Kara is aware of exactly three things in the moments that follow.
Instead of pounding away erratically like it always does where Lena’s concerned, her heart remains steady on its beat, as if this is how it’s supposed to be, this is what she’s supposed to do, and the calm is because this has always been something that the universe intended to happen, all this time—and now that this is happening, then there is no reason for worry, no reason for self-doubt, no reason to back out.
Oxygen is not something she needs, apparently, because she’s pretty sure she could just breathe in Lena and she’d somehow survive.
She kisses Lena Luthor in the fancy garden of a fancy museum, surrounded by winter-dead flowers and blinking fairy lights, and it’s like every decision she has ever made—right or wrong—finally makes sense, because every one of them has led her here, in this moment.
Kissing Lena Luthor makes her feel happy and content and whole, and she feels like she’s about to burst in a technicolor explosion of happiness and contentedness and wholeness. Kissing Lena Luthor is supernovas in her bloodstream and symphonies in her ears and all the clichés she’s heard about and has always hoped for. Kissing Lena Luthor is the cold December air melted away by warm breath and hot skin and the itchy weight of a knitted blanket. Kissing Lena Luthor is awkward first-time clumsiness and noses bumping and hair tickling her cheeks.
Kissing Lena Luthor is perfect, and it is absolutely world-shattering in its perfection. Kara would have happily died just for this—would have happily stayed in this moment forever.
But soon enough the human body’s need for air wins out, and Kara withdraws after one last peck on those soft, warm lips, so that her lungs may finally get on with doing their jobs without her possibly having a heart attack or something.
There’s a second or so of silence, with both Kara and Lena trying to catch on to what just happened, when Lena whispers a breathless “Oh.”
And that’s when the panic finally sets in.
Kara nearly stumbles in her haste to back away, forgetting that she’s still draped up in a blanket with Lena also in it and so she couldn’t really scurry off without making a disaster of everything. She only succeeds in pulling Lena closer to her, the momentum causing her to crash into Kara, whose first instinct, of course, is to tighten her arms which are still wrapped around Lena’s waist.
It is torture in the purest sense, and this time, Kara’s heart races like a bat out of hell.
And Kara isn’t even afforded the chance to escape Lena’s eyes, which are drilling right into her soul, serious and contemplative and mystifying. Kara’s own eyes are wide with shock that she has actually kissed Lena Luthor—has actually felt her lips pliant beneath hers, oh Rao—and she has never felt this unsure before.
“Kara—” Lena begins to say, tentative and careful, but Kara swiftly cuts in.
“I-I-I’m so, so, so sorry, Lena, I truly am, it’s just, well, you’re just there with the eyes and the lips and the smile and I just—I shouldn’t have done it without asking, or, well, I shouldn’t have done it at all, I’m like violating a million best friend codes right now—”
Now it’s Lena who saves Kara from her rambling, which otherwise would have gone on until she’s blue in the face. “Kara, please breathe,” she says in this calm, sure voice, eyes still warm and kind, and honestly it makes Kara even guiltier, the remorse sitting heavier in her chest because now she’s crossed the line—the line, the one line she swore to herself she wouldn’t cross, the one line that matters because it separates what she wants from what she couldn’t bear to lose.
“I’m really super sorry.”
Lena tilts her head to the side, and she looks so adorable and so gorgeous at the same time that Kara almost closes the distance—which is so not distant at all, really, they are practically breathing the same air now—between them again, but she manages to restrain herself. And then Lena simply says, “Why are you sorry?” She sounds genuinely curious but also a bit shy and not at all like mocking Kara, and to be honest, it surprises Kara more than she’d like to admit.
Lena shrugs, the movement pulling the blanket—which is still around them, thank you very much—tighter, right along with the twisting tangle of emotions in Kara’s chest. “Why are you sorry?” she repeats dutifully. “What are you apologising for?”
“Uhm”—Kara flounders for a little bit, only it’s actually a lot, and she honestly never thought she’s going to have to defend her apology to Lena Luthor for kissing Lena Luthor—“for kissing you?” The uncertainty in her voice is almost laughable, and Kara would like to take this time to wish she’s in a cabin on a mountain somewhere to ruminate over her idiocy and absurd inability to keep her chill.
Lena’s gaze turns sharper, though, more guarded. “Do you regret it?” she then asks in an even tone, and it’s such a ridiculous inquiry that Kara snorts out a laugh.
“Wha—No, Lena, that’s not it,” she replies, “that’s not even close, Rao.” She doesn’t really know where the courage is coming from, but if it’s gonna take away that minute apprehension shining in green eyes, then she’s not going to question it. “It’s, uh, actually, sorta the opposite.”
Because, yeah, ignoring this very awkward conversation and the guilt flowing like ice in her veins for assailing Lena with her lips without permission, Kara quite honestly enjoyed kissing her and would definitely enjoy doing so again. But the thought of not having Lena in her life, in any capacity, is enough to make words pour out again in a quick stream, every syllable thick with acute trepidation and hopeless plea and desperate entreaty.
“I kissed you because I wanted to—and it’s all I can think about for some time now—but I’m sorry I did it without asking for your consent. I didn’t mean to do it and put you on the spot, and I understand if you’d like to slap me now because honestly I wanna slap myself. Maybe throw in a punch or two for good measure, maybe three for luck, and a roundhouse kick just because it’s incredibly stupid and selfish of me and the last thing I want is to rob you of your choice. You don’t deserve that.” She gulps a breath, refusing to look away from Lena’s eyes despite every cell in her body shouting for her to disappear underground. “I-I’ll—I promise I won’t just—I’ll just—I’ll stay away, okay? From now on, I can like—I’ll stand no closer than three feet from you if you want me to, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable just because I can’t control my feelings, and honestly and—”
“I—” Lena then seems to choke on nothing, shaking her head, a blush steadily rising on the pale of her skin, “You have feelings for me?” And she looks so awed, like Kara’s winding speech couldn’t possibly be real, and honestly, how dense can one person be?
“Rao, Lena, I’ve had a crush on you pretty much since the moment we met and also I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since the day you made me that ridiculously delicious burrito and holy Rao I totally just said that out loud didn’t I please don’t hate me I’m such a creep—” Kara clamps her mouth shut because Lena is suddenly very, very still in her arms, painfully so, almost like those Greek statues inside except Kara can feel her breathing. “You don’t have to say anything—you don’t even have to stay now if you don’t want to? I’ll just—I promise I’ll work this out, okay? I’ll work through this, we can go back to where we were before this, but like, maybe please just give me time to get over you, I guess? I don’t think I can just snap my feelings away after admitting them out loud because I’ve been repressing them really well until now.”
“Kara, darling,” Lena says in an almost sigh, her gaze both endeared and exasperated, “you seem to have forgotten that I kissed you back.”
That . . .
That is an excellent, completely valid point that Kara has forgotten due to panicking over her own helpless flailing, and now that she thinks about it . . .
Yeah, Lena did kiss her back, didn’t she?
Lena Luthor kissed her, Kara Danvers, back.
The realisation sinks in slowly, and she must look pretty dumbstruck because then Lena’s smirking at her—that darn life-ending smirk that should be harnessed as a special weapon of mass destruction—and Kara kind of really wants to jump Lena right then and there, but she’s a princess, an actual royalty, and geez, Kara, do try to keep a little dignity to yourself, okay, control yourself. So she settles for saying, with the fluency in romance that would have put Keats and Shelley and Burns to shame, “What now?”
Rather than giving her a verbal answer, Lena’s smirk just deepens, and before Kara can ramble for the rest of her life, something hot and insistent is pressing against her mouth, and—
Lena is kissing her, and Kara is kissing Lena again, but this time it’s better and hotter and grander because holy Rao Lena wants to kiss Kara and that is a fact that she can’t process right now past the way Lena is apparently laying siege against her lips. Lena’s hands beneath the blanket—which, miraculously, stays draped around them—are scorching against Kara’s skin, past the material of her dress.
And then those hands are gliding up and then there are fingers burning imprints on Kara’s neck and trailing heat on her jaw and tugging delicately on her hair, and how in Rao’s name did Kara survive without this for so long? She whines against Lena’s mouth and feels it form a teasing smile and Kara can’t breathe but who cares about breathing honestly breathing is so overrated, she’d rather do this forever and then some more and maybe travel back in time to yell at herself to do it sooner because whoa, she’s been missing this all this while and that just sucks big time, and speaking of sucking, she could think of a couple of things she could be sucking right now—
She needs to slow down, like, a minute ago.
Lena pulls back and rests her forehead on Kara’s temple. Her hands play with the small hairs on Kara’s nape, and Kara can’t help the full-body shudder it elicits, something unfurling deep in her belly, like . . . like a monster that’s begging to be fed, and Kara knows too well just what exactly will sate its hunger.
And before Kara’s brain dives a thousand leagues deep into the gutter, they really need to talk about . . . whatever this is.
“So, uhm,” she starts, “like, are we—are we dating now? Like it’s totally fine if you don’t want to but maybe please consider saying yes because kissing you was the best thing I’ve ever experienced and I’d really want to keep doing that all the time if you’d let me and I just really love you so, you know, dating you would be really pretty cool, like, the coolest thing—”
“Darling, we’re engaged,” Lena points out with a smile that dazzles Kara so much that she just sort of stares at her stupidly, and then Lena’s lips are on Kara’s again, gentle but also demanding, as if they’re just claiming what is already theirs, and oh.
Lena’s kisses are so addicting, and Kara isn’t lying at all about wanting to do this all the time, because, whoa boy, Lena’s mouth has got to be the eighth wonder of the world or something. Kara thinks Lena’s lips are specifically made for kisses; they’re so soft and warm and they make Kara feel as if there’s a billion tiny explosions in her body, like chain reactions bubbling and then bursting in her blood, but instead of shattering her, they just make her feel so, so alive.
(Maybe the addiction thing is less about the lips and more about the lips being Lena’s that is causing this intense effect in Kara, though Kara can’t be too sure because her mind is otherwise occupied, hi.)
Kara loses track of time, and to be fair, Lena totally does too because it takes two to tango and all that, and maybe Kara really shouldn’t think about tango and its figurative implications right now when Lena’s tongue is doing some sort of pirouette in Kara’s mouth, and stars, this conversation is so not going the way Kara’s planned it to because one, there are no words being spoken at all, and two, wow, top marks for Lena in the kissing department, truly, Kara’s ruined forever and she lives for it.
It would be practically a federal crime for Kara to even consider stopping, but she is nothing if not determined, and she does kind of need Lena’s answer right now seeing as it’s a Very Important Matter, and so in a move that makes her feel like the world’s biggest idiot, Kara pulls away from Lena’s Very Lovely Kissable Lips.
Though, in hindsight, it is probably not a very wise move at all, because then Lena’s lips are free to roam as they please, and apparently, that means turning their attention to just about every available skin within their reach. There’s teeth nipping along Kara’s jawline, and Lena’s mapping a fiery line on her neck like her mouth is producing lava or something equally red-hot scorching and cool down cool down cool down be strong—
“So, uhm, that’s a yes to the dating thing, right?” Kara manages to ask, and she sounds like she’s just run a marathon, not cute at all, but seriously, she is really freaking proud of herself for even managing to have some sort of coherency, okay, give her a break, it’s really freaking difficult to focus especially when Lena’s currently performing some kind of magic trick with her lips on Kara’s pulse point.
“Yes, Kara,” Lena says, pulling back and laughing against her cheek, and oh, Kara really loves her, “we’re dating now.”
“Oh.” Kara inhales, sharp and quick, and exhales in relief. “Oh. Cool.”
“We are,” Lena confirms.
“I love you.”
Lena grins. “And in case those kisses weren’t enough to get through that thick head of yours,” she says with a little doting sigh—“I love you too.”
They are both smiling too wide, and they probably look stupid—well, at least Kara does, because she doesn’t think Lena’s capable of looking anything in the vicinity of stupid—but Kara’s too happy to care.
“You heard my father, Kara,” Lena says, “I don’t just bring anyone to meet them.” She kisses Kara again, almost like she couldn’t help herself. “You’re the right one.”
“Yeah. And for the record,” Lena adds, leaning in and being the sole reason of the departure of Kara’s soul, “I would prefer it if you didn’t get over me at all.”
It takes a few seconds for Kara to catch up to what Lena is saying, because Lena is very pretty and very close for Kara to function normally. “Oh.” She gulps again. “Yeah. I promise.”
Lena nods, satisfied. “Good.”
“Great.” And Kara wants to proclaim for all the world to hear that she’s completely and irrevocably in love with Lena Luthor, wants every one to know that her heart belongs to this amazing and incredible and brilliant woman who looks at Kara like she’s a miracle, when really, it’s her that is a gift from the heavens. “We really are going about this in the wrong order, aren’t we?” she asks.
“We are,” Lena agrees, with this pleased smile and laughing eyes and Kara loves her, “but I’ll have it no other way.”
future wife: you remind me of pot stickers
sluthorin my bed: ????
sluthorin my bed: explain
future wife: i freaking love pot stickers
Kara watches as Lena reads her response from across the room where she’s talking with her brother and some investor or something, and she grins dopily when Lena’s cheeks redden, especially obvious on her pale skin. Kara waits for Lena to look up, and the smile being sent her way is worth all the pot stickers in the entire world.
Lena brings to life every colour in the universe and brings everything into sharper focus. She’s light and shadows and night and day and Kara?
Kara loves her, and it is like landing feet first on the path to forever.