The weather today, is mercilessly warm. It's not even 8:00 am yet, and Lena is already sweating through her tank top. The radio host is ranting about global warming and how corporations are lying about green energy ; Lena changes the station when she catches her name, she doesn't need to hear about her failures again, not when today already sucks beyond comprehension.

Granted, the radio host is right, it's hot today, a sick and sweaty mixture of climate change and good old summer heat, but she's doing everything she can with LCorp to help with that. She goes to make a vocal note to develop a better air freshening system before remembering she's not in her usual car. She huffs, wiping her sweaty brow and promptly putting both hands back on the wheel ; clean energy or not, crashing a moving truck would still be catastrophic. With her thighs sticking to the seat, she can't bring herself to remember one good reason why she decided to do this herself.

Her destination comes into view, an old building covered in bricks with picturesque fire exits. Right, she remembers now. She's doing this to appear more human in the public eye. She's moving out of her giant and comfortable manor to the rent control side of town because being more down to Earth is good for her business. She would kick herself for agreeing to this if she weren't at risk of slipping in her own sweat and injuring herself.

When she reaches the parking spot she took the liberty of blocking out, there is a car already parked on it. It's not a big deal, technically she can go park somewhere else, but it's a dent in the plan she made for the day and a feeling of discomfort creeps at the back of her sweat covered neck. Like this morning, when she left the manor and realised she wouldn't be able to go through her usual routine, she feels uneasy. She considers driving back to her former home to make sure her books are in alphabetical order, then realises that it would be of little use, her books are packed in this very truck. She drives further down the street with some difficulty, this alley makes the path to the manor look like a bloody highway.

Lena sits in the truck for far too long, weighing her options, from turning around to texting Sam to ask her to fly from Metropolis ; completing the move seems so absurd now that she's actually in front of her new home. After an eternity of psyching herself up, she manages to unbuckle her seatbelt and open the door ; the heat radiating from the pavement immediately hits her like a freight train. She's never ever listening to her PR team ever again.

At least, the street is empty, the neighbourhood inhabitants most likely still lying in bed, wondering if the world really needs them to get up today. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees something move, a curtain falling back into place, and she wonders if they know a Luthor is setting up home next to them. Probably, and if not, it's bound to make the news soon anyway. She wonders if her hate mail will follow her here.

Fumbling with her keys with one hand, she checks her phone with the other, the screen still displaying Sam's message of good luck. The door to the building is stuck, because of course it is, and Lena has to shoulder it to get it open. She considers texting Sam again, or Jess, to go back on her own refusal of employing movers, but she doesn't want to have to deal with people today, and instead steps into the poorly lit hallway.

Here goes nothing.

The dark hallway is surprisingly cool, and Lena welcomes the reprieve from the heat with more gusto than she thought she would. That is until she notices the elevator is broken, and she marches right back out.

She's barely outside and already dialling Jess' number, to hell if it's a Sunday, she needs to buy this building and she needs to do it now. She has no idea how this place tumbled to ruin in the short span since her last visit, but it cannot go on like that. The infuriating sun makes it hard to see her screen and Lena is just about ready to plummet into frustration, on the edge of which she's been since she got up this morning, when a shadow covers her, bringing the world back to acceptable brightness.

Lena lifts her head taking in the form in front of her. The person is tall and their features are hidden in their own shadow. For a short, yet infinite second, they gauge each other, before the figure moves to the right, then to the left, trying to get around Lena but getting stuck when she does the same. The figure chuckles, and their laugh sounds like a cool breeze on a summer day, and though Lena doesn't quite understand why, she wants to hear this sound again.

"I'm sorry," the voice attached to the laugh says, "you're trying to get out, I'm trying to get in, I'll just move and let you go through."

"I," Lena starts, her own voice sounding like sandpaper.

"Are you alright ?" the voice asks, deep with concern. "You look a bit distraught."

Lena prepares herself to answer, she's got a whole speech planned out for introducing herself to her new neighbours, but she makes the mistake of lifting her eyes and words and common sense escape her entirely. The voice belongs to a woman. A tall, broad shouldered woman with short unruly blond hair and twin deep pools in place of eyes. Her face is alive with emotions, halfway between worry and happiness, a small welcoming smile tugging at her lips and a twinkle of something in her gaze.

"Yes. Hi. I'm moving in today and I'm freaking out."

"That's understandable," the woman says, "moving house is a big thing. But that means we're going to be neighbours. I'm Kara. Kara Danvers."

Kara extends her hand and Lena reaches out without thinking about it. Handshakes are a known territory for her, but as soon as their hands touch Lena is thrown head first into the unknown. Kara's hand is strong yet surprisingly soft and warm, and though they hang onto each over for a beat longer than is polite, she misses it as soon as she lets go.

"I'm Lena," she says, and for some reason, her own name has never sounded so silly to her ears.

"It's nice to meet you Lena," Kara replies, Lena's name catching on her tongue in an enticing way that contrasts so much with the way it sounded in her own mouth seconds ago that she wonders if it's the only way it's was ever meant to be said. Her hand hesitantly retracts to her own space in a way that has Lena hope that she too wanted to hold on a little while longer. "Will you be," Kara starts, stammering for the first time since the beginning of their conversation, "will you be needing help with moving in ? Well, I mean, you probably have friends coming in to help you, but I'm quite efficient when it comes to carrying heavy stuff."

No, nobody's coming to help Lena. Her best friend lives hundred of miles away and none of her acquaintances would do something as mundane as carrying boxes. And she refused to rope her already overworked secretary into doing this. "I was actually planning on doing everything on my own," she replies, her words causing Kara's smile to fade a little. "But with the heat, help would certainly be welcomed. Unless, well it's a Sunday, so you probably have better things to do."

"What is there to do on a Sunday ?" Kara asks, her smile returning to its previous level. "Carrying boxes is a good work out and I'm just meeting my sister and her fiancée for lunch. Until then, I'm at your entire disposal." Lena really likes the sound of that. "Unless this was a very polite way of telling me to leave you alone," Kara adds hastily, a frown creasing her golden forehead.

"No, no," Lena says, nearly stumbling over her usually pristine words in an attempt to reassure the near stranger before her. "I do need help. I admittedly didn't choose the best day to move in and if I have to carry everything to the fourth floor by myself I won't make it to the end of the day."

"You're not in bad shape," Kara remarks, eyeing her in a way that isn't unpleasant though it is premature in the social decorum drilled into Lena. "Sorry," she adds like she somehow read Lena's subconscious thought, "I'm not sure this was a socially acceptable thing to say."

"No, no, it's okay," Lena says, trying to fight the blush that is no doubt taking hold of her cheeks, unless it comes from the unbearable heat catching up with her. "Though my mother would disagree with you," she adds, with no precision over what her mother would disagree with. Of their own accord her eyes rack up and down Kara's body, and without consulting her first, her mouth forms the words : "You're not in bad shape yourself."

Kara smile, a bit surprised, a bit teasing ; the blush that Lena can now most definitely feel, is not from the weather at all.

As it turns out, Kara doesn't just look in shape, she is the very definition of it. Lena figures that out from the get go, when Kara starts piling up boxes and carrying them like it's nothing when she herself struggles to just lift one, yet alone drag it up four floors. After the seventh trip (why in the name of all that is holy did Lena thought packing up all of her library without hiring someone to carry it for her was a good idea, she cannot remember), when her legs, lungs, and everything else relating to basic body function are ready to collapse, her new neighbour gently pries a not so heavy box out of her hands and instructs her to start putting things away instead. She wants to protest, really, but her brain is otherwise occupied, half trying to commit Kara's biceps to memory, though everything screams that she shouldn't, half cursing the friends she doesn't have to help her move in.

"At least," Kara says when she returns from the eighth trip with still not a bead of sweat in sight, "you've had the clarity of having your furniture brought in earlier, that would have been another story."

She doesn't look exhausted in the least, but Lena beckons her closer nonetheless, offering a tall glass of water that she found in a cupboard in which glasses shouldn't be stored at all.

"Can I at least know what's in this boxes ? You have a lot of them."

"Human body parts," Lena deadpans as if it's not a completely disturbing thing to say to someone you've just met. "I'm sorry," she adds, "these are all my books."

Kara looks at her like she doesn't quite know what to make of her and Lena would beat herself but her neighbour chuckles lightly and she releases a deep breath that was uncomfortable to hold. "Well, this doesn't smell like a decaying body, so I'm going to trust you, and assume these are books," she says, motioning to the boxes and spilling half of her untouched water doing so. "Or what I think dead bodies would smell like, because I don't know what dead bodies smell like" she scrambles to add, a weird look shading her eyes for a split second. She suddenly looks unsure of herself, out of place, and it's unsettling because she spent most of their morning together looking generally handsome and confident. She gulps down what's left of her water and refills her glass, downing it too in mere seconds.

Lena follows a drop of water making its way down her chin, her neck, before disappearing under the collar of her shirt ; she's never regretted making a weird joke that much. "That's why you don't have friends," she mutters under her breath, or at least she thinks she whispered, because Kara's expression shifts again, like she heard what she said, and Lena has to stop counting the frayed threads of her shorts (there are thirteen) to find something to say. "I promise these are just books, I have an extensive collection of them. I don't cut up people, not for a living and not as a hobby, only machines."

"Machines ?" Kara repeats, her voice alive with curiosity.

"I'm an engineer," Lena replies with a dismissive wave of the hand.

Her words ends up sounding more like a question than an affirmation, surely because Lena isn't quite an engineer anymore, but it occurs to her then and there that there is no sign of recognition in Kara's eyes, and that there hasn't been one since they met on the porch. No "shit it's Lena Luthor" moment, no disgust, no prying. Maybe Kara doesn't have a TV, or maybe she just woke up from a six months long coma and missed the demise of the great Lex Luthor and the subsequent take over of the company by a "spoiled out of touch ice heiress", because what matters aren't her multiple diplomas, but the fact that she's a Luthor. Now that she's been dragged in the spotlight, nobody cares that she's got three phds, it's not newsworthy, unlike, apparently her supposed insane salary and her inherited manor. She's so deep in her, admittedly, self depreciative thoughts that she doesn't even realise Kara is talking again.

"... food ?"

"I'm sorry," she says as earnestly as she can. "I lost track for a second."

"It's okay," Kara says with a warm smile. "I was just saying that I could carry up the last couple of boxes and then we could get food, a morning snack ?"

"I only have oat," Lena says, her frown seeping all the way into her tone. "And tea."

"Horse food ?" Kara asks with a snicker. "It's okay, I have real food at home."

"No, for porridge," Lena says slowly, the appeal of her favourite meal disappearing more and more as her body empties of its sweat. "You know what, never mind, I'll let you feed me. But you'll have to let me repay you. For carrying my boxes, and the food."

"I don't mind carrying stuff, and sharing my food," Kara replies like the thought of being paid back is the most incongruous thing she's ever heard. "And it's a good getting to know your neighbour exercise."

"Are you secretly a mover ?" Lena asks, arching a teasing eyebrow as she tries her best to get back in her previous mood.

Kara shrugs, a small self-conscious smile dancing on her lips. "Not at all, I just like being useful."

"Do you carry boxes for a lot of people ?" Lena enquiries, trying as best as she can to not sound as interested as she is by this tidbit of information.

"Just you actually," Kara answers with a smile that is much too charming to be legal. "And I carry Mrs Meyer's groceries when her son can't help. Well, I also help Alex each time she moves, but it doesn't count, she's my sister."

Lena's heart clenches at the familiar way Kara casually mentions this Alex, the mere idea of someone in the life of her neighbour, who's barely more than a stranger, suddenly unbearable though she isn't sure why and certainly doesn't want to feel that way. It clenches harder at the mention of siblings, because know she's thinking about Lex.

"I'm talking, I'm talking," Kara says, derailing Lena's dangerous train of thought, "but this boxes won't get themselves up the stairs. I'll let you start unpacking, and I'll be back with the rest in a minute, okay ?"

Lena must agree somehow, because Kara exits her apartment and she's left all alone with a clutter of boxes that make her uncomfortable, and Lex in her head.

By the time they're sitting at her brand new dinner table with a drink that is equal part sugar and coffee for Kara, tea, and an insane amount of breakfast food, the rest of the building is starting to wake up. Chairs are being dragged on the floor above them, people bang on walls for absolutely no reason, and Lena wonders, for the nth time today, why she decided to listen to her PR team when she could have stayed in her quiet and remote manor. Kara seems to notice her discomfort and assures her that she'll learn to tune everything out, eventually. To take her mind off everything, she proceeds to introduce all of her new neighbours, floor by floor, regaling her with more or less horrifying tales about each of them. Lena would like to point out that it isn't really effective, but Kara has a very nice voice, so she doesn't.

She learns that Mrs Meyer has six cats and is a war widow. Her son doesn't visit much and on Halloween, she makes the best pumpkin cookies. The couple on the second floor just had twins and they started a competition with the toddler on the third floor to determine who can scream the loudest. The twins are winning. Cyril on the ground floor is a baker and makes rainbow bread for Pride every year. Lena stops listening somewhere around the retelling of this year roof top party, that included the third floor toddler throwing expensive vegan sausages on passersby below, to instead focus on the cadenza of Kara's voice. She sips her tea, looking out the window and somewhere between a crooked word and the enticing way Kara keeps on saying her name, she forgets about the ill arranged boxes cluttering her living room and her simmering wish to find another place to live.

The heat, the food, and the strangely comforting voice of her new neighbour are slowly lulling Lena into a dazed state that isn't quite sleep, but certainly isn't full consciousness either. It would be almost nice, if there wasn't also a river of sweat making its way down her exhausted body. She wonders why Kara isn't sweaty at all ; her biceps would surely look nice like that, strong and glistening, which is not a though to be had but she can't bring herself to care right now.

Her neighbour starts buzzing, which is strange until it isn't because it's just a phone that Kara extracts from her back pocket with more dexterity that one should have.

"Shoot," she says to the phone bringing it to her ear with a sheepish smile. "Hey Alex... No. No I didn't forget. It's Sunday, we always get lunch on Sunday... I can hear you at the door... No I'm not home... At a neighbour next door. I was helping her out... I'll be here in a minute. Love you."

She hangs up with an apologetic expression, and something that isn't unlike what Lena wants to see as disappointment. "That was my sister," she says, already rising from the chair, her lean body unfolding with far more grace than Lena herself can muster. "I have to go, but I live just next door if you need something. Don't hesitate. I'm sorry, I talk a lot sometimes, I promise I'll let you lead the conversation next time. If you want."

"It was nice, actually," Lena replies as reassuring as she can. "You're great at telling stories, and you seem to care a lot about everyone in this building."

"Oh," Kara murmurs somewhat self consciously. "It's because I like stories, and people, and stories about people."

"Aren't all stories about people ?" Lena prompts, eager to keep the conversation going even when Kara already has her hand on the doorknob.

"Well no," Kara replies brazenly, in a way one can only do when they have really thought about the matter at hand. "I could tell you a story about space, and it would have nothing to do with people at all."

"I guess I had never thought about it that way," Lena says slowly, mulling over the statement at the same time as she speaks.

"I could also tell you a story about space that has everything to do with people," Kara adds as she opens the door, "so I suppose some stories are about people, and some aren't."

"Seems fair."

"I'll tell you about space sometimes," Kara says with a dazzling grin of the illegal sort.

"I have a degree in astrophysics," Lena deadpans.

"You do ?" Kara asks with an even bigger smile, something that Lena didn't know was possible only moments ago. "Then we can talk about space on an equal footing. We could talk about space right now, but my sister is being impatient in an annoying sister way so I really have to go."

"I wouldn't know," Lena says with a small smile, not thinking about Lex at all.

As she speaks, Lena glances at said sister over Kara's shoulder. Standing with grocery bags in the hallway, she looks mildly irked and not at all like Kara. She's shorter, Lena thinks, with reddish hair uneven on the sides, and what could pass as a permanent frown if it weren't for the glint of sibling love shining in her eyes. This isn't what strikes her most though, but the nagging feeling that she knows her, that if they haven't met, she's at least seen her somewhere before. The thought occupies most of her brain power as she watches Kara strutting towards her sister and taking the bags like they weight nothing ; but Alex nods hello with no sign of recognition and Lena shakes her head in disbelief, maybe she just walked past her one day, or they didn't match on Tinder.

Barring the broken elevator and the somewhat loud neighbours, this isn't such a bad place to live, Lena decides after a shower, standing naked in her living room, shielded from prying eyes and the hot summer light by designer blinds. It's in a good neighbourhood, with schools, not that this matters to her, and easy access to public transports, not that she takes public transports in the first place. Maybe she should, maybe it would be good publicity. The apartment is spacious, which makes her think Kara and her are the only ones on this floor, and the windows bring in enough light for the place to be livable. Most of the walls and every room have been covered with tailored bookshelves, and Lena spends the remainder of the day unpacking, organising and alphabetising her books in the living room, the bedroom, and the office. Despite her proficiency in arranging and tidying, some of them don't fit, and she ends up having to remove her less read one to exile them to a little shelf that she builds out of scraps and installs above the toilet.

The day is drawing to an end, but with no promise of a cooler night, Lena doesn't really take notice of this. She's skipped lunch, and is well on her way to also skip dinner, trying to pick a shard out of her thigh because she made the ill advised decision of tinkering in her underwear, when a sharp knock sounds at the door. The noise startles her, and immediately, uneasiness fills her empty stomach. It's not the reaction she wants to have, not the one she should have to this distinctive knock, but dread settles over her nonetheless. Hastily, she removes the splinter from her leg, haphasardly wiping the blood with the back of her hand before navigating between empty boxes to make her way to the door.

"This place is a fucking dumpster Lee," her girlfriend says with a scowl, "you should have just bought a penthouse like a normal person instead of trying to be original." Leaning forward, Veronica Sinclair presses a sharp kiss to Lena's lips before bypassing her to make her way into the apartment.

"Hello to you too Ronnie."