"We're going to need to take these out for the wedding," Lillian said, proprietary 'we' to go along with the proprietary touch to the piercings in Lena's ear as she tidied up her hair.
"I can't marry her," Lena said offhandedly. Maybe if she was flippant enough about it, it would stick.
Lillian's reflection came just short of rolling her eyes. "The tongue one will have to go too, of course."
"I can't marry her," Lena repeated. Even if—even if she could—Kara didn't want it, either.
"Lena, please. Only you would whine this much over saving the world."
Saving the world. As if it hadn't been Lillian trotting out a medieval solution to a decidedly modern problem, leveraging xenophobia and ignorance to get something for nothing. Well. Something for Lena.
Close enough.
"And I made sure to give you a woman, too. Well, as close to it as they come, at least."
Lena's teeth clenched over the edge of her tongue.
"Is she really not to your taste? I was fairly sure you'd find her appealing." Lillian's fingers smoothed through the hair at Lena's nape, making the skin there prickle. "Oh, well, there's no need to consummate. This isn't the middle ages. All I need from you really is a signature." She patted Lena's hair and stepped back. "God only knows what's underneath those corduroy pants, anyway." She gave a theatrical shudder.
Lena focused her entire strength of will to keep her fists from clenching until Lillian had left the room.
.
Kara was dressed exactly as usual, and Lena had to work very hard not to glance down at her corduroy pants. She kept her eyes on Kara's face instead, where the bruise had since faded, but in its place, luridly, conspicuously red, was a cut in her lip.
"Hello Miss Lena, pleasure to make your acquaintance," Kara recited quickly, nervous. "How are you, I have something special for you today."
Kara was holding something shiny and colorful in her hands, but Lena could not take her eyes off the red swollen mess of her lip. "You're hurt," she accused. "You've been hurt."
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance here today," Kara repeated insistently. "Would you like that we drink some tea?"
"We're already acquainted, idiot. Come on."
Lena reached to grab Kara by the arm, then thought better of it. Kara gave no visible flinch, but the marks peeking from under her sleeve were very blue and very finger-shaped. And anyway where Lena went, Kara followed, so—there was no need to touch.
Lena bypassed the lavish guest bathroom with its sunken tub and no privacy for the small second-floor toilet where the drugs were. Kara clutched her crinkly square present to her chest as Lena rifled through valiums and adderalls for the first aid supplies.
She closed the toilet lid and gestured at it. "Sit."
Kara sat.
"Did you get hurt in a fight?" Lena asked as she gently applied antiseptic cream to Kara's lip with a cotton swab.
"Not a hurter," Kara muttered.
"You're not a fighter," Lena corrected absently.
"I'm not a fighter," Kara repeated.
"You're a lover, not a fighter."
"I'm a lover, not a fighter," Kara repeated dutifully.
Lena's mouth twitched.
"When did it happen?" she asked.
"Three days before today."
Three days ago. Right after their last meeting. Was somebody unhappy with their progress? And Lena had been so much less of a bitch.
Lena extended her hand, and Kara extricated hers from its tight grip around her gift to grasp it, allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.
She was just tall enough for Lena to have to look up at such a short distance. Her shoulders were hunched, but they were—substantial. She had a scar above her left eyebrows and laughter lines that Lena had a sudden, intense craving to see earned.
"Can I give to you my gift now?" Kara asked quietly.
Lena nodded, and Kara handed it to her. It was less of a handing over when they were this close, more of a flip from Kara's chest to Lena's.
Lena accepted the gift, and tossed it right into the sink. "Thank you so much, I love it," she said.
Kara glanced at the sink, at her empty hands, back to Lena. And then she laughed.
Her whole face lit up with it, creases making good on their promise and sliding perfectly into a picture of delight. Her busted lip stretched over a grin as bright as the fucking sun, an incongruous red stain in the middle of a masterpiece.
Lena rocked to the tip of her toes, stretched up, gripped Kara by the shoulders—firm and solid as they looked—and pressed her lips very precisely to Kara's cheek. She drew back, appraising the stark red lipstick mark on Kara's face with a satisfied eye.
Kara stared back, letting out a last, hiccuppy giggle.
"There," Lena said. "For protection."
As she turned back to the medicine cabinet, she caught Kara's reflection reaching careful fingers to touch the smudged outline left behind by Lena's mouth.
I can do the fighting, Lena found herself thinking. I can do it.