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Kara Danvers has saved the world time and time again. She’s supposed to be at peace, building a life beyond the cape. Except, apparently, she’s also become the kind of person who glares at friendly baristas because they make Lena laugh.
She wasn’t jealous.
That would be ridiculous.
Kara was sitting in a perfectly normal National City coffee shop, sipping her perfectly normal oat milk latte, and not at all watching Lena Luthor from across the room.
Lena was laughing — actually laughing — at something the barista had said. Some tall, ridiculously charming barista with a man-bun and forearms that probably lifted coffee crates for sport. He’d just complimented Lena’s accent (which, fine, objectively was kind of charming in that soft Irish lilt way. It's not like Kara dreams of that laugh every night. Totally not.) and now he was smiling like he’d just been handed the keys to the universe.
Kara’s coffee was, objectively, too hot. It shouldn’t have been steaming still, but somehow it was.
Alex would say it was a “superpower misfire.” Kara called it “mild emotional mismanagement.”
“—and then he says, ‘Well, Ms. Luthor, I wouldn’t dare overcharge a genius,’” Lena said when she slid into the seat opposite Kara, still smiling.
Kara plastered on her best totally casual and not at all burning with irrational energy grin. “Oh! That’s… nice of him!”
Lena tilted her head. “You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
“No! I mean, I just— you know, people can be… nice.” Kara took a large gulp of her coffee to hide the flush rising to her ears. Immediately regretted it. “Ow. Hot.”
Lena laughed again, low and warm, and Kara felt her stomach do that dangerous swoop that usually preceded flight takeoff.
It had been months since Lex’s final defeat. Months since she and Lena had finally decided to rebuild their friendship. Since they had finally stopped walking on eggshells around each other.
They’d settled into something good. Comfortable. Even easy.
Which was why Kara was definitely not about to ruin it all by interrogating the barista for making eyes at her best friend.
“So,” Lena said, stirring her tea, “what’s on the agenda for today, Supergirl?”
“You promised, no superhero talk during brunch,” Kara said, smiling, grateful for the lifeline.
Lena’s eyes softened. “Right. Just Kara.”
Something fluttered in Kara’s chest, traitorous and bright.
Just Kara.
The door chimed behind them, and the barista called after Lena, “See you tomorrow, Ms. Luthor!”
Kara’s smile froze.
“Tomorrow?” she echoed.
“Oh—” Lena blinked. “He’s just helping me coordinate a little fundraiser for the foundation. He offered to donate part of the cafe’s proceeds. It’s all very innocent, I assure you.”
“Innocent?” Kara repeated.
Lena smirked. “You sound jealous.”
Kara’s eyes went wide. “What? No! I’m not—I don’t—I just—” She pointed weakly at the pastry display. “Croissants. I was thinking about croissants.”
Lena laughed again, and Kara knew she’d lost whatever dignity she had left.
But when Lena leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand and looking at Kara with that soft, knowing smile — the one that made Kara feel like she was the only person in the room. The tension melted into something warm and dangerous.
Lena said gently, “You don’t have to be jealous, you know.”
And Kara, heart hammering, said, “I’m not.”
(Spoiler, she was.)
–——
The next time it happens, it was supposed to be Lena’s night.
Technically, it was L-Corp’s night — the annual Foundation Gala celebrating the first full year of Lena’s clean-energy initiative. But if you asked anyone in National City (or, frankly, anyone who’d seen the woman in a backless emerald gown walking down the red carpet), it was Lena Luthor’s night.
Kara told herself that she was here strictly for support. Moral, platonic support. The kind you give your best friend when she’s hosting a major event and the world’s media is watching.
It wasn’t because Lena had asked her to “please come, Kara, I’ll feel better if you’re there.”
And it definitely wasn’t because Lena had said it with that soft, shy smile that always made Kara’s heart skip like a scratched record.
No, it was moral support. That was it.
She adjusted the neckline of her gown — deep blue, modest, Alex-approved and smiled politely as she was ushered through the ballroom. It was glittering, all soft golden light and expensive laughter, the kind of party Kara still felt like she was playacting in. And there was Lena, center of it all.
Elegant. Effortless. Laughing at something whispered in her ear by a sharply dressed man Kara didn’t recognize.
She recognized the feeling in her chest though — a weird, fizzy pressure behind her ribs, like her lungs forgot what air was supposed to do.
“Oh boy,” Nia muttered beside her, following Kara’s line of sight. “You’re doing the face.”
“What face?” Kara asked too quickly.
“The face,” Nia said, mimicking her expression — wide eyes, tight smile, visible tension. “The ‘I’m pretending I’m not jealous but I absolutely am’ face.”
“I am not jealous!” Kara whispered. “She’s my friend!”
“Right,” Nia said, taking a sip of champagne. “Your very beautiful friend in a custom gown, talking to a very handsome donor, and you’re just… over here clenching your fists like you want to laser the hors d’oeuvres table.”
Kara unclenched her fists.
“Okay,” she said. “Maybe a little jealous. But not because—”
“Oh, look, he’s touching her arm.”
Kara nearly choked on air.
Lena was indeed smiling at the man — a slick, confident sort with a watch worth more than
Kara’s entire apartment— then his hand lingered far too long on her arm as he leaned closer to say something.
The fizzing feeling in Kara’s chest turned electric.
She definitely wasn’t about to march over there and remind him that Lena could dismantle his company, reputation, and possibly his molecular structure if she wanted to.
Definitely not.
Instead, she muttered, “Excuse me for a sec,” and disappeared before Nia could say anything else.
“Ms. Luthor,” Kara said brightly, appearing at Lena’s side with the smoothness of someone who absolutely hadn’t just used super speed in the middle of a crowded ballroom.
“Kara!” Lena turned, her face lighting up in that way that always made Kara forget what language was. “You look stunning!”
“Oh. Um. You too.” Kara tried to focus. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just—”
The man smiled politely. “You must be Kara Danvers. Lena’s famous best friend.” There was something about the way he said “famous” that made Kara’s jaw tighten.
“Yes,” Kara said, all sweetness. “That’s me. The best friend.”
Lena’s eyes flicked between them, amusement sparking. “Kara, this is—”
But Kara, somehow, didn’t catch the name. Probably because she was too busy noticing that the man was still standing too close.
“So,” Kara said, forcing cheer. “What brings you to the gala?”
“I’m one of Lena’s donors,” he said smoothly. “Her vision for the future is inspiring. I must say, you’re lucky to be so close to such brilliance.”
Kara’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, I know.”
Lena laughed softly, sensing the tension. “All right, you two, no need to fight over me.”
Kara blinked. “Who’s fighting?”
“Exactly,” the man said, smirking slightly before excusing himself. “We’ll talk later, Lena.” As he walked away, Kara felt the knot in her shoulders finally loosen only to realize Lena was looking at her with an unreadable expression.
“Okay,” Lena said, a little too gently. “Do I want to know what that was?”
Kara fidgeted. “I was just… being friendly.”
“Friendly?” Lena repeated, one brow arching.
Kara nodded too quickly. “You know. Supportive. You were talking to someone new and I thought that maybe you might needed saving.”
“Saving,” Lena said, smiling now. “From a conversation?”
“Yes?” Kara tried.
Lena’s laughter bubbled out before she could stop it. “Kara Danvers, are you sure you’re not—”
“Not what?”
“Jealous?”
“Why does everyone keep saying that!” Kara exclaimed, far too loud, earning a few glances. She ducked her head, mortified.
Lena was still laughing, soft and fond. “Relax, darling. I’m teasing.”
Kara’s heart tripped at the darling.
“Right. Teasing. Totally.”
But Lena’s gaze lingered, curious and warm. “You know, it’s… nice, having someone look out for me—”
Her eyes was staring straight into Kara's soul —filled with love and affection and tenderness. “My hero.”
Kara’s cheeks went pink.
“Always.”
Lena smiled — a small, secret smile — and reached out to adjust Kara’s necklace, fingers brushing her collarbone for just a second too long.
Kara forgot how to breathe.
The orchestra started up a slow song. Lena hesitated, then held out her hand.
“Dance with me?” she asked.
And Kara, who could have lifted buildings, who had flown through the stars found herself speechless, nodding, heart fluttering as she took Lena’s hand and stepped into the light.
–——
The third time it happens, it was during movie night.
Movie night at Kara’s apartment had become sacred. It started years ago, one small tradition in the chaos of saving the world and somehow, even after all the dust had settled and the universe had stopped needing constant rescue, they kept it.
Every week, pizza, bad movies, and Lena Luthor in Kara’s living room.
The latter was the most dangerous part.
Kara pretended it wasn’t. She’d gotten very good at pretending.
Alex, of course, saw right through her.
“Okay,” Alex said, tossing a bag of popcorn onto the couch, “What are we watching tonight, and why do I already feel like this is going to be emotionally exhausting for you?”
Kara looked up from arranging the snack table (neatly, meticulously, because focusing on food was safer than focusing on the fact that Lena was in her kitchen wearing Kara’s Star Wars apron).
“What do you mean?” she asked too brightly.
Alex raised an eyebrow. “You get that tone in your voice whenever Lena’s involved. Like you’re trying to convince the world — and yourself — that you’re fine.”
“I am fine!”
“Uh-huh.” Alex nodded toward the kitchen. “So, just for clarity, you’re not bothered that she’s been texting someone all evening?”
Kara froze. “She—she has?”
Alex folded her arms, smirking. “Busted.”
Kara peeked over her shoulder. Lena was indeed smiling at her phone, a little curve of her lips that did something terrible and fluttery to Kara’s stomach.
“Probably work stuff,” Kara said quickly. “You know how she is.”
“Sure,” Alex said. “Or maybe it’s that diagnostician from the L-Corp board meeting last week. What was his name— Dr. House?”
Kara frowned. “Dr. Gregory House? The one who thinks everybody lies?”
Alex grinned. “You remembered his name.”
“I remember everything!” Kara blurted. “Super memory!”
“Right.” Alex grabbed her drink and wandered toward the kitchen. “Just saying, Kara, if you keep glaring at her phone like that, it’s going to spontaneously combust.”
“I am not glaring!”
“Whatever you say, Superjealous.”
Kara glared at her retreating sister. “That’s not even a good nickname!”
From the kitchen, Lena laughed softly. “What’s not a good nickname?”
Kara turned, startled. “Oh! Nothing! Alex is just being Alex.”
Lena smiled, sliding her phone into her pocket. “She does enjoy tormenting you.”
“Mm-hmm,” Kara said, trying not to sound breathless.
The problem with Lena wasn’t that she was unreachable. It was that she was right there. Sitting on Kara’s couch, drinking Kara’s soda, stealing Kara’s blanket and smiling like she had no idea what she did to Kara’s heart every single time.
They were halfway through the movie (some terrible romantic comedy that Nia had sworn was “so bad it’s art”) when Lena’s phone buzzed again.
Kara pretended not to notice. Alex definitely noticed.
“Lena,” Alex said, innocently. “Who’s that?”
Lena glanced at her phone, smiling faintly. “Oh, just Jack.”
Kara stiffened.
“Jack?” she repeated, trying not to sound strangled. “As in Jack Spheer?”
Lena blinked. “No, no, different Jack. He’s helping with some grant proposals for the foundation.”
“Oh,” Kara said, the word coming out sharper than she meant.
Alex bit back a grin. “Wow. Small world, huh?”
“Very small,” Kara muttered.
Lena looked between them, amused. “Are you two— okay?”
“Perfectly fine,” Kara said. “Totally fine. Just—just watching the movie.”
But she wasn’t. She was hyper-aware of every time Lena smiled at her phone, every quiet buzz of a new message.
By the time the credits rolled, Kara’s popcorn bowl was empty, her drink was warm, and she’d spent an entire ninety minutes pretending not to be jealous of someone she’d never met.
When Alex left — after whispering a very smug 'Good luck with that'— the apartment fell quiet.
Lena stretched, yawning softly. “I should probably head out too.”
Kara’s heart dropped. “Oh. Right. Of course.”
Lena tilted her head. “Unless you want to debrief the disaster we just watched?”
Kara smiled, relief blooming. “Always.”
Lena grinned and sat back down. “You know,” she said after a moment, “you were awfully quiet tonight.”
Kara fiddled with the edge of her blanket. “Just tired, I guess.”
“Hmm.” Lena studied her, like she could see straight through every layer of Kara’s carefully constructed composure. “You sure that’s all?”
Kara hesitated. “Why?”
“You kept looking… tense. Especially when I was on my phone.”
Kara’s face burned. “I wasn’t—I mean, maybe just—” She sighed. “I’m sorry if I seemed weird. I guess I’m just… protective.”
Lena’s expression softened. “Protective?”
“Yeah. You’ve had people hurt you before. I just don’t want anyone to—you know—”
“Break my heart?” Lena supplied gently.
Kara’s eyes darted up. “Yeah.”
For a second, neither of them said anything. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward — it was heavy, charged with something unspoken and fragile.
Then Lena smiled, small and warm. “You don’t have to worry, Kara. I’m not going anywhere.”
And Kara, without thinking, said softly, “Good. I don’t think I could handle it if you did.”
The silence that followed was electric.
Lena’s lips parted, just slightly like she wanted to say something, like she almost did. But then she smiled again, lighter this time, and said, “All right, sentimental Supergirl. Your turn to pick next week’s movie.”
Kara exhaled, the tension easing but not vanishing. It hovered there, between them, alive and waiting.
–——
+1 time Lena got jealous
Lena Luthor was not the jealous type.
She’d told herself that many times, through years of carefully controlled composure, polite smiles, and practiced indifference. Jealousy was for people who didn’t understand power dynamics, who let emotions rule them. She was a Luthor, for heaven’s sake. She’d learned long ago how to swallow feelings whole until they stopped being dangerous.
Except, apparently, when it came to Kara Danvers.
Because when she saw Kara standing on that rooftop with Andrea Rojas, laughing, head thrown back, sunlight turning her hair gold — Lena felt something low and unwelcome twist in her chest.
Andrea reached out, brushed a loose strand of hair behind Kara’s ear, and Lena almost—Well. She didn’t actually do anything, because she wasn’t insane. But her fingers tightened on the folder she was holding until the corner nearly tore.
She hadn’t even meant to come here.
The invitation had been casual — Kara texting her that she’d be at the CatCo rooftop garden with Andrea and Nia, going over some plans for a charity profile. “Come by if you want! It’s low-key,” Kara had said.
And Lena, idiot that she was, had come.
She told herself it was for the charity. For optics. For friendship.
Not because she missed Kara’s laugh when it wasn’t directed at her.
But now, watching Andrea lean in a little too close, her jealousy felt almost comical. What right did she even have to feel this way?
Kara wasn’t hers.
Kara was—
Well. Kara was everything else.
“Lena!”
Kara spotted her then, bright and beaming, waving across the rooftop like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Lena felt herself soften immediately, the jealousy shrinking to something small and helpless. She crossed the space toward them, every inch of her carefully measured.
“Hey,” Kara said, voice warm. “You made it!”
“Of course,” Lena said, smiling, even though her pulse hadn’t quite caught up. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Andrea smiled too, though there was a glint in her eye Lena didn’t entirely trust. “Lena, lovely to see you. We were just talking about Kara’s upcoming feature for the CatCo Humanitarian Spotlight.”
“Oh?” Lena said lightly. “Is Kara getting more publicity?”
Kara ducked her head, embarrassed. “It’s not about me! It’s about the foundation.”
“She’s being modest,” Andrea said. “She’s practically glowing in every shot. Honestly, I might need to start hiring her as a model instead of a journalist.”
Lena smiled politely. “I’m sure she’d be a natural.”
But her tone was a little too sharp. She knew it the moment Kara’s eyebrows furrowed in that what’s-wrong-Lena way that made it impossible to hide anything.
Lena quickly turned her attention to the garden planters. “So, what are we growing this year?”
“Tomatoes,” Nia called from the far side of the roof, clearly trying to suppress a grin. “Also, emotional tension, apparently.”
“Excuse me?” Lena said.
“Nothing!” Nia said quickly. “Just… checking the soil!” and then she all but fled inside.
Andrea smirked. “I should get back to the office.” She gave Kara a lingering look. “Let’s finish the interview next week?”
“Sure!” Kara said brightly.
Andrea’s hand brushed Kara’s arm in parting — and there it was again, that flicker of heat in Lena’s chest, sharp and irrational.
When they were alone, Kara turned to her, brow creased. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Of course,” Lena said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You seem… tense.”
“I’m fine.”
“Lena—”
Lena exhaled, the facade crumbling a little. “I just… didn’t realize you and Andrea were spending so much time together.”
Kara blinked, surprised. “Oh! Yeah, she’s been helping me brainstorm stories. She’s actually been great.”
“I see.”
There was something in Lena’s voice— brittle, thin — that even she didn’t recognize.
Kara stepped closer, expression softening. “You know you don’t have to be jealous, right?”
Lena froze. “Jealous?”
Kara smiled, teasing, but her tone was gentle. “That’s what you said to me at the coffee shop, remember?”
Lena wanted to laugh. The symmetry was almost poetic.
But her throat was tight, and all she managed was, “I suppose I deserved that.”
Kara hesitated, then said quietly, “You don’t have to be.”
Lena met her eyes— blue and earnest and too much. “And if I am?”
The air stilled.
Kara opened her mouth, then closed it again, like she wasn’t sure if this was real. “Then… I’d tell you there’s nothing to be jealous of.”
Lena smiled, small and sad. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
Kara took another step closer. “Maybe I just haven’t done a good job of proving it.”
Lena’s heart stuttered. “Kara…”
“Lena,” Kara said softly, “why are you jealous?”
Lena laughed under her breath. “You’re really going to make me say it?”
Kara’s smile was tentative. “Maybe.”
Lena looked away, the city glittering around them, too bright, too alive. “Because I can’t stand watching someone else look at you the way I do.”
Kara’s breath hitched — a tiny, fragile sound.
“Lena…”
“Forget it,” Lena said quickly, stepping back. “That was— inappropriate. I shouldn’t—”
But Kara caught her wrist before she could retreat.
“No,” she said firmly. “Don’t do that. Don’t take it back.”
Lena looked up, eyes searching Kara’s face. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Kara interrupted, voice steady. “Because if you say that, then I don’t have to keep pretending I don’t feel the same way.”
The words hung there, dizzying and impossible.
Lena’s pulse roared in her ears. “You— what?”
Kara smiled, nervous and radiant. “I’ve been jealous of everyone. Every person who gets to make you laugh, who gets to stand next to you. I thought it would ruin everything if I said anything. But it’s ruining me not to.”
Lena couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
So she did the only thing she could—she stepped forward, close enough to feel the warmth of Kara’s skin, and whispered, “Then stop pretending.”
Kara’s answering breath came out shaky. “Okay.”
And then she leaned in.
Softly. Carefully. Like the world might break if they weren’t gentle enough.
When their lips met, it wasn’t fireworks — it was quiet, and sure, and a thousand moments of almost finally becoming yes.
–————
When Alex finds out, she finds Kara and Lena in matching pajamas, eating pancakes on the couch in her apartment at 7 am in the morning.
“Oh my God,” Alex said, eyes wide. “Did it finally happen?”
Kara blinked, cheeks pink. “Uh— define ‘it.’”
Alex threw her hands up. “Six years! Six years of pining, and all it took was you getting jealous of a barista!”
Lena choked on her coffee.
Kara groaned, covering her face. “Alex!”
Alex grinned, completely unrepentant. “Don’t mind me, just thrilled to finally stop watching you two orbit each other like lovesick satellites.”
Lena cleared her throat delicately. “Good morning to you too, Agent Danvers.”
Alex winked. “Morning, Luthor-Danvers-to-be.”
Kara made a strangled sound. “ALEX.”
But Lena only smiled — small, secret, and full of light.
When Alex finally left (still smirking), Kara turned to Lena, flustered. “I swear she’s incapable of subtlety.”
Lena’s expression softened. “I don’t mind. She’s right, you know.”
Kara tilted her head. “About what?”
“That we’ve been circling each other for far too long.” Lena set down her mug and reached for Kara’s hand. “I’m done orbiting.”
Kara’s smile was bright enough to light the whole room— the whole universe, even.
“Though, I would appreciate it if you could stop glaring at the barista down the street” Lena says, interrupting the moment.
“I—I wasn't!!”
“Sure you weren't, darling”
“Leeenaaaa!”