change their current arrangement — if anything, Kara thinks she fists her shirt harder. “He’s dead, he’s dead. He’s dead, Kara, he’s dead. I killed him, he’s dead. He–”

Heaving for air, Lena’s no longer able to speak, and her sobs become uncontrollable. Kara tries rubbing circles on her back, but it’s to no avail. 

“Lena, honey, you need to breathe,” she says, like a moron. As if Lena would be going through this right now if she had a say on it. Rao. Kara needs to get her shit together. “Can you nod once if you can hear me?” 

The youngest Luthor’s gasps are becoming more frantic, but sometimes Kara can still hear her repeating the word dead. She’s too far into her own head to notice the outside world right now, and when her knees buckle, Kara slowly sets Lena down on her lap — she tries turning her around because that’s how Eliza would give her pressure hugs during a panic attack, but Lena just clings tighter, legs wrapping around the blonde’s torso. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Kara repeats, careful not to hurt her friend when she reciprocates the force of her hold, while trying to make her own breathing as measured as possible so that maybe Lena will subconsciously mimic it.

Truth be told, she’s never felt more useless. For someone who’s suffered with this kind of thing for over half her life now, Kara knows surprisingly little about how to coax someone through it. In her defense, she’d been rather preoccupied during what could have been learning moments.

She tries to follow Lena’s cue, rocking them side to side when Lena starts the motion rather weakly. “It’s okay,” she repeats, and then, “I’m here. I’m with you. I’m not going anywhere,” because she remembers the crippling fear of being alone, untied to reality, in these moments. 

Because Lena’s whole world, growing up, is gone. 

And even though he was never the best brother, Kara knows that loneliness sticks with you, even if you find new people to spend your life with.

So, yeah. Lena hangs on to Kara, and Kara doesn’t let go. 

When her sobs subside and her breathing evens out, she leans more heavily into Kara — the desperation in her grip giving way to exhaustion, — and the Kryptonian thinks she could stay like this all night if the girl in her arms didn’t move.

Still tangled in raven-black hair, Kara’s fingers thread through the tangled locks and her thumb strokes feather-light against Lena’s cheek. She has no idea how precious she is. Kara yearns, more than anything, to show her.

“I’m sorry,” Lena murmurs, so small she can barely be heard, eyes studiously avoiding Kara’s. Like she’s afraid she won’t be forgiven.

“What? What for?” 

“Dropping all of this on you.” Lena yawns. Looking down, Kara can see the outline of dark bags under her eyes. She wonders when her friend last managed to get good sleep. (She’s not sure she wants to know the answer.) “Making you take care of me. It’s not your responsibility, especially after what I did.”

With one arm still supporting most of Lena’s weight against herself, Kara uses her opposite hand to lift the youngest Luthor’s flushed face, finally getting forest green eyes to meet her own ocean blue. They’re so close, huddled together on Lena’s apartment floor, noses inches apart. She thinks, looking this closely into someone, you can maybe see their soul. She thinks of how lucky she is that Lena allows such closeness. 

Lena’s lower lip wobbles and, with her thumb, Kara wipes away the tears under her eyes. Gentle, always gentle, she reminds herself. Gentler than most humans need. Gentler than Lena thinks she deserves. 

“You’re my best friend,” Kara whispers, wonder shining through her voice because it is wonderful. Wonderful that, out of all the planets in all the constellations and all the Universes out there, Kara managed to land in one where she became friends with this Lena and connect with this soul — a little rough around the edges, bearing one too many scars to be fair, but, — a soul like her own.

“You’re my best friend, I will always be here for you. Even if you did something horrible,” she assures. “But, Lena, what you did?” Lena nods, almost entranced. “It was an impossible situation. It was complex, and painful, and what you don’t deserve is to have had to go through it alone. You’re still good, Lena.”

“Yeah?” The youngest Luthor asks, hope bleeding from red-rimmed eyes, and she just looks so ethereally beautiful. 

“Yeah,” Kara nods, bringing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

And she doesn’t mean to do it, not really, but her lips touch Lena’s. They touch, and then they brush against one another, Lena’s kissing her, or she’s kissing Lena, and it’s so soft. It tastes like winter mornings spent under knit blankets and movie nights snuggled together even though there’s only the two of them on the couch and the rest of Kara’s life, that’s been standing right in front of her and she managed not to see it.

Silky smooth lips slide against hers once, then twice, then Lena’s hands come up to rest on Kara’s shoulders and her breath hitches when Kara’s thumb traces her cheekbone, and—

Lena scrambles back from Kara’s lap, getting up and turning around before the Kryptonian’s kiss-dazed mind can catch up. 

She’s sobbing, Kara realizes. And Kara is an idiot.

“Lena, I’m so sorry.” She hurries to her feet. “I-I didn’t mean to, I just– I shouldn’t have–“ 

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” Lena whispers over her own shoulder, voice strangled and raw.

“What?” Kara says. 

Lena turns around, wiping furiously at her own eyes, then looks at her, and oh. Oh , no. 

“He told you, didn’t he?” It’s Kara’s turn to sound strangled. She feels like she’s going to throw up. “Before he died, Lex, he–“

“I killed the one person,” Lena sobs, “who was genuine about their connection to me. For you.”

“Lena, no , that’s not true.” Kara’s attempt at a step forward is quelled by the tremble of Lena’s voice as she takes a step back.

“No.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll stay right here. Just hear me out, okay?” 

“Why should I?” Lena chuckles mirthlessly. “All you’ve ever done is lie to me.” 

“That’s not–“

“How could you do this to me?” Her voice comes out begging, and something inside Kara breaks. “What, did you think I couldn’t tell you were lying about something? I gave you everything. And, d’you know, it was fine that you couldn’t do the same. You didn’t need to. You had people. But all I had was you.”

“Lena, I–” 

The younger woman holds up her hand, and it’s for the best, really, because Kara doesn’t think she could do anything other than stammer right now.

“Three years,” she croaks. “D’you know, I cataloged all of it in my mind? Marked the timeline in milestones — all the little things you did to make me trust you, and all the moments after which it seemed like you would finally trust me back fully. Pathetic, I know.” 

Kara wishes she could speak, but what words would come remotely close to enough? She feels her head shaking frantically from side to side, but Lena doesn’t seem to care what she thinks, anyway. 

“Three years, and the milestone after which you trusted me never came. And then you go and you– you–“ She sobs, gesturing to the place on the floor they were huddled together, then pinching her own lips with the tips of her fingers. “It makes sense: keeping me close enough to make sure I didn’t snap like the rest of my family. I could understand that. But this ?” 

She looks at Kara, green eyes a shade of defeat and helplessness the Kryptonian can’t unsee now. She put that there. 

“Were there no boundaries? Are my feelings really that insignificant to you?” 

Kara sees it now. She was never gentle with Lena. She’s just another one of them. Except,

“Lena, no, you don’t get it, that’s not what I was doing!” 

“Walk me through it, then! Give me one good reason why I, the person you called best friend for years , couldn’t have known that you are Supergirl!”

“ Because you didn’t love her! ” Kara’s cry echoes off the walls, and she’s not sure when they started speaking so loudly, or if her inner turmoil was so all-consuming that it simply had to find a way out. Either way, Lena is stunned silent and, finally having found her voice, the words pour out from Kara without her even knowing what she is going to say.

“You hated Supergirl, Lena. And I couldn’t bear to have you look at both parts of me that way. Not when I’d felt what it was like to be Kara around you. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” 

“I wasn’t the one who started the antagonization between myself and Supergirl.”

“You were making Kryptonite against my knowledge!” 

“You weren’t you , Kara! Not to me. You chose that. And, frankly, even if I had known of your identity, I can’t assure you I would have made a different decision.” Kara balks. “You’re not the only Kryptonian out there. Just a few years ago, an entire prisoner ship from your planet crashed on Earth and we would have been rendered defenseless if it hadn’t been for you. How can we guarantee you’ll always stand by our side? Humans have the law, or a Super, to hold us accountable. What do you have?”

Light brown eyebrows shoot up. “A moral code!” 

And Lena — Lenas chuckles, then looks at Kara with a sad kind of wistfulness, like when you see a child who just hasn’t seemed to have been tainted by how the world works yet. “That’s not always enough,” she says softly. 

Of course Kara knew that, already. She just hadn’t thought of it to the full extent. She thought she was being careful with Lena — gentle, the way the youngest Luthor deserves, — but here they are, and Lena’s never looked more broken. Kara caused that.

“As a Luthor, life’s taught me well enough not to trust anyone.” The younger woman stares at a distant point, all fire from a few moments ago long gone. She sounds so tired. “The only person I trusted was you, and that’s also proven to have been a mistake.” 

“Lena, please , don’t say that. I lov–”

“Don’t,” she commands. “Don’t you dare turn us into this.”

“I–“ Her voice catches. She’s never said it, has she? She danced around it, sure. Said things like ‘the people who love you,’ but she never actually spoke those three words. Just like everyone else in Lena’s life, Kara’s managed to only utter them when she needed something from her.

“I’m sorry, Lena,” she manages around the tennis ball that’s lodged itself in her throat. “I was careless, and selfish. I wasn’t the friend you deserve. But I never meant to hurt you. Can you believe me?”

Lena shakes her head, new tears tracing paths down her cheeks. “I shouldn’t, I–” She gulps. “You’re just going to hurt me again.” 

“I won’t,” Kara sobs, her own eyelids finally giving out to the barrage of moisture that’s been gathering by her waterline. “I won’t, Lena. I promise I won’t.”

“You will.” She sniffles while wiping at her face once more, a sad smile forming on her lips, resignation set in the lines of her forehead. “That’s the price of this. People hurt people.”

Oh , how Lena must have tried to unlearn that. Kara sees it like a rolodex in her mind, all the moments Lena made it clear that their connection wasn’t something she’d felt with anyone else. Lena spelled it out to her, and she still couldn’t take the hint. Couldn’t hear the underlying plea to not have this become just another wound in her heart that will never properly heal.

And now, there she is, resigned. Because Kara’s quashed her hopes that she could ever be loved and survive it.

“How long have you known about my feelings for you? How long were you consciously toying with them?”

“I didn’t! I didn’t know anything until just now, I swear! I didn’t toy with you, Lena. I could never.”

“Yet, here we are. God,” she chuckles bitterly, “I really was invisible to you, wasn’t I?”

“What? Of course not!”

“Do you even know how many times you’ve hurt me?”

Cutting lunch dates short and canceling movie nights time and time again. Forgetting about plans when she got caught up between both her lives and parading a boyfriend around when Lena probably already liked her. No, Kara has no idea how neglectful she’s truly been. 

And Lena, of course, never said anything. How could she, when she wasn’t even sure what a healthy relationship was supposed to look like?

“No.” She can’t bring herself to look Lena in the eye, and shame burns bright in her cheeks. This woman  was supposed to be her best friend . “I’m sorry.”

“Apologies won’t fix anything!”

It won’t fix her.

“What do you want, Lena?” She asks dejectedly even in face of Lena’s rising voice. She can’t fight anymore.

“I want my best friend back!” Lena yells. Kara doesn’t flinch. “But you can’t give that to me, can you? I’m alone when I’m with you, just as I always have been, which means I am alone in the world and the past three years have been a lie, and I’ve gained nothing since moving to National City, except now I have a dead brother, an incarcerated mother and a group of would-be friends who think I’m a joke!”

“That’s not true, don’t say that! We’re real, Lena. All of us. I may not have told you I’m Kryptonian, but you know me. I promise. And- and, even if you lost me, you would still have Alex, and J’onn, and M’gann, and Brainy and Nia and—”

“I don’t want any of them!” Lena is screaming now, and Kara is desperate. For once, things are moving too fast and she can’t catch up, can’t catch up. “Do I really have to spell it out for you, Kara? I want you. All I’ve ever wanted, since moving to this godforsaken city, is you.”

There’s a pause.

For a moment, the world just stops — Lena probably only just processing what she’s said as Kara does the same. Gauging the mess between them and trying to figure out how to rebuild something that both of them clearly don’t want to lose.

“I need a drink,” Lena’s voice rumbles low before she makes a beeline for the alcohol cart, but Kara doesn’t move. She just thinks and thinks, and tries to adjust to this new reality they seem to have shifted into so quickly.

The balcony door slides shut, breaking Kara out of her transe. Lena’s silhouette towers over the sleeping homes of National City, the outline of a tumbler being held loosely by one hand while the nearly full crystal decanter hangs from the other. By the time the chilly air greets the skin of Kara’s face, Lena is frowning against the burn of what seems to have been 7oz’s worth of 10 year old Talisker downed like a single shot.

“I’m here, Lena,” she tries from behind her friend. 

Lena doesn’t turn around. 

“I know I’m not who you thought I was,” she continues, “but… I’m here. And I don’t want to keep hurting you.”

Kara walks over to the railing, stands a few feet away from the woman bathed in moonlight. 

“So, how do you want to do this?” Lena does turn around at that. “I’ve dictated the rules between us long enough. Do you want me to go awa–”

“I want to get drunk,” Lena interrupts her rather hurriedly and punctuates it with a large swig directly from the decanter, looking back out at the city, or the sky, or… something.

“I don’t really think that’s a good idea.”

“You asked me what I want to do, and I answered.” Lena walks to the furthermost point in her honestly ostensive balcony and takes another swig, no longer looking at Kara. “If you can’t handle it, you know your way out.”

They’re about two thirds of the decanter down and twenty minutes into the silence, which began after Kara walked over and took a seat by the french door behind Lena, when the youngest Luthor speaks again.

“Say I did want to keep this… bullshitting Guinness World Record of a thing with you,” she starts, a little wobbly on her feet while padding her way to sit by Kara. “You know that doesn’t mean we’d be able to.”

“I do.” Kara humors the woman even though she’s pretty sure that, at this rate of alcohol consumption, she won’t remember a thing in the morning. Though, with Lena Luthor, no one ever really knows.

“But this is a hypothetical, so, let’s say I believed a word that comes out of your mouth.” 

Lena seems to give more thought to the next thing she’s about to say.

“Tell me,” Kara encourages.

“I just, I really can’t picture a world in which you’d consciously hurt me. I’ve tried, and it would be easier if I could, but.” 

Lena downs some more of her beverage while staring at the railing in front of them. 

“If you were able to believe a word that comes out of my mouth,” Kara offers, and Lena turns to her, “I’d say I have never and could never hurt you on purpose. That I’d be more tender with you.”

“Good. Because, if I believed you, I’d say that if something like this ever happens again, we’re through. I won’t forgive you. I can’t.”

“And I’d say that if I do something like this to you again, I’ll walk away from you, myself. 

Lena nods to herself, then springs to her feet looking a little bit lost, so Kara follows with a hand reaching out to stabilize her by the elbow.

“Lena, are you okay?”

“I– I just–” The younger woman grabs the nearest plant pot (which has probably never housed a plant) and proceeds to empty the contents of her stomach, legs giving out just as Kara manages to guide her to a lounging chair.

Much like it didn’t take much time for the scotch to be ingested, Lena’s body doesn’t take long in the process of ridding itself from it. Kara sits next to her, a hand on her back while the other holds raven black hair up and out of the way, and tries to coax her through it whispering sweet nothings. Eventually, Lena separates herself from the pot.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, looking more than a little worse for wear.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kara replies, getting up to rinse the contents before their smell contaminates the air. “Just stay out here, breathe in the breeze for a while, and I’ll hand this back to you in no time.”

See, the thing is, Kara doesn’t quite know what to do here. Lena hasn’t exactly been easy to read regarding what kind of comfort she wants from Kara tonight, and after the last moment she’s sure Lena will beat herself up over, she thinks maybe a little bit of distance will be good to help clear the youngest Luthor’s head (and her own).

Kara realizes she might have made a mistake when she looks up from the sink to find her friend pulling at her own fingers, shifting her weight from foot to foot and looking like a child who’s about to be scolded.

“What’s wrong, Lena?”

“I made you stay. You said it wasn’t a good idea to drink all that and now I’ve made a mess.”

“I chose to stay, and I think we can both agree I’m the one who started this mess.”

“You know what I mean,” Lena says.

“I do. But, honestly, it’s alright. This stuff happens. I’m not mad, okay? See? The pot’s been washed and will be able to go back to adorning your balcony in no time.”

Lena nods, glassy eyes a bit incredulous.

“So… what now?” Kara asks, trying to hand the control of the situation back to Lena.

“You… you still want to do that?”

“Of course. I’m here for you, Lena. And, if there’s anything I can do to help you, I want to do that. Just say the word.”

“I, uhm. I don’t know if I should–”

Kara takes a step closer to Lena. Sometimes, when she gets scared like this, it takes her a while longer to understand she’s not in danger. Kara hates the Luthors for what they did to Lena, but her hate will get them nowhere. Lena is here now, and Kara is here. So, she tries to help.

“Lena, I’m not mad at you. You’re safe here. The rules haven’t changed. You can tell me what you need. I promise, it’s okay.”

“Okay,” Lena nods, taking a breath and visibly gathering the courage to utter her request.

“Okay?”

“Okay. Just for right now? No strings attached?”

“Yes. If that’s what you need, there are no strings attached. Just tell me what to do now.”

“Now, you hug me?” Lena suggests, or maybe it just sounds like a question. “Because my brother just died, and my best friend’s been lying to me, and I–“ Her voice breaks, and it’s the activation time Kara’s brain needs to understand that Lena wants her close again. “I don’t think I can survive this without you.”

Just as Lena finishes speaking, Kara wraps her arms around her waist, one hand rubbing her back as the other reaches up to tuck Lena’s head into her neck. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she whispers as Lena gasps at the comfort, fully crying once more. “I’m so sorry, my heart. I’m so sorry I did this to you. It wasn’t fair. It’s not–”

Lena’s such a quiet crier. Her whole frame trembles against Kara; she has the most body-wracking sobs, and it still sounds so small . Almost imperceptible. Kara can only wonder how much effort she must be putting into that. She takes a shaky breath — she needs to, — she needs to be strong right now. She hurt Lena. She can’t be falling apart right now.

“You can cry, Lena. It’s okay. You don’t have to be quiet. I’m here.”

Lena hides herself even further into Kara, like she’ll be punished for it if someone else sees her crumbling into pieces, but the volume of her cries slowly rises. Kara finds that, when she talks, Lena feels more comfortable making noise, as though it will be disguised by her friend’s voice, so she uses this opportunity to say all the things she hasn’t been able to. 

“You’re so good, Lena. You didn’t deserve any of this. I’m so sorry. I promised you once that I’d always be here, that I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not, okay? Not ever. I’m here and I’ll be here as long as you want me, so you can cry, sweetheart. You don’t have to be afraid.”

~

They cry until Lena is too tired to hold herself up and Kara has a tension headache from the effort of holding her tears in. Kara scoops Lena into a bridal carry, her friend’s ebony eyelashes splayed over the bloodshot skin that was once colored ivory. 

She walks them to the master bedroom, settling Lena on the right side of the bed and tucks her into the covers. The youngest Luthor used to say there was no point in having a preferred side when you sleep alone — all it does is make the mattress uneven. it wasn’t until after months of sleepovers that Kara started noticing how attached Lena had become to the side that Kara didn’t choose.

She sits down at the edge of the bed when Lena’s hand catches Kara’s arm and doesn’t show signs of letting go. Lena will talk when she’s ready.

Opening the second drawer on her friend’s bedside table, she grabs two aspirins and sets them next to a glass of water, knowing that Lena may have purged her organism of all the alcohol tonight, but she’ll certainly have a splitting headache tomorrow.

“Will you, uhm.” Lena holds back. She has that expression on her face she gets right before asking someone for a favor. The one that seems like she’s already accepting a negative answer.

“You can ask me,” Kara encourages softly.

“Stay?” Lena completes with wide, pleading eyes.

“Of course,” Kara answers, squeezing Lena’s hand once. “Is there anything else?”

“Could you– Would you, uhm–“ 

“It’s okay, take your time. I’m right here.”

“Hold me?” 

Kara smiles, cups Lena’s cheek, and kisses her forehead. “Always,” she says.

When they’re both under the comforter and her head finds its home on Kara’s chest, arms clinging to her midriff, Lena whispers,

“I don’t know how to do this.” 

“Do what?” 

“Forgiveness. I wasn’t shown how. You’re here now, and I never want you to leave, but I don’t know what kind of person I will be in the morning. I don’t think I will be as easy a person to hang around.”

“That’s okay,” Kara says, now planting a kiss on the top of Lena’s head. She’s never really been one to go for ‘easy’.

“I’ll need space. We both will.” 

“I know.”

“But I’ll also try to push you away. I’ll remember bits of our past, of the lies , and–“ Lena takes a deep breath. “It will hurt. And I’ll be mean. And I’ll shut myself off from you.”

Kara is about to nod her assent, when Lena tightens the grip on her. “Don’t let me, okay? Us Luthors, we hurt alone. It’s what we were programmed to do. I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to be a Luthor, I want–“ She stops herself. “Well. I want you there.”

“I will always be there for you, Lena.” 

Lena shakes her head. “No, that’s not what I mean. I need you to be able to tell when to give me space and when to bring me back. Because I won’t always know the difference. I need you to see me.”

“I do,” Kara promises, hand coming up to cradle Lena’s face and tilt it upwards in order to look at her in the eyes, barely inches apart once more. “I see you, Lena.” I see you now, though I hadn’t before. I’m paying attention. You have me. Fully.

Lena nods as well, the weight of this moment reflected in her eyes before she catches herself, seeming to realize just how close their faces really are, and settles back into their cuddling position. 

Kara clears her throat. 

“So, uh… About that other thing we sorta… grazed over today?” 

Lena fists Kara’s shirt, but doesn’t move otherwise. “I understand. It was a very charged moment. We don’t need to talk about it.”

What?

“I want to,” Kara clarifies quickly, “If you do, I mean. I meant it.”

“Oh.” Lena looks up, emerald eyes finally shining with something other than sadness. Something tentative and fragile. Something that looks a lot like hope. “Then, we can talk about it. Once we’re ready.”

“Once we’re ready,” Kara repeats.

She vows to be gentle with it.