Chapter Text
The soft chime of an alert on Alex Danvers' tablet was the only sound in her otherwise silent DEO office. She glanced at the screen, a slow smile spreading across her face. It was a reminder. Two weeks until Lena's birthday.
For the past two years, Lena's birthdays had been overshadowed by crises. Two years ago, a Cadmus prison break. Last year? No crisis — not initially. Alex had just recovered from a serious heart condition, the aftermath of a mission gone wrong. She was completely well by then, but Lena still hadn't wanted her to lift a finger. Alex could run missions, save the world, do whatever the DEO needed. But planning a party? Letting Lena take care of her for one night? That, Lena had insisted on.
"Let me plan something for you," Alex had insisted. "You deserve it."
"You just got better," Lena had countered, her voice firm but warm. "Let me do this. You can plan next year."
"Lena, it's been months," Alex had pressed. "I'm completely fine. You can't keep treating me like I'm still —"
"Alex." Lena had stepped closer, cupping her face gently. "Your only job that night is to show up and let me take care of you for once. That's what I want for my birthday."
Alex had caved. Of course she had.
So Lena had planned every detail herself: a quiet dinner, a string quartet, Alex's favorite wine. She'd wanted to give Alex a break, to handle everything so Alex could just show up and enjoy. But when work had pulled Alex away at the last minute anyway, Lena had smiled, waved off the canceled reservation, and never once complained. She'd just said, "Next year."
That was when Alex had realized: Lena would always try to make things easier on her. Would always absorb the disappointment, smooth over the cracks, carry the weight so Alex didn't have to.
This year, Alex was determined to return the favor. Lena deserved one perfect, uninterrupted, utterly romantic day — and she wasn't going to get a chance to plan it herself.
There was a light tap on her doorframe, and Kara poked her head in, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Operation: L-Corp Supremacy is a go?"
Alex waved her in. "Operation: Perfect Lena. And yes. I have a list."
"A list?" Kara flopped into the chair opposite Alex's desk, pulling a potsticker from seemingly nowhere. "Ooh, I love lists. Is it a Top 10 Reasons Alex is the Best Girlfriend Ever list?"
"It's a logistics list," Alex said, turning the tablet so Kara could see. "Venue, menu, music, birthday present, security, decoy."
Kara squinted. "Decoy? Alex, it's a birthday dinner, not an Intergang takedown."
"You don't know Lena like I do," Alex said, her expression softening. "She's too smart. If she suspects I'm planning something, she'll try to figure it out. She'll worry I'm doing something dangerous, or she'll try to take over and plan it herself to 'make it easier on me.'" She made air quotes. "This has to be a surprise."
Kara's face lit up with understanding. "So the decoy is to throw her off the scent."
"Exactly. And I need two things from you."
Kara leaned forward eagerly. "Anything."
"First," Alex held up a finger, "when Lena asks — and she will ask — you just need to keep telling her there's nothing dangerous going on. That's it. Don't add anything. Don't try to be clever. Just... 'nothing dangerous.'"
Kara's face fell. "That's it? Alex, I can do more than that. I can —"
"You can barely look her in the eye when you're lying about a surprise dinner," Alex cut in, laughing. "Trust me. Simple is better."
Kara crossed her arms, pouting. "I am an excellent liar when I want to be."
"Two years ago you and Lena tried to throw me a surprise party," Alex reminded her. "It was a disaster. I spent two weeks spiraling, convinced I'd forgotten something important. Just keep it simple."
Kara's pout deepened. "...That was different."
Alex just smiled — a small, mysterious smile that Kara didn't quite know what to make of.
"Second," she continued, "on the day of her birthday, I need you to distract her. Take her to lunch, go shopping, talk about a new story for CatCo. Keep her busy. Then when the timing is right, lead her to the old observatory. Without telling her where she's actually going."
Kara's pout melted into a grin, a hero ready for her mission. "I am an excellent shopping partner. And an even better future sister-in-law, I hope."
Alex felt a warm flush creep up her neck. "Let's get through the birthday first."
Her phone buzzed before Kara could respond. Alex glanced down.
It was Sam, Samantha Arias—who had moved away from National City months ago with her daughter Ruby to start fresh, though she and Lena still kept in touch across the miles.
Sam: Heard through the grapevine someone's planning a birthday. I'm handling music. Don't argue.
Alex smiled, typing back: Wasn't going to. What did you have in mind?
Sam: You'll see. I'll send the drive over when it's ready. Classical, the indie stuff she pretends not to love, and Ruby's adding a few surprises.
Another buzz.
Sam: Also. Gift advice? You need any? I know people.
Alex: I've been paying attention. Took her shopping recently. I know what I'm getting her.
Sam: Mysterious. I like it. Don't mess it up.
Alex: When have I ever?
Sam: Do you want the list?
Alex: ...Send the list.
Kara leaned over, trying to peek at the screen. "You've been getting a lot of texts lately."
Alex tucked the phone back into her pocket, still smiling. "Comes with planning a perfect birthday for Lena."
Kara raised an eyebrow but didn't push. "Okay, okay. Just remember who's handling the decoy duties."
"Hard to forget," Alex said dryly. "You won't stop talking about it."
---
Across town, in the sun-drenched penthouse office of L-Corp, Lena Luthor set down her pen and stared out at the National City skyline. A faint, persistent itch had taken up residence at the back of her mind. It had started three days ago, when Alex had become unusually... agreeable.
Alex was always wonderful, but she was also a planner, a tactician. Business minutiae had never been her domain—she listened when Lena talked about work, offered the occasional wry observation, but never inserted herself into the corporate machinery.
So when Lena had casually mentioned a new espresso machine for the breakroom, Alex hadn't just nodded along. She'd pulled out her phone, researched the top three models within minutes, and sent Lena links with a spreadsheet comparing features and energy efficiency. For fun. Alex said.
When Lena joked about a particularly difficult board member—a throwaway comment meant to vent, not invite solutions—Alex had offered three different strategies to handle him. Not placating suggestions to make Lena feel heard, but genuine tactics. Leverage points. Psychological approaches calibrated to the man's personality.
It was thoughtful. It was wildly out of character.
But the moment that truly cemented Lena's suspicion came three days ago, when Alex had agreed to go shopping with her.
Alex hated shopping. Her usual MO was to stand outside the dressing room, phone in hand, offering distracted "looks great" responses while mentally running DEO drills.
This time, she had walked beside Lena through every store, offering actual opinions. "That cut doesn't do you justice. Try the navy one." "You've been looking for a bag like this for months."
Then, at a watch shop Lena had visited on a whim, Alex had lingered beside her as she asked the sales associate—again—whether anyone had sourced the parts to repair her father's old antique watch. The answer was the same as always: no. The technician who understood the movement had retired years ago. Lena had smiled, thanked the associate, and moved on, tucking the familiar disappointment away as she always did.
Normally, Alex would have wandered off by now—distracted by some display case or scrolling through her phone—but this time, she hadn't moved an inch. She had stood right there, shoulder to shoulder with Lena, listening to every word.
"Let's try another shop," Alex had said simply, her hand finding the small of Lena's back.
Not that Lena was complaining. She had loved it—loved the easy intimacy of Alex's hand on the small of her back, loved the rare indulgence of being truly seen and catered to. That was what made it so unsettling.
It was sweet. It was attentive. It was so unlike Alex that Lena had almost asked her point-blank if she'd been replaced by a shapeshifter.
And it was too perfect.
And sometimes, Lena caught Alex glancing at her phone, replying quickly to some secret message, her shoulders tightening for just a moment before she smoothed her expression again. That tension was small, fleeting — but Lena noticed.
It was suspicious.
Because if there was one thing Lena had learned, it was that Alex Danvers had a habit of shielding her — from threats, from burdens, even from herself. And whenever Alex grew secretive, it was never trivial.
Alex was up to something.
Her first, instinctive thought, born from a lifetime of Luthor family machinations, was that it was something dangerous. A new alien threat she wasn't telling her about? A secret mission for the DEO? The thought made her stomach clench.
She hated herself for this.
Hated the way her mind automatically went to surveillance and cross-referencing, the way she treated the woman she loved like a puzzle to be solved. It made her feel like the worst kind of girlfriend—
What kind of girlfriend did this? The kind who couldn't let go. The kind who needed to know every variable, every contingency, every possible threat before she could breathe.
The controlling kind.
But she knew she would hate herself more if she stayed silent and something happened. If Alex got hurt because Lena had been too polite, too trusting, too afraid of looking like a Luthor to ask the questions that needed asking.
So she asked.
"Jess," Lena said into her intercom. "Can you pull up Alex Danvers' public schedule for the last week? And cross-reference it with any known charity events or high-profile alien sightings. And get Kara on the phone."
A moment later, Jess's voice came through the speaker. "Miss Luthor, Miss Danvers says she's in the middle of something at the DEO and can't talk right now. But she said she'll come by your office as soon as she's done."
"Alright. Let me know when she arrives."
---
An hour later, Kara was perched on the edge of Lena's desk, her expression a little too innocent. "So! Lunch? My treat. We haven't done that in ages. There's that new salad place just round the corner—the one you mentioned liking last week."
Lena looked up from her screen, one eyebrow raised. "You hate salad."
"I do not hate salad," Kara said, drawing herself up with exaggerated dignity. "I simply have... nutritional requirements. I'm Supergirl, Lena. I need fuel. Calories. Carbohydrates. Lots of them. Leaves just don't cut it. Besides—" She gestured vaguely at the green folder on Lena's desk. "Green stuff looks like Kryptonite. You can't blame a girl for having associations."
Lena's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "So let me get this straight. You Kryptonians now use carbohydrates as fuel? Last I checked," she continued, leaning back in her chair, her eyes dancing with amusement, "a Kryptonian's primary fuel source is solar radiation, not carbohydrates. So unless you're telling me that carbohydrates now generate solar radiation..."
She paused, letting the implication hang in the air.
"...or unless you're not exactly a Kryptonian and you've been lying to me this whole time."
Kara opened her mouth. Closed it.
"Fine!" Kara threw her hands up. "Fine. I don't like salad. It's leaves. They're sad and crunchy and they don't even have the decency to be fried. But you like that place. And you've been working through lunch every day this week. So..." She shrugged, a genuine smile breaking through despite her embarrassment. "For you? I'll suffer through some greens."
Despite everything churning beneath the surface, Lena felt something warm loosen in her chest. This was Kara. Her best friend. The woman who would eat food she despised just to spend an hour together.
"Thank you, Kara," Lena said softly. "That's... very sweet of you."
Kara beamed. "That's what best friends are for! Now come on, before I change my mind and drag you to a burger joint instead."
Lena laughed—a real one, small but genuine—and reached for her bag. But as she stood, her eyes lingered on Kara's face. The smile was wide, the enthusiasm real. Kara genuinely wanted to have lunch with her. There was no deception there.
And yet.
The eyes darted—just a fraction of a second too long to the right. A tell so small anyone else would have missed it. But Lena had spent years reading micro-expressions across boardroom tables. She knew when someone was hiding something.
Not about the salad, of course. Kara really would eat leaves for her. That part was real.
Something else, then.
She tucked the observation away, her smile never wavering. "Alright. Lead the way."
As they walked toward the elevator, Kara chattering happily about some new CatCo drama, Lena's mind had already shifted into a different gear. The warmth from moments ago didn't disappear—it settled somewhere deeper, alongside something colder.
She's hiding something. Kara had been at the DEO before she got here. DEO-related. Alex.
The elevator doors slid shut. The space suddenly felt smaller.
"Kara," Lena said casually, leaning against the back wall, "has Alex mentioned anything... interesting lately?"
Kara's smile froze.
Wait — already? She's asking already?
She wasn't ready. Alex said Lena would ask, but Kara thought she'd have more time.
Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking —
"Interesting? Alex? No. She's just been doing... Deputy Director stuff. You know. Directing. Deputy-ing." She let out a small, breathy laugh, too high, too fast. "Lots of... deputy-ing. Meetings about deputy things. Boring. So boring. I almost fell asleep just thinking about it. Did I mention boring? Because it is. Very. Boring."
I'm rambling, Kara realized with horror. I'm definitely rambling. Stop it!
She was nodding now, too fast, her smile stretched too wide.
But Lena didn't push. She just watched.
She's rambling, Lena thought. Kara only rambled when she was lying or nervous.
"Right." Lena's suspicion solidified into certainty. She studied Kara's hopeful face—the way her eyes were just a little too bright, her smile just a little too fixed.
She didn't need to ask anything else. She had her answer.
"Alright," Lena said, letting the tension ease from her shoulders. "Salad, then."
Kara blinked. "Salad? Right! Salad! Yes. Love it. Always have. Leaves are... crunchy."
Lena's lips twitched. "Crunchy."
"Very crunchy. In a good way."
"Kara."
"Yes?"
"Stop talking."
Kara clamped her mouth shut, face flushing.
Lena leaned against the elevator wall, a dry smile playing on her lips. "I already regret this," she said, but there was warmth beneath the words. She would play along. For now.
As the elevator descended, Lena's mind was already racing ahead. Lunch first. Then back to her computer. If Alex was planning a mission, there would be traces—DEO requisitions, communications with federal agencies, strange patterns in the city's energy grid. Lena Luthor was a master at finding patterns.
Beside her, Kara, poor Kara silently vowed: Next time, be ready. Next time, don't ramble. Next time, just say something simple. Something cool. Something Alex would say.
She had no idea how badly she would fail at that too.
What Kara didn't know was that her fumbling was exactly what Alex had counted on. Alex would never tell her that—never admit that she'd set her own sister up to fail. Okay, maybe she felt a tiny pang of guilt. A small one. But she knew her sister. Knew Kara couldn't lie to save her life. And every nervous laugh, every pink ear, would only convince Lena that something was worth hiding. That would keep Lena digging.
Exactly where Alex wanted her.
---
That evening, Alex sat at her kitchen island, a large sheet of paper spread out before her. It was covered in arrows, timestamps, and codenames.
- Phase 1: The Decoy (Kara).
- Phase 2: Venue Acquisition (The Old Observatory).
- Phase 3: Culinary Recon (Potstickers - Kara's recommendation, but as a side dish).
- Phase 4: Birthday present (Winn).
She studied her list, then picked up her phone.
- Phase 5: The Bait.
Lena was too smart to follow a trail she didn't want to find. So Alex needed to make sure she wanted to find it. She typed out a message, her thumb hovering over the send button for a moment before she pressed it.
Alex: Hey, can you pull that energy alloy report for me? The one from a few months back. Need it for a presentation this week. Urgent.
The request was specific, slightly out of the blue, and carried just enough weight to register. The energy alloy data had been used before—during the last potential alien incursion, when Lena's research had helped the DEO identify a cloaked warship. It was the kind of file that, in Lena's mind, would only surface again if something serious was brewing.
Perfect bait.
A moment later, her phone buzzed.
Lena: I'll email it over in the morning. Long day. You?
Alex smiled, texting back: Long, but good. Can't wait to see you.
Another text, this one from a contact at the National City Planetarium: The main telescope will be operational on 24th October night. It's all yours, Director.
Perfect. The old observatory on the bluffs, with a private dinner set up in the rotunda under the stars. It was perfect.
---
Later that night, Lena was at Alex’s apartment, dinner had been quiet, the kind of ordinary evening Alex treasured. The clink of plates, Lena’s laughter at one of Kara’s latest newsroom mishaps, the soft hum of music in the background.
Alex's phone buzzed against the table.
She glanced down.
Jess: I'll do it. But if she finds out, you're covering for me. I'm too young to be fired.
Alex's lips twitched. She typed back quickly: Deal. You're a lifesaver.
She slid the phone face-down on the table and looked up to find Lena watching her.
"Everything okay?" Lena asked, her tone light but her eyes sharp.
"Fine," Alex said, reaching for her wine glass. "Just work. Nothing important."
Lena held her gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, letting it go. "If you're sure."
"I'm sure."
The moment passed. Lena launched into another story—something about a board member who had tried to use a psychic as a corporate strategy consultant—and Alex laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing.
But Lena's mind, ever restless, had already filed the exchange away.
Face-down. Quick reply. "Nothing important."
Sure it wasn't.
By the time they curled up together on the couch, city lights spilling through the window, Alex felt the tension of the day finally ease from her shoulders. Lena’s head rested against her, fingers tracing idle patterns on her shirt, and for a moment it was just comfort — simple, steady, theirs.
Alex's phone buzzed again. She glanced down.
Winn: Got the specs for the watch. Just need you to drop off the actual thing whenever you have it. Don't suppose you can steal it from Lena without her noticing?
Alex suppressed a smile, thumbs moving quickly across the screen: Working on it. Stand by.
She slid the phone face-down on the cushion beside her.
But Lena's mind was never still. Even in the warmth of Alex's arms, she found herself watching, listening, catching the subtle shifts in Alex's tone. The way her phone had buzzed earlier, and Alex had replied quickly—too quickly—before sliding it face-down on the table. And then again just now on the cushion. The way her smile sometimes carried a shadow of distraction. It wasn’t enough to break the moment, but it was enough to keep Lena’s thoughts sharp, circling.
She tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but edged with curiosity.
“You’ve been awfully secretive with that phone of yours,” Lena murmured, playful but probing. “Should I be worried about what’s happening at the DEO?”
Alex chuckled, brushing her thumb across Lena’s arm in lazy reassurance. “Same old routine. Alien activity monitoring, paperwork, endless meetings. The gloriously exciting life of a civil servant.”
Lena let out a quiet laugh, though her eyes stayed sharp. “Really. Routine. Funny how routine suddenly looks a lot like distraction.”
Alex met her gaze, exasperated but affectionate. “Lena, it’s nothing. I just want to make sure I can focus on you on your birthday next week, without interruptions.”
The answer was too perfect, too polished. Perfect enough to make Lena even more certain something was up.
Her fingers stilled against Alex’s shirt, green eyes narrowing.
“Then explain this to me,” she said softly. “Why the sudden urgency with that energy alloy report? You told me it needed presenting this week, but I submitted stability data months ago. What changed?”
Alex’s shoulder tensed almost imperceptibly, suppressing a smile, her voice stayed steady.
“Honestly? It’s nothing dramatic. Just one of those sudden directives from upstairs — they decided the alloy data needed revisiting, so I pulled it together. Bureaucracy at its finest.”
She gave a small shrug, trying to make it sound casual. “It’s routine, Lena. I promise. I just want everything squared away before your birthday without work hanging over us.”
Lena sat up, turning to face Alex, her green eyes locking onto hers’. “Alex, look me in the eyes and tell me you are not hiding anything — anything — that might be dangerous from me.”
Alex met her gaze, her hand closing around Lena’s, thumb stroking her knuckles. Her eyes were sincere, beyond reproach. “I swear, I am not planning anything dangerous. Not one bit.”
It was the truth. A romantic dinner didn’t count as dangerous.
Lena squinted, searching for any trace of a lie. There was none. Yet the feeling of something being off only grew stronger. If it wasn’t dangerous, then what was it? No, wait — in Alex’s definition, “dangerous” meant alien invasions or weapons spiraling out of control. But Alex’s “not dangerous” and a normal person’s “not dangerous” were not the same thing.
“Alright.” She leaned back against Alex’s shoulder, though her mind was already racing. “I just… worry about you. You know, a Luthor, always expecting the worst.” She paused, narrowing her eyes slightly. "But let's be honest-- you also have a terrible habit of hiding things from me 'for my own good.' So forgive me if your words doesn't exactly put me at ease."
Alex snorted softly. "Okay, fair. My track record on that specifically? Not great." She tightened her arm around Lena’s, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But this time? Totally different. First of all, I’m not a Luthor. I’m yours. And I promise – whatever I’m doing – the result will make you happy.”
The words made Lena’s heart skip a beat. Make her happy? If Alex was going to risk herself just to make her happy — like handling some threat alone, just to not ruin her birthday — she would never forgive herself.
She closed her eyes, letting herself sink deeper into Alex's embrace. The familiar scent of Alex's shampoo, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath her ear — it was almost enough to quiet the storm in her mind.
"Okay," she murmured against Alex's chest, her voice soft, almost convincing. "I believe you."
She let the words hang there, knowing Alex would hear what she wanted to hear. The corners of her mouth lifted involuntarily.
Fine, Alex.
Game on.
This time, I won’t just sit back.
I won’t wait passively for a surprise.
I’ll find out the truth.
Every trace.
Every clue.
And if necessary— I’ll protect you.
The way you’ve always protected me.
Lena kept her eyes closed, counting the heartbeats. One, two, three.
You thought you had won. Thought your carefully placed denials had soothed the suspicion, that I would now wait patiently.
She would let Alex believe that.
For now.
Above her, Alex's chin rested against the top of her head. She felt the slight exhale of breath, the subtle relaxation of tension in the shoulders she was leaning against.
Got you.