Sometimes, when Kara gets back to the apartment later than usual (either due to her classes running late or her newspaper articles needing like, ten different sources), she finds Lena napping on that sofa that Kara has already declared as her own.
The first time that happens, Kara stops dead in her tracks, because her entire nervous system short-circuits and the neurons firing in her brain cannot make her muscles move, and she is frozen with her heart beating like a hundred drums that could probably be heard from outer space.
A conscious Lena naturally exudes sensuality and charisma and an irresistible magnetism without even trying, but a sleeping Lena? Well, a sleeping Lena will be the cause of Kara’s premature death, because a sleeping Lena is all things adorable and soft and delicate, and Kara cannot help but stare.
She’s pretty sure staring is the only acceptable thing to do, anyway, because Lena is a masterpiece created by the divine.
Her pale cheeks are washed with moonlight, which falls on her face almost gently, like the moon itself cherishes this woman and holds her dear. She looks ethereal, with an unearthly quality about her that reminds Kara of Artemis, and this—the steady rise and fall of her chest, the ebony of her hair splayed across the cushion like an inky waterfall, the little puffs of breath that escape her soft, pink lips—yes, this is how Kara has always imagined the moon goddess would look whilst resting from her hunt.
Kara herself feels like she is Actaeon from the myths, a hunter who unwittingly finds something not meant for mortal eyes—this goddess who holds so much power within, this goddess who can render her weak with a simple glance.
She feels something clench in her chest almost painfully, and the force of it surprises her, so much so that she jolts and, as a result, knocks herself against the coffee table.
The resulting crash is what rouses Lena awake, and Kara’s heart stutters to a sudden stop before resuming an even wilder rhythm upon the realisation that she has ambled too close and is now standing right next to Lena.
Lena rubs an eye with her knuckles, the movement so charming on her that Kara wants to squeal, and then she stares up at her, green-grey-blue gaze hazy with sleep. She blinks, sluggish, as if she’s not sure she’s awake yet, before her lips tug up into that smile that Kara will fight anyone to defend.
“Hey, Kara,” she greets, her voice low and gravelly, and it shoots a spark straight into Kara’s soul, and she chokes in a breath.
“Hello, sleeping beauty,” Kara says, swallowing past the moon-sized lump in her throat. “Why are you sleeping on my sofa?”
Lena chuckles, the sound some sort of holy ambrosia to Kara’s ears. She tucks her baby-blue knitted blanket tighter under her chin, and it seems so cosy and inviting.
Kara has to bite the inside of her cheeks to refrain from saying something stupid, like, Hey, can I be your blanket instead?
“I didn’t realise this sofa’s yours,” Lena answers, closing her eyes again. “I thought anything outside our respective rooms is communal property.”
“Not that one,” Kara refutes, and she grins at Lena’s huff. “Come on, Lena, let’s get you to bed.”
“I didn’t know you had it in you, Kara.” How Lena manages to tease her despite being half-asleep, Kara will never understand, but Kara is thankful that her eyes are still closed because the blush that finds itself on her face is strong enough to be seen even with the lack of proper lighting.
“That’s not what I meant,” Kara mumbles.
“Lena,” Kara tries again, resting her hand on Lena’s shoulder and nearly searing herself in the process, “up you get. Your back’s going to hate you so much in the morning if you don’t move.”
“No, you have to move now.”
“I don’t want to. ’s comfy.”
I know, Kara thinks, and she’s trying really hard to not curl up herself with her roommate on the freaking sofa, which she admits is soft and sort of wonderful, but only for naps and not for sleeping the whole night away.
Still, it appears that there’s no waking Lena up at this point, and though Kara knows she can probably carry her to bed instead, she won’t, because Lena hasn’t given her permission to enter her bedroom (yet), and Kara won’t ever do anything that will violate anyone’s privacy, unknowingly or otherwise.
So she decides to let Lena sleep here and just try to make things easier for her come morning. She retrieves a couple of her extra blankets and drapes them over Lena’s body, and she shifts the pillows so that Lena can lie down more comfortably. She leaves a pitcher of water and a glass on the table.
Kara reaches up to run a hand through black silken strands, and she murmurs, “Good night, Lena.”
Then she stands and leaves for her room, and she falls asleep to dreams of hunters and moons.
lena sleuthor: what do you call a hardened criminal?
hungry puppy: lena honestly you’re supposed to be in class
lena sleuthor: you’re not following the script, kara
lena sleuthor: work with me here
hungry puppy: go tinker with your induction coils or something i’m busy
lena sleuthor: k a r a
hungry puppy: ugh fine
lena sleuthor: thank you
lena sleuthor: i’ll ask again okay
lena sleuthor: what do you call a hardened criminal?
hungry puppy: what
lena sleuthor: han solo
(hungry puppy is typing . . .)
(hungry puppy logged out)
Lena’s a nerd.
This does not come as a surprise, not after that first meeting. (Because, of course, one film evolved into a marathon. It’s Star Wars.) What is decidedly a surprise is just how huge of a nerd she turns out to be.
(She has a toy Millennium Falcon in her room. Well, had, because Kara insisted they put it in the living room, saying, “Lena, come on, you can’t hide the Falcon, okay, it’s the Falcon. We have to put it somewhere it can be seen easily.”
“Kara, no, it doesn’t go with the décor.”
Kara snorted. “Who cares about the décor?” she asked, and she grinned triumphantly when Lena just chuckled and obliged in the end.)
She also loves terrible puns, and she has this habit of sending them to Kara just because she can. So Kara often finds herself trying not to laugh while she’s alone somewhere, because she doesn’t want to look crazier than she probably does with the grin almost perpetually plastered on her face whenever she thinks of Lena . . . which, well, is all the time, now.
lena sleuthor: what would prince doran name his ’80s band
hungry puppy: what
lena sleuthor: dorne doran
lena sleuthor: :)
Kara claps a hand over her mouth, preventing a giggle from escaping, but the silly feeling at the pit of her stomach remains.
Sophomore year in university is shaping up to be the best year of her life, and she relishes in it.
With how happy she’s been these past few months, she really should have known that the other shoe will drop, sooner or later.
When Kara strolls into the living room, she expects to see Lena in her usual place on the couch, reading one of her ridiculously thick math books as the TV drones on in the background. There would typically be a couple of boxes of pizza on the table, and a bag of potato chips next to Lena’s usual mug of tea.
What Kara doesn’t expect to see is Lena standing stiffly in the room, her lips set in a stern line that Kara has learned to associate with irritated confusion, though her face is otherwise devoid of expression. She has her arms crossed, a defensive gesture, and all Kara wants to do is go over and hug her because if there’s one thing that Kara is sure of, it’s that Lena deserves all the hugs Kara could ever give her.
Kara, however, cannot do much of anything, because seated on her sofa is her cousin.
Her cousin, who is supposed to be in Metropolis.
“Clark,” she says, that one syllable imbued with both surprise and agitation, because Clark Kent—Lord Kal El, from the cadet branch of the House of El—is not supposed to be here. He is not supposed to be here.
(Not with Lena.)
Kal starts at the sound of her voice, quickly turning to look at her, and so does Lena. There are a million questions in her eyes, Kara can see that, but she doesn’t know if she can offer her any answer that will make sense.
She doesn’t know if she’s even allowed to.
So for now, she just offers her a small reassuring smile and turns back to Kal.
He stands up, stiff and formal, and tips his head. “I am sorry for the intrusion,” he says, his tone calm and genuinely apologetic. He knows he has trespassed, coming here in his liege’s territory without notice, but there’s a shadow in his eyes too, telling Kara that he’s only done so because he had no other choice.
For that Kara forgives him. A little.
“What are you doing here?”
Kal opens his mouth to answer, but he hesitates, glancing at their audience with suspicion. Lena merely raises an eyebrow at him, daring him to comment, and Kara hides a smile when he swallows. “A . . . development has been brought to my attention,” he says tactfully, purposely not giving the details. “It concerns you directly, and I thought it would be prudent to tell you in person.”
His expression is grim, and Kara knows.
Non has made another move.
Kara nods, indicating she understands the implication. She turns to Lena then, who has a deeply worried look on her face.
“Kara, what’s happening?” she asks, moving to stand next to her, her hand coming to rest on Kara’s arm.
“It doesn’t concern you,” Kal replies, condescending, and Kara shoots him a glare.
A certain kind of aura—borne from nobility, from the blood that runs through Kara’s veins—awakens at that, and she can almost pinpoint the exact moment she sheds Kara Danvers and becomes Kara Zor-El.
No one—no one—shall disrespect Lena, especially not in front of her. She won’t stand for it.
“Silence, Clark.” Her tone is forceful now; despite not being loud, it manages to be commanding. (It is the same tone she remembers her mother using, when she passed judgment on the Kryptonian court.) It surprises her a little bit, honestly, but she hides it well. “I can speak for myself, thank you.”
Kal’s jaw flexes, but he does shut up.
(He knows his place and knows better than to defy the heiress to Krypton.)
Kara sighs, staring back at Lena, who looks baffled. She couldn’t blame her, no.
After all, Kara Danvers has never before shown such blatant authority.
“It’s a personal matter,” she tells her distraught friend, shrugging and trying to play it all off. “It’ll be fine.”
Lena doesn’t seem to believe her in the slightest though. “You might want to try that again,” she says, arching her perfect eyebrows. “You’re an awful liar, darling.”
Kara huffs a laugh, fiddles with her glasses, and doesn’t counter the statement. Lena’s right, anyway. “Yeah, well, uhm.” She looks at Kal, sees he has turned his back to give them privacy. At least he still has that good grace. She meets Lena’s eyes again. “I promise I’ll tell you when I can, okay? It’s a little, uh, complicated now, I guess, so, uh.” She points a thumb at Kal. “I have to talk to him.”
Lena stares right at her, as if she’s looking straight to Kara’s heart, and it shouldn’t feel so exhilarating, but it does. Kara refuses to back down, but she feels herself melting a little inside. There’s a flicker in those eyes, after a while, and Kara wonders what she sees. “If you’re sure,” Lena finally says.
“Yeah.” Kara nods and offers her a grin. “I’ll call you if I need help or something.”
That seems enough to placate Lena, at least for the moment. Kara knows her well enough by now to expect some sort of interrogation later.
“All right, then.” She returns the smile, squeezing Kara’s arm. “I’ll just go for a walk. Be back in an hour?” Kara nods again, and Lena turns to leave, but not before aiming another glare at Kal.
As soon as the door closes, Kara releases a relieved sigh and then levels a grave look at her cousin.
“Talk,” she orders, and he does.
alexpecto patronum: so how’s the crush going
(huff-le-puff danvers is typing . . .)
huff-le-puff danvers: kal el dropped by
huff-le-puff danvers: non made another move
(alexpecto patronum is typing . . .)
alexpecto patronum: shit
alexpecto patronum: are you okay?
Kara can almost see her sister’s determined expression, her mouth setting harshly in that way that has always made lesser agents tremble on their feet.
alexpecto patronum: never mind. stay put. i’m on my way.