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It’s not her first tattoo and, honestly, it probably won’t be her last. The big one on her back was, perhaps, misguided for a first one, but she doesn’t regret it. Some days she still longs to be that young, that reckless, that carefree. She misses her tongue piercings, too, but the holes have long closed up by now. Those are probably ones she shouldn’t bring back just for simplicity’s sake.
Sam would never let her live it down, either. She’d go on about how she’s having yet another quarter-life crisis and then ask if she was going to do something else dramatic, like pierce a nipple.
Which, you know, not that Lena hasn’t considered it, but no. The logistics alone threaten her with a headache. She’d need an entirely new wardrobe and they can take a year to heal and, well, it’s not like abstaining from sex would be an issue, but–
Not the point. The point is that she’s getting a new tattoo, even though Lillian would disapprove, even though if anyone she knows sees it, she’ll have so many questions to answer and no good answers to give. Her saving grace, of course, is that no one’s going to see it. It’s going to be neatly out of sight, even more so than some of her other ones.
The bird on her upper arm is almost always covered. She got that the week after Lex fucked everything up. A reminder that even the caged bird sings. Even in the hell of the next several years, of the stark whiteness of her office, of the clinicality of her apartment, she could still find her joys, can still grow, can still aspire to freedom. Even if she has to make time for them late at night or early in the morning.
Or, she used to. Without L-Corp, now, it’s a lot easier to find the time for the good things in her life, to feel like maybe she’s gotten something right for a change.
There are the three circles on the outside of her wrist. Winn had been talking her ears off about how the 23rd edition of Dungeons & Dragons was really done well and insisting that the next time he visits the whole gang plays a game. Lena had looked up the current edition – 5th – and lost an evening reading about the game’s mechanics.
She had some notes, of course, although she’ll keep those to herself. The death saving throws, though, those resonated with her. She’d miraculously defied death more often than she should’ve, thanks in no small part to Kara. So on a whim a few months back, around the time she decided to let L-Corp go, she’d gotten the circles on the side of her wrist. Harder at times to cover, but worth it. She tended to wear longer sleeves now anyway. And if, on occasion, someone catches a glimpse of ink on Lena Luthor’s skin, well, what are they gonna do? Try to kill her?
There’s at least one more after this one. She wants to get something to commemorate her mum. Not Lillian, of course, but Elizabeth. Something to hold onto, something to remind her that isn’t about magic or the water. She doesn’t know what it will be yet, but she’s pretty sure that’ll be her next one. Once she figures out what to pick for it.
She lies back in the chair with her tank top pulled up, holding her breast out of the way as the artist gets settled. She assembles her tools: needles, sanitation liquid, extra paper towels, and little reservoirs of ink. Lena glances over at the mirror, sees the purple stencil at home on her skin.
It’s going to hurt. She knows that. Bones hurt the worst, she’d learned that when the needle on her back neared her tailbone and crawled like fire across the base of her spine. She’s prepared for it. As well as she can be, at any rate.
It’s worth it, though, just like Kara’s worth it. After this, she’ll have a piece of Kara with her wherever she goes, forever. She’s left her mark permanently in Lena’s heart, it only makes sense for it to manifest physically, too.
“All good?” the artist, Delaney, checks in.
Lena nods. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Delaney chuckles. “I know I’m sworn to secrecy and all,” she says, throwing an amused nod at the artfully rumpled NDA on the desk that Lena had walked in with. “But it just feels like there’s something awfully poetic about tattooing this symbol on you, Ms. Luthor.”
“Lena, please,” she corrects because Delaney’s about to get closer to second base than anyone has in a while. “I’m not like the rest of my family,” Lena replies, eyes saddening. Maybe she’s made a mistake, maybe her background check wasn’t thorough enough–
“Oh, no, I get that, but like, you see her all the time, don’t you?” Delaney asks, settling down onto her stool and pulling out some gloves.
“Yeah, I guess,” Lena says, a little sorry about how defensive she got so quickly. She knows better than to assume.
“I mean, it’s kinda like her signature, right? A hell of a statement. Not many people I’d consider getting their signatures put on me, and I like my friends just fine.”
Lena licks her suddenly dry lips. “It’s a symbol of hope, it’s not just about her.”
Delaney nods, dipping the tattoo gun into one of the small things of ink. “I’ll make it cute, don’t worry.”
That makes Lena laugh and she has to readjust her grip to keep her breast out of Delaney’s way.
“Here we go,” Delaney says, which is all the warning Lena gets before that familiar feeling of being poked repeatedly by an irate cluster of bees takes over her senses.
It hurts immediately, the needle driving against her ribs in a way that sets her teeth on edge and sees her clenching her other hand into a fist to funnel the discomfort somewhere else.
She’s going to get herself a milkshake after this, she vows. Both for her sanity and so she can press the icy cup against her shirt later. Maybe she’ll bring one for Kara, too, she can only imagine the look of betrayal Kara would have if she found out Lena’d had a milkshake without her.
After Delaney’s done, her whole body aches, but it’s kind of pleasant in a way. Sam’s never gotten a tattoo before, so she’s never understood how Lena describes it, but the people who’ve gotten some of their own know. They get it.
The second skin is pressed on and Lena asks for a bit of gauze to be taped overtop. Delaney nods knowingly, of course. Boobs bounce and fresh tattoos are tender, not a great combination. Plus, her ribs will be sore for a while, a little extra cushioning wouldn’t hurt.
She hands Delaney a wad of bills including a hefty tip and takes the signed NDA with her when she goes.
Her chocolate shake tastes fucking fantastic.
Lena’s running a little late. At least, that’s what the text Kara’s been staring at for the last thirty seconds says.
Lena Luthor doesn’t run late. Not with her.
Of course, the worst possibilities start rotating through Kara’s mind. Thwarted assassination attempt? De-escalated alien attack? Aborted ransom-motivated kidnapping?
She spends several precious minutes debating with herself whether or not she should put on the suit and do a quick lap of the city, just to make sure. She only manages to stay inside of her apartment by reassuring herself that if there was an emergency, Lena wouldn’t have texted.
Until the thought hits her that someone else could have texted from Lena’s phone.
Her heart pounds heavily in her chest and she’s reaching for the button to activate her suit when she hears it – that familiar gait coming up the stairs of her building. She tries to push all the tension out of her body with the breath she lets out, but there are still dregs of it hanging on in the tips of her anxious fingers, the coils of her guts.
Lena gets out one knock against her door before Kara’s throwing it open, itching to get a visual on her, trying not to let on how she’d been worried.
She’s not expecting to see Lena at her door, holding two drinks that look an awful lot like milkshakes, red lipstick already decorating one straw.
“Milkshake?” Lena asks, stepping past Kara into her apartment like it’s her home, like she belongs there.
Kara likes that thought. A lot.
“You brought me a milkshake?” Kara says, sounding stunned.
“Yes, I figured if I showed up here without one for you, I’d be subjected to the Kara Danvers signature pout all evening,” Lena says with amusement, sliding off her shoes. Kara’s not even going to dignify that with a response, she’s too relieved to see Lena here, smiling.
Something’s amiss though, she knows. There’s something she can smell in the air that sets her teeth on edge. She watches Lena take a sip from her straw. There are no obvious wounds, and when Kara lets her glasses slide down her nose just enough, there aren’t any broken bones or fractures.
Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe she’s just worried and she doesn’t know what to do with it.
In a flash, Kara takes both drinks from Lena’s hands and sets them on the counter.
“What–”
She scoops Lena into a patented Kara Danvers hug in the blink of an eye, arms wrapped around Lena’s body, under her arms, pulling her in strongly but gently.
The hiss of pain, of discomfort, is a surprise to them both as Kara’s wide, panicked eyes meet Lena’s rueful ones.
“Are you hurt?” Kara asks, the worry from before surging back with interest as she scrabbles for the hem of Lena’s sweater, as she captures the soft T-shirt fabric beneath it and pulls–
“Wait!”
But it’s too late. Kara can already see the bandage on her ribs. Kara can taste the metallic tang to the air. “You’re hurt!” Kara says, indignant, fury rocketing along her nerves.
“It was consensual,” Lena says with a slight wince as she pushes Kara’s hands away from the bare skin of her abdomen and yanks her shirt back down.
“Who hurt you?” Kara asks, trying to keep her instinct to fight under wraps, trying to listen, to not fly off the handle. Consensual? She tries not to let that gnaw at her.
“Kara, I’m fine.” The resignation in Lena’s voice is palpable as she runs a hand through her hair. She’s being too much.
Kara bites her tongue to keep from saying something that might draw Lena’s ire. She tries to breathe through it.
Lena looks at her then, really looks at her, brow furrowing at what she sees. “Kara, darling, are you alright?” She places a hand on Kara’s shoulder, eyes full of concern.
She’s too much. Kara doesn’t say anything, just tries to keep a lid on it.
“Kara, sweetheart, it’s just a tattoo,” Lena explains calmly, rubbing her hand reassuringly along Kara’s upper arm.
Kara’s mouth goes dry. “A tattoo?”
Lena nods. “I’m fine. Just a little ink,” she says.
“Can I see it?” Kara says, forgetting briefly where it is and what that might entail. It’s fine, though, she thinks to herself once she processes her words. She’s got this. Friends see each other’s tattoos all the time. Tattoos are kind of meant to be seen, right?
Lena’s mouth opens to respond, but she hesitates. She stares into Kara’s eyes and Kara tries to make herself look harmless, look enthused, look whichever way will get Lena to say yes.
“If I show it to you, I don’t want to talk about it after,” Lena cautions. “I won’t answer questions about it and I won’t be teased about it.” Her voice is steady and sure, forceful.
“Okay,” Kara agrees quickly. She’s not sure what Lena would’ve chosen to have marked on her ribs permanently to warrant this kind of response, but she’s not judging.
Lena bites her lip, her fingers playing with the edge of her sweater.
“You don’t have to,” Kara says suddenly. She doesn’t want to pressure Lena into anything and that’s how it’s starting to feel, that ripple of discomfort beading down her spine.
Lena smiles. “I know,” she says softly. Then she lifts up her sweater and the tank top underneath and unsticks one side of the bandage.
Kara stops breathing.
There, etched into reddened skin along Lena’s ribs, is the Kryptonian symbol for hope. The symbol of Kara’s family, of a long line of Els. Her fingers jump up to touch it, to trace over the ridges of ink through the covering, but she throws her hand behind her back instead. She doesn’t want to cause Lena any more pain. Instead, her eyes comb over it hungrily, taking in each dot of ink, each line, the light grey shading.
“Kara?” Worried eyes seek hers out. She wonders how crazed they look, how wide and how shocked they are.
She can’t take her eyes off the black ink in Lena’s skin.
“I – you – that’s my crest,” Kara finally manages to force out past her uncooperative tongue. “Lena, you have my family’s crest on you.”
“I do,” Lena says simply and then resticks the bandage and tugs her clothes back into place. She moves past Kara to reclaim her milkshake from the counter. She takes a sip and then presses it against where the tattoo is and Kara watches her body practically melt at the contact.
“The cold helps with the swelling,” Lena says once she notices Kara’s still staring at that spot, like the look is about the milkshake and not about the house of El crest along Lena’s ribs. She picks up the other drink container and holds it out to Kara.
“Caramel shake, extra caramel,” she says, offering it to Kara. “Sorry if it’s a little melted, but you can fix that, right?”
How can Lena just – she’s got –
“Lena, I don’t want to talk about the milkshake.”
Lena’s whole body goes rigid. “And I told you I wasn’t going to talk about it.”
Kara is bubbling over with questions, boiling over with the need to know things, to dig into the why and how did she decide, and what does it mean to her and–
Kara stares at her, trying not to renege on her promise, but the only words coming to her mind are wrapped up in the ink on Lena’s skin.
She watches the moment Lena deflates, gives up.
“I’ll see you around, Kara,” Lena says, placing the caramel shake back onto the counter. She goes to move past Kara, back towards the front door, but Kara places a soft hand on her wrist.
“Wait, please–”
But Lena only shakes her head. “Work through whatever you’re working through,” Lena suggests. “And if you want to see me without talking about it, then you know where to find me.’
No, she can’t – she can’t go.
Lena puts her shoes back on while Kara watches helplessly. She has to do something, but her mind feels like it’s on a swivel, like it can’t focus on anything for too long. Her thoughts are a blur even she can’t decode.
”I love you!” Kara blurts out as Lena’s hand finds the door handle.
Lena doesn’t open the door, but her fingers wrap around it. Kara sees the fingers tighten, the knuckles whitening, before Lena replies, “I love you, too.” It’s soft, barely a whisper, and it sounds so sad that Kara’s heart aches. She presses the handle down.
“I’m in love with you,” Kara declares, heart pounding through her ears, but the door doesn’t open. “You don’t have to talk about it, not now, not ever, but I’m in love with you and you have my family crest, you have my symbol on your ribs and I just – I would really like to know if it’s because you feel the same way or if it means something else,” Kara says, words streaming out of her now that she’s desperate to keep Lena here.
She can hear the erratic beating of Lena’s heart, hears the sharp inhale and has yet to hear the corresponding exhale. She shifts her weight as dread looms, building in her toes and rising up through her body.
The exhale finally shudders out of Lena, her grip relaxes on the door handle, but she doesn’t turn.
“You can take it back right now,” Lena whispers, staring at the peeling white paint on Kara’s door. “If you don’t mean it, if you’re just trying to get me to stay, you don’t have to say that. I’ll stay.”
“Lena,” comes out choking on disbelief. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Kara can feel the tears in her eyes now, starting to trickle out the corners. “It doesn’t have to mean anything to you, but it’s still the truth. Whether we talk about it or not, it’s still a fact.”
“You’ve said it before,” comes the hushed confession.
“No, I haven’t,” Kara denies quickly. “I think I’d remember.”
“You drank too much,” Lena explains, voice rasping. “You drank too much and you told me you were in love with your best friend.” Lena tries to laugh but it comes out more like a wet cough. “I told myself, if you said it again, sober, purposefully for me to hear, then maybe it would mean something. But you didn’t mention it again, so neither did I.”
At the description, a blurry memory comes back to her, of her pressed against someone in the backseat of a car – someone pretty, with a mole on their neck and piercing green eyes and–
“Oh,” Kara says, flushing with embarrassment at what is, apparently, a memory. “That – I didn’t think that was real.”
Lena laughs but it’s not genuine, it’s not pleased. It’s abrasive. “Yes, I was starting to think so as well.”
“I do mean it,” Kara says then. “I’m in love with you.”
Lena turns then, hand falling from the door handle, eyes bright and glistening. “I thought it was hopeless,” Lena confesses. “I thought I’d imagined things, that I’d read everything wrong, that I was just seeing what I wanted to see. Kara Danvers should do so much better than me. We were just friends. We would always just be friends.”
Kara doesn’t dare interrupt.
“I let you set the pace, I let you morph this friendship into whatever you needed it to be, because if left to my own devices, I would take as much of you as I could and I’d never give it back.” Lena looks into Kara’s eyes and she doesn’t stop, the words keep pouring out of her.
“I knew our closeness wouldn’t last forever. At some point, you’d find someone and all the space I filled up would be taken over by someone else,” Lena says, milkshake still pressed against her chest. “So I thought, well, I’ll take what I can get now and deal with the consequences later. I wouldn’t deprive you of happiness just for my sake. It was only a matter of time.”
Lena waves her free hand in the general area of the tattoo. “I figured, no matter what, I’d like to keep you close. Near my heart. And I thought I should have a physical reminder of how I’ve been forever changed by you, Kara Danvers. So that even when it hurts, I’d be able to remind myself that it was worth it. That loving you was worth it.
“Being in love with you is worth it, even when it hurts, even when it scars.”
“Lena,” her name on Kara’s lips can’t be anything other than reverent right now, not in the wake of all that.
“I love you, Kara,” Lena says. “I wouldn’t get just anyone’s symbol tattooed on me.”
“Have dinner with me?” Kara asks earnestly, taking a step closer to Lena.
Lena’s smile is teasing, not quite back to her full confidence, but getting there. “I thought that’s why I was here,” she says.
Kara flushes. “I mean, yeah, we’re having dinner tonight, but also, tomorrow night?” she asks hopefully.
There’s a brief moment where Lena bites her lip. “As friends?”
“Rao, no” Kara shakes her head vehemently. “As a date,” she says firmly. “I’ll plan it.”
“Well, I can’t say no to that,” Lena says, a sparkle in her eye. It dims slightly, “If you’re sure.”
“I’ve never been more sure about anything,” Kara promises. Lena lifts her cup so she can take another sip from her straw. “Also, since when do you drink milkshakes? I have to, like, coerce you into sharing one when you agree to your yearly shake.”
“Since I got stabbed with a needle about a thousand times out of love for you,” Lena snarks without any heat as she steps back out of her shoes. “Just because I can’t have them very often doesn’t mean I don't like them.”
“Lena, you’re gorgeous, you can have milkshakes more often.”
“Not all of us metabolise the sun and burn thousands of calories fighting aliens, Supergirl,” Lena says, rehashing a joke both she and Alex like to use to convey their jealousy. Kara ignores it. There are life-changing things happening here.
“Stay for dinner tonight,” Kara repeats, like if she doesn’t, Lena will evaporate into thin air. “And tomorrow, meet me here at 7?” Kara asks, refocusing on what’s important. Lena loves her. She said so, had a whole beautiful impromptu speech Kara wants to immortalise forever and etch into her skin.
“It’s a date,” Lena confirms.
They have a date!