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Lena hovers by the food. It’s a habit she picked up from a childhood not too long ago when she hated attending these things and the only true reason she turned up was because Lillian promised to have them prepare Lena’s favourite foods.
(That and the fact that she had this annoying need to make Lillian proud – it was incredibly inconvenient but she loved her mother. The one who could have shunned her when she discovered Lionel’s indiscretions but instead saw a small child who had just witnessed her mother’s death and took her under her wing. The one who made Lena the woman she was today).
But a habit regardless of reasoning, and one she never thought to break because it hadn’t taken her very long in her youth to discover it was often the best place to be. Not simply because it meant she got first pick at the best foods, but because it meant she could watch everyone else. It was easy to tell something about a person by what they put on their plate.
What was their first choice? How much did they put on their plates? Did they create one large plate or return a few times for smaller amounts? Were they afraid of the lack of grace in eating skewered foods? Did they fill a plate as a façade of casualness without ever actually taking a bite? Who chose spice? Who went sweet? Who ate nothing but vegetables and who avoided the table completely?
It said more about people than they might ever care to admit, than they would ever think. Like the one woman who had gone up to refill her plate multiple times but never took more than two items. She was sure that she was invisible enough that no one would know how much she’d eaten but had none of the nerves of someone afraid to walk up to the table more than once. The man with the allergies who asked questions before he put a single thing in his mouth - evidently hungry but far more afraid. The woman with the sweet tooth and the man proving his metal with chilli peppers.
And then there was one standout woman. Severely underdressed but outshining everyone anyway. Nothing but a blue button up and some black jeans – sleeves and cuffs rolled with practised ease. A pair of oxfords on her feet. Casual but effortlessly classic.
Lena saw nameless faces all around the room. Nameless but known. This one was new. This one didn’t belong in the crowd like the others, didn’t look like she cared in the slightest. This one stood out like no other and, more so than any other person in the room, Lena yearned to know more.
Her plate was always filled, she never stopped eating and seemed like she never intended to. Didn’t care who watched, or judged, didn’t try to talk to anyone at all of her own volition. Waiters come and go with different foods from time to time and she always takes, smiling, laughing and sending them on their way. They always looked happier after the exchanges and the woman just kept eating until the point where Lena can’t take it anymore.
“I can’t say I’ve ever seen someone eat like that at one of these events before,” Lena says after a quiet moment. Perhaps too quiet because the woman startles at the sudden sound after silence, jolting and choking on her food at the interruption. Lena offers her own glass of champagne without thought and the woman downs it thankfully. Calms herself down when she’s done.
“That was embarrassing,” she mutters and Lena chuckles a little as the woman frowns at the glass in her hand and then to Lena’s empty one and back. “I’m so sorry. Let me get you another drink."
“Don’t worry. I’ve probably had enough and, if not, I’m sure a waiter will pass by to tempt me soon enough.” She was definitely going to have another drink. She didn’t know how many she’d had and she didn’t know how many more she would consume but it was for sure at least one. Apparently sooner rather than later because the woman raises her hand in a swift gesture that has a tray appearing in front of Lena in about twenty seconds. She takes a glass bemusedly with her thanks.
“Thank you, Brian,” the woman adds and the man, Brian presumably, nods and wanders off. Lena stares in slight awe at the confusing stranger until she adjusts the glasses on her face nervously.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so politely demanding in my life.” She’d like to see it again. Perhaps in other circumstances. Literally any circumstance she was allowed.
“I was always taught that you should treat the people who work for you with respect, but that they should always know who’s in charge.”
“People who-? You’re the caterer,” Lena says with sudden clarity. Lena remembers sending Jess out to pick whoever had the best reviews in National City. She remembers signing off on it without even looking. She trusted Jess’s judgement enough to let most things pass and apparently she was right to have faith because she’d never seen the food table so empty at one of these events - even if a lot of the food was being brazenly eaten by its maker.
“Most people call me Kara but, yeah, I am a caterer by trade. What do they call you?”
Lena holds out her hand, “Lena. Lena Luthor.”
“You’re the client.” Kara points out in mimicry of Lena’s statement, clasping her hand in a strong, firm grip. Lena nods reflexively despite it not really being a question. “And how are you enjoying the many delights of Argo Catering?”
“I’ve eaten seven shrimp satays thus far so let’s go with very much.”
“Ah so you’re the culprit. I wondered where they’d all gone.”
“Well, I paid for them.” Lena smirks, shrugs. Kara laughs heartily in response, tilts her head in a move clearly meant to mean touché. Lena wonders if Kara knows how naturally charming her demeanour is. She doesn’t seem the slightest bit scared of coming off as unprofessional, immediately finds the joke in Lena’s words where others might have taken them at face value. She doesn’t hunt for her approval either, like so many others here, but gains her favour without trying.
Kara picks up the last shrimp satay in what seems like an open act of defiance but really just comes served with a content smile, as Lena gestures towards it and the rest of the rather impeccable display, “How long have you been doing this?”
“Cooking? Since my mother could get me to grip a wooden spoon. Making rich people pay for it at fancy parties? A couple years. I catered an event for Palmer Industries and word kind of got around.” Lena can see why as Kara grabs an empty tray from a passing waiter and replaces it with a full one without pause in a swift, graceful movement, sending the girl off with a smile.
“How long have you been doing this?” Kara returns.
Lena smiles, purposefully coy, “Going to fancy parties? Longer than I’d like.”
“Let me be clearer - how long have you been studying the human genome in an attempt to eradicate all known diseases?” Lena looks at her perplexed. “I may not have known your face but I did Google your company before I came here. I don’t give my shrimp out to just anyone.”
“Well, I’ve been studying that for longer than I’d like too but I think I’m getting closer.”
“I don’t doubt you’ll figure it out eventually,” Kara says with complete belief and if Lena realised that kind words from a stranger could invigorate her so much she might have thrown herself into conversations in strange places much sooner. “It’s been lovely meeting you, Lena Luthor, but Brian seems to have spilled champagne all over that balding man and I should probably diffuse that before I get told I’m never going to work in this city again.” Kara disappears with a smile and a gentle squeeze to Lena’s arm in a fleeting movement.
Such casual contact. Her arm blazes.
Kara calms the man as Lena takes a swig of her drink.
(Interesting.
So very interesting).
“You haven’t eaten anything.” Lena jumps at the disembodied words. Spins quickly to find Kara beside her - she’d been hoping she’d find her sooner or later (she was thankful it was sooner). She shared a secret smile with herself when she signed off on Argo Catering this time, infinitely glad she didn’t have to say anything to Jess to get the one thing she really wanted - a breath of fresh air.
“How long have you been watching me?” It should maybe feel creepy. It doesn’t.
“Not long enough for it to be weird.” That should come across as suspicious. It still doesn’t.
“Ambiguous,” Lena says but pushes past the part of her that wants to know exactly how long, wants to know why Kara cared enough to watch for even a second. “I have to make a speech in ten minutes and it always makes me feel a little uneasy. I’m not sure devilled quail eggs, however delicious, are the best idea.” Even the thought made her stomach turn a little.
Kara smiles sympathetically, “Not a fan of public speaking?”
“Once I’m talking its fine because I know what I’m talking about and two thirds of this room haven’t heard half of the words on my cards but getting up there in the first place? That I’m not a fan of. I always expect to discover someone has supplied them all with rotten fruit to throw at me.” Lena had a dream in which that very scenario came to pass once. She had no real want to make it a reality.
“That’s an odd fear and one I can assure you will not come to fruition - only fresh produce on these tables, so, you’ll have to get pelted with some incredibly ripe, chocolate coated strawberries.” Kara punctuates the sentence by popping one in her mouth, as if to prove the point. It’s far more attractive than it has any right to be.
“I’ll be sure to tell the doctor my cornea was scratched by only the best of National City produce.”
“Thanks. Be sure to give him my card too,” Kara jokes, producing one from her pocket. Lena laughs but takes it anyway. “Honestly though, and I know this doesn’t actually rid you of the anxiety, your speech last time was amazing and you’ll be great this time too. If only because this is a charity event for kids with leukaemia and anyone who walks out of here without donating is literally heartless.”
“That describes at least half of the people in this room.”
“Not publically.”
“You have a point. Maxwell Lord donated an entire ward to the children’s hospital last year and I’m fairly sure it’s just because it makes him feel better about his dick to see his name plastered around the city.” Fairly sure was an understatement. She was entirely sure. Though she’s less sure that Kara is someone she should be sharing this thought with. This wasn’t her normal friends she was talking to - it wasn’t gossip with Sam or Jess. This had more than enough potential to end badly, but the panic that appears on her face is waved off before it even fully takes hold.
“Don’t worry. I’m not a reporter, and, even if I were, speaking to you doesn’t feel like a job so I wouldn’t make it one.” If the way Lena’s chest swells at that notion is anything to go by, she would count this as success one in the test of whether or not flattery really could get you everywhere.
“Do you usually talk to guests at these things?”
Kara shakes her head minutely, “Most people here are terribly boring and wholly unwilling to talk to the staff.”
“I hate calling people that. You’re an artist if anything.” Lena picks up a tomato cut into a rose being used as garnish; it’s delicate and careful. It’s also completely frivolous but she had no doubt that it would appear on at least a dozen instagram feeds of this gala. Free publicity was always an art form.
“You aren’t like most people, Lena Luthor,” Kara says. Lena preens at the deeper compliment that lies beneath the words as she’s offered a chocolate covered strawberry. “Think of it as good luck for your speech. Nothing bad can happen when you have chocolate and strawberries.”
“It can if you’re allergic.” Ever the pessimist.
“Not the worst way to go.” And there was the optimist to match. Lena rolls her eyes at the sentiment but feels her head tilt to grab the strawberry with her mouth before she can think about how much of a horrible decision that is. Truthfully the strawberry is amazing. It’s sharp but sweet. Juicy enough that she has to run her finger along her lip to catch the juice.
It’s as she’s sucking it off her finger that reality really sets in.
Kara’s wide-eyed, slack-jawed. Lena knows the feeling.
“I’d better go do that speech before my luck runs out.”
(Speaking of running - that’s exactly what Lena does.
She doesn’t bump into Kara again that night.)
Lillian Luthor’s triumphant return to National City is hailed in by what Lena would not hesitate to call an over-the-top affair. Truthfully it’s a lot quieter than some of their previous affairs but there’s no part of Lena that thinks this is a normal homecoming party - there were far too many people she didn’t like but felt obliged to invite for it to be normal.
“I see you still insist on standing by the canapés, even at your own mother’s party.” Lillian appears as she always does, with a tone that’s an odd mix of resigned disappointment and utter pride at Lena’s stubbornness (and a drink in hand because even she needed some way to cope at these things).
“This exact tactic is how we managed the Spherical Industries acquisition so I wouldn’t turn my nose up at it.” It actually started with far too many drinks with Jack Spheer and then a competition into which one of them could catch the most obscure foods in their mouth, but it ended with a business deal so Lena really owes it all to a talent that had never shown any true purpose before.
“There need be no schmoozing tonight, Lena. Just make sure to tell everyone how amazing I am.”
“And how exactly do you propose I insert that into all my conversations?”
“I’m sure with a crafty intellect such as yours, you’ll figure it out. After all, you did absorb Spherical Industries just by standing at the mini quiches - which are quite delicious by the way.”
“Thank you!” Kara. The very person Lena had been looking for whilst steadfastly pretending she wasn’t looking at anything much at all. “I’m sorry, that was so rude. I wasn’t eavesdropping, I promise. I just happened to be passing by and heard the compliment. I’m Kara, by the way. You must be the woman of the hour.” She’d missed her. Lena had missed her. Was that weird? She wondered if it was weird that she’d genuinely missed her caterers face, and voice, and general demeanour.
“This explains it,” Lillian says with a cryptic smile sent Lena’s way that says yes it probably is quite weird but her mother is taking immense joy in the realisation that Lena was halfway through developing a huge crush on the woman wearing a lobster pin on her shirt lapel.
Lillian turns to Kara, smile still anything but sweet, adding “be sure to keep this one out of trouble,” before she saunters off to be characteristically chaotic elsewhere. At least she was on brand. At least there’s still that usual supportive glint in her eye even with her silent side-eye mockery.
Lena remembers the first time she really felt the complete force of that support. Sixteen and stuck half between the thirst for rebellion and her need for approval, she’d finally said the words I’m a lesbian out loud. She’d made the comment intending to shock. And then she completely started balling her eyes out because it was so overwhelming to actually say out loud. Cathartic. Freeing. Real. It made her feelings feel so much more real.
Lillian had hugged her and told her that she would always love her. That she was thankful Lena felt safe enough to share herself with her. That she was grateful they got to be together, in spite of their origins, because of what they managed to forge when stuck into the heat of things.
They were stronger because of it. This shared truth. This trust. Lillian broke another parent’s nose for making a comment about Lena at school and then donated a whole new building to make everyone forget (Lena learned a valuable lesson that day). She read books when she thought Lena wasn’t paying attention and donated to new charities and made Lena feel loved.
But then came the matchmaking. That was less great. Lillian was always less than subtle and more than annoying with it – if only because she had a sixth sense when Lena had a crush. Lena doesn’t even want to think about the ordeal with the pool cleaner they had in her senior year of high school. Or the time she took one look at Lena’s AP English teacher and burst out laughing because suddenly it made sense why her daughter was paying less attention to science.
“I didn’t realise you were trouble. Maybe I shouldn’t be associating with you,” Kara says but she smiles with far more trouble than Lena has ever caused. Kara had the kind of smile that could make ships sail and sink in the same breath. The kind of smile that said she’d caused trouble but never got caught. The kind of smile that Lena yearned to see again in spite of her logical mind.
“You get one ill informed tattoo one time and suddenly you can’t be trusted anymore,” Lena sighs playfully, though she truly would never live that one down. Young Lena should never have been trusted with untracked funds and a chip on her shoulder.
“Tattoo, huh?”
“I’m not showing you it. Not that this dress would even allow for that.”
“Oh, it’s not- it’s-?“ Kara stops still. It’s not just her words that halt. There’s a sudden full body reaction to the words Lena let slip. The only thing that seems to shift into overdrive is her eyes – darting round Lena’s body wildly, surveying the skin on show.
All things considered, it’s a pretty revealing dress. It stops just below the knee. Collarbones clearly on display. The taunt of cleavage with a low cut neckline. Completely sleeveless. The places her tattoo can reside are rather limited - that limitation pointing to somewhere at least semi salacious (she can see that particular thought dawn on Kara).
She watches other questions dawn on her there in quick succession. What part of Lena’s body would be hard to get out? What could she not show right now? Lena could stop her mind wandering. She won’t. She rather enjoys the tongue-tied look on Kara’s face and the blush. It’s cute. She’s cute.
“You’re cu-“
“Lena Luthor, as I live and breathe.” And low and behold here was one of the people she had to invite out of obligation. Morgan Edge. World class asshole. A douchebag with a moustache and a completely misplaced and vastly over-inflated sense of self.
“Edge, how are you?”
“I’d be better if I had a drink,” he says, giving a very pointed look at Kara who puts on her most charming customer smile but with a clear storm in her eyes. Not that Edge realises. All he sees is blonde hair and a pretty smile and presumes there’s nothing more to it, that Kara’s just some vapid airhead that he can push around because he has power and she needs a job.
“Certainly. What-“
“There’s a bar five meet away, Morgan,” Lena cuts in. “You’re welcome to help yourself. It’s free. From what I hear about the state of your current affairs that might be right up your street.”
“Your father never did get a chance to teach you how to hold your tongue,” Edge snaps sharply.
“I’ve never had any complaints about my tongue before.” It’s arguably not the right time for that particular joke but Kara sniggers beside her and Edge goes ambiguously red from either anger or embarrassment. Perhaps an amalgamation of both. Lena doesn’t know. She also doesn’t particularly care to make the distinction because whatever it is has him leaving.
Lillian notes his exit with a raised brow and glass in Lena’s direction in a silent gesture of well done.
Lena feels like it’s worth whatever backlash may come her way.
“Your mother was right, Lena Luthor,” Kara begins ominously, waiting until Lena turns to her inquisitively before continuing. “You definitely are trouble.”
Lena chuckles, “You know you can just call me Lena.”
“I could but where’s the pizzazz. A woman like you deserves a little theatre.”
“A woman like me?”
“The kind of woman who subtly strong arms a man from a party for disrespecting the staff,” Kara speaks the last two words in her best estimation of Morgan Edge and Lena will admit it’s pretty spot on. At least close enough that she never wants to hear it again in her life.
“We were having a conversation and you deserve my attention far more than him,” Lena admits earnestly and then jumps in before Kara can tell exactly how earnest it is. “Your brownie bites alone deserve more attention honestly.”
“Keep up the compliments and I might even tell you the secret ingredient,” Kara whispers.
“Is that caterer’s dirty talk?” Lena matches her pitch, if only with a little more gravel so that she can watch the red sea crash across the shore of Kara’s cheeks. There’s a moment where Lena’s sure Kara will speak, will push the boundary further, cement this new path Lena’s put them on.
But then there’s the next moment where they’re interrupted by someone dropping an entire tray of food and the one after that where Kara grimaces apologetically before disappearing into the commotion.
(Lena doesn’t manage to ‘bump’ into her properly for the rest of the night.
She can practically feel her skin itch with the withdrawal).
Historically Lena had always been more of a cat person, but apparently dogs played better with public opinion. Not that Lena even really needed it. The company shares were higher than ever and everyone seemed to have forgotten Lex’s whole ‘embezzling from pension funds’ thing - mostly because Lena had redistributed a great load of funds to rectify the wrongs (a great load of funds that were also thankfully on their way to being forgotten by the board because L-Corp was making more money on Lena’s patents than anyone knew what to do with).
So she doesn’t really need to hold an entire event dedicated to service dogs but she does it anyway because the more people she invites to pointless occasions, the more food she requires, thus the more she’s in need of a certain caterer and her services.
Yes, it was stupid. But it wasn’t like Lena could just order an entire buffet to her apartment for no reason… well, she totally could, but this seemed like an easier lie to keep in check, and it stopped her PR department from being on her back for a little while at least.
And she also didn’t know what to do, because the truth of the matter was that Lena hadn’t asked anyone out in a long time. Read: ever. She’d never really had to. From pretty much the second people around her figured out what dating was, they’d asked her, and that had worked out pretty fine for Lena throughout her life, but now she kinda wanted to ask someone out. She kinda, really wanted to ask Kara out and it was the single most daunting thing she’d ever experienced.
How did people do this? She had no clue how to do this. So, obviously, Lena decided the best course of action was to simply put herself consistently and constantly in Kara’s path until she realised she couldn’t resist Lena’s natural allure and just fixed the issue for the both of them.
Although, there’s a slight flaw in her plan in that Kara is immediately drawn to the puppy pen from the first second she steps into the room and she hasn’t left the vicinity of the tiny fluff-balls since.
It’s not a complete loss though. Lena had thought Kara was attractive before with her odd mix of awkward and suave, collected and clumsy, strong but soft. She had never considered how everything would be so heightened just because Kara was holding a puppy and cooing at their little faces as they crawled all over her lap without hesitation (on either of their behalves).
It takes about ten minutes of creepy staring from a completely not-safe distance for Kara to catch on that she had an adoring audience. It takes considerably less time for her wordless invitation to be sent to Lena in the form of a raised golden retriever that snuggles into her neck.
God Lena wished she were that fucking dog.
Lena moves before she can stop herself - not that she wants to, she very much wants to be with Kara and the puppies and Kara. She needs to be seen in some pictures anyway, she reasons. Needs to keep up appearances with her PR team about why she’s really doing all of this. She doesn’t need anymore gossip about her running around the rumour mill. Plus, they hadn’t made her look like an idiot yet, so she could follow their advice on this one thing.
She opens the pen door carefully and then follows Kara’s lead as she pats the floor next to her, crossing her legs timidly and letting her gaze settle back onto Kara and her tiny, furry mini-me.
“You don’t have to look so nervous. They’re just puppies.” It definitely wasn’t the puppies that made her nervous. It was definitely the woman who was grabbing her hands to move them from her lap and placing a chocolate lab there instead. An incredibly cute chocolate lab admittedly, but nothing special enough to have her heart running a marathon like the goddess less than a foot away.
“You seem to be in your element.”
“If we’re going to be friends you should know a very brief list of my favourite things goes - one: food and two: puppies.” Very brief indeed. At least it wouldn’t be hard to medal.
“I’ll make a note of it in our friendship journal. I just have to finish bedazzling it first.”
“You with a glue gun? Hot.” Lena flushes. She can’t quite figure out how Kara always seems to have her on the back foot in these situations, can’t work out if it’s a joke between new friends or actual, genuine flirting. She hopes for the latter. She definitely blushes like it’s the latter. “Sorry, that was unprofessional. My sister says I need to work on that.”
“No, no, I-“
A camera appears in her eye line, “Miss Luthor, could we get a picture of you for our website?”
“Yes of course,” Lena says out of habit because it’s a question she’s been asked more than most in her life and because ultimately this was the price she made herself pay for the excuse to breathe the same air as Kara for a few, probably half-separated, hours. So she lets herself be staged with more puppies and smiles her public smile, feeling Kara’s eyes on her until the second the cameraman tells her he’s got everything he needs and wanders off, fixated on flicking back through his shots.
Kara does her best at acting nonchalant about the whole staring for ten minutes thing when it’s back to just the two of them (and the dozen or so furry friends). Nonchalantly phrases her question as she gathers another puppy into her, already way more than full, arms. “When’s the last time you smiled for a picture without it being fake?”
It makes Lena pause for a moment. A few moments really. And then a handful more because she can’t pinpoint a time in her head. Truthfully, when she was free of these events, she really wanted to be free, which generally resulted in her avoiding the camera as much as possible. Happy to be free. Happy to have the chance to live in a moment that was just hers.
She shrugs, “Quite some time I suppose.”
Kara nods, acceptingly, “You know I went to the zoo the other day but the only thing they’d had there was a dog - it was a Shih Tzu.” It’s a stupid joke. It’s such a stupid joke but Kara makes it anyway, lifting a puppy into Lena’s view with one hand and Lena is startled into laughter as Kara raises her phone with the other and snaps a picture of the reaction. She smiles down at her phone as Lena’s chuckles dissolve into the crackling air that surrounds them.
“There. A photo with real laughter.” She twists her phone so that Lena can see and for the first time in a long time, her first thought isn’t to critique. It’s not the prettiest. Not the best quality, or the best lighting, or her best angle but it looks real. She looks real. It’s nice.
“Could you send me that?”
“Give me your number?” It comes out like a question but Kara’s already handing Lena her phone with the new contact section prepared for her and she thinks they both know it isn’t necessary - Kara could easily send it to her in a number of different ways - but Lena takes the phone and inputs her details anyway because she wants her to have it.
She wants Kara to stumble over her contact when she’s thumbing through her list in search of someone else and wonder if she should message, or call. She wants Kara to stare at the new entry and debate clicking on it for more time than she should. She wants her to think about her. She wants her to think, and think, and think, and then just follow the script Lena’s written and ask her out.
Kara doesn’t text Lena that night, but when her photo is the one Lena uploads onto the L-Corp instagram account, she does like it on both her personal and professional account and it feels like something. Kara following her feels like something. Kara liking a photo from months previously feels like something even greater.
(She still doesn’t know what to do next).
Lena’s getting an award.
It has some stupid title and she believes she deserves it about as much as she wants to spend an entire evening at some stupid event just to collect it. It’s awkward, and she hates it, but its good for publicity and it’ll at least get people talking about her work.
Lena accepts, accepting the award on a few conditions. The first being that Morgan Edge can be nowhere near it and the second being a strongly hinted suggestion that Argo Catering would be perfect for the ceremony. The second is pretty much the only thing pushing her through the increasingly more uncomfortable and inherently boring conversations she was being subjected to.
Knowing that she’ll see Kara, knowing that she’ll have at least one friendly face is enough to help her breathe in a room destined to suffocate her with inflated egos and inherited money. She may not be sure she deserves the award but she’s definitely sure that she doesn’t deserve to be forced to talk to anyone here for more than five minutes. She decided that much after she got roped into a thirty minute discussion about the mayors polling numbers (long story short: he was kind of a douche).
She excuses herself to the bathroom to hide for a minute after that one. In reality she takes five. Reapplies her lipstick, sprays her emergency perfume, and stares at herself for the rest of the time trying to mentally prep herself for going back out amongst the wolves. Ultimately, she decides the best course of action to escape is to make a run for the bar. It works. She’s halfway through downing a healthy glass of scotch when her peace is interrupted.
“I hear you’ve been putting in good words for me around the elite.” Kara. Thank God.
“I wasn’t sure I could make my way through this event without some of your mini sliders.” Or the wholly addicting sight of your face and sound of your voice. Mostly the last things. The sliders were quite delicious though - Lena had never been to the gym as much as she had recently to keep up with her new habit, slash, addiction, to Kara (and her food as a consequence).
“And here I thought you might just want to see me,” Kara says, mock affronted. Lena almost screams that it’s literally all she wants like twenty-four hours a day but she refrains. Just.
“I’m certainly not mad about it. You’re infinitely more interesting than being told about how the police commissioner managed to finish under par.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“That makes two of us.” Lena had half listened to his story for ten minutes and she still didn’t understand half of what he was talking about. It was golf. She knew that much. She gave up the second she got that far into putting it together because it occurred to her that she didn’t care.
“I do know that you getting an award is pretty cool. Where are you gonna put it? Is it big? Do you have a trophy shelf?” Kara gets exponentially more excited with each passing question until Lena almost feels like she should have a shelf. Almost. Thankfully for the first time since meeting Kara her logic brain outwits her gay brain and remembers that would be literally terrible.
“Oh yeah, specially made with spotlights and everything.”
“I’m aware you’re mocking me but I want you to know that I think that would be pretty awesome.”
“Of course you would,” Lena says with no hint of malice. Of course Kara would think that was cool. Of course she would let someone do something that nerdy to be proud of their achievements. Of course she wouldn’t judge anything. “I’ll probably hide it in some drawer or another on my desk.”
“I feel you - just whip it out when you want to flex on people in your office. Smart move. That’s why you make the big bucks.” Kara grins like she knows she’s being ridiculous but doesn’t care in the slightest and it’s as refreshing as it is attractive. Who knew Lena had such a huge dork kink? Certainly not her. Could’ve saved her several months of time spent with Veronica Sinclair.
“Has anybody ever told you you’re very strange?” Lena asks with a charmed smile.
Kara laughs, nods without a hint of self judgment. If anything she looks a little proud as she shrugs off the question. “All the time but they also call me charming so I focus on the positive.”
“I thought they called you Kara?”
“Lena Luthor,” Kara gasps, looking around the room with perfectly pretend caution before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “did you honestly just make a dad joke right now?"
“I might have.”
“You know, when I saw you in that dress I didn’t think you could possibly get any more attractive and yet here we are.” Lena laughs the comment off. Presses a smirk onto her face and pretends her body isn’t going into full overload at the words. It definitely is. Her heart stutters, sputters dust, clunks in her chest and whirls back to life just to cease action in the next second alongside her breath. The workers strike lasts about ten seconds before they resume as normal.
(All except her brain.
That remains in overdrive).
“You should hear my puns.”
“I’m not sure I could handle that.”
“Miss Luthor, you’re needed backstage,” says some random man or another with a headset and Lena wonders if they’ll ever manage to make it through a conversation without someone interrupting them, if she’ll ever be given enough time to figure out how to actually build up the courage to do something about the nuclear level crush she was developing.
“Saved by the bell. Good luck, Lena. Remember to imagine the audience in their underwear!” Kara shouts as Lena is lead away and that was not going to be helpful. In fact, it was literally the exact opposite of helpful because Lena had seen the muscles in Kara’s arms and thighs and in public was not the place to be imagining what kind of Phidias-like creation was hiding beneath her clothes.
(She really didn’t need to pass out on stage.
Even if it did save her from having to shake what was destined to be a sweaty hand from the mayor).
They’ve been flirting.
Lena definitely thinks there’s been flirting. After questioning every single one of their interactions over the past few months, Lena’s decided to call it what it is - good, honest flirting. Not just ‘you’ve flirted with me and you’re paying so I’m being polite and flirting back’ flirting. More like, ‘Kara initiates it, and searches her out, and says really nice things about her all the time that definitely aren’t just friendly’ flirting.
Like friendly but more. She thinks. She hopes.
Like Lena knows she’s attractive. She knows that she’s smart, and generous, and kind despite all that life had thrown at her over the years but she also knows that she’s intimidating because she’s richer than the rest of the city combined and often too cold for her own good.
She also knows that, due to all these things, sometimes people don’t think she’s flirting with them, or want to flirt too hard with her because they think she’ll react badly, but the thing is – she is flirting, and she does want Kara to flirt back. So hard. The hardest.
So Lena falls into the third thing she knows - lavish parties. Only this one is for a great cause. And maybe, also, throwing an entire party for charities supporting the LGBT youth of National City is also the perfect way to hint to a girl she likes that she’s a huge lesbian and finally figure out if she’s actually into girls too (and not just a huge fan of crazy patterns on button up shirts).
She thinks it’s a good sign that Kara agrees to cater the event. A better sign that the entire menu seems to be gay puns and rainbow foods. The best sign is seeing Kara in black jeans, a white shirt and suspenders a mix of blue, purple and pink - partially because it confirms her suspicions but mostly because it’s the hottest thing she’s ever seen and she deserves it.
She also deserved the confidence boost of rocking up in her suit - two piece, no shirt - with a rainbow pocket square and immediately watching a girl trip over her own jaw. There’s been a few lingering looks since, topping up her ego, and for once Lena finds herself somewhere other than hiding by the food. Namely because she actually likes everyone in attendance and secondly because she decides hiding on the balcony might be nicer for once.
(The view is pretty great.
The champagne loosely cradled in her hand certainly is).
“I’ll admit, I never thought I’d have a sugar daddy but I think you’re single-handedly paying my rent.” Kara grimaces like she’s realised those were word words, rather than head words and Lena’s mostly just freaking out about hearing the word ‘daddy’ come from her lips in literally any situation. “I don’t know why my brain let my mouth just say that.”
“It’s fine, Kara. You haven’t offended me.” Turned her on beyond belief but not offended.
“Good because I thought you were amazing before but you’ve really outdone yourself here. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who cares as much as you do. It’s inspiring. You’re inspiring.”
“Oh, no, I’m just the money and the face. I have a whole team of people who actually work out the in-and-outs of how to implement these things.”
“But they’re your ideas,” Kara presses with her words, and then presses her hand gently onto Lena’s arm where it’s rests on the railing. “I would’ve loved to have something like this when I was younger, to have someone to look up to like you.”
“I’ll wear bigger heel next time,” Lena jokes because she can’t take a compliment to save her life, and because it gives her an excuse to catch Kara in a deeper gaze to draw attention to the fact that Lena’s shoes allow them to sit at eye level. Blue meets green. Lena’s throat feels thick. She can practically hear the harsh bob of Kara’s throat as she swallows.
“Yeah, okay, calm down,” Kara laughs, breaking the gaze momentarily. “You really don’t need to be giving people any more ammunition to tweet about you stepping on their throats.”
“You been searching my name, Miss Danvers?” Kara shivers; Lena puts it down to it being a little chilly outside and her not having a jacket, reaches forward to run her hand down Kara’s arm in a warming motion and watches the shiver run through her body again.
“I was very thorough in my research about you. Twitter was an obvious step - though I can’t say I really gleamed much about you other than the entirety of National City wants you to murder them.”
“Entirety, huh?” Lena cocks a brow, wonders if Kara will take the bait.
She does. “At the rate you pay for my services I certainly wouldn’t fight it.”
“Speaking of your services, you’ve really outdone yourself tonight. You’ll have your own fanclub for your rainbow sushi alone.” If anyone other than Lena had managed to get a piece.
“I should hope so. I spent far too much time dyeing that rice.”
“Worth it.”
“Well if you think so, I’d have to agree.”
“I like your suspenders, by the way.” Lena boldly pings one. Kara leans forward and runs her fingers along the pocket square on Lena’s chest in retaliation. She can feel the motion beneath her jacket,. The light dig of Kara’s finger on her skin. Lighter than the gaze pinned to her chest but heavier than she was expecting to have to handle without passing out. She might legitimately pass out.
“Thank you; I’m a fan of your pocket square.” The words don’t make the tension any lighter. The broken silence doesn’t manage to slice through the crackling air. The flick and twist of Kara’s tongue does nothing to change the off-key beat of Lena’s heart in her ribcage.
Lena almost feels like nothing could break the moment.
And then someone appears, breathless and relieved, in the doorway.
“Kara, there you are, thank god. Sorry to interrupt but we need more macaroons and you have the only key to the van.” Kara smiles apologetically before she turns and shifts into work mode. A tension in her shoulders that Lena has never seen before as she starts to back away from Lena slowly.
“Duty calls. Again. Thank you for letting me take up too much of your time as usual.”
“Never too much for you,” Lena admits with more than a hint of truth and Kara’s smile burns just a little brighter as she crashes into the glass door behind her. Even then she doesn’t turn to check her pathway, doesn’t remove her eyes from Lena from a second. Just laughs and feels for a gap with her hands. It’s odd how elegantly she slips through the door once she’s found it - so completely dichotic from before - but Lena never expected to be able to understand Kara Danvers.
(She thinks she’d be willing to spend a good amount of time trying though…
Like her whole life).
Lena’s tired of waiting, tired of throwing galas and parties with people she barely likes and others that are beginning to get way too suspicious of her actual motives. There are only so many knowing looks Lena can be sent by people (namely her mother) before she stops being so scared.
Scared wasn’t in her vocabulary in any other aspect of life.
She wasn’t going to let it lead her now.
Which was obviously a complete and total lie because she was terrified right now but she was pushing through it - which ultimately manifested in her doing something recklessly courageous, stupidly bold, rashly daring. Also: expensive. But if you can’t hire out an entire ballroom and put in an order for an entire spread of food for a party you’re not really having, just to ask out the girl you maybe, sort of, like, with your piles of money then what was it for?
And she did need to ask out the girl she definitely liked because she’d realised after a dozen instances of Kara flirting and then immediately pulling back that she was never going to ask her out, never, because Kara didn’t think she could, didn’t think they were in the same league, didn’t think of herself in the way Lena had spent months thinking about her.
It’s eerily quiet in the room. Nothing but Lena’s slightly off kilter breathing and her beating heart on overdrive, with her out of check feelings at the wheel. Nothing but the faint click of wringing fingers, the unsure shuffle of feet where her usual façade was threatening to crack.
When Kara walks in with a huge tray on the verge of tipping from her hands, she’s definitely ready to crack. She almost rips the bouquet in her hands clean in half, almost trips over her nervous smile and stumbles back into the single candlelit table by her side.
“I think I might have over catered,” Kara says as she takes in the sight in front of her, putting the clues together. “This explains why everyone was giggling at me the entire way over. I thought I had something on my face.”
“No you look beautiful.” In nothing more than blue jeans and a white tee, Kara was the single most beautiful thing Lena had ever seen and she could feel her brain getting physically stuck on her. Lena can’t remember the last time she wasn’t.
“And you booked out an entire ballroom for me. You know you could’ve just texted me. I’d have said yes to literally anything you suggested.” That certainly would’ve been simpler, though Lena doesn’t know if it would have been any easier. Being so focused on being bold, making sure everything was in place, meant less time worrying about what might come next. Speaking of next…
“I’ve never had to ask someone out before. I got a little ahead of myself.” She laughs self consciously. “So you’ll eat with me?” Her confidence braces itself once the words are out, then immediately preens when Kara’s face paints itself into a smile that screams ‘obviously’.
“Fortunately I have shrimp satays so we can recreate our first meeting,” Kara says, raising the tray in her hands in show and stepping towards the table where Lena pulls out a chair.
“You mean the time you touched my arm and I thought about it for two weeks? Good times.” Apparently Lena hadn’t experienced some honest human contact for a long time because it came into her head and then just didn’t leave. Took up residence and ignored every eviction notice Lena tried to put up in her brain. Eventually she just let it take root.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you from the second you walked in. I still can’t,” Kara admits.
“I usually attend like one gala a year and I’ve organised nine in two months just to see you,” Lena attempts to best her. She’s willing to get out her bank statements to win this fight.
“The time you wore that backless dress, I dropped three trays of entrees and had to run to a 7/11 and buy chips to cover the empty space on the table.”
“I knocked a candle over that time you wore that sleeveless shirt and blamed the fire on someone else.” Kara laughs, obviously remembering the perfect look of oh god what’s happened here on Lena’s face and her complete allowance to let someone else take the blame for it. Just because she was self aware of her gay mess, that didn’t mean everyone else needed to be. She had a reputation to uphold.
“We should stop before this gets out of hand because I promise you I could go all night and I will come out on top,” Kara says casually, sipping on her water like she’d said nothing strange at all. Lena chokes on air. Literally starts coughing at the table and she was probably going to die tonight and she happened to be incredibly okay with that. Dying right now would not be frowned upon.
“At least give me some shrimp before you kill me. Something tells me I might need the sustenance.”
Who knew galas could be foreplay?.
Lena eats more food than ever that night as she listens to Kara talk about nothing and everything, lets herself talk about things that she’d never thought to speak about before. It’s amazing. It’s refreshing. It’s the best shrimp she’s ever had in her entire life.
The next time Lena eats something Kara made, it’s on a date in Kara’s apartment. Kara tries to teach her the proper way to ice cupcakes - it doesn’t go well. It mostly just results in a stressed Lena and frosting on Kara’s mouth. The stress feels a little less when Lena licks it from her lips. The stress feels a lot less when it escalates from there because they’d both been politely holding back for too long.
The time after that, it’s in Kara’s bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows and pastels. Kara makes waffles and freshly squeezed juice in nothing but a wrinkled button up that’s barely buttoned enough to deserve its name. It’s hot and she’s cute and Lena likes her so much.
(And food. She loves the food… and eating.
Definitely the eating).