Chapter Text
Nothing went as planned.
Not that Kara was the type to plan every detail, meticulously organize herself to carry out every task flawlessly. Not that she prioritized preparing for missions instead of arguing with Winn about who had the better aim. But Kara did have a small script to follow. She planned to do what was expected, to fulfill what was written on the scroll in her hands.
And yet, nothing had gone according to plan. Or even close to what was expected.
Kara was no longer a rookie cupid, she already had her modest five hundred and thirty-four years of life behind her (Alex would disagree). She had witnessed many lessons, had been warned a few times by her mentor J’onn, and others by Alex — actually, most of them by Alex. So she knew what she should have done. She could have avoided it. But the fall came without warning. (Quite literally, too.)
If you asked Kara exactly when everything started going wrong, she might say it was the moment she descended without checking the arrows, or the moment she released the bowstring too early. But the truth, if she were answering honestly (though she certainly wouldn’t write this in her report), was that it had started much earlier — the first time she met the human Lena Luthor.
Curiosity had never been a problem. You see, cupids who valued studying their role, reading and questioning love, had always been highly regarded. It was no coincidence that scholars made up the council body. Kara’s curiosity had been encouraged from the very beginning — she asked far too many questions, turned the logic of everything inside out with enthusiasm, and most of her mentors carried a certain kind of pride in their gaze. But only up to a point.
Kara was far too curious for some people’s tastes. And sometimes the ink on endless scrolls and the words of her peers weren’t enough to satisfy her interests. So Kara descended. She studied human love directly from the source.
She knew she was breaking a rule. After all, Alex hadn’t made her read out loud what was carved into the marble more than ten times for no reason. Kara had already descended before and been caught. Interacting with humans wasn’t a meaningless rule. But after the first time, she couldn’t suppress the growing urge to do it again. Seeing her object of study so closely, watching hearts beat together, exchanged glances — it was always so thrilling. Sometimes Kara even found herself wondering what it would be like if she were mortal. What it would be like if the arrow she carried in her quiver were shot into her own heart, and who her match would be. Well, at least until she shook her head and tried to rid herself of those kinds of thoughts.
All those intrusive and irritating thoughts. Cupids were not made to feel.
But that didn’t stop a smile from appearing on her face every time she got close to the human in question. As a great scholar of love, Kara loved reading about categories for humans. In her conclusions, she thought it was easier to divide them this way: the ephemeral, mortals who didn’t bond easily with their match, sometimes needing more than two or three arrows, making a cupid’s work more difficult; the constant, who, on the other hand, formed lasting bonds and needed only one arrow; among them were also the latent, mortals who, though usually constant as well, only showed their love through small gestures, only noticeable in subtitles; and finally the evident, more emotional and expressive in their displays of love.
Lena Luthor was an enigma.
Kara had observed her long enough to define her as constant — mortals who formed lasting bonds, when they formed them at all. The problem was getting there. Lena wasn’t exactly open to new relationships, quite the opposite, actually. Her walls were high, her smiles scarce. Kara thought Lena might also be latent, that perhaps her small gestures could betray her love. But Kara seemed to be mistaken.
The first few times she decided to observe Lena more closely, her logic unraveled like smoke much faster than she expected.
One of Lena’s close friends, Jack Spheer, had worked tirelessly for a university robotics competition. His project was incredibly ambitious, and Jack was very proud of it. His prototype had enormous potential to revolutionize medicine — a type of automated rapid testing device that extended detection capabilities far beyond existing methods. He had worked alone for months, only to discover two days before the awards ceremony that his machine had been damaged. Seeing her friend upset and discouraged, Lena decided to help, working tirelessly to repair Jack’s device and successfully finishing it just hours before the deadline.
That wasn’t just a detail, a small gesture to Kara. Lena loved her friends and helped them however she could.
Another time, after joining the executive board of Luthor Corp, Lena filled her friend Sam Arias’s office with flowers as thanks for something Sam had done for her.
Again, it wasn’t a small gesture. Kara knew that, in human context, flowers could be associated with romance, and Lena had given Sam many of them. At the time, Kara even thought Sam might be the name that would appear beside Lena’s on a scroll, but it never happened. Nor had their relationship ever crossed the line of friendship, which only left Kara even more intrigued.
Lena had many potential suitors, but her scroll never arrived. Other people tried to get close to her, but never truly managed to win her over. Lena was a very attractive woman, an exceptionally brilliant mind, and someone with a great heart. Sometimes she went on dates, talked and smiled. But Kara knew that the moment Lena was alone again, nothing had truly changed. She would stare blankly out the window from the backseat of her car, her eyes carrying a loneliness Kara thought she might never be able to trace back to its source.
Every time Lena pulled away, Kara’s celestial heart seemed to tighten a little more.
Then one afternoon, when Lena said goodbye to a former college classmate, politely declining his invitation for drinks, Kara decided to observe more closely.
She had already been hovering there for some time, outside a luxurious hotel where a Luthor Corp charity event was taking place. Kara watched everything unfold from the seventh-floor balcony. Lena had been speaking somewhat enthusiastically about her ideas once she secured a permanent position, when the man interrupted her and asked if she wanted to go somewhere else for a drink. He wasn’t truly interested in what Lena had been saying, and Kara felt a little sorry for her. Maybe Lena was so guarded precisely because of that. So many people tried to get close to her because of her surname, her money, and of course, her undeniable beauty.
Kara didn’t plan to interact. But that wasn’t the only plan that had gone off course, was it?
She had planned to observe, only observe — from closer, yes — but actually speaking to Lena was far beyond anything she had imagined.
It was the first time she had used her human disguise. Before, she had simply remained invisible in a corner. With a snap of her fingers, her white tunic was replaced by a red dress Kara believed fit the event’s dress code, her blonde hair pulled into an elegant bun with a few loose strands framing her face, and as a finishing touch, square glasses appeared on her nose (Winn had once said humans with glasses tended to go unnoticed more easily).
The grand Luthor Corp charity event was crowded. Small groups of people wearing sparkling dresses and impeccable suits were scattered throughout the hall, talking about all sorts of things Kara had absolutely no interest in. She stood there in the middle of it all pretending to study the red cylindrical sculpture on the wall while searching for Lena among the crowd.
Her eyes found her within seconds. Lena stood on the opposite side of the room.
She looked beautiful. But that wasn’t exactly news to Kara. Still, there was something different about seeing her outside the comfort of her laboratory, away from its closed doors. The long black dress hugged every curve of her body, perfectly outlining her silhouette. Her black hair flowed freely down her back, falling in soft waves over her bare shoulders, and her eyes — green like the densest forests — swept across the room with a mixture of boredom and practiced politeness.
Lena was trapped in an endless conversation with an older man who laughed far too loudly at his own jokes. She smiled politely and swirled her glass in small circles.
Kara pushed her glasses higher on her nose and allowed herself to watch for a few more minutes.
Her stomach growled softly. Human form came with those small inconveniences, Kara already knew that much — hunger, and the occasional urgent need to use the bathroom. She had expected something like that, but not so soon.
It was rather inconvenient and treacherous.
A waiter passed beside her carrying a silver tray. On top of it, small golden pieces of dough rested inside a bamboo basket, releasing fragrant steam that caught Kara’s attention like prey falling into a predator’s trap.
What was that?
The waiter noticed her stare and offered a professional smile.
“Potstickers, ma’am. Pork and cabbage. Would you like to try one?”
Kara should have said no. She should have politely shaken her head and turned her attention back to Lena. She was working. It was a mission. Unofficial. Unauthorized. But still a mission.
“It would be rude to refuse,” she heard herself say.
The waiter raised an eyebrow but extended the tray.
She picked one up with her fingers — warm, soft, and oily — and took a bite.
The delicate dough broke apart beneath her teeth, releasing hot, savory broth. The slightly caramelized texture blended with the crispness of the pork and the softness of the cooked cabbage, combining into a rich flavor that nearly made Kara roll her eyes from the sensation. Humans ate this every day?
She grabbed another. And another. The third disappeared before she could properly savor it, so she took a fourth.
The waiter hesitated, glancing at the tray, now noticeably emptier.
“Would you like me to bring more?”
Kara opened her mouth to answer — or rather, to ask him to bring an entire new basket and perhaps explain where these wonderful little things came from — but with her mouth stuffed full of dough and filling, all that came out was a muffled grunt.
She tried to chew faster and swallow, but then her expression froze for a moment and Kara felt her heart race.
Lena Luthor was standing less than three meters away, looking directly at her. The man from earlier had disappeared; she stood alone in the corner, swirling her glass with long fingers, her body slightly leaned against the wall. She was watching Kara. And a small smile rested on her lips.
Before Kara could think of anything, Lena approached her.
“The potstickers really are good,” she said, breaking the silence. Her voice sounded softer than Kara had expected. “I noticed you liked them. If you want, I can ask them to pack some for your trip.”
Kara swallowed everything in her mouth without properly chewing and nearly choked. Lena raised an eyebrow.
“Thank you very much, but I’m already satisfied,” she replied, her voice sounding a little strange. A small cough caught in her throat — a piece of dough refusing to go down. Kara thumped her chest with a closed fist.
“Are you alright?” Lena took a step closer, then another. Now they were less than a meter apart. Her distinct perfume reached Kara’s senses, a striking floral amber note. “Looks like the potsticker won.”
“I won,” Kara replied, her voice still slightly hoarse but clear nonetheless. “It was close, but I won.”
Lena laughed. It was a low laugh, almost hidden, but it reached Kara’s ears with unmistakable clarity. She stared at her for a moment, analyzing the intriguing woman who had emptied an entire tray of potstickers.
“You’re not actually here for the event, are you?”
Kara blinked.
“I am. The art is very round. Very red. It’s art.” Kara pointed to the sculpture she had been staring at minutes earlier.
“You mean the fire extinguisher?”
Kara turned her head. Hm. So that wasn’t one of the pieces being auctioned.
“I enjoy admiring contemporary art.”
Kara expected Lena to walk away after her ridiculous behavior.
But Lena laughed. And Kara felt her human heart do something strange inside her chest. Mortals were so weird.
“Do you have a name?” Lena ran her fingers along the rim of her glass. “Or should I call you the fire extinguisher admirer?”
Kara opened her mouth. She couldn’t give her real name, but her mouth moved faster than her thoughts.
“My name is Kara.”
Lena extended her hand. Kara took it with fingers that were almost trembling from the situation. The contact sent a shiver down her spine.
“I’m Lena.”
I know who you are, Kara wanted to say, but maybe Lena would think she meant it for another reason. Lena was a Luthor and the host of the event. Lena would never understand what Kara truly meant. Instead, the cupid simply smiled.
Later, when she returned to the celestial plane, trying to avoid Alex as much as possible, Lena’s smile still lingered in her mind. The image of her green eyes watching her followed Kara even in her rest.
A few months later, Kara received a scroll in her hands to unite two souls, just like all the others she had already united.
When she read the names written side by side, a sigh escaped her l
ips and her heart quickened in her chest.
Lena Luthor and Jack Spheer.