Lena awoke to the sunlight shining in her face. She used one hand to shield her eyes as she yawned. Images of Kara immediately flooded back: Kara coming over. Kara sharing her bed. Kara touching her bare thigh. Her cheeks flushed at the memory, and she looked to her side in search of the blonde. She found a letter instead. Sitting up in an instant, Lena unfolded it and read it with a finger excitedly placed between her teeth:
I don't do much writin,' but I wanted to say 'good mornin.' You looked nice sleepin' there.
Wish I could have waited till you woke up. I left you something outside, though.
~Kara~
Lena's smile widened as she headed down the stairs in anticipation. When she opened her front door, her mouth fell open. There stood a brown horse, tied to a railing near the house, chewing on a large bucketful of hay. Lena remembered the horse was named Wrangler. With that white streak in his mane, there was no mistaking him. The last time she had seen him was when he was four years old. She had been eight and Kara six. While Kara had taken a liking to a Banker horse that was deemed too wild for a young one to ride, she'd immediately taken a liking to the young pony gelding called Wrangler. He had impeccable ground manners, with an adorable personality, and had ridden over various types of trails, and had some obstacle training such as plowing through heavy flow water. He'd also had decent two-foot jumps. He was good for walking with, riding, and had gotten used to domesticated animals such as pigs and cows.
Back then, she and Kara had argued over horse terminology and whether to call Wrangler a horse or a pony. Strictly-speaking, he was a pony, just as Lena had stated as a child, and he had seemed to be nothing but bones connected by rawhide sinew. He'd also been very small, not unlike Lena herself. But when a bigger pony walked by, he would arch his skinny neck, flag his tail, and, with much effort, lift his hooves from the ground, all of which would end, if a rider was present, in a spine-snapping trot. He'd known how to put on a performance of bravado. But now, with his muscular legs, back, and decent weight, he didn't need to. He was stunningly beautiful, and Lena was astounded that Kara had found some way to keep him after all these years. At age 22, he couldn't really be categorized as young in horse years anymore. Although ponies usually lived longer than other types of horses, a domestic horse's average life expectancy was 25 to 33 years.
Lena walked to Wrangler, subconsciously reaching for a dress to hike up before remembering that she was still in her shift. She ran a hand along his beautiful mane and marveled at him. He was far too engrossed in his food, grunting intermittently, to pay her much mind, however. "You may be more like Kara with that attitude," she laughed, before spotting a piece of paper sticking out of his saddle. She grabbed it and quickly unfolded it, seeing that it was a note. In it, Kara had deduced that Lena needed an easier way to get to work and had hurried and got a hold of Wrangler from her stable early in the morning, about three hours before the sun rose.
Lena put the note to her nose. It smelled of Kara, even having been attached to Wrangler for a couple or more hours, and Lena was quickly becoming used to the outdoorsy sent of the woman. Of course, Kara had needed to get to work early, but Lena had been looking forward to waking up to those blue, probing eyes that always seemed to give away more than they intended.
She raked a hand along Wrangler's coat. She would see Kara again soon. She could wait.
IIII
Mon-El pulled on his shoes as he sat across from his grandfather, Lonnie, at the kitchen table. He hadn't been eager to get to work, what with Kara's recent overly chipper attitude seeming to have nothing to do with him. But that hadn't been why he'd stayed behind. His grandfather was having trouble performing the simplest of tasks today, complaining about stomach pains and a dry throat. So far, Mon-El had assisted the old man with mouth-cleaning, getting dressed and fixing breakfast. But he needed to get to work if he was going to continue having enough money to pay for daily necessities. He'd already told Lonnie not to worry about cooking, that he'd pick up something from the butcher and bakery and start a roast when he got home.
"Something bothering you, Lar?" he heard Lonnie ask. He looked up at the old man, watching him scratch his long, ragged beard. Mon-El hated that beard, and he hated being called 'Lar.' He'd been named after his father, but had ended up shunning the name at the age of five. 'Mon El,' his middle name, had always had a certain ring to it.
"Nothing," he said, folding his hands on the table as he looked at them. A blunt object poked him in the leg a second later. "Ow," he grunted, looking to his side to see Lonnie pulling a cane back toward the chair. He sometimes forgot about the cane. Lonnie always seemed to use it only when he wanted to whack him with it.
Lonnie let out a hoarse laugh that dragged on for half a minute. "It's you and that Kara again, ain't it? Ya love the girl. Why not tell her that, and that ya wanna marry her?"
"I did," Mon-El stated exasperatedly.
"Then what's eatin' at ya?"
Mon-El looked back to his folded hands on the table.
Lonnie stared at him with squinted eyes and gave another rub at his beard before standing and leaning heavily on his cane. He walked to Mon-El and rested a hand on his shoulder. "It'll work itself out," he said, walking off slowly toward a back room.
Mon-El frowned. He wasn't sure that it would work itself out at all. Lena desired Kara. And Kara lit up around Lena. And although Mon-El knew that the New Yorker didn't have a chance with his Kar, he felt like he was competing for the right to Kara's hand — a right promised to him at birth.
"I've always liked the way 'Lar and Kar' sounded," Lonnie said with a croaking laugh. "Ya work it out, Mon-El. Use whatever advantage you have."
Mon-El looked up at his grandfather, and Lonnie winked. "Whatever advantage," he repeated, walking into a back room with another laugh.
Mon-El remembered the "whatever advantage" saying. His father and mother had lived by it. Said it guided them. Made them winners. Mon-El sank his head into his hands, wondering if arranged marriages were always this difficult.
IIII
"Arranged marriages. What a mess," Alex said with a huff as she watched her son frown at the young girl trying to offer him her doll. Watching the children while standing beside Eliza, they hung clothes on a line in Alex's backyard. Eliza had wanted mother-and-daughter time. Because today was one of the dates that William was meant to bond with his future bride, Alaina, as all promised pairs were meant to bond with their betrothed, they'd managed to squeeze in their needed time a little around noon.
Jonathan was inside keeping Alaina's mother company. The woman was recently widowed. Alex had a sneaking suspicion that Jonathan liked her more than an acquaintance should, but she didn't have time to concern herself with an affair. If Jonathan wanted her, he could have her.
As long as the having ain't done in my home, she mentally quipped, keeping an eye on her husband, who could be seen through the doorway conversing with the lovely blonde, while also keeping an eye on her son, who was steadily pushing away the doll Alaina was still shoving toward his face.
"They don't even like each other," Alex sighed, waving a hand toward the children.
Eliza laughed. "They're only four. Give it some time." She hung up a pair of trousers on the clothes line, crinkling her eyes in the motherly fashion Alex had become so used to. Perhaps Eliza was correct, but she felt doubt settling in again as she watched William grow ever the more frustrated.
"I don't wanna play dolls," he pouted, picking up two small sticks and handing one to Alaina. "Let's duel," he said with an energetic grin.
"Were you and pa like that?" Alex asked.
"Oh no. Jeremiah was quite the gentleman." Eliza chuckled. "But then again, he was about three years older. Much more mature."
Alex looked at the two little ones again, almost letting out a giggle when Alaina tripped William in a tantrum and threw down her stick. "Yes," Alex said, "maturity is lackin' in this union." She looked toward her garden as her mind went back to thoughts of the female thief; at least she didn't have to put up with that nonsense today.
IIII
Lena narrowed her eyes as Maggie handed her some papers with a devilish grin. "What's that smile for, Ms. Sawyer?" she asked, looking over the papers from behind her desk. For the most part, things were coming together, and Lena couldn't be more thankful. Winn was at the smaller desk to her side going over documents. He had the task of sorting out fact from fiction. Samantha "Sam" Arias, the woman who'd teased her when she was a child, was sitting in a chair by the door. Like Maggie, she acted as one who inquires, although Maggie preferred the term inquisitor. James was outside standing guard. And as for herself, she was to receive the reports, analyze them, have Winn analyze them some more, and she would decide afterward what was to be done. Depending on the severity of the broken rule, the punishments that could be doled out included paying a fine, giving up crops or livestock, lending space to a stranger in one's home, giving up a portion of one's land, or being exiled from the community. They also had a small jail attached to the overseer building, but that was for more serious crimes, like rape or murder. At the moment, they were mostly accessing old cases. The town was not populated enough for daily reports, which meant they could afford calculated days off.
"I spied some oldies doin' the deed in their backyard. Who knew they had it in 'em?" Maggie answered, moving to lift her hat off Winn's desk.
Lena arched a brow. "You aren't supposed to be spying at all. Not like that."
Maggie shrugged. "How else am I to do my job?" She plopped the hat on her head.
Lena sighed. This day wasn't going to be any simpler than the last.
"Old people are sexual beings too," Winn offered. He put his pen down and stared at Maggie as though she'd offended him.
"Those two certainly were," Maggie said, unfazed by Winn's gaze. "And we know it wasn't for babies. So either we put them down for a violation or list them as exempt since, shit, ain't no child comin' outta that cooch."
Winn pointed a finger at her. "Just wait until you're old." Maggie shrugged as he got up and moved to Lena, explaining some of his findings with gestures toward the names. "I was thinking that we could have the likely offenders come in for interrogations, in front all of us. Maggie and Sam seem like capable women, but going from door to door alone could be dangerous if the accused feels threatened enough. And at least we'd be safer in numbers if doing the interrogations as a group."
Lena looked up at Winn. Not only did he dress differently from the rest of the men, wearing business-like attire similar to those in New York, he didn't talk like the other townsfolk. He had a southern accent, but there was no informal tone or slang in his dialect, and he constantly thought outside of the box.
"Me and Sam could patrol together," Maggie said.
"Not good enough," Winn argued, looking at her with pensive eyes. "If a man is big enough, he could take the both of you. And what if he has a shotgun?"
"Listen, short stuff," Maggie fired back, raising her chin as though she wasn't the actual short one in the room. "There ain't a man in town who could stand my right hook."
Winn folded his arms across his chest. "Not even James?"
Maggie made a shushing gesture as she looked from Winn toward the front door. "That one could wipe the floor with us all in one fell swoop," she whispered.
Lena quietly laughed. James was rather muscular, that much was certain.
"Aren't you all forgettin' somethin'?" Sam asked, leaning forward in her chair to finally include herself in the discussion. "How do we enforce any of this? Say we want to make someone pay a fine? Or throw 'em in jail? Do we physically force 'em if they refuse?"
"If they work for someone, the fine can be taken care of by going to the person they work for and taking a cut that way," Lena replied. "As for the rest, I haven't been in town long, but last I remember, people never refuse. They care too much about their already damaged reputations and don't want any more trouble. The most that could make someone refuse is if they're about to be jailed or outcast. And in those latter cases, the townsmen always rally together to help enforce the matter at hand. All of this is still true, is it not?" She looked around the room with a questioning stare, waiting for anyone to say she was wrong. When they didn't, she stood. "Well, then, let's pin a schedule and set everything on course."
She headed for the door, opening it and joining James as she stared out into the busy town. "How are things going?"
"Gettin' some odd looks now and again," James said, "but other than that...fine, ma'am."
Lena touched James on the shoulder. "No need to call me ma'am."
James nodded, a slight smile playing on his hard features. "Lena," he corrected himself.
Lena looked off in the direction of the blacksmith shop Kara worked at. One day she would need to visit the blonde and see her in action.
IIII
Kara moved beside Jeremiah in his blacksmith shop. The main blacksmith business had enough workers at this hour today and she'd been meaning to spend some time with Jeremiah in the smaller one. She watched as he rubbed his hands on his apron and shaped the metal with tongs. Seeing as he was handling hot steel, the metal was about as easy to mold as clay. But clay would break if stretched, and stretching metal wasn't as simple and took patience. Making a long, slim piece out of a short, fat one required squeezing the sides of the metal and turning. Jeremiah's pieces always came out beautifully, and Kara sometimes envied his skill.
"Pa, can I have some time off?"
Jeremiah carefully sat his tools down and looked at Kara with concerned eyes. "Time off? Ya never asked for anything like that before."
Kara shrugged sheepishly. "I know. It's just..." She fidgeted with her hands. "Lena needs a stable for the horse I gave her."
Jeremiah smiled. "Old Wrangler?"
"And I wanted to get some men together to help me build that stable," Kara continued.
"Kara, I can get ya the men," Jeremiah replied, almost exasperatedly. "You don't have to assist with that. I can get Lena a new horse too. Wrangler is darn near -"
"- I wanna do it," Kara said, squaring her jaw. "I wanna build that stable for Lena. And I want her to have Wrangler. She's always loved him. 'Course he ain't young no more, but he ain't too old either. He's strong, loyal, and smart, and I know Lena would be most comfortable with him. I gave him to her this mornin'."
Jeremiah narrowed his eyes, surveying Kara carefully. "All of this means a lot to ya, huh?"
"It does."
Jeremiah went back to molding the metal, intermittently looking at Kara out of his peripheral vision. "The only time you get this passionate about anythang is when it's food, smithing a new item, or learnin' about history."
Kara remained silent, waiting for an answer.
"I 'spose some time off will do ya some good. You work harder than anyone I know."
Kara nearly jumped with glee. A blinding smile spread across her lips.
"But that time off is comin' outta ya pay," Jeremiah warned.
"Understood."
Jeremiah looked at her again, smiling.
"Thank ya, pa."
"Anythang for my girls."
IIII
After work and saying later to the others, Lena headed down the path behind the overseer building leading toward the church and school areas. She'd been on the path for at least ten minutes. Wrangler was alert beside her, and she'd have to thank James for keeping an eye on him and tending to his needs while she and the others had worked. But she still wasn't especially used to riding horses and had decided on a quicker path home today. She pulled Wrangler along just as she saw Kara exiting a building a good distance ahead. Lena stared after the woman, who was apparently headed home. Lena knew she should call out or move to catch up to the blonde, but she felt nervous for some reason. And although the town wasn't so big that she wouldn't find out where Kara lived, what if Kara didn't want her to know?
Lena watched carefully. From what she could discern, Kara lived near the woods. No, not just near the woods. Somewhere near their special place in the woods. If Lena hurried, she could cut through the furrow a few feet away from the church and get there before Kara.
"Come on, boy," she said to Wrangler, hurrying on top of him as Kara disappeared from sight. She rode near the church, taking a sharp turn. She almost ran into Father Mable, who was walking home. The sandy-haired man was as beady-eyed as she remembered.
"Is that Lena Luthor?" he asked with a grin, as Lena pulled on Wrangler's reins to keep him from toppling over the man. Lena saw that he had a plate of ginger snap cookies in his hand, a wooden top with see-through holes keeping the goods in place. So the church was still enticing people to attend via treats, she surmised. She didn't have time to chat.
"Hi, Father Mable. This is going to sound rude, but I promise you that there is a good explanation for it... Can I have those cookies you're carrying?"
Father Mable looked at her as though at a loss for words.
"It's for a good cause," Lena continued. "And I assure you that I will attend service as soon as I get a good chance to do so. I always did find your sermons enlightening when attending with the Danvers folk."
At that, Father Mable flashed her a blinding smile. "Well, if it's for a good cause..." He placed the plate of cookies in her hands. "Maybe we could -"
Lena didn't hesitate to move forward. She rode Wrangler on the path she had meant to take before the interruption, and moved into the trees. Keeping to a steady course, with minimal twists and turns, she would make it to her destination in no time.
When she emerged from one side of the area, she spotted a house at the top of a small climb. It was bigger than the cabins around town, and had somewhat of an elegant look to it. Southern Sugar Maple trees extended past the roof. The sun was setting and its light reflected off the windows. The porch appeared to hug the house and had one chair off to the side. There was a small barn to the right.
Lena moved off Wrangler, blinking against the memories. She couldn't count the number of times she had traversed through this area and had stared up at the special tree she shared with Kara a mile or two from here. How many times had they taken this path? How many times had Kara climbed that tree with more agility than three boys put together? Kara had sometimes wanted to visit the lake some distance away from the tree, to skip rocks across it. And they would do that as well, especially when Kara was feeling down about the loss of her birth parents or when Lena pouted about her own parents, how inattentive they were, and that the only family she truly had at home was Lex.
The familiar ache in her chest caused her to shove the memories to the side. She shouldn't focus so much on her past with Kara. It only made her long for the woman more. And that wouldn't bode well for her life in this town, especially her new job. She'd returned for Kara, but now there was the matter of waiting to see if Kara could ever feel the same. Even if Kara never did, she'd rather be by her side.
She carefully removed the plate of cookies from where she had secured them on the saddle and walked to the front porch. After tying the rope attached to Wrangler's halter to the porch railing, she sat in the chair. Kara would be here soon. The trail Kara had taken was longer, but only by a few minutes.
When she finally heard footsteps, she looked up to see Kara standing a few feet away.
"Lena... What are y-"
"- I followed you here," Lena admitted, rising with the plate in her hands. "I wasn't sure if you wanted me to know where you lived. But I wanted to know. So I followed you."
Kara ran a hand along her ponytail, the confusion on her face clear. "I would never not want you to know where I live, Lena. And even if I were such a fool, what would be the point? You'd find out sooner or later."
She watched the anxious way Lena stared at her, and decided to press on to break the awkwardness. "Just so ya know, I don't live here. I mean... It's mine, but I live directly within the town, closer to Alex." She paused to look around. "This is a piece of land I purchased. I come here every other day to check up on it."
"It's near our special spot," Lena whispered, taking a step closer.
Kara scratched her head, beside her right eye. "Um...yeah."
Lena walked to her. "I brought you cookies." She moved to hug Kara with one hand, sniffing in her scent. "Thank you for the horse. I've loved Wrangler since a girl." Her breath played against Kara's ear, and she felt Kara stiffen.
"You're welcome," Kara said, extracting herself from Lena's grasp. She moved toward the front door. "Wanna come inside?"
IIII
Kara didn't wait to dig into the cookies as Lena looked around. She could tell that Lena was wondering why it was practically empty. "Can't have anyone thievin' if they happen upon this place," she explained.
"Of course," Lena commented, steadily looking around. The home was basic in design, but it had a lively feel to it. Lena could easily imagine herself living in it.
Kara's eyes lingered on Lena's dress. It was even simpler than the last, but hugged her figure a lot more. Like the other dresses, it also had a collar that obscured most of her neck. Kara found herself imagining a more complete view of that neck. She recalled the mole that sat there when the brunette was little.
Lena noticed Kara's gaze, looking down at the garment and then immediately back up at the intense blue eyes. "I decided to take a cue from the other farm women. Simpler is better. Bought a few dresses this morning."
Kara nodded. "It suits you." She held the plate of cookies under her arm, against her waist, as she took a bite out of another one. "You like collars."
Lena absentmindedly dragged a hand along her collarbone. "That's... I suppose."
Kara nodded again and the silence took hold of them. She didn't know why silence always devoured them like this. Was it really that hard to communicate with Lena now that they were adults? "The cookies are good. I love ginger snap."
"I know." Lena smiled.
Kara wiped at her mouth. "I, um, I want ta build you a stable, a barn, for Wrangler. Starting tomorrow. You'll need it unless you plan to walk to my cabin every day and get him from my barn."
"Tomorrow? But what about your work?"
"Pa gave me some time off."
Lena arched a brow. "Time off?"
"As long as I need to fix up your barn."
"But, Kara -"
"- I already worked everythang out," Kara argued. "And I won't take no for an answer. I've rounded up a few trustworthy men, and we're gonna work to give you a stable." She had her hands on her hips, a clear reach for intimidation.
Lena smirked, taking a step closer. "You're just as stubborn as ever, Kara Danvers."
"That's what Alex says."
Lena laughed. "Well, your sister and I are the same age. Maybe it's just our wiser years talking."
Kara pushed her spectacles back up on her face. "With only two years on me, you can't be that much wiser."
The smile still played at the corner of Lena's lips. "Well, considering that I have tomorrow off, I'll be there to watch your handy work."
"Lookin' forward to it."
Kara grinned as silence descended upon them again.
Lena moved to one of the windows. "Why'd you build this place? You already have a home."
"Because."
Lena turned to her, tucking away a stray hair that had fallen from her bun. "Because?" she chuckled. "That's your answer?"
Kara shrugged. "Do I need another?"
Lena worried her bottom lip, thinking the question through. "No."
They watched each other for a few more moments, Kara steadily looking Lena over before heading to the window to look out of it.
"Waiting for someone?" Lena queried.
"Mon-El. We usually go home home together, and he usually accompanies me here. Pa said he didn't show up to work today." Kara sighed. She didn't know what to make of Mon-El's absence, and it worried her. Putting the plate of cookies down on the single table in the room, she turned back around to find Lena with an equally worried expression. Kara could tell that it was more about her admittance that she and Mon-El went home together daily. It was the same look Alex had given her upon confronting her about it. "We don't do nothin'," Kara clarified. "We just bathe, eat and go to bed. I don't sleep with him."
"It wouldn't be any of my business if you did," Lena replied, her voice heavy.
"Yeah, it would. You're the overseer, aren't ya?"
At that, Lena laughed. "Yes, I am. How right you are." She walked to the front door. "In any case, I'll let you get back to your day. Tomorrow then."
"Wait, Lena... I..."
Lena paused at the door.
"You could stay," Kara suggested. "Or come to my cabin."
Lena met her gaze. "Maybe another day."
IIII
Lena used a wet, soapy rag to clean the soot off the wall behind the lamp in her bedroom. Another day had arrived and she was going to make the best of it, especially since she didn't need to report to work. She scrubbed and wiped, and wiped and scrubbed, until her hands felt weak. She was so engrossed in her cleaning that she didn't hear the knock behind her.
"Lena?"
She looked over her shoulder with a smile, watching Kara linger in the doorway. "Kara, hi. I didn't expect you to be dropping by so early. These lamps make such a terrible mess," she said by way of explanation, briefly gesturing toward the wall before putting the rag down. "It's why I prefer candles."
Kara nodded, almost to no one in particular. "You shouldn't leave the door unlocked like that," she stated, moving inside nonchalantly.
Lena noticed that the woman's eyes were everywhere but on her, and she realized that this was the first time Kara had seen her bedroom in a long time. When they'd slept in the same bed recently, it had been dark. So now Kara was taking a keen interest in the unpacked boxes that still lined corners in her room.
The blonde walked to one, assessing its contents. "Wine?" she asked.
Lena smiled slightly. "I recognize that the stronger stuff and drunkenness are unwelcomed in town. But they can't begrudge a woman a sip of wine, can they?"
Kara stared at her as though she was stating a foreign concept. She then moved to another box, sifting through it.
Lena folded her arms across her chest. "By all means, make yourself right at home," she said with an amused grin.
Kara pulled out a binded pad, and Lena's eyes widened. "Kara... Wait... I'm not sure that's -"
It was too late. Kara was already looking through the pages, her eyes taking in the details with wonderment: A penciled image of a building. A home. A rode. "Drawings?"
"Not mine," Lena said, feeling her mouth go dry. Kara was holding her lover's sketchbook. At the time it was given to her, she had been reluctant to accept it, unsure whether it would be in bad taste or would make her regret having broken things off. But she'd relented, having needed something to hold on to from her previous life and to remind herself who she was in the case that she should ever feel pressured to bury that part of herself again. "A friend's," she added.
Kara looked up at her. "An interestin' friend," she said, looking back down at the latest page. It was a light sketch of a naked woman. The woman's facial features hadn't yet been drawn, but exquisite attention had been given to the body. Kara traced a finger along the taut stomach down to the hairs between the curved thighs. A blush rose to her cheeks.
Lena was blushing as well. With the way Kara had paused and appeared to be embarrassed, there was no doubt that she had landed on one of the more intimate images. Lena walked to her, and carefully extracted the book from her hands as Kara cleared her throat and nervously re-adjusted her spectacles. "A volunteer," she told Kara.
Kara stepped aside slowly, waving her hands about as Lena closed the book. "Volunteer? Someone volunteered to pose bare like that?"
Lena swallowed hard and put the sketchbook back in the box before turning back to Kara. Her face pulled into an expression of indifference. "Something like that."
She and Kara held gazes, and Kara cleared her throat again. "Well, it's not very ladylike."
"It isn't," Lena agreed. She subconsciously took a step forward.
"Or moral," Kara added.
"How so?" Lena watched the woman curiously — the fidgeting, the flails — before taking another step forward. She didn't know what she was expecting from the blonde. Of course, Kara would view such poses as improper. Or as a sin. But a part of her, if she was being honest with herself, yearned to see a bit of defiance on Kara's face. To hear it in her tone.
"It just ain't," Kara huffed and turned away from her, walking a few feet ahead. "Anyhow, I was wonderin' if you'd like to go to our special spot for a picnic. Before I get ta working on ya house."
"A picnic? Right now?"
"Yeah." Kara turned back to face her. "I cooked early - some ham. And I got cheese, the best buttered bread, grapes, and -"
"- Can I bring some wine?" Lena asked.
Kara stared at her, turning the idea over in her head. "Just a sip, you said?"
Lena laughed. "Yes, Kara, just a sip."
Kara shrugged. "Then I guess it's awright."
IIII
The picnic went by relatively fast. They ate and drank, Lena taking only a sip of wine as promised, and they stared. They stared at each other so much that they intermittently bristled — were visibly stirred — more than once. Lena stared at Kara's build over the rim of her cup of water. Kara stared at Lena's slender fingers, her mostly obscured neck, and her jawline. Any time they caught each other staring, they smiled softly and continued discussion.
Lena told Kara of her travels, of how she had been to a few different parts of the world, including France, and knew six different foreign languages, but had mainly made a living in New York. The trip to France hadn't went as smoothly as other trips since French railways had developed significantly slower than those in a number of other countries. This had initially been due to the French economy of 1832, which hadn't developed sufficiently to support a national railway network. But she told Kara of how it had been an interesting time nonetheless and that she and Lex had learned a lot about economic difficulties as a result.
Kara told Lena of how she and Mon-El had bonded over their blacksmith work, Mon-El's abandonment issues, which Kara related to because of the death of her parents, although it wasn't quite the same. She also spoke of how they had often pondered about the world outside of Breighville. Well, Kara had done most of the pondering. Mon-El had simply been content listening to her.
They were to discuss more, but Kara suggested that she and Lena leave something to talk about, to reveal about each other, each day. She also stressed the desire to get started on Lena's stable. Not long after making it back to Lena's home, the blonde threw herself into doing just that. She told Lena that it might be best to not have the stable be built for one horse, since Lena might need extra stalls at some point and that building a stable for one horse, even if for Wrangler, wouldn't be optimal use of time to the workers. Lena grinned when Kara said it would be fine use of her own time, though.
Kara addressed designs, including flooring, and adequate airflow. When she finally addressed plans for water and food storage, three men had already began working on the basics out front. To the left side of Lena's home, they had began building a pole barn by laying out the location of the posts on the ground that drains well and was relatively flat. Kara went out to help as Lena watched from the porch. Any time Lena offered to help, the workers, especially Kara, declined.
Lena busied herself by preparing fine treats and pouring cups of water for Kara and the workers, and even more water and fine treats when two more men arrived. The most she had to offer, other than the supper she was to make with Kara's help, was dried fruit. She wasn't a bad cook, but she wasn't the most talented either.
She was heating some water when Kara stormed in wincing, holding her arm. The sleeve was stained with blood. "Kara! What happened?" Lena rushed to her.
"I scraped my shoulder against the sharp end of a pole," Kara said through gritted teeth.
Lena helped her to a chair in the living area. "And your friends? They didn't see fit to tend to you?"
"I told them to continue on," Kara replied, taking off her spectacles to place them on the table next to her.
"Kara..." Lena's tone was admonishing, but she focused on grabbing a fresh rag and bowl of cool water. She returned to Kara to rip at the sleeve, exposing the marred flesh, and faltered. The wound was small, but it wasn't what held Lena's attention.
Kara looked up at her to question her paused expression and then followed her line of vision back to the toned bicep. "Oh that," Kara said with a shrug. "Yeah, because of my smithing work, I've built up a little muscle on my arms. Disgustin', huh?"
Lena's mouth opened and closed. And she fought against the pink tint threatening to rise up her neck to her face. It was true that it was unusual to see a woman with such well-toned arms. Not just unusual. Practically unheard of. But disgusting was the last word that had come to Lena's mind. If anything, the muscles made Kara even more desirable. They were beautiful. "Not disgusting at all," she said softly, cleaning the wound as best she could. Against her better judgment, she gently caressed the bicep, and Kara looked up at her questioningly. "I... I'll go get you some ointment. It's upstairs." Lena excused herself, quickly extracting herself from Kara's orbit. She needed space, and she needed it now. She hurried out of the room without another word.
By the time she returned, Mon-El was there, his arms wrapped around Kara and his voiced pained. From what Lena could discern from the tail end of the conversation, the man's grandfather had died and he was telling Kara that he didn't know what to do. Lena herself didn't know what to do either. So she stood there at the end of the stairway, watching Kara, whose back was to her, consoling their childhood friend. Mon-El fell to his knees, his arms steadily around Kara's waist as Kara's fingers slipped into his hair.
And then his eyes — teary and challenging — locked onto Lena's. Those eyes told her everything he was thinking: Kara was his. And he needed her more than ever. Lena wouldn't dare disrupt that.
And so Lena didn't. She raised her chin to convey that she understood and silently went back upstairs.