Chapter Text
“Supergirl isn’t an escort.”
“Jesus, Kara, no one’s asking anything like that.”
Lucy strode purposefully ahead of Kara, her footsteps brisk and light on her way to her office at the DEO.
“Well, it sure sounds like it.”
“First of all,” Lucy started. She turned on her heel so abruptly, Kara skidded against the concrete. Lucy tilted her chin to make eye contact. “Escorts get paid. Second of all, you won’t be getting paid, but perhaps your sister will finally get a raise if the DEO can be in this year’s budget’s good graces.”
Kara frowned. She wasn’t a mascot and the symbol on her chest wasn’t a social bartering chip for power plays and favors. It bothered her when these situations came up, few as they may have been. Lucy’s shoulders softened.
“I get it, Kara, really—I do.” She shifted, putting a hand on her hip. “You don’t want to go around making appearances because that’s not what Supergirl is about.”
“Yes—”
“That being said: this isn’t just a regular appearance.”
Kara sighed, frustrated because they were going around in circles.
“You have nothing to lose. Alex and J’onn are more than capable of covering for Supergirl for one night. All you have to do is show up, stay for about an hour, talk to some people, get in a few selfies, and then fly your way back home to do whatever it is you normally do on a Saturday night.”
Catch up on Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Kara thought. Sure, this was more exciting than her usual night in.
“It feels—I don’t know; it feels wrong.”
“Kara, what is this really about?”
“It just feels cheap, okay? She’s not a socialite! And she’s not a celebrity—she’s—”
“You,” Lucy said plainly. Kara looked taken aback. “When you’re talking about Supergirl, Kara, there is just you. There is no she. She might be a symbol for some but you are Supergirl. You are that symbol. Is that what this is about?”
Kara deflated, just the tiniest bit.
“It’s—it’s nothing. Nevermind. I’ll go.”
“Good.” Lucy turned. She called over her shoulder as she left. “Besides, Kara Danvers loves weddings.”
--
Kara knocked on Alex’s door with her forehead, arms full of bags of takeout balanced precariously in her grip. She’d nearly put a hole through Alex’s door the last time she tried knocking with her foot.
“Hey.” The door swung open. Alex was smiling as she helped take boxes and bags out of Kara’s grip before placing them on the counter and wrapping her sister up in a hug. Kara melted immediately. Sometimes she was just… done. Tired beyond all belief for just being. Kara squeezed, just a little, just to hold on a little more.
Alex brushed Kara’s hair away from her face when they parted, fingertips ghosting against her forehead.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Why?” Kara looked down at herself. “Do I not look okay?”
Alex knocked her hip into Kara’s on her way to the fridge for a beer.
“I’m just asking,” she said. “You know, being an overbearing, protective big sister and all?”
“Well, you also know,” Kara started. She moved to take plastic containers from their bags, rummaging around for utensils. “Technically, I’m bigger. And also older!”
“Yea, you’re an old lady,” Alex teased. She paused for a moment. Kara never really brought that up so teasingly. She did, occasionally, because it was Kara after all. But it usually meant something else was bothering her. And it was usually either something not entirely human, or too human altogether. “But really, is something up?”
Kara worried her lip, still unpacking her massive meal. Sighing, she took her glasses off and folded the arms of the frames, laying them down carefully on the counter. She laid her hands flat against the countertop, as if she was readying herself for some big speech. But Kara only sighed once more and smiled at Alex, leaving her glasses on the counter, ignored.
“Let’s eat.”
So, Alex let it go because that’s what Kara was asking but not asking. And it wasn’t in that way where Kara was giving her that look that meant ask me once more and I’ll tell you the truth. It wasn’t in that way that Alex had (guiltily) ignored in the past. It wasn’t in the way that Alex was trying to make up for, trying to be a better sister for. But it was still a relief when Kara smiled and ate, because that meant that things were as normal as they were going to get it. At least for now.
Between imitating J’onn and retelling some ridiculous pun Winn had made, Alex and Kara had moved from the counter to the couch, covered in a blanket, something mindless playing in the background. Kara fidgeted with the glass of water in her hand as she listened to her sister talk about her supervisor and some of his less believable and more ridiculous behaviors.
“Okay. I can hear you thinking,” Alex said. Her hand came up and she touched the crinkle between Kara’s brows. “What’s wrong?”
“Lucy wants Supergirl to go to that wedding in San Francisco,” Kara replied. She took a sip of her water.
“Oh yea, the fancy media one.” Alex clicked a button the remote. Netflix was asking if they were still watching. “We had to hire an outside firm to write up the contract for your appearance.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yea,” Alex said. Her eyes widened just the tiniest bit, remembering. She shuddered. “Like we’re just gonna throw you into a wedding and tell people to go nuts with photos. Anything with the crest has to be approved for release. And if they take selfies, Winn designed an algorithm in case we need an immediate cease and desist.”
“Oh.” Kara furrowed her brows. “I wasn’t really worried about that.”
“No?”
“Okay, I guess a little. So maybe it is a relief.” Kara shifted on the couch. “It just doesn’t… it feels weird.”
“Because… it’s a social thing? You’ve done social things as Supergirl before.” Alex tilted her head, squinting. “I mean Lena invited you to her gala. Twice.”
“Lena was asking me for help. This is different.”
“And you’re worried because they want Supergirl and not Kara.”
“I guess,” Kara said honestly.
Alex studied her sister carefully. She watched Kara pick at a loose thread in the blanket, her other hand delicately holding her glass of water. There was a memory there, suddenly, like it was just yesterday, of Kara and her inability to hold any of Eliza’s glassware. Alex could remember the exact way a pint glass sounded when it exploded because Kara was startled by a car horn 3 miles away from the house. She’s cleaned a lot of broken glass in her lifetime.
“You know that you are Supergirl, right?”
“Duh, Alex,” Kara said, rolling her eyes, but smiling.
“No, I mean—all the things Supergirl is and does: that’s you, too. You’re a good person, Kara.”
How should Kara tell her sister that sometimes she didn’t feel like it without worrying her? People felt that way all the time, right? Humans, anyway? And it wasn’t… it wasn’t morality. Kara knew that she was a good person, morally. But there were other markers, other areas of success and measurement that people compared themselves to. There was being good and there was being good enough.
Kara talked to Alex about everything, but sometimes she would have liked to ask Kal how he handled these moments. These trying-to-be-human moments. Was it silly for an alien to be insecure about the markers of life’s success for a human? Kara didn’t have an answer for that.
“It’d be more fun if you could come with me,” she settled on. Alex snorted in response.
“No way. I’d pull a gun halfway through. You’re the more likeable sister anyway.”
--
Kara took her time flying up to San Francisco, her cape fluttering behind her, never once breaking the sound barrier. The coast was sunny and warm as it usually was, despite being November. She shot up through Long Beach, over Malibu, and straight through to Santa Barbara, grazing the water between the Channel Islands. Distracted by a pod of Bottlenose Dolphins, Kara took a lap around Santa Rosa Island, giggling at the California sea lions before flying north, following the Pacific Coast Highway.
She took a slight detour above San Simeon because she had a secret fondness for Hearst Castle and its strange, secluded opulence. In high school, Kara learned that the Castle was designed by Julia Morgan, the first woman architect licensed in the state of California. She’d have to make a donation under the Supergirl account for flying through, later; it was a California State Park after all. The Neptune Pool was still in the midst of its renovations but she brushed the palm trees in the gardens with her fingertips and briefly admired the two towers of La Casa Grande.
“Rosebud,” she whispered to herself, laughing at her own joke before she shot through the sky again.
At Bixby Bridge, Kara waved at children in cars and smiled at the few photographers quick enough to try and catch her. She was pretty sure she was going to be a blue and red blur in those photographs and hoped that she didn’t unknowingly ruin anyone’s shot. Pushing on, Kara flew above Carmel-by-the-Sea and its cottage-like center before shooting straight across the Monterey Bay toward Santa Cruz. She felt cheeky, so she found the youngest kid out on the surf and helped her ride a long wave before high fiving her on the beach and taking off again.
The affectionately named Karl the Fog blanketed San Francisco in typical fashion. Leisurely as she was, Kara still had time before her scheduled appearance at the Ritz-Carlton where the wedding was supposed to be taking place. She flew through Lake Merced, arching west above Ocean Beach before hitting directly east, cutting through Golden Gate Park. In Haight, she stopped a domestic dispute and in the Castro, she helped a nice, older lesbian couple get their smart car out of spot where two trucks had boxed them in.
It was nice: to do things in another city. Overlap wasn’t exactly unwelcomed, but Metropolis had her cousin and Gotham had the Batman, so Kara wondered, briefly, if she would run into Wonder Woman. She doubted it, but it would have been a nice story to relay to her new friend, Carla.
She helped out in a few more spots around the city, feeling guilty because a part of her was almost wishing for something life altering and time consuming to draw her attention. But San Francisco was calm and Karl the Fog was dispersing into the Bay, about to give way to a surprisingly clear night. Begrudgingly, Kara made her way over to the hotel.
--
There was assigned seating, because of course there was assigned seating. The ceremony was taking place on the terrace, under a white tent. Everyone was in evening gowns and tuxedos and wool suiting and Kara was… well she was Supergirl, so she supposed it didn’t matter, but she did always hate feeling underdressed. Being underdressed was admonished across many galaxies and on Earth and Krypton alike. Alex had shot down Winn’s enthusiastic offer to design something more suitable, much to Kara’s dismay.
She touched down as discreetly as possible, which was difficult, all things considered. She didn’t want to make an entrance, but it was impossible with her uniform and cape. Immediately, people came up to her, trying to introduce themselves and shake her hand all at once.
She smiled, but tersely. Not quite Kara Danvers, but still warm. Still approachable.
“Just be you,” Winn had said.
“But less… nice,” Alex cut in. And Kara had frowned at that.
In the span of 15 minutes, Kara shook hands with and was introduced to 3 mayors, 2 former intelligence officers, 4 actresses, 3 CEOs of companies she’d never heard of, 2 CFOs of more companies she’d never heard of, and the starting quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers. She remembered a total of 3 names which was distressing because she was usually so good at names. Finally, thankfully, a woman with a headset started to herd guests to their seats, taking the time to point them out to their rows once she’d learned their names.
“Oh, Supergirl!” the woman said, when Kara eventually made it up to her. She blushed. Her name tag said her name was Nancy.
“Hi Nancy, I just need to know where my seat is?” Kara asked her politely. The woman’s blush darkened and she fumbled with the tablet in front of her, nearly dropping it as she showed Kara the seating arrangement.
“We—uhm—we put you on the end just in case you needed to leave for an emergency. However, as—as I’m sure you know the—uhm—the couple asked that you please not leave during the ceremony.”
Kara smiled gently at her. Nancy had been directing people of all sorts of social status and hierarchy and here she was, all flustered in front of Supergirl. A part of Kara preened a little at that.
“Thanks a lot, Nancy,” she said. Nancy’s blush darkened a bit and Kara walked off, but not before she glanced back and saw Nancy visibly collect herself before stoically directing the next guest. Kara paused on her way to her seat, her eyes roving from one end of the tent to another having settled on an unexpected and recognizable set of shoulders.
Her ears tuned to something familiar before soft music started playing above it through speakers, signaling the start of the ceremony.
--
It was, quite possibly, the most sterile thing she’d ever had to experience for something that was—in her opinion—supposed to signify so much. It was bland and droning and even the smattering of sniffles throughout the audience seemed too perfect, like paid actors were taking cues from certain lines. At one point, Kara looked over and one of the actresses she’d met was quietly, beautifully crying, and she was almost fully certain that that actress was invited for that particular reason, especially when a camera shutter clacked right as she dabbed her eye gently with a handkerchief.
If she wasn’t in uniform at one of society’s highest functions, she would roll her eyes. But she was Supergirl. So Supergirl smiled politely and clapped and sat up straight and stood at the correct times. Kara listened to the officiant (the Mayor of San Francisco of all people) drone on about holy matrimony, the duties of marriage, and the obligation of love, and realized that she missed J, and the Liu’s, and Carla, and the only other wedding she’d gone to on this planet that hadn’t bored her to pieces. Was Alex right? Was she too optimistic? Were they all like this? Scripted and sterile?
Kara hoped not.
Someone tilted their head and sunlight bounced across the room, ricocheting off an earring. Kara’s eyes followed the movement, the bouncing light dancing across the inside of the tent. Blue met green for a second and Kara smiled. She was met with the smallest arch of an eyebrow, a movement so minuscule it might as well have been an extension of a breath. Kara quietly cleared her throat and snapped her attention back to the officiant who was, in his very official sounding voice, announcing things that the State of California had vested him.
Everyone clapped. A live quintet played the walk out music and the couple and their model brigade walked out to subdued cheering and falling flower petals.
--
“I think one of us needs to change.”
“Hello, Supergirl.”
Lena turned away from the bar, glass in hand. She willed her face to remain neutral; however, neutral in this instance came with a smirk. Supergirl was standing 3 feet from a bar on the terrace of the Ritz-Carlton in San Francisco, striking that famous power pose of hers and suggesting that one of them needed to change. She could allow herself a smirk.
Lena adjusted the deep red shawl draped across her shoulders and picked away imaginary lint.
“Didn’t know you and your cousin had a monopoly on color,” Lena said. Supergirl smiled.
“He’s more of a 2758C. I’m more of a 289C.”
“I also didn’t know Supergirl knew her Pantone colors off the top of her head.”
Supergirl’s back straightened, just a little.
“And they said you were a genius,” she joked. “I could recite the CMYK codes for you if you’d like.”
Lena almost laughed. Instead, the corners of her lips twitched, amused and altogether entertained by the woman standing in front of her, hands still on her hips, cape hanging limply without a breeze. But that would be a different reaction between a different set of people at a different sort of place. Supergirl pointed at her dress—a dark, royal blue, conservatively cut evening gown.
“I’d say that’s more my shade, don’t you think, Miss Luthor?”
“Maybe I’m just a fan,” she settled on. Supergirl smiled wider and Lena couldn’t help but think that it blurred the softened line between what she knew and what she was supposed to know. She gestured to the bar. “Would you like a drink?”
“Alcohol has no effect on me,” she said, honestly. She saddled up to the bar anyway, signaling for a water. “I can get dehydrated though.”
Lena blinked, cataloged the (not one but) two nonchalant facts into a filing cabinet labeled Supergirl in the back of her head and took a sip of her whiskey. She’d instilled a 3-drink limit on herself tonight.
“So, no hangover then. Lucky,” Lena quipped.
Lena watched as Supergirl paused, thinking or perhaps scanning, listening. One hand came up to her face, an index finger extended before delineating from its path to the bridge of her nose and instead tucking blonde hair behind an ear quickly.
“I can get a hangover. But—” She shifted, eyes sweeping across the room. “—not from anything of this particular planet.”
Lena hummed, still cataloging this freely given information. At once, Lena felt as though there were two sides of her. The selfish part of her and the selfless part of her. Just as suddenly, she couldn’t parse out which part of her was so willing to pry and peak into the part of her friend she wasn’t supposed to know was a part of her. She squashed it all down, pushed both halves together, and folded in the endless curiosity.
“Supergirl, wouldn’t you appreciate some more polite company?”
Lena sighed, ignoring the way Supergirl’s chin tipped, her head cocked like a loaded gun. Lena tried not to smile as Supergirl turned slowly, broadening her shoulders as she rounded on the man who’d appeared. Tall, relatively handsome, weak jaw…
“And that would be you?” Supergirl asked before Lena could place his name. He smiled at her before sticking his hand out, all gruff and hyper-masculine. He puffed his chest out like a bird. Lena rolled her eyes. Eddie something or another. He had a lot of money and maybe owned a sports team, perhaps two.
“Surely. I mean, my last name isn’t Luthor after all,” he said, all toothy and plastic.
“My name’s not Shirley, and this Luthor is my friend.”
Lena watched his gaze flicker between them, his hand faltering as the realization that Supergirl wasn’t about to shake his hand seeped in. He crossed his arms.
“Right until she backstabs you,” he spat, statement directed at Lena.
Lena clenched her glass as Supergirl took a step forward.
“Don’t,” Lena breathed, so softly she wasn’t sure Kara would hear it. It was just escaped air; she didn’t even move her lips. But a small bit of edge came off Supergirl’s shoulders. And the man—Eddie what was it—had the decency to look almost scared.
“This is a wedding.” Supergirl took another half a step forward, assuming her natural pose for intimidation. “Please don’t sully it with your bad attitude and negativity.”
Lena pursed her lips, trying not to smile again. It was like listening to someone lecture a child for misbehaving. For a moment, Lena could hear those exact lines in Lillian’s voice. An otherwise shudder-inducing memory made humorous by the fact that it was being delivered to a grown man by a woman in a cape. Eddie—no!—David merely frowned.
“Have it your way, Supergirl,” he said flippantly. He stalked off toward the other end of the bar.
“People have some nerve,” she said, hands still on her hips. “It’s a wedding. Just be nice.”
Lena chuckled and felt her face finally crack, break into a smile.
“I’ve never met someone who believed so ardently that weddings should be so good.”
“They’re about love not—not social agenda! You’re supposed to be surrounded by people you love who love you.”
“That’s pretty idealistic,” Lena said. “Sometimes, you have to invite the obligations and the awkward plus ones.”
“But still, those people want to be there! They shouldn’t be there for—for—for saving face or whatever!”
“And yet, Supergirl,” Lena reminded her. “Here we are.”
It was a brief respite. Supergirl blinked and seemed to come back to herself, ironing out her stutter and her posture. Which was the truth? One? The other? Both? Neither? There was another thought there, something that Lena wasn’t going to give much processing, but it sounded a lot like all. It was—at once—terrifying and comforting.
Lena sighed and tilted her head.
“I think they’re starting dinner service.”
Supergirl turned her head towards the ballroom, repurposed as a dining hall for the multitude of guests. It was less wedding and more fancy-dinner-gala with the exception of the large table on an elevated stage for the wedding party. Her eyes flicked back to Lena, a charming smile spreading across her lips.
“I smell potstickers,” she said.
And Lena could do nothing but smile back at Kara.
--
“Cat Grant RSVPs and then no-shows? Typical.”
The grouchy man on Kara’s right was stout and ruddy and he smelled like rum. She wasn’t quite sure whether that was entirely due to her super senses. To her left was an empty seat with the place card for Ms. Grant left untouched. Kara found herself both relieved and disappointed.
“Hello, I’m Supergirl,” she tried to say, remembering her approachable, but warm smile. The man was having none of it.
“I’ve got no interest if you’re pulling that crap here—anybody could google a thing about you, Supergirl, so unless you’re about to spill your secret identity I’d like to eat this beef wellington in peace.”
To say she was surprised would have been an understatement.
The rest of her table seemed to exhibit the same kind of aloof iciness. And not just to her—no, they seemed to want nothing more than to eat as quickly as possible so they could eject themselves from their seats and mingle properly. One gentleman’s wife (or girlfriend—his plus one, anyway) gave her an apologetic smile between courses, and that was that.
Kara tried not to scowl as she pushed food around on her plate, feeling irritated and oddly lonely. She was buzzing with unspent and restless energy but felt contained to this persona that felt awkward and stifled. Not because she had to be Supergirl, but because the people around her weren’t being particularly active participants in the charade and comradery.
Between the fourth and fifth courses, Kara recognized a chime of laughter halfway across the room. With the rest of her table preoccupied with either eating or hellbent on ignoring one another, Kara chanced a glance, distracted by the pretty, lilting sound. It was, of course, Lena. Lena’s table looked to be about the same; at least half of the guests there were turned around completely, conversing with people from other tables. But Lena was talking to a woman on her right, who smiled at her with an easy, confident smirk, and then she was laughing again.
Kara sighed and willed herself not to eavesdrop. Lena was laughing. And she was sitting by herself pushing puff pastry around on a plate she was sure cost more than all her dinnerware at home. A waiter interrupted her assault on the remnants of her dinner to take the plate away and suddenly Kara was left without a distraction.
“You’ll have to come, then, to see the exhibition. It’d be no problem to let you in after hours.”
“Well, I might have to take you up on that offer, Diana.”
“I could give you a private tour.”
Kara sniffed and stood abruptly. Half of her table ignored her and the couple stopped mid-conversation, but she walked toward the bar without sparring them a glance. It was late enough into the dinner that those who gathered around the bar ended up staying at the bar, and so she distracted herself from conversations she had no business eavesdropping on by hopefully engaging in conversations of her own.
--
Post-dinner was a remarkably better affair.
There was this thing that the guests did that Kara didn’t really understand but caught on to anyway. It started with one table and then spread across the ballroom—forks and knives gently tapping against glassware in a flurry of scattered notes. Someone would whoop or cheer and everybody would look at the wedding table, expectant. And then the couple would kiss and everyone would clap or laugh and the sound would dissipate.
She didn’t really understand it, only that they were doing it and that it was, apparently, a thing to do. It got the couple to kiss—why they needed an excuse, Kara didn’t understand. Admittedly, it was strange to realize that she’d somehow been uninformed of this tradition during her 14 years on Earth.
The clinking sound started up again.
“Another whiskey please.”
“Lena,” Kara said. Lena glanced over, smiling at her. The clinking rose in a crescendo across the room then broke into laughter. Kara frowned. “I don’t understand why they do that.”
Lena looked around, confused before she put two and two together.
“Honestly, I don’t know why either.” The bartender handed her a glass and she tipped him well. “It’s always just something that happens.”
“There’s—” Kara twisted her hands in on themselves. “There’s not a story or meaning behind it?”
Lena crossed her arms, glass held nonchalant away from herself. She looked remarkably pensive for such a mundane question.
“I’m sure there must’ve been,” Lena said. “A lot of human traditions are like that. Genesis forgotten or what have you.”
“That’s true,” Kara remarked. She frowned, remembering that she was Supergirl and not Kara in this instance, and that that fact always got a little muddled when she was with Lena. But Lena never exploited it. Never pressured her. “I—I remember on Krypton. The ceremony: it was a bit like your western traditions. But more… I guess the English word would be militant.”
Like the last true bits of information Kara had given her, this statement sank into Lena with the barest hint of surprise and calculation. Kara smiled; it was like watching a loading screen before Lena’s face would smooth out back to neutral.
“Could it be replicated on Earth? The ceremony I mean?” Lena asked. It surprised Kara for a moment and her face must have said as much. “Just genuinely curious. Which I guess isn’t entirely comforting from a Luthor.”
Kara lifted her hand a fraction before remembering her cape and uniform.
“Sort of,” she answered, not paying the Luthor comment any mind. “I mean, I guess not really. All marriages on Krypton took place at the Jewel of Truth and Honor, which… obviously doesn’t exist anymore. But the rest of it, yes.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sure these are probably more intimate questions than you’re used to.”
Kara smiled, tried not to make it sad around the edges.
“I don’t mind telling you,” she said, honestly. Kara wasn’t so naïve. There was something there that they didn’t talk about; a duality of understanding, a line drawn in the sand that got less and less distinct as time passed, like the tide was rising. It was rising and someday soon the waves were going to crest. Sometimes, Kara thought Lena was better at playing the game than she was. “It isn’t a very long ceremony. Couples stand at the Jewel of Truth and Honor at the Palace of Marriage and then there’s a sort of religious script. Statues are involved.”
“Statues?”
Kara nodded. “Of our parents.”
“Oh.”
Kara looked pensive for a moment. “It’ll be hard to commission that one… Anyway, and we exchange bracelets, not rings.”
“Bracelets?”
"Every couple has a… gosh what’s the word—when colors compliment—scheme! Every couple has a color scheme that’s unique to them and can never be duplicated.”
“That’s—”
Whatever Lena was about to say was cut off by a rowdy, drunken mess of people interrupting them and sliding their way into the bar. A basketball player—or was he a baseball player?—managed to wedge himself right between Kara and Lena and another woman quickly joined his side, shouting out drink orders seemingly as loud as she possibly could. Lena’s face hardened and she stepped away, but not before she acknowledged Kara a little apologetically before slipping in amongst the crowd.
Kara’s cape was grabbed, tugged just enough so that she felt it, and then she was being manhandled for selfies and politely, but firmly denying shot glasses thrust under her nose.
More than once, while Kara was supposed to be focusing on the lens or phone in front of her, she found herself distracted by a pair of green eyes meeting hers from across the room.
--
“You know those are bad for you?”
Lena huffed through her nose, turning just briefly. She smiled.
“So, I’ve been told,” Lena said. She turned back to the sight of the city and lifted her hand to her mouth, cigarette between her fingers. “I don’t make a habit of it.”
Lena inhaled, the end of the cigarette smoldering orange as she did so. Kara could hear the crackle of tobacco like a bonfire. Lena paused, holding the smoke in her lungs before exhaling. Acrid, blue ghosts escaped neatly through her mouth. Tapping on the filter, she ashed the cigarette to her side. In her other hand, Lena held up a silver cigarette case.
“I don’t suppose…”
Kara lifted her hand in dismissal.
“No, thank you.” She walked towards the railing to join Lena. “Those look… fancy.”
Lena lifted her hand again, smirking as she placed the gold filter delicately between the dark red of her lips. The black filter paper burned slowly as she inhaled.
“Nat Sherman’s. Same amount of harm for three times the price.”
Kara hummed. She was almost embarrassed by how entranced she was, watching smoke waft above Lena’s head, out through her mouth, the tail end of her exhale through her nose. She tried to remind herself that there wasn’t anything sexy about carcinogens, but even as she thought it, Lena repeated her inhale and Kara still found it… alluring.
“So. Why isn’t Supergirl inside mingling with society’s elite?” Lena asked, her focus back on the city lights, smoke still rising in tendrils from her hand, extended away from Kara.
Across the street an older gentleman walked his dog. He shuffled, spending more time on his right foot than his left. Kara could still feel the bass from the music inside thrumming through her blood. Two floors down a couple were laughing in the hallway, stumbling toward their room. They both had lost their keys, but only Kara knew that. They were happy. She could smell Chinatown from the rooftop. The Golden Gate had light traffic on it.
Because I couldn’t find you in there.
“It’s… too loud.” Kara shifted and her cape caught the breeze, lifting just slightly. “I could ask the same of you.” She pointed at the black and gold cigarette, burning slowly. “Although, I guess that’s reason enough.”
Lena glanced at her, smirk on her lips all lopsided and cool.
“Like I said, I don’t make a habit of it.” She flicked ash to the side and looked deeply contemplative for a moment. “How does it work?”
“Pardon?”
“You have… enhanced hearing, yes?” Lena asked. Kara could tell Lena was determined to avoid the word super. It made her want to giggle. “How does it work so that you and I can have a conversation but you can still hear a siren going off across the city?”
“Oh.” Kara blinked. She hadn’t had to describe the careful control of her powers to anybody human in a while.
“If I’m—let’s just say—at a rock concert and people are yelling and if it’s too loud, I can’t block out everyone to hear the person standing next to me. They would have to be screaming in my ear. But you can have this conversation with me and… listen in on what, exactly?”
Kara tuned her hearing outward. There was something on the edge of the hotel she couldn’t quite make out at first and focused on it. She flushed when she realized what she was listening in on.
“Oh. There’s a… well three people are enjoying themselves quite a bit on the second floor.”
Lena laughed, all bright and pretty, smiling like she did when it was just the two of them.
“How do you do that?”
“When you hear, humans that is, it’s more like… a funnel,” Kara explained. Lena looked captivated, standing bright eyed and engaged as Kara spoke. “Everything comes in and the loudest things of all get your attention. But when I hear…” She paused, trying to think of an appropriate metaphor. “It’s almost like a radar. Except not. You know when water is still and you throw a pebble in, waves ripple out from the center? It’s a little like that. And I’m the center. But I’m not the pebble? I’m kind of the water.”
“The water,” Lena murmured. Kara could see her thinking, putting together concepts, breaking them down so she might better understand the way Kara hears. Lena hummed, snuffed out the butt of her cigarette on the bottom of her heel, then pulled out her silver zippo and another cigarette from her metal case.
“Sort of. It’s hard to explain, but I can always be aware of all the noise it’s just… what ripple do I focus on. And what might make another ripple.”
“Fascinating.” Lena tapped the non-filtered end of the cigarette against the shell of its case twice. “What helps you choose a ripple to focus on?”
“Well,” Kara started. She blushed then ducked her head. She lifted her hand to her face and nearly poked her eye out trying to adjust non-existent glasses while Lena busied herself with lighting her cigarette. “Usually someone’s heartbeat.”
The zippo clicked on, the fire burning bright and blue, smelling faintly like lighter fluid and metallic chemicals. Lena paused. The cigarette was held in her mouth, dark red lips wrapped around that shimmering gold filter, one hand up to shelter the flame from the wind. The flame waned, flickered in the breeze, and Lena lit her cigarette, inhaling to make sure it was started.
“Someone’s heartbeat,” she clarified, exhaling phantoms from her mouth again. “Can you hear mine, right now?”
“Yes,” Kara murmured, not meaning to sound so breathless by her answer, but caught off guard by the blatancy of the question. She blinked and tried not to wring her hands together. “It’s—everyone has a different heartbeat.”
“I feel like that’s something I should know,” Lena said, still looking contemplative, almost dreamy. “Hearts of varying sizes, four chambers for blood to push through, veins with all sorts of different circumferences…”
“Way to take the romance out of it,” Kara scoffed playfully, smiling despite her comment.
Lena hummed.
“Is it, though?”
“What?” Kara asked, caught off guard again.
“Romantic? Is it innately romantic when you listen that closely to someone?”
“Uhm.”
“I mean intimate, sure. That’s immediately understandable.”
Kara flushed.
“It was—it was just a turn of phrase.”
Lena turned, facing Kara fully then, a dangerous and remarkable smile playing on her lips.
“Oh, you’re teasing me,” Kara said. She furrowed her brows.
“I am,” Lena replied. She smiled, her nose scrunching up the way it did when Kara knew Lena found herself particularly funny or humorous. “Who could pass up the chance to tease the Girl of Steel?”
The breeze picked up again, catching Kara’s cape—the fabric tugged gently at her shoulders as it fluttered against the wind. She frowned, shifting her weight from one foot to another. The tide was rising, coming up to meet that line drawn in the sand, waves kissing the boundary between one and another so close, so gentle. It would be so easy to let the wave crest. A statement formed, stuck itself in Kara’s throat, and threatened to push out past her tongue. Should she let it go? Throw it out into the ether, the terrifying unknown between them?
Lena crushed the unfinished cigarette against the railing. The black filter crumpled on itself and unlit tobacco spilt to the ground. A last ribbon of smoke escaped into the night. When had she taken a step forward? Had they always been standing this close? Kara could smell the tobacco, the somewhat sharp and slightly sour smell of cigarette smoke, and underneath that something that reminded her of toasted tea leaves. Lena was eyeing the crest, a hint of reverence there.
It could be so easy, to say the words that would confirm a before and after, a knowing and not knowing, an idea and a fact. It could be so easy. So why did the sentence stick in her mouth, glue her tongue to her palate?
“Lena,” Kara started. “I—”
Lena’s hand raised and settled on Kara’s shoulder. The movement was gentle, almost lazy in its pace. Lena’s expression was soft, her head tilted thoughtfully, but her hand was still present on Kara’s shoulder, halting that statement that took them from point A to point B. Was it on purpose?
“We should get back inside. Particularly before someone thinks I’m murdering you out here,” Lena said. Kara thought it was a funny thing to say. They hadn’t come together. Maybe it was a deflection. She wondered if Lena was one of those people who ran from the ocean as the waves came in and out on the beach.
“Yea.” Kara exhaled past the moment, willed her brain to plow forward. Lena’s heartbeat was strong and steady and loud in her ear. The line in the sand stayed ever present. The tide receded. “I think they’re starting the bouquet toss.”
“We wouldn’t want to miss that, would we?”
Kara thought for a moment before smiling, bending slightly at the hip and gesturing for Lena to take the lead.
She remembered something Jeremiah had told her when she’d first arrived on this planet. It was inconsequential in terms of memories—it wasn’t like it was a pivotal moment in her adolescence (no, those were more akin to entire planets exploding and finding out her cousin was a grown man and her adopted father being declared MIA). But she remembered it then as she followed closely behind Lena, eyeing the juxtaposition between a pale neck and shoulders and the deep red of her shawl.
He had taken her to the beach. It wasn’t even the first time he’d taken her. She can’t remember the conversation that surrounded this memory, but there it was, clear as day, suddenly and vividly as if she were 14 again. He knelt beside her as she played with the wet sand. She remembered what he said.
“Kara, if the ocean disappears suddenly, don’t go looking for it, okay?”
--
The center of the ballroom had been cleared for a dancefloor and stage for the DJ sometime after dinner. When Lena had stepped away to clear her head and indulge in a guilty habit, a mass of bodies were jovially (though chaotically) jumping and sweating together. There was still a chaotic mess of inebriated fellows in high social standing jumping together on the dancefloor, but it sounded like the DJ was trying to cajole every single woman into coming up for the bouquet toss.
Lena schooled her face the way she knew how in case a photographer nearby decided to try to catch her unaware. But these things were easy for Lena. Exhausting, maybe, but easy nonetheless. She preferred galas—they were easy to slip away from and typically resulted in her leaving early, but this was a wedding. The morally conscious part of her brain told her that leaving a wedding early was in poor taste. Even if that wedding had a guest list that resembled the Oscars more than anything else.
She stopped abruptly, path cut short by a couple laughing, shoving their way off the dancefloor. Supergirl must’ve been distracted by something because Lena felt what could vaguely be described as a truck colliding with her back before strong hands caught her shoulders and steadied her.
“Oh geez,” Supergirl murmured. “I’m sorry—someone waved at me.”
“Well, did you wave back?” Lena asked over her shoulder. Ladies in front of her were backing up, steadying themselves and giving one another elbow room, laughing.
“No, I just frowned at them,” Supergirl scoffed. “That was sarcastic. I rolled my eyes.”
“Thank you, I almost couldn’t tell—it’s not like I have x-ray vision.”
“I can’t x-ray the back of my own skull, Lena.”
Lena snorted, smiling despite herself.
“Careful, Supergirl,” Lena murmured, knowing that her friend would hear despite the noise—she took several steps back, hoping her heel wouldn’t accidentally catch on the Girl of Steel’s boot. Another couple of people pushed their way out of the crowd and Lena sidestepped them, arms now brushing against Supergirl’s so they could talk to each other almost properly.
“Do you think you’ll have a big wedding like this?” Supergirl asked innocently after a few moments of silence had passed between them. Lena pursed her lips. Hadn’t she had this conversation? Or was that with someone else?
“Likely not,” Lena answered, eyes forward, still watching the crowd. In her periphery, Supergirl had turned to face her.
“Something small, then?” Supergirl pressed on, a hint of hopeful curiosity there.
It felt like déjà vu.
“Maybe. Not much family left, after all,” she said.
“So.” Supergirl shifted, fidgeted a little. “What do you imagine?”
“Nothing,” Lena said simply. “Nothing to imagine, no dream wedding scenario.”
Was she wringing her cape between her hands or was Lena imagining it? She willed her eyes not to stray from the continued amassing crowd in front of them. There was silence where she expected a follow up question. Bridesmaids were on the outskirts of the tables, corralling the remaining women onto the dancefloor.
“I never really saw myself as the marrying type,” she whispered. She knew Supergirl would hear her. To any outsider, particularly to any photographer, they looked like two women quietly standing next to one another. Supergirl took a small step closer, crowding Lena.
“Why’s that?” she asked quietly, just above the music, the announcements, and the cajoling.
Lena sighed.
“I’m sorry,” Supergirl said suddenly. “I didn’t—it was rude of me to pry.”
The muscles in her mouth twitched, aching to frown as a reflex to Supergirl’s words. It was habitual: a defense mechanism against hope, both the immediate way that Lena hardened against the line of questioning and also her true and honest neglect toward a mundane day dream.
“People are easy to manipulate,” Lena said, finally, after her gaze had exhausted the scene in front of her out of any point of interest. Supergirl shifted, sidestepped so they were shoulder to shoulder again, angling her body toward Lena. “What with my history, I might as well be a ticking time-bomb for tragedy and madness, am I wrong? Why subject someone to that?”
A deep frown carved its way across Supergirl’s face, forming a valley of crinkled skin between her brows. Lena turned and stared at the scar above her eyebrow, suddenly craving to know how it had formed, why it was still there.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured, the furrow of her brow deepening. “You’re a good person. Good things should happen to you. You should think about good things happening to you.”
A twinge of grief cut through Lena’s chest.
“A lot of people would disagree with you.”
“But you do good things every day. You make the right choice even when it’s the hard choice; how… why?”
Lena shrugged, eyes sliding away from the bride who was talking to the crowd and toward Supergirl. They should be paying attention. Perhaps there was some life changing advice she was missing before this bouquet was tossed to the wolves. Who knew? The moment seemed too fragile to break away from now, anyway. How did this look through a lens? Like two women acknowledging one another? Or did it look as vulnerable as Lena felt?
“Because it’s the hard choice—it’ll always be the hard choice. Against the nature of my own compulsions. Someday I might get lazy or forgetful or too content with what I think is right instead of what actually is right.”
Supergirl sighed hard through her nose. Lena noticed there was a certain kind of simmer behind the blue of her eyes, something like anger but not quite.
“Your brother thought that, but about other people,” Supergirl said, finally.
Something was happening in Lena’s periphery. A countdown maybe, some kind of excitement incongruous and parallel to this odd, misplaced moment between her and Supergirl. Lena inclined her head in thoughtful way, thinking on those words. Supergirl’s face was full of empathy and worry. It eased the pang of deprecation, softened the corners of Lena’s lips.
Her eyes were so blue.
“Autumn,” Lena said. “I remember being very young and wanting to get married in early autumn.”
Supergirl’s face smoothed out, broke into a smile that looked familiar and different all at once. A real one, the one that pointed her chin and put crow’s feet by her eyes. Her eyes, which very suddenly widened in surprise before Supergirl’s hand shot out in front of Lena so quick she couldn’t see it but felt a breeze of air from the movement.
Lena blinked and inhaled the sudden, intoxicating scent of fresh flowers.
“Oh!”
Applause rang out and Lena could do nothing to stifle her laugh except a poor attempt at hiding it behind her hand. Supergirl gripped the bouquet in her hand and Lena was surprised it wasn’t crushed to dust upon capture, held aloft right in front of her face.
“I think this is for you,” she said, cheeks tinged pink.
Lena was still laughing as she put her hand gently on Kara’s, feeling the tendons and metacarpals relax as she pushed softly away from herself.
“I think you caught this fair and square, Supergirl.”
A camera shuttered besides them.
--
It was pure instinct to thrust her hand out in front of Lena’s face and catch whatever was on a collision course with her friend. Her brain hadn’t even registered what it was, only that it was coming, and Lena hadn’t noticed, and Kara needed to stop it from hitting her. So she thrust her hand out, felt her fingers wrap around silk and flower stems, and loosened enough so that she wouldn’t crush everything to pulp in the instant that it was caught.
She almost breathed a sigh of relief when she realized it wasn’t something more insidious or life threatening, but then she realized that there was a spotlight and people were clapping and staring and she’d just caught the bouquet.
So she tried to play it off.
But of course, Lena wouldn’t let her.
“I think you caught this fair and square, Supergirl.”
Kara registered the warmth of Lena’s hand pushing against her and then the clack of a camera’s shutter, the brightness of a flash somewhere, and suddenly she was being mobbed again by people who wanted to take a photo with her or ask her mundane or borderline inappropriate questions. Women who had been upset that they hadn’t caught the bouquet now had their features smoothed and were trying to get into photos with her. Some hung onto her biceps a little too affectionately. One actually tried to kiss her on the cheek, but Kara reeled back suddenly and tried to remember to smile for the camera anyway.
At some point, Nancy had stepped in to ask if Supergirl wanted the bouquet to be held at the entrance so Kara wouldn’t have to carry it around for the rest of the night. Kara was thankful, said as much, and addressed Nancy by name, earning her one of those faint blushes once more. Then the sea of people closed in on her again and Kara could feel her social reserves running on empty.
A man tugged on her elbow, suddenly, and when she turned—confused as to who was trying to get her attention now—he smiled lecherously at her. His eyes were a bit glazed and his cheeks were bright and red. The top button of his dress shirt was undone and his tie was loosened.
“Supergirl,” he said, smelling like alcohol, sweat on his brow. “Come dance with me.”
Kara tried hard not to make a face as she planted her feet when he tried to tug her toward him again.
“Oh—uhm—no thank you,” Kara said, trying to sound polite.
“I’ll make it well worth your while,” he responded. The strength of his grip horrified Kara—not that it at all hurt her, but because she knew that it could hurt someone else. “You know what they say about the girl who catches the bouquet?”
Kara opened her mouth to confirm that she did, in fact, know what the tradition was meant to signify, but he pressed on, ignoring her attempts at voicing her own opinions.
“You’re an alien, right, so you don’t know,” he said. Kara frowned, taken aback. “Silly Earth traditions and all that—but look.” He held up a piece of lacy, white fabric in front of her face and stepped closer. “You caught the flowers and I caught the garter, so clearly it was meant to be.”
He waggled his eyebrows.
“Supergirl, I think you owe me a dance.”
A hand slipped into Kara’s suddenly and tugged her toward the dancefloor and Kara went willingly, relieved at the reprieve from what’s-his-name and his gross come-ons.
Kara heard him mutter to himself (something that sounded suspiciously like “fucking Luthor”) as Lena led them away without any further explanation as to how Supergirl could possibly come to owe Lena Luthor a dance. The music had all wound down to something soothing and slow and out on the dancefloor it almost looked like a real wedding—couples held onto each other fondly, some swaying awkwardly, some cutting across the floor like they were professionals. They were probably professionals.
“Thank you,” Kara breathed.
“Oh, don’t thank me yet,” Lena said. She looked worriedly around at the dance floor. “I’m terrible at dancing. But you looked like you needed saving.”
“Lucky for you I took ballroom dance classes in college,” Kara remarked absently, settling one hand around Lena’s waist, her other held outward with Lena’s, but keeping a reasonable distance between their bodies. Lena stiffened and for one fearful moment Kara thought she hurt her by the stutter in Lena’s movements.
“I didn’t know Supergirl went to college,” Lena said.
Kara was tired. A million ways to fix her mistake rolled through her mind like someone searching through a rolodex. But it was Lena and she was tired of watching the tide rise and fall.
“Supergirl didn’t, but her secret identity did.”
“The secret identity that nobody is supposed to know about or even know exists?” Lena muttered. Kara answered with a sigh.
“That one.”
Lena squeezed Kara’s hand briefly, endearingly. And then they were quiet, moving together, and Kara knew that Lena was concentrating very hard, trying to match her steps, because Lena’s eyes were glued to their feet.
Nobody came to bother them, though Kara’s hearing could pick up the scattered whispers of incredulity and a Super and a Luthor? throughout the ballroom. The steps were easy and basic for Kara (the ballroom classes fulfilled a 0.5 unit requirement she needed one semester at National City University and she’d had so much fun she took 3 more classes just because she could) as she led the dance with little flair. It felt familiar and warm.
“Shit,” Lena swore, as she fumbled oddly and managed to step on Kara’s foot. She hardly felt it. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Kara said. “You know, I feel like dancing is something you’d be good at.”
Lena snorted through her nose, an undignified but amusing sound.
“I took lessons,” Lena muttered. “I took lessons in etiquette, piano, viola, horseback riding, and 3 different forms of dance, and I can remember which order you’re supposed to set soup, salad, and entrée cutlery but I’ve never, in my life, been able to dance.”
“Viola?”
“Lillian insisted on the violin or cello, but I wanted to know 3 clefs instead of just 2.”
“Sounds stubborn.”
Lena looked up at that, deadpan look on her face as if to say have you met me? Kara laughed until it petered off. They moved again, gently and behind the beat of the music until the song ended. Lena detached herself from Kara’s grip, naturally, unhurried. The both of them stepped off the dancefloor.
“Thanks again,” Kara said, because she really was grateful. Lena smiled at her.
“You pulled me out of a helicopter once. The least I can do is save you from drunk men who want to leer at your super suit.”
Lena checked her watch and looked back amongst the crowd. Kara did the same, noting that the people at the bar were inebriated to high hell and a lot of the older guests had already left. She scanned outward, just to do a perimeter check, but stopped when she accidentally caught the best man and maid of honor doing blow off an iPad in the single occupancy bathroom toward the back of the ballroom.
“I think this is an acceptable time for me to make an exit,” Lena said. “You should probably avoid the bar.”
“Oh no, I think I’ll leave with you,” Kara said. “I mean—you know, leave at the same time, not—I’m gonna go home.”
Lena smirked. But she didn’t tease her.
“Are you going through the front door or are you taking off from the terrace?”
“I’ll walk you out,” Kara answered, smiling.
“You really don’t have to.”
“That’s true,” Kara said. She tilted her head, thinking. “But I want to.”
Lena’s arm made a movement before she thought better of it and let it fall awkwardly. Just past the entrance to the ballroom was Nancy. She waved at Kara, smiling brightly.
“Hi Supergirl, Miss Luthor,” she said as they approached. “Are you two leaving together?”
“Yes,” Lena answered in the simplest line of reasoning.
“No,” Kara said at the same time. They both glanced at each other, but Nancy paid it no mind or perhaps chose to ignore them both. She went behind a table and brought out the bouquet from earlier.
“Can’t leave without your souvenir, Supergirl,” she said. “I hope you ladies had a wonderful evening. The paparazzi’s been cleared by hotel staff, just so you know.”
Kara blushed a little at the implications.
“Thanks,” she said awkwardly.
“Have a good night!”
“She absolutely thinks we’re leaving together,” Lena said, once they were out the doors of the Ritz-Carlton. The night was chilly but the sky was clear. Lena wrapped her shawl tighter against her shoulders and checked her phone. “I don’t suppose you need a ride?”
“Nope,” Kara answered. She fought the urge to want to offer her cape against the cold of the San Francisco chill. “I’m flying home, tonight.”
Lena turned toward her, that curious look on her face again.
“How quick does that take you?”
“Well,” Kara started. She smiled and hoped that she didn’t sound like she was bragging. “I took over an hour on the way here just because I like the coast so much, but without causing any environmental damage, I can do it in about 2 seconds. But I think I’ll take it easy and stick to Mach 3 on my way back.”
“Faster than a speeding bullet,” Lena murmured, wonder in her voice, eyeing the bouquet. She mumbled something about Mach speed and metres per second under her breath. “Anyway, my car will be here soon, you don’t have to wait.”
“I don’t mind,” Kara said. There were no other pedestrians on the curb and only one car had gone by the front of the hotel so far. Lena’s driver never took too long—it wasn’t any type of inconvenience for her to wait.
There was something in the silence there as they stood on the curb. There was always… something between them and try as she might Kara could never put a word to it. It was more than the conversations they weren’t having or the closeness they shared despite the amount of time they’d known each other. It was just.. something. Something while they danced, something while they talked, something on the terrace.
“Thank you,” Kara said suddenly, before she could talk herself out of it.
“You are the only person to thank me so much for dancing with them,” Lena said, chuckling.
“Not that.” Kara shifted, let her cape flutter in the breeze. “I wasn’t… really looking forward to being here, tonight. But you spent time with me, so. Thank you.”
Lena gave her a puzzling look, something like scrutiny and sympathy rolled up in one.
“I feel like that’s more something I should be saying.”
“Why didn’t you bring anyone?” Kara asked.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t really have a choice,” she answered. “And even if I did, who would I bring? My cousin? That would be weird.”
The remark got Lena to smile, amused and knowing. Kara’s hearing picked up the sound of a heavy town car pulling onto Stockton and heading their way. It was most likely Lena’s driver.
“I had a feeling my usual wedding companion was busy,” Lena finally answered, not looking at Kara.
Kara hummed.
“My car is here,” Lena said, checking her phone. It was at a stop sign two blocks away.
“I know.”
It pulled up moments later and when the driver made to get out, Kara beat him to it and opened the door for Lena.
“Thanks, Supergirl,” Lena said, sliding into the car. Kara ducked her head, just under the doorframe. She looked at Lena for a moment, trying to find the green where her eyes were now gray, bathed in the dome light of the car.
“Would you mind doing me a favor?” she asked. Lena blinked, but didn’t look skeptical or outright say no, so Kara thrust her hand out from behind her back. “I saved someone from this and I’ve got no idea what to do with it.”
Lena laughed as she took the bouquet from Kara’s hands, their fingers brushing against each other during the pass off. She looked at the flowers, inspecting for a moment.
“Funny,” Lena said, picking at the petals of one particular flower. “Carnations.”
Kara tilted her head and Lena looked up at her, but did not elaborate.
“Good night, Lena,” Kara said, with a smile.
“Good night,” Lena answered. “See you in National City.”
Kara waved before shooting up straight into the sky, high enough so that when she broke the sound barrier, anybody who was paying attention would only hear a slight pop.
--
Alex was asleep on Kara’s couch when she got back, laptop open with the photographer’s FTP feed up on her coffee table. There was a half-finished bottle of beer next to it and the television had Netflix wondering if anyone was still there. Kara changed out of her suit and into pajamas before she threw one of her blankets over her sister.
“Crap, what time is it?” Alex asked sleepily.
“Around 11:30,” Kara said. She’d taken the bottle and was emptying it in the kitchen sink.
“God, I’m old,” Alex mumbled. Kara snorted, thinking Alex was already halfway back to dreaming. “Did you have fun?”
“Oh. Uhm. I guess it wasn’t bad,” Kara answered truthfully.
“That’s good,” Alex muttered. Kara could hear Alex licking the roof of her mouth, a sound she always hated. Alex turned over in her half-sleep and mumbled into the couch cushions, but Kara could still make out her words. “You and Lena looked nice.”
And then Alex sighed, her breath evened out, and Kara knew her sister was out for the count. She turned out the rest of her lights before curiosity got the better of her and she went over to her sister’s computer. Alex had already gone through and marked most whatever Kara was in.
Among the celebrity meet and greets and crowded shots of the dance floor, nestled in between a line of women waiting to tackle one another and the photo line that formed after she’d accidentally caught the bouquet, was a single picture of her and Lena. She lost track of how long she sat on the floor staring at it, her heart full of affection and something before Alex snorted and Kara shut the laptop as if she’d been caught. She brushed her teeth and made sure to at least hang up her cape on the back of a chair before she settled into bed, still thinking of that photo.
They looked really happy and somehow that was strange to her. Kara rolled over as sleep began to trickle into her senses. She was stuck, trying to find a word for that something as waking moved farther and farther away from her.
Kara would have no recollection of this thought when she woke up in the morning to make Alex coffee and go through the details of the wedding. It will have been forgotten as Alex would inevitably force Kara to show her a picture of sleazy garter man so Alex could put him on some sort of shit list. But the thought was there, on the precipice of reality and unreality. It blinked into existence and then faded away.
It was just one word: inevitable.