Work Text:
The air in L-Corp’s penthouse office was approximately 90% germ particles, 9% desperation, and 1% Lena Luthor’s sheer, stubborn refusal to die.
Kara Danvers stepped out of the private elevator, her Super-hearing instantly locking onto a sound that resembled a dying blender.
"Lena," Kara said, crossing her arms as she approached the massive mahogany desk. "That cough sounded like you’re trying to purge your own lungs."
Lena didn’t look up from her tablet. Her skin was a translucent shade of Victorian ghost, her nose was Rudolph-red, and she was wrapped in a designer cashmere scarf like a chic mummy. "I am perfectly fine, Kara. It’s just a mild… localized cellular rebellion."
"You sneezed so hard five minutes ago you cracked your own stylus," Kara pointed out, stepping closer and gently snatching the tablet from Lena’s trembling, pale hands.
"Hey! Proprietary tech!" Lena protested, though her voice lacked its usual bite, sounding more like a squeaky toy. She reached for the tablet, but Kara easily held it aloft. Lena glared, or tried to, but her eyes were too watery to carry any real menace. "Give it back. I have a board meeting in twenty minutes."
"The only thing you're meeting is a pillow," Kara said firmly. She placed a hand against Lena’s forehead and immediately winced. "Oh, Rao. You’re radiating heat. If I drop a kernel of corn on your face, it’ll pop."
"I am a Luthor," Lena sniffled loftily, leaning into the cool touch of Kara's hand despite herself. "We regulate our own body temperature through sheer force of will."
"Right. Well, this Luthor is on official lock-down." Kara scooped up Lena's purse with one hand and offered her other arm. "Come on. We're going to your couch."
"I can walk," Lena muttered, standing up. The room immediately tilted. She stumbled forward, right into Kara’s chest.
Kara caught her easily, wrapping her arms around Lena’s waist. She looked down, a smug, ridiculously cute smirk playing on her lips. "Wow. I knew you liked me, Luthor, but throwing yourself at me just to avoid a spreadsheet? Efficient."
Lena’s face flushed an even deeper shade of crimson—and for once, it wasn’t just the fever. She rested her forehead against Kara’s collarbone for a brief, weak second. "Shut up. You’re soft. Like a giant, blonde teddy bear."
"A teddy bear that is currently kidnapping you," Kara murmured softly, her tone shifting from teasing to incredibly gentle.
Ten minutes later, Lena was effectively paralyzed on her office sofa, buried under three distinct layers of blankets that Kara had somehow manifested out of thin air.
"Comfortable?" Kara asked, reappearing with a steaming mug.
"I am a prisoner in my own citadel," Lena grumbled, though she tracked Kara's movements with rapt attention.
"Drink this." Kara handed over the mug.
Lena took a sip and blinked. "What is this? It tastes like... liquid magic and childhood dreams."
"It's my pot sticker soup broth mixed with a secret Danvers family remedy," Kara said proudly, sitting on the edge of the couch by Lena’s feet. "And by secret family remedy, I mean a metric ton of ginger and a little bit of alien tolerance for spice."
"It's incredible," Lena admitted, her voice growing raspy as the warmth hit her throat. She looked up at Kara through her eyelashes, a sleepy, playful glint in her eyes. "Are you trying to seduce me with soup, Miss Danvers?"
Kara choked on her own saliva, her cheeks turning bright pink. "I—what? No! I am practicing standard caretaking protocols for a stubbornly reckless CEO."
"Mmhmm." Lena leaned her head back against the cushions, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Because taking care of a sick, grumpy woman in a germ-infested office is definitely a platonic chore. You’re a terrible liar, Kara."
"I am a Pulitzer-prize winning journalist, I'll have you know," Kara huffed, though she reached out and gently brushed a stray, sweat-dampened lock of dark hair away from Lena’s forehead. Her thumb lingered for a second on Lena's cheekbone. "And maybe I just don't like seeing you miserable. Plus, you’re cute when your defenses are down."
Lena’s breath hitched slightly at the touch. She leaned into the hand, closing her eyes. "I am a formidable force of nature."
"You're a sick girl who needs a nap," Kara countered softly, her voice dropping an octave. "Sleep, Lena. I’ll be right here when you wake up."
"Promise?" Lena murmured, her eyes already fluttering shut under the weight of the fever and the soup.
"Cross my heart," Kara whispered.
As Lena drifted off, she blindly reached out a hand from beneath the fortress of blankets. Kara smiled, catching Lena's fingers in her own and squeezing gently, perfectly content to play bodyguard to National City's most stubborn patient.
The End.