Chapter Text
It’s a new day. Snow fell at some point in the night, and the quiet of it seems to have suffused the whole city – the usual loud Metropolis sounds seem muted to Lena, scaled back. Cars quietly rumble by far below, pigeons coo softly somewhere on the balcony, and the first sunlight of the day falls on the sprawled form sleeping on their couch.
Not their couch, Lena reminds herself. Not anymore.
Her couch.
With a final, indignant huff, Lena drops the armful of clothes and shoes she’s been holding onto James Olsen’s stupid, cheating face, and he jerks awake with a grunt.
“What – Lena –“ James blinks, frowning up at her against the now-blinding sunlight from the bay windows. “What the hell?”
“Out,” Lena says decisively, and James stares at her for a few seconds before shaking his head.
“Out where?” he asks incredulously, as if somehow this is a surprise, and Lena’s jaw clenches.
“I told you that you could sleep here for a night instead of getting a hotel, and now it’s morning. Out.”
James finally stands, the pile of clothes sliding off of his torso and falling carelessly to the floor. “Lena, this is my apartment too!”
Lena laughs, the sounds jarring in the silence of the penthouse. “Oh? Oh, is it? Because I distinctly remember you moving in with me. Into the apartment that I bought. Just as well as I remember the fact that your entire wardrobe came from my salary. You’re lucky I didn’t burn it all.”
“Baby,” James cajoles, reaching out to her, but Lena shudders, turning on her heel and marching back down the hallway. She rips down a framed photograph of the two of them as she goes – one taken at a gala years ago, and James had insisted on developing and displaying in the house despite the fact that Lena hates the way she looks in it – and tosses it behind her, hearing the satisfying shatter of glass.
“Don’t call me that. How many times have I told you that I hate pet names?” She can hear James struggling into his clothes in the living room, and she rolls her eyes as she rounds the corner into the bedroom, shouting so that he can still hear her barbed insults. “Especially pet names given to me by pathetic men who sleep with their art directors and then try to come home to their girlfriends.”
“I did not sleep with her!” James calls back, and Lena fights the urge to scream in frustration. She rips open the closet, seizing James’ half and throwing all of his freshly pressed shirts onto the hardwood.
“James, I am many things, but ‘idiot’ is not one of them. I’ve been having Eve keep tabs on you.” The pants come next, yanked from their drawers and deposited on top of the shirts.
“Eve? Are you kidding me, you were having me followed?”
“Clearly, it was necessary!”
Lena rips down James’ jackets – the row of fine, expensive, tailored jackets she’d bought him in an attempt to pretend their relationship was working – and, strangely, she doesn’t feel sad. Last night, when she finally confronted James about his infidelity, she had thought her anger would burn away to heartbreak. It must, right? The end of a 5 year relationship should be sad. But strangely, she woke up feeling more relieved than anything else. Kicking him out, getting rid of all his things, feels cathartic.
James’ footsteps follow her down the hall, and he sighs in a condescending way that makes Lena’s skin crawl when he sees the pile of his belongings.
“Lena, can’t we talk about this like adults?”
Well. It isn’t all catharsis.
Lena whirls around, a load of socks scattering across the floor as she drops them and crosses her arms, arching an incredulous brow. Anger still burns in her gut – not anger about breaking up, necessarily. Not jealousy or betrayal – mostly, she feels angry that she had been so stupid. That she spent so long convincing herself that this could work, and he went and did the most idiotic, base, male thing he possibly could, and made her look like an idiot.
That anger must show in her face, because James visibly swallows.
“Talk about what?” Lena says coolly. “Talk about the fact that you cheated on me? About the fact that you’ve been cheating on me for god only knows how long, and apparently all your friends encouraged it? Do you want to talk about how you’ve been belittling and holding me back for as long as we’ve been together?” James looks taken aback be Lena’s sudden ferocity, but Lena is far from finished.
“I wasted years on you, James. Years! I spent so long trying to force myself into the little box of your perfect girlfriend, and I just never fit, did I?”
“My box? Do you have any idea how difficult it is trying to look good next to perfect genius Lena Luthor? How hard it is to feel like a man when I’m being called your sidekick?” James says venomously, and Lena scoffs.
“It is not my job to make inferior men feel good about themselves. I’m not here to fluff your ego.”
“Look, we’ve been having problems, sure, but if you just worked a little less -” James starts, and Lena lets out a laugh that’s almost deranged.
“If I worked a little less? You constantly tell me I work too much, but when you work late nights and early mornings to have more time to fuck your subordinates, it’s because ‘the news never sleeps, Lena’!”
“I did not sleep with – look, I’m not the one with the working problem!” James says, his deep voice clearly raised in frustration, “You work 100 hour weeks sometimes – you bought out the apartment below us to make a home lab, and you sleep with your phone in your hand! And don’t even talk to me about sex, because I can’t remember the last time we had it!”
“Who has time for sex?” Lena scoffs, and James’ jaw twitches.
Truth be told, the best development in their relationship has been the lack of sex, in Lena’s opinion. It’s something she’s always tolerated rather than enjoyed, with all of her exes – quite honestly, she feels more when her assistant brushes her arm accidentally than she does when James has his hands on her body.
But she cuts that thought off at the root, and tucks it into a tidy box in the back of her mind. No need to open that can of worms right now.
“Some people do,” James mutters lowly, and the anger that’s been simmering in Lena’s gut finally boils over.
“God. You absolutely slept with her! You need to go.” Lena marches back down the hall, emerging into the living room and heading to the door with determination. “I think it’s time we both admit that this never really worked. I think you loved the idea of you and me together, but not me. Not really.”
James follows her down the hall, protesting all the way as Lena grabs his keys from the front table. Technically their apartment doesn't have a physical key, but the balcony does, and she twists on the keyring until that key pops from it, throwing the rest at James. It feels final, physical, and James catches them, not seeming to notice the change.
“I did the best that I could,” he argues, shoving the keys into his pocket.
Lena scoffs, grabbing his wallet from beside the key bowl and thrusting it at his chest. Then, throwing the door open, she gestures out to the hallway emphatically. For the first time since last night, James seems to realize the reality of the situation and he blanches, wallet still in hand.
“What? My stuff –“ he looks back in the direction of the bedroom, and Lena shakes her head.
“I will send your things to you.”
They exist in a silent standoff for a few moments, Lena fully dressed and James still barefoot in his wrinkled shirt, until finally with a sour look James trudges out to the hall. Before Lena can close the door he turns back around and stops it, an infuriating look of concern on his face.
“You know you do this, right?”
“Do what?” Lena sighs, the absolute exhaustion of the fighting starting to wear on her patience.
“You screw up every relationship you've ever been in. It's what you do. You didn't really want to be a couple!” he argues, and Lena pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to counteract the throbbing headache she can feel coming on.
“Clearly, even after 4 years of living together, you know nothing about me.”
“You resist it in your own way!” James continues, ignoring Lena’s interjection. “And it's hard to detect how you even do it, because nobody's quite as smart as you. So you're hard to catch at it - but it always surfaces, and this is what happens.”
“What happens?” Lena knows she shouldn’t take the bait, she knows it, but she can’t help but want to know the details of James’ last-ditch psychoanalysis.
“You push people away. Things end. Just like you knew they would. Lena, you know how I feel about you. You just don't want to be what I need.”
James seems to realize, microseconds after the words leave his mouth, that he just uttered possibly the worst argument he could have hit on in a fight against Lena.
“What you need?” she says, her voice quiet and dangerous. “And that’s what, exactly? An obedient wife? An ATM?”
“Well, that’s not – I didn’t mean –“
“You know, I would never cheat on you,” Lena continues, and the derision practically drips from her tone. “Not under any conditions.”
There’s finality in her words, and at last James seems to accept that he’s lost the battle. His face turns hard again, and he finally admits what Lena has known to be true for over a week.
“Can you blame me? Look at you - you're the only woman on the face of the earth who breaks up with her boyfriend and doesn't even shed a tear. That has to mean something, right?”
Lena shakes her head at the attempt. “Why does it bother you so much that I can’t cry?”
“Because it’s pathological!” James argues, and Lena can feel the words wrap around her chest and squeeze. James might be a cheating bastard, but he knows her well enough to know where her insecurities lie. “You’re cold, and honestly if this is your idea of love, you can’t blame me for sleeping with –“
It’s too much. All of it – the last 5 wasted years of her life, the stress, the anger, James refusing to leave – something inside her snaps, and she does the only thing she can think of to make him shut up.
She winds her arm back, and slaps him in the face.
He looks about as shocked as she feels by the uncharacteristic break of decorum. The hand that was holding the door finally lets go, moving to grasp at his now-reddened face, and he gapes at her.
“Lena –“
“Goodbye, James.”
With a blessed feeling of finality Lena slams the door closed, and locks it.
She leans back against it, passing a shaky and still-stinging hand over her face and feeling the stress of the last few days slowly ease. There are still a hundred things to do – gather all of his stuff, somehow get it to him, get him removed from the security list of people allowed into the building – but the worst of it is over.
Punching in Sam’s number and kicking at a stray ball of James’ socks that somehow made their way into the entryway, she heads back to the bedroom to get started. Sam picks up on the third ring, sounding harried.
“Hey hon, I’m just on my way to Ruby’s soccer game and I’m bringing snacks this week so if I could call you back –“
Lena interrupts, trying to keep her voice even. “That’s fine, Sam. After the game, could you come over?”
Sam pauses, and her voice softens. “Hey. What’s up? What do you need?”
“I just need some company,” Lena says, and Sam, bless her, jumps immediately into Friend Mode.
“What kind of company? Should I bring wine, or ice cream?”
“The ‘James and I just broke up’ kind of company,” Lena sighs, and the ecstatic yell that Sam lets out almost shatters Lena’s eardrum, but in the end she shows up 40 minutes later with a bottle of wine in each hand.
“Sam, it’s 10 in the morning.”
“It’s a celebration,” Sam deadpans, and Lena closes the door behind her with a soft chuckle. Just her best friend’s presence is already making her feel better, and she has to admit, the wine will probably help too. Sam digs in her kitchen drawers for a corkscrew and Lena falls back onto the couch, feeling like she’s run an emotional marathon in the last 3 hours.
“Sam, am I…cold?” Lena asks tentatively.
“What?” Sam fires back, pouring two over-full glasses of red and handing one to Lena before joining her on the sofa, long legs folded underneath her. “Of course not. Did James say that?”
“Yes. Because I didn’t cry.”
Sam scoffs. “James is an idiot, I’ve been saying that for years. He was never good enough for you.”
Lena sighs. “He seemed so…kind, at first. Understanding. He was the only person who didn’t seem intimidated by who I was. But apparently, he’s been resentful of it for years. It just built and built until we both exploded. In the end, neither of us were our best selves when we were together.”
“That’s because, as previously stated, he is an idiot.”
Lena laughs, grateful for the outsider opinion, even if it’s one that’s openly disliked James for a long while. It’s good to just hang out with Sam – neither of them in work mode, no boyfriend monopolizing her attention.
It’s started snowing again, and Lena takes a deep drink of wine as she watches the flakes fall and realizes what this – breaking up with James, just before the holidays – means. Their shared friends will likely take James’ side, and her own family wants as little to do with her at Christmas as they do the rest of the year. Sam has Ruby, and Lena is likely going to be going back to spending holidays at her desk. She feels a longing, suddenly, sharp and acute, to not be alone for once.
“Look, can we just – take off, for a few weeks?” Lena says suddenly, and Sam chokes on her wine.
“Excuse me?” Sam looks at Lena like she’s suddenly grown an extra limb, and Lena shifts uncomfortably.
“I need to get out of town. Like…a holiday.”
Sam blinks at her, shock on every inch of her face. “You always say this is one of the busiest times of year for L-Corp! Neither of us ever takes more than a few days in December. And besides, I can’t just leave Ruby.”
Lena sighs, feeling the sudden burst of longing deflate with the introduction of cold reality. “Of course. Yes, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were thinking you need a break. And you were right.”
Confused at the about-face of Sam’s opinion, Lena frowns. “No, you were right. I can’t just take off.”
Sam nods, looking into the distance and seeming more and more on board with Lena’s spontaneous idea. “I can handle things at L-Corp for a few weeks. You’re right – you haven’t taken vacation time in all the time I’ve known you. This is a great reason to disappear for a while!”
“It was a bad idea,” Lena argues, feeling strange at the 180-turn their conversation has taken. “Besides, where would I even go?”
“Anywhere!” Sam exclaims, her wine almost spilling with her gesticulation. “You have more money than God. You can literally go anywhere.”
Finally and after a great deal of protest Sam leaves to pick Ruby up, insisting that Lena reconsider and take a vacation, until Lena finally closes the door on her mid-sentence.
And even then, she’s hounded in text form.
Sam Arias [1:46 PM]
Vacation vacation vacation vacation
I’m calling Brenda in HR as we speak and booking your time off starting tomorrow
Go somewhere warm
Lena chuckles at the final message, settling in behind her laptop and opening a search window. Drumming her fingers on the keys, she realizes that she has no idea where to even begin.
“Where do I want to go,” Lena murmurs, tapping out an idle rhythm on the backspace key. “By myself. At Christmas.”
Finally, she starts at the most basic – she types ‘vacation destinations’ into the bar, and hits enter.
The first things that come up are, of course, the opposite of what she wants. Popular beaches, Cancun party resorts, group tours through Europe. The perfect nightmare. Then come the exotic destinations – private islands, 12 bedroom villas in Bali. The pictures are beautiful, but all she can think about is how lonely they would be. And that’s the point of this venture, isn’t it? To escape the loneliness?
She’s about ready to throw in the towel when, a few hits down, something catches her eye. ‘Vacation rentals’.
Clicking through, she’s greeted with a few sample places. Just houses – ordinary houses, in random towns all over the world. Little pieces of normalcy.
“I could do that. Hole up in a little place somewhere, disappear for a few weeks…” she mutters, clicking the link. A thousand things run through her head – security, privacy, common sense – but she feels like she’s fallen down the rabbit hole, enamored by the idea of hiding away in a sweet little house somewhere far away.
The screen reads ‘choose a city’, and the top ten list appears in order. Paris, London, Rome, Metropolis –
National City?
She clicks it, suddenly interested. She’s been planning a westward expansion for L-Corp, the idea being to move a new headquarters there in a few years to escape the last vestiges of her mother’s reign as CEO. National City is the most promising site. This could be a work-cation – a trial run to see how she likes the area. The justification warms her to the idea even more, and she clicks the third house on the list, her interest piqued by the pool in the photo.
It’s not a mansion, certainly. The square footage is less than her apartment, even with its second floor. But it’s clean, modern-looking inside but rustic outside, tucked away in a small town called Midvale an hour from the city. It has a well-kept yard and vegetable garden, a small pool, a privacy fence, and is probably the last place people would expect to see Lena Luthor. Not a single person who might recognize her on sight.
It’s perfect. Now, she just needs to hope that the owner is willing to give up the house on short notice. Tentatively, she hits the ‘book now’ button, and a chat window pops up.
Live chat. How very 1997.
Suddenly fraught with nerves, Lena types out a simple message.
I'm interested in renting your house.
She hits enter without thinking, and abruptly realizes how strange a message that must be out of nowhere. She hurriedly types a second one with a bit more detail, sending it with slightly more forethought.
[L.L.]: I should say - I'm wondering if your house is available for rental this Christmas. If it is, you could be a real lifesaver.
There’s no response for about 5 minutes, during which Lena tries very very hard to remain still and patient.
Don’t send a third message. You’ll sound desperate. Wait until they respond. Wait until –
She fails against her own impatience, in the end.
[L.L.]: I know it's ridiculously late to be asking, but if you're at all interested, please contact me.
Her third message has a tinge of plea about it, she knows, but for some reason she’s become fixated on this little house, and she can’t let the oppourtunity pass her by. To her intense relief, the answer comes only a few moments later.
[A.D.]: I'm very interested, but the house is really only available for home exchange.
Deflating slightly, Lena frowns. She can guess from context what that means, but she asks for clarification anyways.
[L.L.]: Home exchange. What is that?
[A.D.]: I haven't done it before, but friends of mine have. You switch houses, cars, everything. Still interested? I know it comes off as a little strange.
Relieved at the fact that this mystery person seems just as unsure as she is, Lena responds.
[L.L.]: Tentatively. Are you willing do go through a basic background check?
[A.D.]: Absolutely. I wouldn’t expect any less. Where are you?
Lena finds herself liking this person, despite only having exchanged a few messages. She’s direct, and hasn’t expressed any outright derision at being bothered a week before Christmas to switch her entire life around at the whim of a stranger.
[L.L.]: Metropolis.
[A.D.]: I’ve always wanted to see the big city.
Lena grins.
[L.L.]: I’ve always thought that National City was the ‘big city’.
[A.D.]: Grass is always greener, right?
There’s a pause, and Lena isn’t exactly sure where to go from here. She’s not even very good at making casual friendly conversation in person, let alone online. Thankfully, the person on the other end seems to pick up the slack.
[A.D.]: I'm Alex, by the way. Alexandra Danvers. I'm very normal. Neat freak. Healthy. Non-smoker. Single.
There’s something in the way the message reads – the way single is tacked on at the end, almost left out – that gives Lena a feeling of kinship with this woman.
She sounds no-nonsense. Maybe military?
Lena shrugs, typing out her own description and conveniently leaving out how she really feels. “Loner, loser and complicated wreck,” she mutters, but her fingers type something much more convincingly wholesome.
[L.L.]: I’m Lena. Also normal. Nonsmoker, but I enjoy a good scotch. I work…
She pauses, unsure how to phrase her work without revealing herself. She settles on “in tech”, and this Alex woman seems to take it at face value.
[L.L.]: I must say, your house looks idyllic. Just what I need.
[A.D.]: Really? What does your place look like?
They exchange house photos and descriptions, and finally, they come to an agreement. Alexandra Danvers seems alarmingly willing to switch houses with only a day’s notice, but Lena is approaching the point of not caring – as long as it gets her out of this apartment for a few weeks, she’s willing to take a leap. Finally, Lena asks the final – and, if she’s being honest, the most important - question that she needs to make her decision.
[L.L.]: Are there any men in your town?
There’s a pause. Then three dots flash, hesitating before finally –
[A.D.]: NONE.
Lena’s shoulders relax, relieving tension she hadn’t been aware of carrying.
Decision made.
[L.L.]: In that case, I look forward to reading your security brief.
Across the country, Alex Danvers sighs in relief.
“Miss? You’re cleared to go through.”
The security officer hands her passport back, and Alex startles herself out of her reverie.
“Thanks,” Alex mutters, shoving the passport into her bag and hustling towards the exit. One of the benefits to working for the Federal Bureau of Investigation is that she gets through domestic airport security in a flash, and she’s outside at the cab stands within 10 minutes of leaving the plane.
A blast of chilly air hits her when the automatic doors slide open, and she flags down the first cab she sees, sending a ‘I did something crazy, call me back’ text to Kara as the driver puts her bags into the trunk. She’d called her sister yesterday when she booked the plane ticket, but she hadn’t picked up, and now she’s starting to feel apprehensive about what she’s gotten herself into. This city is huge and unfamiliar, and it’s strange but she wasn’t expecting it to be...winter. Like, properly winter - snow on the ground, chilling breezes, bare trees winter. She definitely did not pack warmly enough.
“Where to?” The driver asks once she’s settled in the backseat, and Alex rattles off the address Lena sent her yesterday. The man looks surprised, looking her up and down with an air of doubt, but in the end he agrees and they pull onto the freeway, headed into the city.
Cars and buildings flash by, and Alex’s breath fogs the window as she thinks about how on earth she got to this point.
When she initially signed her home up for this ‘house swap’ thing, it was a passing fancy. She and Maggie had actually decided on it together, thinking it could make for an interesting, cheap holiday.
Now, with their engagement broken off and her future plans in shambles, she had understandably forgotten about it.
But when Lena messaged her asking if the house was still available on short notice and revealed that she lived, of all places, in Metropolis, the city Alex has been seriously considering moving to ever since the breakup 2 years ago – well, it felt a little bit like fate. Metropolis could be a fresh start, a new city on the other side of the country where there are no memories of their relationship to haunt her. Where Maggie can’t turn up with a Hanukkah gift out of nowhere and tug on Alex’s heartstrings as if they’re still a couple.
She and Maggie had, by all accounts, a fairly amicable breakup. They loved each other, but they wanted different things - their views on life, on kids, on the future, none of them lined up. But Alex would have preferred if they had screamed and shouted – because this, the strange limbo they exist in now where they still talk all the time but Maggie is seeing someone else and Alex’s heart gets pulverized every time she’s reminded that they are not together anymore – is unequivocally worse.
Maggie initiated it, sure – she’d been the one to say we’re just a square peg and a round hole, Danvers – but Alex knows it was for the best. She keeps telling herself that – for the best, for the best, for the best – but it doesn’t stop her heart from aching every time Maggie calls and acts like they can just go back to being the friends they were before they got together.
And, right on time, Alex’s phone lights up with a notification.
Maggie Sawyer [11:49 AM]
Heard you jetted off to the big city. First vacation in 4 years – congrats. Can I call you later?
Alex heaves a huge, shaky sigh. The temptation to give in, to continue the conversation just to keep Maggie in her life, is strong. But she came here to get away. To finally pull the last vestiges of Maggie from her heart, and start to move on.
And, possibly, to find out if she can make a home here, far away from her past.
With unsteady hands, she punches out a reply.
Maggie…I think we both know that I need to fall out of love with you. Would be great if you could let me try.
She sends it off, wiping at her damp eyes, just as the cab rolls to a stop. She busies herself with getting out of the car, the driver helping her with her bag, and it isn’t until he’s pulled away that she finally gets a good look at the building – the very tall, absurdly beautiful skyscraper that Lena apparently lives in.
This can’t be the right place.
Tentatively she heads towards the doors, her bag rolling noisily behind her, but they swing inwards before she can grab the handle. Inside there’s a doorman who tips his hat, and Alex nods awkwardly back while she tries not to gape at the opulent lobby. It’s all echoing marble floors and high ceilings and furniture that looks like it’s never been touched, and behind a huge desk there’s a well-dressed man typing into a serious-looking computer system.
“Um. Excuse me?” Alex asks, and the man looks up promptly.
“Yes? How may I help you, Miss –?“
“Danvers,” she answers, pulling out her phone to read the instructions Lena sent. “I’m, uh…staying with Lena? She said –“
“Ah!” the man smiles, and types something into his computer. “Of course, Miss Danvers. I’ll just need to see some government issued photo identification, and I’ll need to take your fingerprints and retina scan.”
Alex blinks. She starts to dig through her bag for her ID, and the absurdity of the request still has her reeling.
“My retina – this place has biometric locks?” She hands over her passport, and the man nods, flipping it open and onto a scanner.
“Miss Luthor has our highest security package. Only two people besides herself have access, and one was actually just removed yesterday.”
Jesus. Who is this woman, the president?
When she finally gets access, the biometric lock accepting her fingerprint and scan before the elevator door even opens on the top floor, she breathes a sigh of relief. Lena’s house is surprisingly, wonderfully bare of Christmas decorations. Alex has no ill will to the holiday as a whole, but it’s exhausting being bombarded with it at every turn, and her house is usually a bit of a reprieve – it’s nice to know that these two weeks won’t be any different.
In fact, the house is bare of any personal touches at all, Alex finally notices. The walls house tasteful art, and there are no framed photos around. The hallway is bare, but judging by the nails still embedded in the walls, it’s a recent development. There isn’t a single photograph of a human being displayed in the whole house, and it makes the space feel almost like a hotel room. A bare, well-decorated impersonal space.
She doesn’t even know what Lena looks like.
What she does know, though, is that she’s clearly fucking loaded. Every inch of the apartment screams money – it’s not overly flashy, besides the building it’s housed in, but everything is high quality and expertly picked. The kitchen is cavernous and full of shiny equipment that looks barely-used, and there’s dust on the remote for the frankly huge TV in the living room. The floor-to-ceiling windows by the balcony show a stunning view of the skyline, even in the daytime.
It seems like the kind of place that nobody can actually afford in real life.
Alex ran Lena’s background check through the bureau before she left, and nothing too out of the ordinary came up – she’s in a high tax bracket, sure, and has a brother who was arrested for tax fraud and embezzlement – but after seeing the ‘clear’ indication on the file, Alex didn’t really bother reading it. She just wanted to get out of town, and she doesn’t need to know this woman’s life story to stay in her house.
Now, though, she wishes she had flipped through it a little more thoroughly.
The apartment – if it can even be called that, seeing as it’s considerably larger than Alex’s house – seems to go on forever, door after door. She finds two bathrooms, an exercise room, and an office full of packed boxes before she even reaches the end of the hall. The second-from-last door looks to be yet another office, this time with no boxes – instead it’s full to the brim with computers and pell-mell bits of machinery and technology, scattered across a huge L-shaped desk.
As she pokes around, something tugs at the back of her brain – recognition of some kind. The state-of-the-art security, the tech, the name, Luthor – Lena Luthor –
Alex’s eyes land on a tiny remote-shaped object, with a logo emblazoned on the side. A bold L, with smaller letters underneath. She recognizes the logo easily - most people now own something made by L-Corp, since they had a bit of a comeback a few years ago and made their stuff affordable - but this room is littered with company-branded tech. And most of it, Alex doesn’t recognize.
It brings something into her memory – she can remember reading a headline a while back about L-Corp. Something about a shake-up in leadership, an arrest – a name change.
With a lightning bolt of clarity, Alex suddenly remembers.
It used to be called Luthor Corp. Lena Luthor.
Holy shit.
Somehow, through some strange twist of fate, she’s staying in the penthouse apartment of the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. One of the biggest, in fact – L-Corp is the leading name in medical and environmental science, and one of the few companies Alex knows of that usually comes out of FBI investigations fairly clean, at least in recent years.
And Lena Luthor is now living in her tiny house in National City.
Alex fights the sudden urge to message Lena and apologize.
I really should have read that background check. Or…googled. Some FBI agent I am.
Trying to calm down her almost-panic attack, Alex takes a deep breath and closes the door to the office, turning towards the final door at the end of the hall.
Of course, the bedroom is just as luxe as the rest of the apartment.
The curtains are black-out, the bed is like a cloud, and there’s a secondary door that probably leads to an amazing bathroom. She can’t help but feel sorry for Lena, going from this ultra-modern space to her own modest house, but she’s here to relax – and, she thinks as she opens the bathroom door to reveal a goddamn hot tub sunken into the marble tile, that’s going to be pretty damn easy.
After a long, hot soak and a few minutes flipping through Lena’s vast array of channels (how does a CEO even have time to watch TV? It isn’t possible), Alex is just starting to actually relax when a loud, obnoxious buzzing comes from somewhere near the front door, and she almost jumps out of her skin.
“Shit!” she curses, berating herself for being so jumpy. She throws the remote onto the coffee table and jogs to the source of the noise – a small intercom system next to the light switch.
Unfortunately, said intercom has approximately 20 unlabeled buttons, and she has no idea which one to press.
She tries the first three in succession, talking into what looks like a microphone. “Hello? Uh…is this…can you hear me?”
There’s no answer, just more buzzing, and Alex curses again. Finally, on button number 8, a voice comes through the speaker.
“Miss Danvers? There’s a Miss Arias to see you.”
“A who?” Alex asks, dumbfounded. Nobody knows she’s here – who the hell could this be?
“A Miss Aria-“ There’s a huffy sigh, and a female voice takes over.
“Oh, come on, Leonard, how many times have I been here? Hey, look, I’m Sam Arias. Lena asked me to come and get James’ things?” The voice is pleasant, and Alex finds herself relaxing at the sound of it. But still, she has no idea what either of these people are talking about.
“James?” Alex asks, and Sam clarifies.
“Lena’s ex?”
Oh, shit. Alex vaguely remembers, on the long letter left on the counter, something about an ex boyfriend and someone stopping by to get his stuff - but it had reminded her a little too much of her own situation with Maggie, the one she’s trying to avoid, and she put it aside. Clearly, another bad call.
“Oh, right, uh - hold on - shit -“ Alex fumbles with the rest of the buttons, and there’s a laugh on the other end. Alex winces.
“Did you hear - sorry, hold on - god damn it -“ Finally she seems to hit the right button, and there’s a decisive sound from the speaker.
“I’ll be up in a sec!”
True to her word, Sam is at the door only a few minutes later, and Alex has to use all of her government training not to let her jaw drop when she steps into the apartment.
Do all of Lena’s friends look like they just walked off a runway?
“Sorry – I figured I would buzz up instead of just waltzing in the way I usually do, since you don’t know me. I didn’t think about the fact that you wouldn’t know how to use Lena’s ridiculous security system,” Sam says easily, holding out a hand to shake. Alex takes it in her own sweaty one, feeling more and more tongue-tied by the second.
“I – yeah, I mean, it’s fine. It’s my fault for swapping houses with a rocket scientist, right?” Alex jokes, and Sam laughs at it, and oh no. She’s so cute.
She helps Sam drag a few bags of clothes and an electronics bag to the hallway, and leans against the doorframe in a way she hopes is casual.
“So, um…is this it, or are you going to have to – ow, FUCK –“ her miserable attempt at flirting is interrupted when she swipes a hand up to her face, and then her left eye is twitching uncontrollably as something gets caught in it.
“Oh, shoot – hold still!“ She hears Sam say, and then warm hands are grasping her chin and Sam’s face is close to hers, her perfume filling Alex’s senses.
“Yeah, you have something in your eyelash. Hold on,” Sam says matter-of-factly, before efficiently fishing out the debris. It’s over in a matter of seconds, the only evidence of the encounter the wateriness of Alex’s eye.
“Uh. Thanks,” Alex stammers, and Sam smiles, hefting one of the bags over her shoulder. “Do you need help with that?”
“Oh, no, I’m fine. I’ll get it all back to King Asshole.”
The unexpected swearing sets something off inside Alex, and she laughs nervously, an harsh braying sound that makes her clap a hand over her mouth, horrified. But Sam just chuckles, ducking her head and looking up through her eyelashes.
“I’ll see you around?” Sam asks, seeming hopeful, and Alex blinks stupidly in her face.
“Yeah.” God, I hope so.
Alex closes the door behind her regretfully, leaning back against it and trying to suss out exactly what’s happening in her chest. It’s unfamiliar, something she hasn’t felt since…well, since Maggie. The very earliest days. And, for the first time in literal years, the thought of Maggie doesn’t send an immediate spike of pain through her gut. A twinge, sure, but it’s dulled.
And…she wants to see Sam again.
Immediately she turns and throws the door open intending to run down to the lobby, only to be faced with Sam standing in the hallway, a surprised look on her face and a hand raised in the knocking position. She’s biting her lip, and she looks a little bit nervous.
“Oh!” Alex says breathlessly. “Hi. Did you forget something?”
Sam grins, and Alex feels it down to her toes.
“I did,” Sam says. “Your number.”
It's been less than a day, but Alex already likes Metropolis.
As the plane gains momentum and pressure assaults her ears, Lena tries to take deep, steady breaths – in through the nose, out through the mouth. In, out. It’s fine. I’m fine. Her knuckles are white on the armrest, and the man across the row in First Class looks at her with some concern.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” Lena grinds out, thankful when the plane starts to even out. As soon as the seatbelt light turns off, she’s ordering several drinks and hoping the fear will ease.
It had been interesting, trying to explain to the front desk manager that a complete stranger would be staying at her place for the next two weeks – but since she owns the building, an understanding was reached fairly quickly. It also helped that, according to the extensive background check that her head of security handed her yesterday, Alexandra Danvers works for the FBI.
The knowledge that Alex works for one of the most secure organizations in the country certainly helped to ease Lena’s anxiety about having a stranger in her house, but her anxiety over flying still persists.
“You know, the seat next to me is free, if it’ll make you feel safer –“ the man starts, his voice taking on a quality that she’s sure he thinks is very smooth, and Lena rolls her eyes.
“I’d honestly rather the plane crashed.”
The man blinks, and then scowls at Lena’s clear dismissal.
“Whatever, bitch…” he mutters, and Lena finds that his ire actually makes her feel better.
That, and the four glasses of whiskey she puts away over the next 6 hours. By the time she’s grabbing her luggage and following the driver she hired to take her to Midvale, the buzz is wearing off, and she winces at the blast of heat that greets her when they leave the airport. She slides into the cool interior of the towncar gratefully, leaning her forehead on the window.
Midvale turns out to be exactly what she thought it would be. It’s just off the freeway, with a quaint little grocery store, one gas station, and a single bar that seems to have patrons even at 2 in the afternoon. The main road is lined with small shops – a hardware store, a movie rental place (really? What year is it?), a barber – and the place she’s heading to is just out of town.
The house itself is exactly like the pictures. It’s a cute little beige stucco on a quiet road, with a wooden gate up to the front porch. Interestingly, it lacks Christmas decorations, both inside and outside – not so much as a stocking adorns the inside of the house. Lena doesn’t have any in her own apartment, but that’s because she’s a Scrooge. Midvale just seems like a Christmas decoration kind of town.
Once she’s tucked her suitcase away in the closet of the small master bedroom, she takes a minute to explore. The upstairs bathroom has a nice clawfoot tub but no shower, and the downstairs bathroom has a standing shower and no tub. There’s a decent kitchen, a nicely decorated hallway – and her earlier question is answered when she enters the cozy sitting room and sees a large menorah in the window. A modest star of David sits on the mantel, and Lena can see a photo of a young dark-haired girl and an older blonde woman – assumedly her mother – at what looks like a bat mitzvah.
“Cute,” Lena mutters, smiling at a 13-year-old Alex grinning at the camera over a huge scroll. She’s not positive, but she’s pretty sure that Hanukkah is about to start. She briefly wonders what could have happened to make Alex leave her family for the holidays and jet off across the country.
Once she’s adequately investigated the house, she decides to venture out into town. She climbs into Alex’s little hatchback and hits the grocery store first, absolutely reveling in not being recognized (although she’s not entirely unnoticed – she stands out a bit in her expensive dress and heels). She wheels her little cart through the narrow aisles, ignoring the voice in her head that reminds her of her strict dietary rules and instead grabbing everything that looks good, and by the time she gets to the cashier the cart is overflowing.
“Having a party?” the woman asks as she scans the items, giving Lena a wink, and Lena chuckles to herself, looking at the selection of wine and cheese and junk food on the conveyor belt.
“Something like that.”
Something like that ends up being Lena in a cotton robe, alone in bed, surrounded by food wrappers and drinking red wine straight from the bottle.
‘Miracle on 34th Street’ plays softly on the TV at the end of the bed, but it’s not holding her attention. She tries reading one of the books she brought with her, one of the novels she bought months ago and hasn’t had any time to read, but she puts it down after only a few minutes. She floats in the pool, goes for a walk around the neighbourhood - she even flips through Alex’s CD collection, having a little private dance party to The Killers. But, nothing helps.
Lena is bored.
She thought that small town would mean cute, charming, relaxing. A place to rest and recharge. And it is all of those things – but there’s also nothing to do. She’s so used to the frantic activity of work and the city, and this is so far outside her comfort zone it’s not funny. Even after the laundry list of activities she did today, somehow, it’s still only 8pm.
By 9, she’s completely ready to call this whole stupid venture a failure and fly back to Metropolis in the morning. She calls Sam, who adamantly refuses to let her entertain the thought, but that might have something to do with the fact that she called Alex ‘super cute’. This whole idea – a vacation, disappearing from the only thing that’s given her any sense of purpose in the last 6 years – was a bad idea. She books herself a plane ticket, and she can just stay in a hotel room so that Alex doesn’t have to fly home.
She goes to sleep that night fully confident in her plan.
And then 2am rolls around, and with it comes a wrench in the gears.
Three loud knocks on the front door have Lena up and out of bed in seconds, already tying the robe around her middle and digging her taser out of her purse. Years of wearing a target on her back has made her prepare for the worst in situations like this, and she descends the stairs with the weapon gripped confidently in her hand.
More knocks resound, louder this time – almost loud enough to shake the windowpanes on either side – and Lena startles a little. Whoever this is, they’re insistent. And strong.
“Aleeeeex, open uuuuuup!”
Lena blinks, stopping dead in the front hall. The voice on the other side of the door is decidedly not what she was expecting – it’s female, for one, and melodic, if slightly too loud. The knocking starts up again, and Lena calls out nervously.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me!” the voice calls unhelpfully, and Lena huffs. “Look, can you open up, please, because I have to pee so bad and I really don’t want to do it on the front porch in front of all your neighbors –“
With a final sigh, Lena wrenches the door open, and ends up with an armful of person as the mystery visitor – who had clearly been leaning on it – lurches forwards. Her taser hits the carpet, and the woman rights herself again, apologizing profusely.
“Shit, sorry Alex, you just took so long and –“ Finally, bright blue eyes track up Lena’s bare legs and robe all the way to her face, widening comically.
“You…are not Alex.”
Lena arches a brow, crossing her arms, and the woman seems to blush.
“Or, uh, if you are, I am…much drunker than I realized.”
That pulls a begrudging chuckle from Lena, and she relaxes slightly. She’s still on guard, but upon inspection, the woman seems harmless enough – in fact, Lena notes as the woman licks her chapped lips, she’s actually pretty. Very pretty. Blonde waves, blue eyes, full lips, an adorable scar between her eyebrows, and what Lena can tell are surprisingly defined shoulders under her fitted blazer.
One might even say she’s hot, if one were so inclined. Which Lena is not.
“I’m really sorry, I wasn’t expecting…you,” the woman stutters, and Lena feels an icy sliver of her heart starting to melt.
“I wasn’t expecting you, either,” Lena admits, allowing a smile.
Kara stares at her for a few seconds more, and then shifts back and forth uncomfortably. “Could I still, uh…” She inclines her head inside, and Lena understands.
“Oh! God. Of course, yes. Come in.” The fact that she’s letting a stranger inside is not lost on her, but the woman seems to know Alex well enough to barge inside as she has, so Lena puts it out of her mind.
She stumbles inside, but instead of immediately taking off her coat, the woman moves a hand towards a small decorative box that Lena hadn’t noticed before, affixed to the wall next to the doorframe. She raises them up to touch it absently and then kisses her fingers, before finally shrugging out of her jacket and throwing it over the couch in a way that’s far too familiar to just be a random neighbor. Clearly this person knows Alex, and Lena relaxes incrementally.
The blonde woman also shrugs her blazer off gratefully, and Lena gets a full glimpse of what’s underneath – a tank top, smooth skin, muscles that literally ripple, how is that even possible, do people actually look like that in real life -
Before she has a chance to fully appreciate the view, the woman has turned back around, a hand outstretched.
“Sorry, I forgot – I’m Kara! Kara Danvers. Alex’s sister.” Kara's handshake is firm, and after it, she twirls on her heel and heads towards the downstairs bathroom.
“Right. I’m staying here while Alex is away, I’m…Lena Luthor.” Lena says it quickly, like ripping off the band-aid, and braces herself for the bomb to hit. For the moment of realization. But, it doesn’t come. Kara just grins at her goofily as she ducks into the washroom.
“Just like that, one word? Lenaluthor?”
Lena exhales in a great whoosh, and all of her tension goes with it. She can hear the muffled noise of contentment behind the door, and it should by all rights be weird but instead it’s just annoyingly endearing.
She catches sight of herself in the hall mirror – her hair is slightly mussed from bed, and her robe is slipping over a shoulder and revealing a distressing amount of skin. She hurriedly fusses with her hair as the toilet flushes and the tap runs, but when she gets to the robe, she hesitates before leaving it as it is.
God, what am I doing?
Kara emerges again, wiping her damp hands on her jeans, and Lena straightens instinctively.
“So, uh…where is Alex?” Kara asks, looking abashed. “She might have told me, but I’ve been – I was - drinking, earlier,” she finishes lamely, and Lena has to suppress a laugh at the tired hand gesture that accompanies it. Kara dips into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water.
“Alex is in Metropolis.”
Kara chokes mid-swig.
“Where?”
“Metropolis. You know, most populous city in the continental U.S.?” Lena jokes, and Kara takes another, slower drink of water. Lena watches her throat bob, her own mouth feels strangely dry.
“I know where it is,“ Kara frowns slowly, looking more and more confused as she wipes water off her face. “It's just that that’s not possible.”
“I assure you, it is.”
“Alex doesn’t go anywhere.”
Lena finally lets out the proper laugh she’s been trying to hide. Kara grins at the sound, and Lena covers her mouth demurely.
“She put this place on a home exchange site. So, we exchanged. She’s staying at my place in Metropolis, and I’m staying here.”
Kara stares at her for a moment, looking doubtful. “Do people actually do that?”
“Apparently,” Lena answers, slightly self-deprecating. Kara nods, seeming to accept that, and sits on the couch. She pats the cushion next to her, and inexplicably, Lena finds herself sitting down.
Kara seems to contemplate something, “Look, I'm sorry about the intrusion. Although I may not appear it, I am, in fact, Alex’s semi-respectable little sister. “
“Semi-respectable?”
“Yes,” Kara grins, and god help her, Lena can feel something. Something in her gut, pulling her towards this woman. It’s perplexing, but somehow intoxicating. “But on the rare occasion that I go for drinks with friends and get a little tipsy, Alex lets me crash so I don't drive home.”
Lena nods, and Kara moves closer as if to hear her better. Their knees brush, and Lena can feel it like a static shock.
“Smart idea. Good sister,” Lena says, fully aware of the nervousness entering her voice. “Are you feeling okay now?”
“Oh, yeah. I was barely buzzed, but I like to be safe,” Kara replies, her fingers tapping a rhythm on the couch cushion. Lena nods, shifting back and forth. “So how's it going so far? I mean, up until I showed up and ruined your night.”
Lena scoffs gently. “It's not going so great, honestly. I'm leaving tomorrow on a noon plane.”
“Oh. When did you get here?”
“Yesterday.”
Kara laughs, loud and genuine. “Wow. We've made a great impression on you, haven't we?”
“No, it's not that,” Lena insists, trying to articulate the strange discomfort she’s felt all day. “It's just that…I'm not quite myself right now. I came here on a stupid whim. Honestly, I've never thought about anything less. It's all very unlike me.”
Kara nods, looking thoughtful and interested and absolutely focused on what Lena is saying. Her face seems close suddenly, overly close - Lena can practically feel the heat coming from her. It’s disconcerting, and Lena stands abruptly, disrupting their little bubble.
“Would you like something to drink? Glass of water? Tea? Wine, maybe?” Lena asks hurriedly.
As if she can sense what Lena is getting at, Kara points to a cabinet next to the kitchen door.
“I think there's a bottle of scotch,” she says, and Lena almost melts in relief.
Thank you, Alex.
Lena pours them both a healthy serving, throws her own back, pours another one, and takes a huge mouthful of the new glass. Kara watches thoughtfully, holding her own but not touching it. Instead, she takes a long swig of her water bottle.
“So, Lena, you're not married, are you?”
Lena, mid-sip, barely keeps herself from choking at the unexpected question.
“Why?” Lena asks, looking down at herself. “Do I look not married?”
Kara blushes fiercely, the red creeping up her shoulders all the way to her forehead as she rubs the back of her neck. “No! No, it was just a backwards way of asking if you were married. Which is a terrible, awkward way of asking if you’re…single.”
Something tightens in Lena’s chest. It’s a strange feeling, wholly unfamiliar, and her voice comes out higher than usual and a tiny bit strangled when she replies.
“No, not at all. Not not single, I’m actually - I mean, no, I'm not married. I’m…single.”
It’s the single worst-constructed sentence that’s ever left her mouth, and she’s wincing before it’s even finished. She can’t look Kara in the eye, see the judgement of her intelligence there, so she busies herself putting the scotch bottle away and brushing imaginary dust from the cabinet.
“Me too,” she hears Kara reply softly, and Lena is pretty sure that at this point she must be able to hear the hammering of her heartbeat. Kara stands, rubbing her hands together, and Lena finally pulls herself together and turns around.
“So…is it okay if I stay?” Kara asks, looking adorably unsure. “I really don’t drive if I’ve had a drink or two, and there aren’t any decent motels around here. I'll be gone before you even wake up. I promise, you’ll never lay eyes on me again.”
A pang of disappointment stabs through Lena’s tense chest at the idea of never seeing Kara again, but she forces herself to nod.
“No, that's fine. Sure. Of course. I mean, it’s your sister’s house,” Lena says, crossing her arms tightly. Kara visibly sags with relief.
“Thank you,” Kara says, as if Lena is doing her some great favour and not simply agreeing to let her sleep on her own sister’s couch.
I guess that’s it, then. We go to sleep, I leave tomorrow. End of story. The thought makes Lena’s chest ache.
“Let me just get you a blanket,” Lena says, more for an excuse to not be looking at Kara anymore than anything else. She turns towards the hall closet on instinct, and Kara calls out to help.
“In the cupboard, on top of the Scrabble.”
Lena grabs a blanket and pillow, replacing the displaced scrabble box, and she can hear Kara rustling around behind her. Probably getting ready for bed. Goosebumps erupt on her arms at the thought, and she can feel the warm buzz of the scotch loosening up her inhibitions.
“So why is it you aren't quite yourself right now?” Kara asks, hanging her coat over the side of an armchair and taking off her shoes. She sets them on the floor under the couch, wiggling her toes into the rug and looking at Lena expectantly as she holds out the blanket.
“Well,” Lena starts, “I just broke up with someone. Yesterday.”
Understanding dawns on Kara’s face. “Ah. So recently single, then.”
Lena nods. “And I guess what I was feeling was that I didn't want to be alone over the holidays, and I thought that if I was somewhere else that I wouldn't realize that I was alone?”
The sympathetic look on Kara’s face seems to loosen something in her brain. All her confusing thoughts spill out, unbidden, and she emotional weight of it is enough to make her sink onto the couch beside Kara.
“But then I got here, and I've never felt more alone in my life,” Lena admits quietly. “Big surprise. Bet you're glad you knocked on this door.”
Her attempt at levity is foiled by Kara, in her infinite empathy.
“I am, actually,” Kara murmurs, her eyes laser-focused on Lena, and another set of unfamiliar feelings assaults her body. Warm tingles erupt throughout her torso and shoot to her pelvis, gathering there and making camp. The eye contact goes on, longer than Lena can handle, and she finally breaks it off by standing up again.
“Yes, well...sorry. And, good night,” Lena says quickly, rubbing at her arms. Kara follows her, standing up and stepping into Lena’s space.
“Sweet dreams,” Kara says, her voice soft - and then, before Lena can process what’s happening, she’s already leaned forward and kissed Lena firmly on the lips.
Something zips through her, then. It’s sudden, and barely-there, but it’s new and good and it seems to be connected to the brief 2-second period when Kara’s lips were on hers.
Kara, on the other hand, looks mortified.
“I am – oh god. I am so sorry. It was – some weird instinct, I didn’t even ask, you’re so pretty and I just –“
The slight buzz from the scotch is making Lena feel warm and brave, and she pushes all other thoughts – thoughts that this is a bad idea, that she can’t do this, the thoughts that were drilled into her for years – and instead focuses on Kara. On her soft lips, and her bright eyes, and the smell of the leather jacket still lingering on her shirt.
Finally, she interrupts Kara’s panicked rant with a torpedo of a sentence.
“Kara, do you think you could...would you mind, trying that again?”
Kara’s embarrassment turns to surprise, and then, clear as day, hunger. She blinks, and at Lena’s even stare, she leans in again with more confidence.
At the first touch of her lips, the feeling comes back, stronger than before – like a previously-dark part of herself is flickering to life, opening up and demanding something. Kara’s tongue brushes her lower lip, and she feels it down to her toes - she pulls back, overwhelmed at the assault of sensation.
Kara’s eyes are wide, the iris almost overtaken by black. There’s a sweet crinkle between her brows, and one pupil is slightly bigger than the other for some reason, and the little imperfect details make Lena’s heart pound all the faster.
“Bad?” Kara asks nervously, and Lena raises a hand, brushing her thumb over Kara’s lips. Kara draws it into her mouth, sucking softly, and the answering throb between Lena’s thighs almost makes her knees give out.
“Weird,” Lena admits, her voice a little hoarse. “Kissing a total stranger. Kissing a woman.”
Kara releases her thumb with a slick pop and kisses the pad, grinning. “Really? I do it all the time.”
Lena laughs breathlessly. She’s probably laughed more in the last 20 minutes than she has in the last 2 years, and Kara does it so effortlessly.
“I’ve only dated men,” Lena admits, feeling suddenly inadequate in the face of Kara’s experience. “I’m not – I didn’t ever let myself consider this.”
“No time like the present, right?” Kara says hopefully, and against all odds, Lena finds herself agreeing.
It’s Lena who leans in, this time. Kara’s mouth opens to her, somehow using the exact right amount of tongue, and her hands tangle in Lena’s hair – and, yes, there go her knees. The sheer sensuality and focus of Kara’s kisses make them weak, and she sinks onto the couch, Kara following without breaking their kiss for a moment.
Kara pulls her closer until Lena is almost in her lap, and Lena loses herself in it. Kara kisses thoroughly, with a single-minded purpose, and her lips drift everywhere – to each of Lena’s eyelids, her cheekbones, her throat - and every single one makes her feel more than James did in 5 years.
“You know, given that I'm in a bit of a personal crisis,” Lena starts, gasping as Kara kisses her way down her throat, “And I find myself in a total stranger's home, in a town that I can't actually remember the name of at the moment, and considering that you showed up and you're…just…insanely good-looking and really drunk –“
“I’m not drunk,” Kara mumbles into her neck.
“- and probably won't remember me anyway,” Lena persists, needing the lie, needing that perception of a no-strings arrangement, “I'm thinking we should have sex. If you want.”
Kara freezes, pulling back from nibbling at Lena’s ear and looking at her incredulously.
“Is that…a trick question?” Kara asks, and Lena laughs for what feels like the hundredth time.
“No, I'm serious. And not that this matters, but I've never said anything like that in my entire life before,” Lena says, her hands nervously smoothing up and down Kara’s arms, over her shoulders, feeling the muscle and soft skin. “It's just that this whole knowing that I'll never see you again thing, that you have no idea who I am, and this won’t ever leave this place – it’s kind of exciting.”
Kara nods, her hands still on Lena’s hips. Her eyes look a little hazy, focused on Lena’s mouth, but Lena can’t seem to stop talking.
“I mean, this is what a vacation's supposed to be, right? You're supposed to vacate your life, do the unexpected, and you are…definitely unexpected,” Lena finishes, and Kara nods again.
“So, do me, right?” Kara grins, and Lena laughs, pushing playfully at her shoulders.
“God, and you're funny, which is a bonus. Nobody makes me laugh that easily.”
“Yeah?” Kara asks brightly, and Lena slides her hands up that strong neck, cupping her jaw.
“Yes.”
“Never meet me when I'm sober,” Kara whispers.
“Deal.”
It’s hard to tell who leans in first on the third run. But inevitably they crash together again, and Kara pulls Lena fully into her lap. Something about this feels right, feels natural in a way she wasn’t expecting. There’s no stubble, no harsh cologne or big, pushy hands or insistent tongues. Just Kara, lean and firm, and her clean, fresh smell and soft skin and skilled mouth, god, so skilled that Lena’s toes are curling already –
Lena has no idea how she’s measuring up.
With that startling thought, Lena pulls back again, Kara chasing her lips absently before she realizes that Lena is looking at her intently. The burn of arousal is almost distracting enough to erase her self-doubt. But not quite.
“I should warn you. I'm not very good at this,” Lena says matter-of-factly, and Kara blinks slowly.
“This, being?” Kara asks, and Lena takes a deep breath.
“Sex.”
It’s Kara who laughs this time. “Okay, now that cannot be true,” she says, pulling Lena closer, but Lena can hear James in her head – you know, it’d be nice if you tried, Lena – some people do –
Her hands clench in the fabric of Kara’s tank top.
“Well, the guy that I lived with mentioned it once or twice, and a girl does not forget a comment like that. Not even me,” Lena admits. Kara looks so concerned, and the thoughts just keep spilling out. “Add that on top of never being with a woman, and, oh god, what am I doing?”
“Lena, you’re not –“
Before she can try to reassure, Lena cuts Kara off with another kiss. That new feeling hasn’t gone away – in fact it’s stronger, with Kara’s hands gripping her thighs and Lena’s centre grinding slowly into her lap, and Lena is so close to absolutely losing herself in it –
She pulls away, hating herself even as the words leave her mouth.
“I mean, how bad could I be?” Lena rambles, her hips still moving and making her voice breathy. “I figured out three PhDs - sex has to be pretty basic, right?”
Kara laughs incredulously, her hands planted firmly on Lena’s ass. Lena chuckles and lets her forehead fall forward onto Kara’s shoulder, acknowledging the strangeness of the situation.
“Am I pretty much talking you out of this?”
Kara’s arms tighten around her, and she nuzzles into Lena’s neck. The softness of it adds a new dimension, something Lena isn’t quite sure how to process.
“Strangely, not at all. In fact, you’re becoming easily one of the most interesting women I’ve ever met,” Kara counters, and Lena scoffs.
“You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not!” Kara insists, and she shifts until Lena has to raise her head and meet her eyes dead-on. “Look, if you wanted to just forget this and go to sleep, that’s okay. Or if you just want to talk. I mean, 3 PhDs, honestly, I’m a little turned on by that –“
Laughing, Lena pushes Kara down onto her back on the couch, and she decides that talking is done for the night. Kara’s hands slip under her robe and the voices in her head finally go quiet, chased away by long, calloused fingers.
It’s something else entirely, what Kara makes her feel. Lena has already come twice before they even make it to the bedroom, Kara seems to have no qualms about taking their decidedly R-rated activities to her sister’s bed. She just pins Lena’s hips to the mattress, wiggles down between Lena’s spread legs, and gets to work on making her forget every single person who’s ever gone down on her before.
By the time she finally succumbs to sleep, sprawled on her stomach after a particularly spirited round of Kara driving into her from behind with piston-like precision, she doesn’t even have enough mental capacity left to consider the fact that she’s falling asleep next to someone she met less than 3 hours ago.
Lena wakes up warm, slightly sore, and more relaxed than she’s been in years.
Birds are singing outside the window, some kind of songbird that is absolutely not a pigeon. It’s something she’s not used to, living in the city. Sunlight is filtering through the gossamer curtains instead of being blocked by her own black-out window covers. She feels refreshed. She feels rejuvenated. She feels…
Naked.
Suddenly, she’s hyper-aware of the sound of another person’s breathing next to her. Prying her eyes open, she’s met with a sight that sets of two warring feelings of contentment and anxiety – Kara, the covers resting at her waist and the morning sun playing across the golden skin of her back, blonde hair spread over the pillows. She’s still fast asleep, and Lena takes a few deep, calming breaths before easing herself out of bed as quietly as possible.
Shrugging back into her robe, she slips down the stairs and into the kitchen, intent on making a cup of coffee so she can clear the cobwebs in her brain (and the slight haze of arousal that seems to have sprung back to life upon seeing Kara this morning). But she’s foiled by Alex’s coffee machine – she fills the filter, tops up the water, presses the buttons, but for some reason, coffee eludes her.
She’s wrenching open the top of the machine and peering at the mechanisms inside, cursing under her breath, when heavy footsteps echo down the stairs. Kara peeks into the kitchen a moment later, her jeans and belt affixed but still shirtless. Her tank top is slung over her shoulder, and while Lena watches she grabs it and pulls it over her head, her abs flexing.
Suddenly, viscerally, Lena has a flashback to those abs flexing as Kara lifted her against a wall, of grinding helplessly on the hard muscle, of her first of many orgasms being rubbed out embarrassingly quickly on Kara’s stomach as the blonde panted into her neck, whispering mind-melting encouragements. The memory makes her feel distinctly unstable.
It doesn’t help that Kara grins like Lena is the sun itself, and a strange, hot feeling settles in her chest at the sight of it.
“Good morning,” Kara says, slipping her blazer back on and leaning against the doorframe. Lena leans against the counter, needing something to steady herself.
“Morning.”
Kara fiddles in the pocket of her blazer, producing a small black case. “I lost my contacts last night, somehow,” She says abashedly, pulling out a pair of black-rimmed glasses and putting them on. She blinks cutely as her eyes adjust, smiling as Lena comes into focus. “Much better.”
With them on and her hair in a neat bun, Kara somehow manages to be even more attractive than she was last night, and Lena feels like she’s holding a magnifying glass up to her entire life. Re-examining every moment – every boyfriend, every half-baked excuse to be physically close to a woman, every bout of uncontrollable feelings in her chest as a frightened teenager at an all-girls boarding school.
God. I’m gay, aren’t I?
“Can I help you with that?” Kara gestures towards the coffee machine, and Lena steps back from the stupid machine gratefully.
“I should know how to do this,” she says self-deprecatingly, feeling the embarrassment grow tenfold when Kara reaches behind the machine and holds up the power cord, dangling and clearly not plugged in.
“Three PhDs, huh?” Kara winks, and Lena blushes furiously, rubbing her forehead.
“Well, in my defense, I literally had my brains fucked out last night,” Lena fires back without thinking, and the statement seems to surprise them both – Lena claps a hand over her mouth and Kara gapes slightly, looking surprised but delighted.
“You are fascinating,” Kara murmurs, starting the coffeemaker. Lena moves past her and grabs the coffee pot, moving it out of the way and letting the fresh liquid pour directly into her mug instead, just so she can have something to do with her hands. Kara fidgets next to her, drumming her hands on the counter and then wiping them on her pants.
“So, um…” Kara starts, but Lena cuts her off before she can gain any steam.
“Listen, Kara. You don't have to worry. Okay?” Lena assures, and Kara frowns in confusion.
“Okay?”
Lena hurries to clarify. “I mean, it was great. Amazing. Life-changing, if I’m being honest. But you don’t have to…I don’t know. Guide me in some journey. This can be just…a night.”
“Right. Definitely,” Kara nods, fiddling with her glasses. “Also, for the record - your ex-boyfriend is, in my opinion, really mistaken about you.”
Lena snorts into her coffee cup, hoping her blush isn’t too apparent. She’d tried a lot of very new things last night, and Kara’s response had seemed enthusiastic at the time, but the confirmation makes her a little giddy.
“Well, yeah, you were drunk,” Lena deflects, but Kara shakes her head.
“I really wasn't.”
Kara holds her gaze for a few seconds past appropriate, and Lena is the one to clear her throat and break the connection.
“I should probably be going,” Lena says, putting down her half-empty mug and busying herself with cleaning out the coffee machine. “I have a flight to catch.”
“Oh, yeah. I gotta get going in a few minutes myself,” Kara agrees, but she makes no move to leave the kitchen. She just stays where she is, watching. Lena can feel the burn of her gaze, can practically detect its path up and down her back.
“So, listen,” Kara says, and there’s a new intensity in her voice that makes a strange, unwelcome sense of hope take root in Lena’s chest. “I know you're leaving, and you’re absolutely not interested in getting involved, but just so you know, I’m…really bad at this. I’d probably mess this up somehow –“
“You really don't have to do this,” Lena waves her off, cutting off what she’s sure is a very earnest turn-down. “I'm sort of a mess in this area myself. And, honestly, we hardly know each other.”
“Right,” Kara agrees, but she still looks doubtful. “I just wanted to make sure –“
“I'm not going to fall in love with you, Kara,” Lena says decisively, even as something inside her whispers otherwise. “I promise.”
Kara blinks owlishly.
“Okay. Nicely put. Thank you,” Kara says, but she seems almost…disappointed. Almost self-conscious. Lena tells herself to just leave it, that she owes absolutely nothing to this stranger that, come 10 minutes from now, she’ll never see again, but the slightly wounded look on Kara’s face pulls at her heart.
“No, it's just –“ Lena starts, sighing in frustration at her inability to articulate herself. “I know myself. I'm not sure I even fall in love at all. Not in the way other people do.” Kara looks shocked at the admission, her concern evident in her furrowed brow.
Lena sighs. “How's that for something to admit? Hi, nice to meet you, I’m a soulless monster,” she jokes, but Kara remains thoughtful.
“Not soulless. Just interesting,” Kara says, and her voice is achingly heartfelt. It’s too much, the genuine care in her tone makes Lena feel seen in a way that she’s entirely unprepared for, and she dives back into the comfort of deflection.
“You’re probably thankful we’re never seeing each other again, right? No need to stress about calling back the weirdo who overshares to the first stranger who stumbled into her house.”
“But what if I wanted to call you?” Kara blurts, and even she seems surprised at her own outburst.
Lena’s instinct, her immediate reaction, is to agree. To say yes to this strange and fascinating woman, to open herself up to whatever this could be. But it wouldn’t work. Not with the distance, not with Lena’s issues – she’d end up breaking Kara down just like she did James, unintentionally making her feel unwanted and inferior until she left just like everyone else.
Kara deserves more.
“Kara,” Lena sighs, trying to communicate her complicated thoughts, but Kara recoils immediately at her hesitation.
“Right. Sorry. Apparently, not the right thing to say at all,” Kara says, grabbing her jacket and throwing it over her shoulders with a nervous laugh. “Look. If, somehow, your flight gets canceled or for some reason you…I don’t know. Change your mind? I'm having dinner with some friends at the pub tomorrow night. I’d really love to see you again.”
Lena nods, and Kara steps into her space again – and with nothing but the counter behind her, Lena can’t even step back.
“You’re really great,” Kara says with conviction, and Lena swallows hard.
“So are you.”
Lena feels something when Kara leans in for a final, soft kiss - something she’s tried to tell herself she doesn’t feel, can’t feel, something that’s plagued her since private school. Something she’s been trying to smother by spending her life dating the people she thinks she should date, rather than the ones that make her heart soar. But now?
Now she’s on vacation. She’s in an anonymous town and her mother is nowhere in sight, and last night, she had sex so good that it might as well have been the only sex she’s ever had.
And Kara is right there, blatantly asking her to give in to this. To a holiday fling.
If there’s any time to experiment...shouldn’t it be now?
Lena fusses for a full hour after Kara leaves. She packs and unpacks her suitcase three times, sitting on the edge of the bed awash in memories of last night. Of Kara on top of her, inside her, of tasting another woman for the first time and realizing she can never go back. She remembers the feeling of Kara arching into her tongue - the heady, dizzying power in knowing that she made this beautiful woman come. She looks at the pillows, and all she can see is Kara somehow managing to make her laugh between orgasms, until she passed out into the best sleep of her adult life.
And then there was Kara this morning, full of casual praise and toe-curling kisses.
Lena cancels her flight.