Chapter Text
Admittedly, the dive bar Alex and Sam chose for their first official outing as a couple seems to be pretty enjoyable. A chill Mac Miller song is playing, the warm atmosphere in the room is a welcome contrast to the early winter chill permeating the streets outside, and, as soon as she gets ahold of a vodka co*ke, Kara finally allows herself to sigh out her stress (at least for tonight).
She has been drowning in the start of her second year at law school, consumed by midterm study guides and case-study depositions to review, and, to be completely honest, she’s grateful she has a fully valid excuse to step away from them. If her sister hadn’t invited her to come tonight, she’d probably be sitting in front of a half-painted canvas, feeling a coil of dread and self-hatred tighten in her belly because of her procrastination.
Honestly, that feeling remains: a nagging little voice in the back of her mind that whispers the details of every single assignment she still has to get over to her like a noxious, unbearable mosquito. But, she reminds herself, she’s here to celebrate Alex’s happy milestone, and so, she shrugs off her denim jacket and shoves the thought with a big gulp of her drink. She walks aimlessly around a couple tables, looking for her sister somewhere between the packed crowd, until she spots a waving hand at the other side of the room, near a bigger bar lined with neon lights.
Kara smiles at the sight, lifting her free hand to wave back as she starts to make her way to the group.
“Kara!” Alex greets her warmly when she gets to them, wrapping her up in one of her big bear hugs. Then she turns to a tall, handsome man with brown skin and a sick beard and says: “Jack, meet my sister.” Jack smiles and offers Kara his hand; she shakes it politely. “This is Jack, Sam’s friend.”
Sam, who looks dazzling in a white halter top that contrasts Alex’s leather jacket, adds: “We practically share blood—we’ve been tight since kindergarten.”
“Aw, cool!” Kara answers, smiling wider at Jack’s nod to that. “Nice to meet you.”
“And, uh—” Sam looks past Jack’s shoulder and waves her hand in the air again, going up onto her toes. “Lena!”
Kara’s stomach sinks at the name. Sure, it’s been almost half a year since she had that whirlwind of a night, but, for some reason, remembering it still stings—more than the memories of the fight she and Mike had been embroiled in around then. But she didn’t come here to wallow and brood, so, instead of going down memory lane with her heart, she tries to listen to her logical brain. Obviously, she tells herself, there’s no way that the random rich woman she met at a coffee shop downtown during her summer internship is the same Lena that Sam just called over.
But then she sidles up next to Jack.
“This is Lena. She’s the other part of our trio—we met her in elementary.”
And when Kara takes in her striking jade eyes—now wide with shared dreadful recognition—her brow furrows as a wave of hurt and anger washes over her chest. Because yes, the universe is playing a sick joke on her. This is the very same Lena who saved her from getting a UTI and won her over with witty conversation and grilled cheese, only to bash her behind her back once she had bravely decided she was ready to step out of her comfort zone, for once.
Kara’s jaw tightens as she takes what’s supposed to be a calming breath.
“Hello,” Lena says, and, if the sharpness in her voice is anything to go by, she’s equally amused by this turn of events.
Kara’s lips tighten into a curt, fleeting smile. “Hi.”
There’s a beat in which Alex’s gaze jumps from one to the other, her brows furrowed in the familiar way they do when she’s analyzing a conflict. “You know each other?”
“Yeah,” Kara answers, nodding once, a little too harshly. “We’ve met.”
Lena scoffs. “Barely.”
“Oh, wow,” Sam says, smiling a little at their serendipity. “That’s so random.”
Well. Apparently the universe also doesn’t want Kara’s plan to remain collected and easygoing tonight to happen, does it?
She just needs to step away and remind herself of how that mess of an encounter led her to finally see that Mike was the one for her after all, she figures. He’s nice and he cares about her and makes her laugh, and, really, that’s all that should matter—remembering the way her heart lit up at Lena’s easy conversation and soft touches will do nothing but shatter her newfound resolve again, anyway. So, she leans closer to Alex and tells her: “You know, I think I’m gonna get another drink.”
Just before she can turn and leave, however, Lena just has to grab her attention again. “The door is that way, just in case you felt like running out on us later.”
To keep herself from rolling her eyes, Kara exhales sharply through her nose. “Well, I am a disaster,” she counters, and Lena has the gall to look taken aback at that, “so it wouldn’t be that far-fetched of a supposition, would it?”
Finally, the vibes around the group seem to get heavier, then. Alex, knowledgeable as she is, tries her trusted tactic to dissipate the tension.
“O-kay, let’s just—”
“Go,” Sam finishes, grabbing Alex’s hand to lead her to a table while nodding at Jack to follow. “Let’s go.”
In a second, Kara and Lena are alone again, searing rancor simmering low in both pairs of their eyes as the lively music booms on behind them.
“So, are you a lawyer yet?” Lena asks, a hit of condescension in her tone.
Kara scoffs at it. She’s not the one that just had to go through a very public trial because her CEO brother was convicted for embezzlement. “Why? Do you need a defense attorney?”
“No, I was just wondering how you managed to pass Ethics.”
The nerve. “Well, just so you know,” Kara tells her, bringing her hand up to flash the sparkling ring on her finger with spite, “I’m engaged now, so.”
Lena pulls in an over-exaggerated gasp, her jaw dropping wide. “Congratulations. Where are you registered? I’ll buy you a broomstick.”
“I’ll be sure to send you an invite,” Kara says as her eyes narrow. “Do you still live at 28 Heartless Lane?
Lena’s nose scrunches sardonically. “Aw, you do remember. See? It did mean something to you.”
Kara shakes her head, looking to the side as her jaw drops, a smile of indignation tugging at her lips. “You’ll always be my rock bottom,” she tells Lena when she turns back to her. “The time I was so lost and unconfident that I spent the night with a lonely millionaire.”
Lena’s jaw tightens. “So that’s how it is,” she says, her words slowing like she was amused by the confession as she crosses her arms tightly. “It’s funny: how I remember, you were quite eager to go out with me in the first place.”
Kara’s jaw works a few times, hundreds of empty rebuttals to that dancing in her chest, ready to bubble up. The truth is, of course, Lena is completely spot-on (and, though she tries not to do it too often for the preservation of her fickle peace of mind, she still thinks about how her life would’ve moved forward if Lena had reciprocated the feelings that bubbled up in Kara’s chest that night from time to time), but she’s not going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that; of knowing the fact that, unlike her, Kara does have a heart and did get her feelings hurt by the blindsiding turn of events that their promising date took. So, instead of trying to come up with a cutting, witty rebuttal, she simply lets out a sigh.
“You know what?” she asks, softening to a more amiable tone. “Just… let’s get through tonight. For them.”
Lena takes a step forward. Their faces are closer now—Kara can see that the black eyeliner under her lower lashes is smudging. To counter Kara’s white flag, Lena lets her voice drops to scorch. “Well, she’s your sister. I doubt the relationship will last long.”
At that, Kara’s brow furrows deeply, her mouth falling to a gape. No one messes with Alex. “And she’s your friend, so I think my sister must be out of her mind to see something in her.”
“Well, I might as well just go get a drink instead, then,” Lena answers, voice low and smooth as she takes another step forward, “and toast to never seeing you again.”
For a second, the warm puff of air that accompanies Lena’s words consumes every single one of Kara’s synapses when it clashes against her mouth. She licks her lips, taking in a sharp, shallow breath as her eyes flicker down to Lena’s, cherry red and gorgeously parted.
But then, just before Kara’s body can do anything rash and stupid, an ever-so-slight smirk of victory pulls at Lena’s lips. Lena smirks and turns to walk away, headed to the bar, and Kara is left so exposed and blindsided by her own reaction that, even though she’s two seconds too late, she feels the overwhelming need to reclaim her dignity. With a horrible, burning flush crawling up to her cheeks, she takes a step forward, furrows her brow, and raises her vodka co*ke high in the air, yelling out a very impassioned:
“Yeah, cheers to that!”
Not to dunk on Alex’s happiness, or anything, Kara thinks as she chugs the slightly bitter liquid that’s left in her glass, but, hopefully, next time she picks someone with less exasperating friends.
***
As she drags her feet towards boarding gate 119, travel bag over her shoulder and thermos full of coffee in hand, Kara scoffs at the memory of ever having doubted the potential longevity of Alex’s relationship with Sam.
Because, of course, there was no next time.
There was such little room for next time, actually, that it came as no surprise when, five months ago, during a family dinner in Midvale with Eliza and Jeremiah, they both joined hands at the table and dropped the news with the biggest, brightest grins on their faces—at the end of the year, they’d get married. And, really, despite Sam’s questionable close relationships and the headache that this airport is summoning just behind Kara’s eyes, Kara couldn’t be happier for them.
The thing is, Sam truly is fantastic. During the time she and Alex have been together, Kara has really grown to regard her as a sister, and baby Ruby as a niece (even if the titles aren’t official yet)—the amount of motivational pep talks she’s given Kara this past year really has her thinking she should suggest ditching finance and instead pursuing a career in TEDx to her. Plus, they’ll all visit museums and the zoo together and go out for a weekend breakfast monthly, and Kara’s stress-constricted chest warms up remembering how they laugh at Ruby’s toddler babbles during charades at their game nights.
Sometimes, when Alex calls her late at night, she’ll go out on gushy limbs about all the little things Sam does for her; about how much she loves her and how stable she makes her feel, after having felt so lost and untethered during her breakup with Maggie. They make Kara’s heart glow and ache at the same time. How wonderful it is that her sister has found someone that makes her feel so sure. About everything.
But… all things at their own time, as Sam would say. She’ll get her moment to let out her breath, too. Sooner rather than later, hopefully.
So… yeah. All in all, Sam is kind and smart and passionate and analytical and fun, and being completely honest, Kara really couldn’t think of someone better suited to stand by Alex’s side for the rest of time—which is why the stupid one-night connection Kara managed to forge with Sam’s lifelong, ride-or-die, work-colleague/boss, impossible-to-avoid best friend is so damn annoying.
But it’s fine. It’s all fine. Kara’s a full-grown twenty-four-year-old adult, and she can mingle with Lena at the party as if they were simply two different women from two opposite sides of the social world they coinhabit with no shared smithereens of budding feelings whatsoever.
She can.
…But if she can’t, there’ll be plenty of things there to distract her during this weekend escape, anyway.
They’ll be at the beach, for one. Because both Sam and Alex loathe winters (especially in Metropolis), they chose to get married in Sydney, taking advantage of the fact that Eliza and Jeremiah own a house there for the research work they do abroad twice a year. When Kara was younger, she used to spend hours sitting out on their deck, capturing the Australian landscapes in her sketchbook, or just lounging in the shore just off their backyard, all tan and freckly and free under the sun. She and Alex would hold competitions to see who could ride the highest wave (which she’s sure her sister will agree to again, in true Danvers competitive spirit), and she bets she’s has also planned various activities for them to all partake in as a family, anyway. Plus, Kara has an extensive sea glass collection that she’s certainly not opposed to growing, so… yeah. There’s something to look forward to.
On top of that, of course, there are her best woman duties, which… which Lena shares with Sam as maid of honor, as well, but… whatever, they’ll keep her busy and focused. Besides, she’ll have movies to watch and podcasts to listen to while they’re soaring the air, and they’re supposed to give her confidence and clarity. What’s not to love?
As she gets through the line inside the jet bridge, she takes a couple deep breathes to try and cleanse her mental space before the flight begins. She gets her ticket checked—73F, all the way to the back—and heads over to her seat, grateful for the fact that she managed to get the window so she can imagine she’s a cloud particle in the sky without a single problem in her being, or something. When she gets to it, she hoists her duffel bag to try and fit it inside the compartment above her row.
She doesn’t have success, though. There’s a knapsack inside already, which resists her force and makes her bag teeter back towards her over the edge. As if the poke to her rickety emotional stability wasn’t enough, however, another boulder tacks onto her mounting pile of irritation—just when her bag falls back into her hands, a familiar, grating voice graces her ears.
f*ck her breathing—the simmering blaze in her chest roars stronger again, crackling. Can’t she ever have a moment of peace?
“Headed to the wedding?”
“Of my sister?” she replies curtly, pushing her bag onto the compartment again—with success, this time. After closing the little sliding door, she turns to give Lena a flatly irritated look. “Yes. I am.”
Lena nods, sardonically amused. She looks oddly put together for being on a sixteen-hour-long flight: although she’s dressed in in an old MIT sweatshirt and flowy white pants, she’s still got concealer and mascara and some kind of dewy serum on. Or maybe, because the universe likes to laugh at Kara like that, that’s just what she looks like all the time. “What are the odds?”
Kara rolls her eyes. “I don’t think there are thousands of flights headed to Sydney every day,” she says, sticking her hands in the pockets of her sweatpants.
“Oh, but there kind of are,” Lena pushes on, each word dripping with more and more smooth condescension. “There’s American, Qantas, Qantas through Dubai, codeshares. Just our luck, I suppose.”
“Right,” Kara answers flatly, pulling her hands out to cross her arms tight. “How blessed are we.”
“So, where’s your fiancé? Oh, is this him?” Lena asks, pushing through Kara’s side to regard the robust middle-aged man that’s got the seat next to Kara’s. She sticks her hand out for him to take. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Lena. I was her hall pass on your break.”
His gaze lifts from his phone, brow furrowing. “What?”
Lena’s brows raise with faux surprise, her full, pink lips parting as she turns back to Kara. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot,” she backtracks, bringing her hand up to her chest. But then she drops the overstated empathy, replacing it instead with the kind of exasperating wryness that makes her nose scrunch up as she adds: “Sam told me you dumped him. Did you run out on your wedding day?”
Kara’s stomach drops at that, the flame in her heart bursting up to a blaze.
The worst part is, Lena’s not entirely wrong. The plans for the wedding had been going swimmingly: Kara had a dress and Mike had a tux, they’d settled on a cake flavor, finally (Kara was hellbent on having it be chocolate, and Mike has always had a penchant for buttery sweets, so salted caramel brownie fudge it was), and they’d picked a lovely venue on an old-timey mansion-hotel just outside of town—hell, they’d even booked their honeymoon in Vienna, so they could enjoy a winter wonderland right out of a Hallmark movie. On paper, Kara was set to have the fairytale wedding of her dreams, to be the envy of every other twenty-four-year-old with her sights set on finding a life partner to settle down with. It all just…. it felt… restrictive.
Not because she didn’t want to get married after all. Even still, she feels a little downhearted at the knowledge that she passed up on the opportunity to wear her flowy dress and walk down the aisle with Jeremiah at her side, friends and family watching as she and her partner celebrated their everlasting love. But Mike simply… was still Mike. He was still charming and familiar and predictable and safe, and he still didn’t light up her heart the way it did when—
The way she’d always dreamed of.
So, after countless sleepless, teary-eyed nights and two extremely emotionally draining conversations with Alex and Eliza and Jeremiah respectively, she went up to him one night with her sparkly ring in her hands and told him that she couldn’t go through with the commitment because she felt like she was meant for something different. Something… looser, freer.
I love you, she said, voice frail and teary as she forced herself to look him in the eyes, hugging her knees on his couch. You’re family—I-I always will; and it’s really not about anything you’ve done, I— You’re perfect, it’s just… I really don’t think we’re meant to be together after all.
To add salt to the wound (even if it makes Kara feel even guiltier for thinking of his reaction in that way), he took it superbly. It wasn’t a surprise, really—he’s never been anything other than supportive of her dreams and wishes, even if they don’t really include him. So, although there were only three months left until the fateful date and he’d now have a brimming boatful of explaining to do (his poor family and friends must think wonderfully of Kara now, that’s for sure), he took the ring back and stepped away gracefully, leaving her life in an even messier, black-void-of-unknown-prospects state than before.
But it’s not the time to think about that right now. Kara won’t allow Lena to make her spiral again. Right now, she’s headed to Alex’s wedding, and she’s supposed to be clearing her mind of everything life-and-future-related so she can try and have fun when she gets there—or, at the very least, to not be a nuisance for her sister and the rest of the wedding party over the weekend.
So, she takes a deep breath, reminding herself how good it feels to be the bigger person of a situation. Even if her heart is screaming at her to run to the bathroom and yell until her throat hurts. “You know, when I first saw you,” she answers, contempt dripping from her tense words as she sidles her way into her seat, creating distance, “I never would’ve thought you could act like such a child.”
“Oh,” Lena chuckles mirthlessly, crossing her arms. “You know, it’s a long flight. Would you like me to get you something from the front? A cookie? Some water? The last ten years of your life?”
Kara drops into her seat with force, then runs a hand through her hair. “Yeah, I’m all good on green juice and weird corporate energy.”
Lena shrugs, tucking her hair behind her ear. “As you like it.” Then, she puts on a cutting, tight-lipped smile and lifts her hand to wave like a pageant queen, all smooth and saccharine. “Have a good flight. See you there.”
Kara aggressively returns the wave as Lena turns on her heels, putting on her best toothy grin of contempt. Once she has disappeared into the business class cabin, Kara sighs sharply and turns to the man with a deeply apologetic grimace. “I’m so sorry.”
He only shrugs, though, shaking his head with something eerily similar to wistfulness, or something. “I’m tellin’ ya, kid. That one’s a keeper.”
Kara’s eyes widen when she looks away, and she damns the flush that starts to spread over her cheeks at that.
Well. Lena’s right about something—it is gonna be a long flight.
Kara wakes up on hour ten of sixteen, groaning as soon as she regains consciousness because of course—of course—her body chooses now to need to pee.
After she shuts her eyes and knits her brows, sinking a little deeper into her seat with dread spreading through her veins, she takes off her pillow and rolls her neck a couple times to brighten up. The plane is dark and quiet—she can hear the rumble of the engine humming low in the background, blending in with the hushed breathing of the rest of the sleeping passengers around her. She stands up with a sigh, stretches her arms over her head, and then sluggishly gets up onto the seats to climb over the man fast asleep on the seat beside hers without disturbing him. Once she confirms no one has been awakened by the thump of her landing, she starts to shuffle down the aisle, rubbing her face with her palm, and when she reaches the economy class bathroom she sees—
The light above the door is red. Occupied.
Okay. Well, nothing surprising for the vibe this flight took on since it began. Whatever; she turns and heads to the business class cabin.
The atmosphere inside it certainly feels lighter—there are less passengers on board, the aisle is roomier, and all the seats recline to provide their occupants with a night of true quality sleep. She only gets as far as halfway through, however, because, when she’s only got a couple feet left to reach it, someone else gets up from their bed-seat and gets into the stall.
Kara can only sigh as she watches the little bulb over the door light up crimson.
With a resigned frown, she turns to go back to her seat and wait, but before she can, something catches her attention, making her stop in her tracks.
As luck would have it, Lena’s seat is right there to her left, perfectly positioned in her immediate eyeline.
Kara scoffs softly. She’s got luck with fate, lately.
Lena’s sleeping soundly—she’s got a thick eye mask and big, black headphones on. If she were literally anyone else (anyone who didn’t lie straight to her face about her feelings), Kara would probably find her cute, all parted lips and cuddly blanket. On the little sill beside her are a metal water bottle with faded stickers on it, a battered notebook with a pen inside, and a sleek phone sitting over a wireless charger. Next to them, a chocolate-chip cookie rests provocatively over a napkin, uncovered and unsupervised.
Huh.
Well, Kara reasons as she bites her lip mischievously, after her wedding attack, a little revenge wouldn’t hurt. Right?
Kara looks over her shoulders to make sure no one is watching her before taking a long stride and climbing over another sleeping woman to get to Lena’s seat. Once she’s crawled over to her side of the row, Kara reaches out her hand and grabs the cookie to take a bite. Just when her teeth have touched the pastry, however, her support hand slips and hits a button on the arm rest that makes it start to go up with a metallic little whirr. She hits it again in a rush to stop it, eyes widening at the possibility of Lena waking up to find Kara hanging over her like some sort of deranged stalker. She looks back to check—Lena’s slumber is still deep as ever—and then lets out a little breath though her nose, tasting rich chocolate that compliments her relief perfectly.
Okay. Yeah. This is certainly a sign to abort her mission.
She tries to pull her hand away. Strong resistance stops her momentum.
Goddamnit.
The sleeve of her comfort fleece jacket has gotten stuck in between the automated arm rest and the reclined seat. With a deepening frown of worry, Kara yanks it once, twice, three times, all with increasing force—but, still, it doesn’t budge. She stops for a second, feeling a wave of dread spreading through her veins.
Okay, she’ll have to try a different method, then.
With the cookie still between her teeth, she shifts to rest her knee on the raised arm rest—very careful not to touch Lena as she basically straddles her lap in the process—so she can slide out of her jacket. A chill draught hits her shoulders, bare in her thin tank top; she represses a little shiver as she bunches up the fleece in her hands. She continues her pulling, except with more care, now, alternating between rushed yanks and focused little pulls to try and release it from its entrapment as discreetly and quickly as possible.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity of running from a pack of ravenous grizzly bears, the sleeve is freed—and the momentum of the behemoth of a pull that does it snatches Kara’s balance away from her and sends her falling forward like a weighted domino.
This is where her strength training comes in handy, though. She manages to catch herself with a hand on the sturdy back support that remains in the seat’s reclined state, swiftly avoiding waking Lena up with a nasty full-body slam. Kara’s face hovers just inches above hers—over her own stifled pants, she can hear the soft puffs of air that leave Lena’s nose in her sleep, as well as whisper of the song she’s listening to, tinny through her chunky headphones.
—in words unspoken / Live your life with arms wide open / Today is where your book begins / The rest is still unwritten.
Kara’s face scrunches into a bewildered frown.
Okay…
She didn’t really peg Lena as a pop fan, but… whatever.
She’s got her fleece back; she really needs to return to her seat now. After straightening back up, she finally takes the bite of the cookie, sets it back on the napkin, and crawls back into the aisle.
Luckily for her, the bathroom freed up while she was away with her… vicissitude. She returns to her seat and falls into a deep sleep for the rest of the flight.
***
As Kara descends the escalator of the Sydney airport, she catches sight of Jack waving her over in the crowd below—with Lena by his side. By now, the sight of her alone doesn’t piss her off—ever since she discovered she and Lena were on the same flight, she figured they’d be picked up together. No, what grinds her gears about the sight of Lena right now is that, despite the fact that they both just got off a sixteen-hour-long transpacific flight, she looks as if she was modelling for a designer sports brand. She must’ve changed in a bathroom, freshened up, or something (which, honestly, Kara should’ve done too, come to this of it), because now Lena’s sporting a flowy dress shirt, a sports bra, and a pair of tight-fitting biker shorts that look unfairly flattering on her—a stark, stark contrast to Kara’s scruffy tank top and sweatpants, greasy ponytail, and undeniable eyebags of time-zone-change-induced exhaustion.
But whatever. She doesn’t have much time to dwell on the logistics of how this woman always manages to look so gorgeous because, as soon as her feet touch ground, Jack’s smooth voice is calling for her.
“Supergirl!”
Kara smiles at the nickname as she rushes towards him, then hugs him with the arm that’s not carrying her luggage. “Jack,” she says fondly as they part. His (surely nasty-expensive) cologne, a mixture of citrus and earth, has certainly worked to wake her up a little.
“How was the flight?”
Kara side-eyes Lena for a moment, gauging with a spark of paranoia whether or not she’s aware of the… debacle that transpired during said flight. When her look elicits no reaction beyond an ice-cold once-over, however, she looks back at Jack and chuckles mirthlessly, reaching up to scratch her eyebrow with a finger. “I’m really, really jet-lagged, but, uh… fine.”
“Oh, then you’ll love the coffee Sam brought here,” he suggests, gesturing widely with his hand to provide support to his warmly confessional tone. “One shot and you’re up and running all night, like some sort of… hyperactive racoon. You’re lucky, though—I make a mean mocha. Would you like one as your welcome gift?”
Kara smiles at that, laughing softly through her nose. “Yes, please, I’d love that.”
Jack nods. “You got it.” He reaches for her bag—which leaves both of his hands full, the left with her suitcase and the right with Lena’s—and then sighs deeply, a shining smile spreading on his face. “Anyway, let’s get going.” He starts to turn, looking back at them to add: “You two ready for Australia?”
Kara’s mouth opens to answer. She’s incredibly excited to spend a weekend in virtually the beach alone. The little splinter of her rift with Lena that’s still poking at her chest, however, impedes her from getting out her usual chipper answer.
But they’re two adults, she reminds herself. Two adults who are mature and capable of understanding when their mutual disdain for each other has to bubble on the down low, for the benefit of everyone else around them (even if Lena doesn’t seem to show it very well). So… maybe leaving their history in the States for this party will be the best course of action. After all, if they’re going to spend this weekend together, they might as well begin to at least try and be civil to each other for good, right?
She nods lightly to answer to Jack, and then she turns to Lena and shoots her a quick, tight-lipped smile. Lena answers by rolling her eyes, just before she starts walking to catch up with him.
A crinkle appears between Kara’s brows, heat simmering low in her chest.
She’ll have to take a lot of deep breaths this weekend, that’s for sure.
***
Kara’s grateful that Jack’s sleek Mercedes is a convertible—feeling the tight pressure of high-speed wind on her face was certainly what she needed to start her flight recovery.
As he drives them down the Harbour Bridge—him in the front, extra bags sitting passenger, Lena and Kara together in the back—Kara lets her mind wander as she watches the urban blur of glittering blacks, grays, and blues through the amber filter of her aviators.
She can’t wait to see Eliza and Jeremiah’s house after all these years. It’s so full of warm memories, she’s sure it’ll cheer her up as soon as she steps a foot in their lawn. Plus, the two of them, Alex, Sam, and Ruby are already there, which means there’ll probably be some delicious dish on the table with her name written on it in bold when they arrive. Before she can start to daydream the rumbling-stomach-fueled iterations of what it might be, though, Jack grabs her attention.
“A pointer,” he says loudly over the Dominic Fike song playing low on the stereo and the wind that surrounds them—a thought, casually popping into his mind. “Alex has been readying your rooms like crazy, so you’d better love the personal accommodations she’s made when we get there. I have a feeling she’ll snap if you don’t comment on her efforts.”
Kara’s mouth opens to retort with a fond acknowledgement of Alex’s hysteria, but the implications of Jack’s notice hit her like an overachieving child does a whack-a-mole. He just said Alex had been readying their rooms. Rooms.
“Wait, we’re all staying together?”
Jack nods, exhaling amusedly, like he’d been waiting for the question. “Your parents’ idea. They said it was important to keep the wedding party all in one place.”
Kara rolls her eyes, leaning her elbow on the window ledge as she looks out at the glistening cityscape again, knuckles against her temple. She knows and appreciates that Eliza and Jeremiah are all about interpersonal connection and strengthening bonds, but come on, Kara’ll have to deal with Lena twenty-four-seven, now, and not simply gather enough bearings over the weekend to deal with her at the party?
God, why did Alex not tell her anything about this?
“Of course they did,” she laments under her breath. Below them, across the sea, she can see the crisp outlines of the Sydney Opera House.
Lena perks up beside her, leaning a little to aim a frown at the rearview mirror. “That seems like a piece of information that could’ve been shared a little earlier.”
Jack just scoffs, smooth and urbane. “They think you two hate each other. They didn’t want to fuel the fire.”
At that, Lena and Kara both get the urge to look at each other. It only lasts a second, but when her gaze falls into those clear, green eyes, framed by a deeply annoyed frown, Kara can’t help the blazing spark that shoots from deep in her chest all the way to her belly, fluttery and electric and utterly awful. Huffing to snuff it out before it can grow into something inextinguishable and catastrophic, she rolls her eyes and looks out at the view again, jaw set tight.
If all else fails, she figures, brow furrowing at the steaming sizzle still dancing in her chest, she’s pretty sure she could get away with convincing Alex to tell Sam to tell Lena to get an Airbnb. Or whatever.
***
The fresh smell of oceanwater. A malleable pillow of smooth sand under her feet. Sunlight warming her severely under-tanned winter skin and a surfboard, secure under her arm.
Finally, Kara thinks as she takes in a big inhale of salt air. Finally, things are turning around.
She’d been right—when they arrived, after the mandatory hugs and kisses of warm welcome from the family and a tackle hug with a heart-melting Aunt Kara! to boot from Ruby (who is running now, how crazy is that?), she got to dig into a brimming plate of fruit salad and a salmon and cream cheese bagel, along with the power mocha Jack had promised. They chilled for a beat, allowed Kara and Lena to regain her bearings, before Alex suggested they all go inaugurate the weekend by going out to freshen up.
So now, changed into swimsuits, hats, and sunglasses, they’re headed to the section of beach that’s attached to Eliza and Jeremiah’s property, Kara and Alex ready to fight over the best waves like they did when they were kids and Sam and Lena happy to lie under an umbrella to watch and read some scientific article, respectively.
Sam and Alex walk a couple steps in front of Kara and Lena—who is smothered in sunscreen and sporting a flowy cover-up and the biggest floppy hat Kara has ever seen—holding hands and commenting on how gorgeous the view is: rocky mountains in the horizon, bring green flora teeming with life around them, and deep cerulean water that matches perfectly with the clear sky above.
Kara’s fixing the long sleeve of her surf shirt when Sam catches her attention by turning around, walking backwards to look at her and Lena as she asks: “So… have you guys made up yet?”
Kara takes in a breath, then stops with her mouth open for a second before deciding to settle with a perfectly neutral, totally not wedding-ruining statement. “Uh, well, we—"
Before she can finish telling them she and Lena will just focus on making their wedding the star of this weekend, Lena makes the wholly sound call to cut her off. Of course. “We’ll be fine,” she says, reaching up to fix her Prada sunglasses on her nose, because clearly she never learned to wait for her turn as a child. “As long as she stays away from me.”
Kara’s brow furrows for a second. Is Lena seriously not familiar with the concept of expected civility? She’s on the board of a multinational. “Well, I don’t need an invitation for that,” she does counter eventually, though, soft but laced with budding frustration, “that’s for sure.”
“I think you do,” Lena counters, voice brimming with animosity but gaze still fixed on the sandy path ahead. “For some odd reason, you can’t ever seem to leave me alone.”
“You came to me during—"
“Okay!” Alex cuts her off before this can escalate into a full-on diatribe, gesturing widely with her free arm at her side. “Clearly, you guys have buried the hatchet and will behave like the two full-grown women that you are, and we f*cking appreciate it. Thank you, let’s move on.”
Sam snorts quietly, and then, after a second, she perks up like a lightbulb has just lit up inside her mind. “One last thing, though: we did have a tiny, little last-minute snafu,” she tells Kara and Lena, turning around to face them again once they stop at the start of the beach. “You guys are gonna have to share a room. Yeah, there’s only one bed, but we hung a shower curtain in the middle, so you—"
“She’s kidding! She’s kidding,” Alex cuts in, placing her hands on Sam’s shoulders to fix her with a pointed look—a look that Kara recognizes, that says, we’ll talk about this later (but that is also extremely amused by this diabolical prodding).
Kara just shakes her head with a sigh, a little mirthless smile of defeat pulling at her lips as she adjusts the lift of her board in her arm. “Let’s just go ride some waves.”
The ocean gives Kara a rush of endorphins so big, she can’t even remember why she’d been moping earlier anyway—the waves are tall, fast, and smooth, and she and Alex have so much fun racing each other on top of their white, foamy crests that is isn’t until when Sam waves at Alex to tell her they need to get back to the house soon when she realizes they’ve been at it for almost two hours.
She and Alex end up paddling over to a rocky cliff that provides partial shade from the sun, just to unwind for a few minutes before they head back to the coast. Riding the high of her post-surf bliss, Kara stops to catch her breath for a second as she pulls up to straddle her board—she’s grateful she feels good-tired, because cardio will never not be the death of her, but at least this kind is always enjoyable. She faces her sister, who has one leg bent on her board and the open sea framing her silhouette from behind. After a moment of silence, which Kara takes to savor the soft roar of the waves crashing and the feeling of the sun against her wet hair, a thought she’d been meaning to voice pops back into her mind.
“How have Eliza and Jeremiah been?”
A fond smile tugs at Alex’s lips. “They’ve been good. Mom has been loving having a toddler around again, and dad has obviously not been pointing out every single new mineral he’s found on the floor.”
Kara chuckles playfully. “A very big surprise.”
Alex nods, playing along with the joke, but then she licks her lips, a crease appearing between her brows. Kara knows that look—she’s weighing the pros and cons of whatever she wants to say. “They’re also, uh…” she starts eventually. “Well, they’re worried about how you’re gonna take all of this.”
“What do you mean?”
Alex shrugs, clearly trying to be more casual than she actually feels. “Everyone always thought you’d be the one to get married first.” She looks down at her leg, smiling softly as she picks at the ankle strap of her leash. “Remember Halloween in eighth grade?”
Kara snorts with fondness, stretching her leg so she can hit Alex’s shin with her toes. “I mean, mummies are, like, insanely creepy. A veil was a much niftier use for that kit, and you know it.” But then, she bites her lip, the heaviness of her decision rushing back up to her heart as she fiddles with her shark tooth necklace. “But… I don’t think that’s really me anymore. I mean, I still want to have that big storybook wedding, but I’m just… going with the flow, now, you know? Free and deprogrammed, or whatever those people who don’t believe in soulmates say.”
Alex grunts at that, almost wincing. “You sure?”
“Yeah!” Kara assures earnestly. “You’re my sister, I’m ecstatic for you; it doesn’t matter what bullsh*t I’m dealing with.” She kicks the water to get closer to Alex, reaches a hand out, and lets it drop on her knee—she even adds squeeze, for good measure. “I’ll get to have my moment someday. This weekend is yours.”
Alex squeezes her hand back. “Okay.” A beat. “If you wanna talk, though… about anything, I’m here. Always.”
Kara bites down a smile. She appreciates the concern, but Alex will definitely not be available this weekend, that’s for sure. “I know,” she says instead, though, not wanting to fuel the fire any further. Then, a surge of movement to her right catches her attention.
A great wave is heading towards the shore and, if she books it now, she’ll be able to catch it and ride it on her way back. She doesn’t even stop to hesitate—she’ll use the oldest, most trusted tactic in her book to steal it away.
With a theatrical gasp, she points at the rocky wall behind Alex and says: “Oh my god, look, a whale!”
Of course, Alex isn’t phased in the slightest. The last thing Kara sees before she drops to her stomach to paddle towards the wave is her rolling her eyes, utterly unimpressed.
“You’re such an ass!” she yells fondly, nevertheless, and Kara lets out a bright laugh, feeling the water break beneath her hands.
***
They’ve been back at the house for all of about twenty minutes, a bowl of crunchy green grapes by Kara’s hand as she looks at Twitter on her phone, when the front door creaks open.
She looks up to see who’s just walked in. It’s a man she’s never seen before—around their age, tall, dark skin, kind eyes. He’s carrying a heavy-looking duffel bag on his shoulder, and a large, lidded glass Tupperware full of what, from her faraway spot on the breakfast nook’s little couch, looks like some sort of pasta salad. Most importantly, though, when he sees Lena—who is sitting on the kitchen counter, looking at her computer—his entire body lights up like the entrance of the Tunnel of Love at a carnival.
Kara’s eyes widen, in tandem with the knit her brows acquire. What the hell?
“Lena!” he says with a kind of warmth that makes Kara’s stomach twist into an uncomfortable knot, for some inexplicable reason, as he walks over to the counter to wrap her in a tight one-armed hug. “What’s up? How are you? I thought you wouldn’t be here yet.”
And then, as if this completely off-the-wall display of casual affection with the woman who certainly wouldn’t hesitate before sticking out a foot to trip anyone who walked by her path wasn’t enough to raise Kara’s alarm bells, Lena ducks her head, bites down a smile, and, in a tone that almost feels flirty, answers: “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint.”
As the crinkle between her brows deepens, Kara stretches out her leg and pokes Alex with her toes beneath the table to catch her attention. When Alex looks up with an annoyed frown (yeah, Kara might’ve gone a little overboard with the strength, there), Kara stage-whispers: “Who’s that?”
Alex follows the direction of Kara’s referential side-eye, then looks back with understanding. “James Olsen. Sam met him when she was doing social service.” Lena laughs—laughs—at whatever James just told her, and Kara’s lips part with utter appalment—it’s sweet, it’s charming, and it reminds her of—
No. Oh, no, she’s not doing this right now. She reaches out to grab another grape.
Alex snorts softly at the reaction, understanding. Then, she continues: “He and Lena had a thing a few years back, not that serious. He met someone else, really broke her heart for a while.”
Kara rolls her eyes, chewing with dismay. As if Lena even had one. “Right.”
At the counter, Lena is leaning forward and resting her chin on her long fingers—a move that, even with Kara’s limited back view of her, makes something hot start flutter from her chest to her belly. “How’s life treating you?” she asks James, smooth.
James doesn’t seem to be affected by the action or by the lush tone of her voice. When she manages to pull herself out of her horribly uncalled-for reaction with a sharp breath, Kara frowns at that.
“Come on, we’re at a wedding. Loosen up,” he jokes instead as he leaves the Tupperware by the sink. “It’s been fine. I’m glad to see you.”
Kara swallows, hoping that the heat she feels on her cheeks isn’t visible to Alex when she turns back to add: “Guess they’ve kept in touch since, huh?”
“Yeah. Ever since he broke up with his ex, they met up again a couple times,” Alex informs her, voice slow and deliberate—she knows, and she’s reveling it. Traitor.
But it doesn’t matter. Though apparently her body may not agree, Kara really has no interest in getting on Lena’s good graces ever again. She made her stance on her opinion of their date clear that next morning, and Kara has no intentions to try and change it. So, who cares if James is jacked and handsome and not a disaster, by the looks of it? He’s the kind of dude that Lena would go for, clearly—and a mile away from what Kara is. Good for her. She should grab the chance while it’s hot.
Kara reaches for another grape. “Uh-huh.”
“What, you’re jealous?”
Kara almost chokes on her bite. Between badly held-back coughs, she counters: “You’re so— weird, I— She can do whatever she wants, I don’t care.”
Whether or not she means it is irrelevant—Alex lets out a squawk that rings through the kitchen. She covers her mouth instantly, eyes wide and almost shocked by her own volume, but the damage has been done. Lena looks back to see what the commotion is about, brows knit together with slight confusion in the sharp way only her looks can be. She stops for a minute, takes in Kara’s stiff form—which Kara only catches a glimpse of before her eyes dart to a random groove in the wooden table—and thankfully doesn’t comment on the bright flush that’s surely spreading all over her cheeks right now. When she finds nothing else, she turns back to James, and Kara kicks Alex in the shin (with intention, this time). Alex only shakes her head, scoffing before she fondly mutters f*ckin’ mess as Kara runs a rough hand through her damp hair, slumping back into the cushions with a pout.
“I know,” Lena answers to whatever James had continued telling her, voice still slow from her distraction. “And I’m glad to see you, too.”
James smiles softly—suggestively—at that, and Kara crosses her arms and looks back at her phone. Usually, the picture of a bright-white kitten that pops up as soon the screen comes to life again would suffice to distract her from the inopportune thought she can feel sizzling its way out her entrails. She’s not quick enough to stop it from climbing out of the darkness this time, though. Could that have been them, if she hadn’t walked out that morning? Could she have been the one making Lena laugh, standing on the receiving end of her dimpled, bright smile?
“Well, I gotta run back out,” James says, thankfully cutting the useless hypotheticals in the bud. Kara doesn’t care—why on Earth does she feel this way? “The appetizers won’t pick themselves up.”
He takes the duffel bag off his shoulder and leaves it under the counter, and then turns to walk out the left archway that leads to the garage door. Just when he’s about to cross it, he turns back and finishes the conversation with a suave: “That looks good on you, by the way. Red’s nice.”
He’s right, is the worst part—Lena’s bikini compliments her skin perfectly. She bites her lip, rolls her eyes, and shakes her head as he walks out, and the way she does it, so completely devoid of annoyance and instead brimming with a kind of long-standing affection only fuels the scorch that’s gathered deep in Kara’s chest, makes it travel down to her belly.
So Lena has an ex that’s totally open to rekindling the fire during this wedding weekend. Cool! Good—
Seriously, good for her. Kara stuffs a grape into her mouth and looks at her phone again.
***
Kara has just booted up her laptop when an email notification pops up in the lower corner of her screen, accompanied with an impersonally modern chime to boot.
METROPOLIS UNIVERSITY SCHOOL OF LAW – NOTICE OF WITHDRAWAL
Slumping forward, Kara buries her face in her white comforter and lets out a long, suffered groan.
It’s certainly ironic to receive this email now, she thinks. Here, in her time -capsule summer bedroom that still houses plushies on the dresser, old sketchbooks piled on top of shelves, and many a One Direction posters plastered on its walls. Back when she still came here yearly, freshly eighteen and feeling lost and scared about the vastness of her future, she never would’ve guessed she’d come back and feel the same way, a whole seven years later.
But she can’t help it. There’s no going back now—she’s a dropout, jobless, and all she has in her head as an idea for her next step are visions of sugar plums and paintings. Seriously, what is she doing with her life?
Well. C’est la vie, right?
She’ll just have to store her fear away until she’s back in Metropolis. She’s supposed to have fun this weekend, she reminds herself for what feels like the thousandth time. She can do it! Just breathe in, breathe out; take in confidence, let the uncertainty go…
Luckily, she can’t wallow in her dread for long. A knock on her door forces her to straighten up again.
She runs her hands through her hair, tries to look less like a mess. “Come in.”
The door opens to reveal Eliza, who’s carrying a small bowl full of trail mix, with Jeremiah standing just behind her. Eyes widening, Kara rushes to slam her laptop shut.
“We thought you’d like to have something to pick at,” she tells Kara as she enters the room, leaving the door open. “Dinner’s still gonna take a while.”
Kara lets out a little chuckle, still riding the wave of her close encounter with apprehension. Then, smiles as she takes the bowl. “You’re the best. Thank you.”
Eliza sits at the opposite side of the bed, and Jeremiah remains standing, right next to Kara’s packed nightstand and the hanging model of the solar system she made when she was fourteen.
“So, how’s our future lawyer doing?” he asks, dad-casual, as he crosses his arms.
Fun. Kara takes in a big breath, mouth hanging open in search of an answer that won’t give her crisis away. “Great,” she starts with. “I…” After a second, she settles on something true. “I missed this place.” Before they can inquire anything further, she segues into: “But how’s your trip been?” She regards Eliza. “Alex tells me you’ve been enjoying having Ruby around.”
Eliza smiles warmly. “Oh, she’s lovely.”
“She is.” Kara looks down at the bowl in her hands, a tender look softening her features. “I’m really happy for her.”
Jeremiah tilts his head at that, brows knitting together. “You are?”
Kara looks up at him, a little puzzled. “Yeah,” she answers. Then, she shrugs, because really, this should be obvious. “She’s my big sister.” Plus, though everyone seems to keep forgetting, she was the one who called off the wedding, after all.
“Nothing underneath the surface?” Eliza asks, still, with that caring look of hers that indicates she’s gone full analytical.
Kara throws her head back, a smile of disbelief blooming in her face. “Why is everyone so concerned with my feelings right now? You’re supposed to be all over Alex, you know?”
“We’re just trying to see if you’re going to need any extra support,” Eliza explains, an understanding, fond smile pulling at her lips. When Kara frowns slightly, she adds: “You tend to compare the pace your life goes at with others’.”
Kara looks down at the bowl again, biting her bottom lip as a slight frown darkens her face. The words are meant in a compassionate fashion, she knows, but they sting like a punch to the chest. In her head, they morph like the ominous shadows of a sleepless night, turning into an excruciating whisper she’s heard a million times before since Alex and Sam announced their engagement. Could’ve been you.
“Well… I have thought about what could’ve been,” she admits quietly, grabbing an M&M and rolling it between her fingers. Then, she looks up at her adoptive parents with resolve. “But I promise I’m fine. I’m really sure about my choice.”
“Good. That’s good,” Jeremiah says, voice a little too light to be truly casual. “We’re here if you need to talk, too.”
Kara smiles softly, popping the chocolate into her mouth. He spent a heated hour trying to get her to change her mind when she told him and Eliza about the canceled wedding back in the fall, and he’s been dropping little cutting hints every once in a while ever since, to try and steer her back into the right, secure path (as if her brain didn’t cause her enough distress by itself). The air around her sort of feels like a taut slingshot. “Thank you.”
“We can even bring Mike here, if you need it.”
Ah. There it is.
Kara makes a sound that’s somewhere between a scoff and a whine. “Please don’t do that. I really don’t think he’d like to see the girl who broke up with him twice during her sister’s wedding weekend.”
“Yeah. But he was at our house practically every night since you guys were thirteen. He was family.”
“He still is,” Kara assures wholeheartedly. “Just because we’re not together doesn’t mean we stop being friends.”
“Well, has he called? Have you heard from him lately?”
“Jeremiah,” Eliza interrupts, before Kara can start to crumble under the weight of his expectations.
“Can you— Can you please just forget about it for this weekend?” Kara gets in when she confirms he won’t push it this time, shutting her eyes tight with frustration. “I thought I could come here to take a breather before going back to… you know, face it and figure out my next steps. So.”
Eliza gives Jeremiah a pointed look, to which he tightens his lips self-reflectively. “Right,” he says, looking down for a second. At least he does look apologetic. “Right. Yes, sorry.” A beat. “I just want both of my daughters to be happy.”
“I’m very happy,” Kara promises. “Just… not when you do this.”
“Just trying to nudge you in the right direction.”
Eliza lets out a sharp exhale. “Honey, can you please go check on the ribs?”
Jeremiah catches on with a sigh of his own. He raises his hands at his sides in a truce as he straightens up again. “Alright.” He turns on his heels and heads out the door.
Kara chews at her lip, listening how his heavy steps get more muffled as he goes down the stairs with a small frown. She tucks her hair behind her ear as she looks back down at the bowl, next to her closed laptop over her comforter. “Thank you.”
“It’s your life, sweetheart,” Eliza tells her, voice softer—Kara can tell she’s trying to reach her further beneath her words; to tell her that she really is here to help her, and that she supports her choices, whatever they are, as long as she’s sure of them. The gesture sparks a seed of warmth in Kara’s chest. At least someone doesn’t think she’s completely stranded.
Eliza reaches out a hand, tilts Kara’s face towards hers. “Hey. I’ll talk to him. He’ll come around.” Then, she leans forwards and presses a kiss to her forehead, rubbing Kara’s cheek with her thumb a couple times as she says: “See you at dinner. 7:30.”
Kara nods, a little smile pulling at the corners on her lips, and Eliza gets up from the bed and walks out of the bedroom, softly closing the door behind her.
Once her footsteps have faded into the staircase, Kara grabs a pillow from behind herself, buries her face in it, and lets out a groan that almost teeters into yell territory.
Actually, she doesn’t have visions of sugar plums and paintings—she scratches that as she shuts her eyes and reaches up to wipe the tears that have welled up in them off her lashes, before the can slide down her cheeks. The only thing she can truly hold onto is the hope that, five years from now, she’ll be at a place so stable that she’ll look back at this dreadful uncertainty with fondness.
***
The first thing Kara sees when she comes out to the deck is Lena’s dress.
By now, the formerly eggshell-blue sky has darkened, painted a rich navy specked with a smattering of stars. The shore comes and goes with a watery drone in the faraway view, and the air around them all is sultry and humid—it smells faintly of salt and strongly of barbecue ribs; of summer. That, plus the string of fairy lights that Alex and Sam requested be hung on the open beams overhead, makes the atmosphere feel warm as honey—but Kara’s eyes are focused on the right side of the deck.
A tepid breeze blows, and the off-white linen of Lena’s dress ripples softly along with it. Under the golden lights, it makes her look like a figure from an Impressionist painting, all silky hair and milky skin. It makes Kara stop to wonder for a moment is she’s underdressed in her own loose denim shirt, chinos, and Birkenstocks. Then, as if the picturesque image of her holding a wine glass limply at her side and chuckling at something Jack said wasn’t enough, Lena turns. It’s casual, a natural gesture she probably doesn’t think twice about, but, by some opportune coincidence, she meets Kara’s eyes when she does. Her soft smile fades, replaced with slightly parted lips and a look penetrating and sharp as always, as her gaze lingers on Kara’s form—for a second too long, in Kara’s opinion: long enough that she notices again since that fateful night how Lena has a very alluring trail of dark freckles going down from her jaw to her collarbone.
Crackling warmth starts to bloom through Kara’s belly. Of course she remembers those freckles now, which she’d been so tempted to—
Of course! Just… lovely.
Honestly, she has no right to look this beautiful when she’s… well, Lena.
With a frown, Kara deviates her gaze to the ocean at the opposite side of Lena’s location as she starts to walk further into the deck. Who cares that Lena still is the most attractive person Kara has had the misfortune of knowing? Really, she should classify the low simmer she’s feeling all over her torso right now as justified rage: Lena’s certainly outshining Sam, the bride to be, and what kind of friend knowingly does that at a rehearsal dinner? Plus—
Kara grunts when Alex greets her with a bear hug (tackle, really), with an effervescent Kara! to boot. She’s tempted to answer with a flippant complaint, playing up the hit Alex’s hand just gave to her shoulder as it passed it, but Alex is so happy and comfortable that, like the first sip of iced tea after an early morning surf, her energy overrides all of Kara’s preoccupations and she just starts to laugh as they sway together to regain their balance.
Her sister’s timing is impeccable as always, Kara figures as she eagerly accepts the plate of grilled shrimp and marinara sauce that Alex hands her after they part—it reminds her that there are more pressing matters to focus on right now than Lena’s horribly insolent fashion choices and… overall flawlessness. Forgetting about her crisis, for one, as well as celebrating her sister’s tremendous milestone. Most important of all, she tacks on when she lets out a moan of pleasure once the first bite of tangy, charcoaly goodness reaches her mouth, the food.
The dinner happens with no major setbacks. Everyone serves their own plates and sits on the lounge to the left of the deck to eat, all lively talk and inside jokes. Just before dessert, Eliza and Jeremiah give a speech that reiterates how happy they are to have everyone gathered together here to celebrate Alex and Sam’s love for each other, as well as the pride they feel to see them taking the first step of the rest of their lives together. After a boisterous round of claps, a home firework display that Jack sets off into the night sky with a remote control, and a showy kiss that Alex plants into Sam’s cheek, Eliza gets up and goes into the kitchen to bring out the pièce de résistance: a brownie cheesecake that Kara digs into with gusto.
Once finished, they all move on as Alex and Sam take the lead of the game night prep ritual they’ve developed since Sam joined the tradition—a bountiful round of drinks, a draw of little folded pieces of paper to choose teams (obviously, Lena ends up on Kara’s side and Alex and Kara end up separated, which everyone groans at—if there’s anything worse than their joint competitiveness beat everyone else is their competitiveness against each other), and, today (because, admittedly, Lena and Kara haven’t exactly brought the best vibes into this house), sage.
“Alright everyone,” Sam tells them as she walks back into the lounge with a bucket of smoking bundles in her hand. “Sage is meant to cleanse negative energy, so if anybody in particular is feeling a little tense—"
“Kara,” Alex lets out from her spot at the opposite loveseat through a fake cough, to which Kara answers with overly saccharine smile, nose-scrunch and everything.
“—then you can take this moment to calm yourself,” Sam continues with the swimming skill of a person that has dealt with thousands of oh-so-clever quips already. She gets to Lena’s spot in the lounge, at the left end of the long couch between the two loveseats that sandwich it, and, as she tucks a long lock of her own hair behind her ear with one hand and softly waves the sage in front of Lena’s form with the other, adds: “And attract positive energy.”
Lena lets out a wry laugh through her nose. “Okay. Can we start now?”
Danvers-style charades are never boring, Kara came to find out quickly after she joined their clan.
The game is simple, really, but, with the right people, it can turn into absolute warfare. The teams take turns to perform the charades in pairs, grabbing the hints they’ll have to portray for the rest of their group from a glass bowl in the center of the coffee table. So far, the tide has been turning in Kara’s favor, much to Alex’s amused chagrin: team Thing 1 has got team Thing 2 beat by two rounds. Her extensive pop culture knowledge has certainly come in handy, not only because it’s granted her quartet extra-point answers like Frances Ha and Sleepyhead by Passion Pit, but because, apparently, Lena has never seen a cult-classic film or listened to a chart-topping indie song before.
A scientist/CEO hermit. Who would’ve thought?
Still, with the lively beat of a funky song floating in the air and the pleasant hum of a mojito coursing through her veins, Kara is riding a high. The night is young and warm and buzzing, and she watches with a co*cky smile as Eliza and James returns to their seats after having successfully relayed Rent, the musical in a single move.
Lena, on the other hand, is swirling the wine in her glass with what looks like an annoyed pout.
Kara takes a sip at that, vindicated. Who’s the disaster now?
Simultaneously, Jack and Jeremiah get up to begin their turn in their side of the lounge. With a playful look of nervousness directed at Sam, Jack bends down to grab the hint from the bowl and flip the little plastic hourglass, and then turns his back to open it up alongside his teammate. No sooner has he unfolded the hint in his hands than he sucks in a gasp and turns with wide, thrilled eyes, pointing a perfectly manicured finger towards Kara.
“Your sister!” he all but yells at Alex.
Her brows furrow for a millisecond, but she gets the hint as if it were one of the basic chemical formulas she’s got branded in her memory.
“Oh!” she exclaims with a smile. “Supergirl!”
Jack nods with satisfaction as the rest of team Thing 2 claps, all equally delighted. A deep frown scrunches Kara’s brows as her jaw falls to the floor. “No fair!” she complains, her head snapping in Alex’s direction. “That’s co-opting! That point should go to me.”
Alex smiles vindictively, raising her glass in place of showing her middle finger. For discretion. “Suck it.”
Kara rolls her eyes, planting her palms on her thighs to get up from her seat. “Whatever. We’ve still got the lead.”
Alex scoffs before taking a sip of her co*cktail. “Yeah,” she concedes lightly—suspiciously so, if her following song-song is anything to go by, “not for long.”
Kara knows what she’s referring to, and she confirms it when she turns back to look at the loveseat after grabbing the hint—Lena’s her partner this round. The now familiar crackle fires back up in her chest, but she does her best effort to pay it no mind—she’s on a roll tonight, and she won’t let Lena’s gaps in artistic knowledge (or her penchant for throwing her out of kilter) ruin the first good thing that’s happened to her all day. Lena gets up and turns the hourglass with her infuriatingly perfect fingers, and then she walks up to the front of the deck to join Kara in finding out their prompt.
Kara unfolds the paper. She can feel Lena’s warmth along the length of her arm, can note that she still uses the same minty perfume she was wearing when Kara had stopped, that next morning, to commit every detail of her to memory. Written with blue ink, is:
“Firework” by Katy Perry.
Before she even gets the chance to voice a proposition for their course of action in relaying it, however, Lena huffs softly. “Easy.”
Just like that, she starts to walk away towards the end of the deck (much to Kara’s rising distress), and then she bends down to grab something from the wooden box in the corner, the one that houses…
No.
“What— No props!” Kara chastises in a stage-whisper as she rushes to her, brows furrowed deep.
“Oh, who cares?” Lena retorts with a roll of her green eyes, waving the thin firework in her hand as heedlessly as if it were a pen she was just writing with. “Jack just used you as one.”
Kara scoffs. “A cheater. Shocking.”
“Says the woman who went on a date while engaged.”
“I wasn’t engaged. And, anyway, we were on a break,” Kara adds through gritted teeth.
Lena shakes her head. “You either break up or you’re cheating. Though I suppose it didn’t matter—either way, someone’s lying to someone, and we both know you’ve got plenty of experience on that front.”
What a hypocrite, Kara thinks. As if Lena hadn’t been the one who lied about liking her all along.
“Oh my god, can you behave like a normal human being for once?” she hisses, voice brimming with desperation. “It’s almost been two years. I don’t know why you let that get so under your skin.”
Lena’s mouth opens, and she holds Kara’s gaze for a second, eyes wide and bewildered—almost hurt. It’s as if she couldn’t believe Kara’s questioning, as if she thought the reasoning for her twenty-month long grudge was completely justified and Kara was the one to blame.
And— And sure, Kara made a mistake (a huge one), but… Lena didn’t care about her: she made sure to leave that crystal-f*cking-clear.
…Didn’t she?
The now-familiar heat that’s always present when Lena’s near starts to bubble in Kara’s chest, except, this time, it’s laced with a prominent dose of self-doubt. Did she read everything wrong? Could they just talk it out now? It climbs up her throat and into her mouth, a jumble of letters all interfused with concern and indignation, but she can’t seem to make them take a coherent shape—certainly, this is not the time to have a heart-to-heart. Plus, before she can even begin to try, Lena presses her lips into a tight line. Her nostrils flare, and her brows knit together even more, and, for a second, Kara thinks she is finally going to come out from behind her thick, tall walls and be vulnerable and honest with her for once.
She lets her air go, though, in a rough exhale, and instead says, “You’re wasting time,” as she turns, headed back to the group.
The sizzle explodes in Kara’s insides, making her jaw drop to the floor. That was clearly a crack in Lena’s apparent carelessness; a complete shift in her understanding of their… relationship for the past year and a half—now Kara needs to talk it out, and when will she? They’re supposed to be helping Alex and Sam have the best wedding they can get!
God, why is this woman so damn difficult?
With a frown, Kara rushes towards her again, instead chasing the conflict she can solve immediately. She intercepts her path before everyone else notices her outrageous disregard for the rules and disqualifies their team. “Drop that!” she urges, voice hushed but scorching.
Lena seems taken aback by Kara’s passionate swiftness for a beat, but then decides to play her game, squaring her shoulder and jutting out her jaw with defiance. She takes a step forward—getting close enough to Kara that she notices: is one of her eyes bluer than the other?—narrows her gaze, and drops her voice to an awfully husky low as she answers: “Make me.”
Kara’s heart skips a beat, and her breath catches in her throat. The richness of Lena’s tone spreads through her belly like wildfire, the fresh smell of her perfume wraps around her like silk, and the phantom feeling of her breath on Kara’s mouth lingers like the twinkling tail of a shooting star—a blazing flush starts to make its way up her neck, her ears, and into her cheeks, but it’s not just the heat of Lena’s hellish curveball that knocks her off course. No, it mingles with the frustration already boiling in her chest, positively ensuring that all of Kara’s brain cells carbonize to death like those ants that meet their demise to white-hot metal in the weird videos that she and Winn stumble into when they’re in the library, bored out of her minds. Really, this would all be much simpler if Lena wasn’t so attractive, still.
Mercifully, though, after a couple mortifying seconds of silent sputtering, Kara’s brain kicks into gear again—and, this time, it’s cooked up a new plan with unshakeable resolve. So Lena wants to play? Oh, Kara’ll play.
Feeling the red-red still flaming in her face, she huffs and furrows her brows deep as she says: “Fine.”
Then, she surges forward and gets a hold of the firework with a strong hand.
Not having expected such a wild reaction, Lena has no way to properly react to Kara’s gym rat pull, and she stumbles forward with a yelp. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Let go!” Kara meets a strong resistance when she pulls again, this time with both hands. “I’m not letting you f*ck up our score!”
Lena turns to try and free the firework of Kara’s hold, ducking a little to insert her elbow between both of Kara’s arms and hit the inside of her opposite bicep—successfully forcing her left hand to let go. Kara’s strength still overpowers hers by a long shot, though, and she tightens her grip with her right hand to boot: all the move does is leave them in a tangle, with Kara practically hugging Lena from behind.
Lena grunts as she pulls the firework towards her, to which Kara responds with a sharp tug in the opposite direction. Lena scoffs and pulls again, harder, but her move ends early when her elbow crashes against Kara’s ribs.
“Ow!” she all but whines as she brings her left arm back into the picture, wrapping Lena up fully when she grabs the firework again.
She’s too caught up in the heat of the brawl to think about how her arm under Lena’s is touching soft, bare skin, much less about the fact that this is probably the closest they’ve been to each other since that night, back hard against chest. Lena pulls once more, this time forcing them to stumble to their left with the momentum of her move. “You’re a child.”
“Me?” Kara asks with an indignant increase in her volume as they stagger together, moving close to the dinner table. “If you just opened your hand, then—"
“Oh my god,” Lena grumbles when Kara tries to pry her fingers off the firework’s colorful casing, “you’re going to—”
Later, in the dead of night, Kara’ll bury her flaming face in her pillow and curse herself for having even thought of such a childish response to Lena’s taunt. All she knows now, though, is that a lit citronella candle is sitting ornately at the end of the dinner table. That, in her haphazard effort to free the firework with brute force, she and Lena trip, mindlessly hovering its fuse right above the soft flame. And that, all of a sudden, its form starts to sizzle beneath their hands.
“sh*t.”
In a second, Kara turns her and Lena’s bodies to their right, so that the firework is pointing towards the open side of the deck when it goes off. It flies in a straight, fiery line and hits the flower arrangement that sits against the railing with a booming, bright orange explosion, setting the lovely A and S that Alex and Sam requested be made of chrysanthemums and black dahlias scarily—violently—ablaze. But that’s not all: pieces of debris fly out of all sides of the flowered board and fall like tiny meteors all around the rest of the group.
“Oh my god,” Alex shouts, shooting out of her seat, “what the hell?”
And, just like that, the mellow dinner party Kara had so been looking forward to turns into absolute pandemonium. A searing wave of remorse, preoccupation, and responsibility to fix all of this floods Kara’s chest, but she cannot move from her spot at the end of the table, and Lena seems to be feeling the same, still wrapped between her arms: both of them stay still as they take in, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, all the horrified exclamations that their friends and family are making as they scramble to get away from the fire or get something to put it out with.
Right between Kara and Lena and the arrangement, Sam turns to ask Alex if she’s okay, revealing to them that a piece of firework debris fell on the side of her head—there is a literal flame sticking out of her gorgeous caramel hair, and it’s all Kara and Lena’s fault.
Alex’s eyes widen. “Sam, your—"
Sam shrieks when she notices the heat near her head, just before Eliza throws her glass of water at her hair. Then, as Sam rushes to Alex with a hand over her heart and a very dirty look directed at Lena, Jeremiah pushes his way through the small crowd the group has formed, one hand out in front of his as a sign of his intent.
“Get back!”
He kicks the board, still flaming, and it falls against the railing with a sickening crack. Before he can do anything else, though, James steps forward and puts a hand on his shoulder.
“I’ve got this,” he says, and then he takes off his T-shirt and starts whipping the arrangement with it to extinguish the fire.
It works—in just a few seconds, the flames decrease and turn to gray smoke that overpowers the smell of the candles, still burning nonchalantly on the table. Nothing is left to show for the lovely arrangement except the blackened remains of the petals, scorched underneath James’s cotton shirt. And then…
Silence.
Kara lets out her breath, and, finally, in the aftermath of the catastrophe that she and Lena caused, she can truly take in the full scope of her stupidity. James is panting, skin glistening with sweat under the soft string lights. Alex is seething, brows furrowed deep and jaw clenched tight, and Sam lets out a little scoff that almost looks amused, clearly unable to accept that her rehearsal dinner managed to take such a ridiculously outrageous turn. Most importantly, every single pair of eyes in the deck is staring blazing daggers at Kara and Lena (still holding the firework’s casing in their odd embrace), who can’t bring themselves to say anything but a simultaneous, very mortified:
“Sorry.”
Alex lets out a sharp exhale. Her nostrils flare when she puts her arm up to point a cutting finger towards the door to the living room. “Out.”
They go on their way without a word, heads down and cheeks flaming. Neither of them dares to show their faces again that night.
