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If Kara was honest with herself, if she could actually pinpoint where it began, it would be after Jack Spheer died. It was when Lena chose Supergirl over a man she had loved. It wasn’t about choosing her, Lena didn’t know she was Supergirl. She and Supergirl weren’t even really friends. Kara had seen the flash of anguish in Lena’s eyes, the sacrifice in them as she made her choice. That brief second of fear and guilt, the split second determination to choose a world with a Supergirl and all the people she could help over a world with a Jack Spheer. Kara felt a weight settle on her heart in that moment that had nothing to do with the nanobots overwhelming her. A weight that threatened to tug her heart in two when she saw the young CEO on her couch afterwards as Kara Danvers. Lena was uncharacteristically lost, numb, staring off into space and seated on her office’s couch instead of behind her desk. Lena who had grown up in the coldly calculating grip of the Luthor household where self-sacrifice would only be met with disdain and where even the hint of abnegation would be a sign of weakness. Lena Luthor who had given up a friend for the greater good and sat there flamingly silent in her pain, refusing to completely fall apart even then. Kara had approached her with as much quiet gentleness as she could muster, and when tears finally sprang to Lena’s eyes Kara couldn’t help but put her arms around her shoulders – as if she could shield her from the loss, as if her promise to be there for Lena was the most sacred of vows.
It began then, this mission to love Lena Luthor well, almost holy in its intensity – this crusade to save the raven-haired beauty from her demons and the ever-present distrust of the citizens of National City. Because Kara hears it all, really. The lead lined glasses keep her from being overwhelmed visually but her enhanced hearing picks up every negative comment, every insulting remark. And even though Lena can’t hear it – or maybe especially because Lena can’t hear it – Kara counters each hurtful word. The first time she does it they’re walking into the quiet hum of Noonan’s to get some coffee when a man in the street notices her and mutters something about greedy billionaires. Apropos of nothing, Kara blurts out, “I really admire all the work you’ve put in to L-Corp, that employee survey in Forbes shows that it’s one of the top companies to work at in the whole country.”
And Lena slows, the steady staccato of her heels coming to a complete stop. She looks bewildered. Kara coughs. “You know, great benefits? Profit sharing across the board when you dividend out?”
“Thank you, Kara.” Lena smiles. “What brought that on?”
“Nothing… I… I thought you should know.”
“Okay.”
Lena is still unsure but the moment passes. It happens often, so often that it sometimes makes Kara angry that people can’t see how much good Lena is trying to do in the world, how much sacrifice the young CEO is capable of and how she always tries to do the right thing. When she overhears people talking about how it’s only a matter of time before Lena snaps like her crazed brother, Kara praises how the raven-haired woman is keeping everything together. When they call her a bitch, Kara thanks Lena for the example her leadership sets for every young woman. It becomes second nature, no longer awkward just – an instinct. Lena doesn’t ever seem to get used to it though, never seems to believe the seemingly random compliments. Often she has that same soft bewildered look on her face and occasionally, if the praise is for something Lena is instead of something Lena does, she looks away as she flushes to the roots of her hair.
On the rare times that people are loud, when their snide comments are made purposely for the youngest Luthor to hear it, Kara’s hand strays to the small of Lena’s back. Not shielding or protecting, she knows Lena can handle this. Just steadying and supportive. Lena never flinches outwardly at what people say, and Kara simultaneously marvels at her self-possession and aches to gather Lena into her arms. And if Kara pulls her chair a bit closer or chooses to sit beside Lena instead of across from her at their coffee meet-ups, neither of them mention it.
Things escalate for Kara in a few months when she notices Lena’s envy. It’s a small thing really. A chink in the wall of the CEO’s leonine armor. Kara sees it first as Supergirl. At a visit to the Luthor Children’s Hospital to call attention to the need for more xenobiology-friendly research and equipment for sick alien children. Lena is as gracious as ever as she welcomes Supergirl and quickly gets out of the way before an enthusiastic mob of children – both human and alien – roll their wheelchairs or limp towards the Girl of Steel. Lena comforts the kids in hospital beds, assuring that Supergirl will come visit them in turn. It’s when a toddler trips on the way to Supergirl right in front of Lena, and the young CEO quickly catches her in an embrace. Kara watches as Lena soothes the little girl in her arms and then she sees it – that lightning quick expression of pure envy when the little girl’s father takes her from Lena’s arms and dries her tears.
Kara begins to recognize the longing that blitzes across Lena’s face, when as Kara Danvers they walk in the park or go to a museum. There are always children there with loving and often times doting parents. It’s as if an old hurt rises into the surface of Lena’s perfect veneer, an underwater volcano exploding that causes heated currents to spew to a still ocean’s surface. And Kara, well, Kara just needs to do something. It’s what starts movie nights, in a way, since Kara is horrified that Lena hasn’t seen all the Disney movies. It’s what starts the softness she tries to surround Lena with - taking a bit off her food budget that month to make sure she has a Darth Vader blanket “just for her” on Kara’s couch, and Lena’s own fuzzy slippers “because your feet always get so cold”. Lena sputters at first. She says she doesn’t need to know the complete lexicon of Disney films, “it’s not relevant to what I do”, and she certainly doesn’t need a blankie. But she huffs in annoyance when Kara catches her rubbing the soft flannel blanket against her cheek. Lena laughs wholeheartedly at the “Freudian Slippers” that have a cartoon version of Freud on their toes. And if Kara sits extra close to Lena on the couch and sometimes gently tugs Lena’s head to rest on her shoulder because the CEO is tired… if Kara’s arm goes around Lena’s shoulder, neither of them mention it.
Though being so close to Lena means Kara can identify the different notes of her scent. Lena is always perfumed, a Florentine brand that Kara had made the mistake of googling and having her eyes pop out at the price of one bottle from the Profumeria di Santa Maria Novella. Lena always smells like oranges ripening, the same smell Kara indulges in when she flies through the orchards in southern Italy when she’s really having a hard day at CatCo. But being so close to her so often, Kara can sense the sharpness of single malt scotch that Lena always has alone in her office once her employees have gone home, the acerbic ozone of a clean room when Lena has spent a day in her lab. And more often than Kara is comfortable with, the pain relief cream that is liberally applied to Lena’s trapezius muscles and lower back, the parts of her body that so clearly bear the stress the youngest Luthor carries like a ballet dancer – in pain but beautiful. Kara wishes she could have infrared heat vision so that she could surreptitiously ease the ache, but settles instead for the more complicated solution of pressing her fingers as gently as she can to the offending muscles on Lena’s body when they’re wrapped under blankets on her couch. Kara imagines that she’s pushing a wave of tenderness and affection as she quietly soothes Lena as much as the CEO will allow. The first time it happens Lena flinches and Kara pulls back in terror that she’s hurt her, stammering about how her fingers are really strong from all the typing… yeah… typing that she does at work… and how she just wanted to help… maybe?
“It’s fine, Kara. I… I was just surprised.”
“I’ll ask next time instead of just putting my hands on you.” Kara apologized.
“No. No it’s not… that. I… I was just surprised because no one really…” Lena looked away. “People don’t touch me unless they want something.”
Kara had no words for how that chipped at her heart, only knowing that she had to stave off any expression of pity on her face because Lena needs no one’s pity. And if their movie nights become more frequent and if Kara becomes well versed at where the knots hide under Lena’s skin, they say nothing about it. Kara always asks, gingerly at first, then softly and Lena never says no. Just closing her eyes briefly and letting out a quiet hum.
It takes even longer for Kara to learn what Lena likes to eat. Oh, her coffee order was easy, Kara wouldn’t have been much of a personal assistant if she didn’t learn that off the bat about anyone. And Lena always had some vegetables with her food, usually that disgusting kale that tasted like the tears of lawn mowers. And yes, Kara would bring her donuts or Big Belly Burger, but these were her foods. Learning what Lena wanted to eat when she was having a hard day but didn’t want to talk about it (Miso ramen with extra butter and corn) or when she did want to talk about it (steak and cheese sandwich) or when she was just bored (souvlaki and a Greek salad) – it took time. It was never anything really fancy. Kara supposed Lena had a lot of fine dining when she had to go to meals with other CEOs.
It’s at their accidental sleepover that Kara learns about waffles. Frank, Lena’s driver, had to rush off to the birth of his second child. It was so late and Lena was dozing exhausted on Kara’s shoulder – little puffs of air blowing at her raven hair which was down for once. Kara insisted that she stay over and Lena accepted after a brief and half-hearted argument. Kara fished out an extra toothbrush and some comfortable clothes, and Lena was sleepy shy in her bed after protesting that she could sleep on the couch.
“You’re so tired, Lena.” Kara said softly. “You know the couch won’t do any good to your back.”
And Kara had coaxed the CEO to lie beside her, where the young woman fell into a deep sleep. Kara had watched her then, Lena’s face completely relaxed and open and… vulnerable in a way that she would detest if she were awake. The spearmint of her breath and the citrus of her perfume lulling Kara into an unexplainable tenderness. Kara didn’t think there were any words in any Earth language or even Kryptonian to express how wondrous she felt.
In the morning, she found Lena in her kitchen with her old waffle iron. “You didn’t have to go to so much trouble, Lena. I would have been happy with just pancakes.”
“Waffles are so much more functional, darling. They keep the butter and syrup in and not on the plate.” Lena explained.
“So you’re saying they’re pancakes with pockets?” Kara asked sleepily.
Lena had laughed while sunlight had skittered across the floors and splashed on the cupboards of her kitchen, smelling of rich coffee and Lena’s laugh sounding like music. And if it finally dawned on Kara that she was in love with her, in love with Lena Luthor with every one of her enhanced senses aflame with it. Well, Kara says nothing about it. She can’t. No word is the right word, or the whole word for this feeling in her chest. It’s hard enough for her to sit with this feeling, this warm surge of emotion that seems to drench her whenever she’s with Lena.
There is so much to tell her and there is never a right time to tell her.