No matter how hard they try, Taylor cannot refrain from eyeing their Yeyu curiously. There is something different about her, but different in a very peculiar way ; like what they perceive as abnormal as in fact always been that way. Max is out doing Rao knows what, and it's just the three of them, Taylor, their Yeyu and their Mum, for the first time since they stepped out of the portal and into their home.

"Do I have something on my face ?" their Yeyu asks, arching a delicate eyebrow, the process causing deep creases to appear on her forehead.

"No," Taylor replies immediately, then, "well yes, food stains as always, but that's not it."

Self-consciously, their Yeyu goes to rub her cheek where she can probably feel the remnant of her earlier ice-cream break, and then, in a continuation of this simple motion, she tucks a strand of hair that got loose from her bun. A strand of white hair.

"You look old !" Taylor exclaims suddenly in what they belatedly realise is a very rude way.

Their Yeyu smiles brightly, like nothing could make her happier, and as she does so, deep laugh lines appear around her eyes. "Well yes," she answers conversationally, "but you know I always do after my serum dose. It'll even out in a few days. It hasn't been that long since we last saw each other, has it ?"

As she speaks, the world blurs for a second in front of Taylor's eyes, timelines merging together and they realise that yes, things have always been that way.

"I just came back from a time you looked like a literal baby," they say, "give me a minute to adjust."

"I can't believe you missed our engagement by less than an hour," their Yeyu muses, twirling her wedding bracelet like she often does when she's thinking about her wife.

"And I still can't believe you asked me to marry you while I was freezing my ass off in my pyjamas," their Mum grumbles.

"It's been twenty-five years, get over it !" she laughs, leans in to kiss her wife on the temple, twice, because Lena nudges her to get a second kiss.

Years later, and they are still so disgustingly cute ; and because it's tradition, Taylor grimaces at the display of affection. They try to remember if something changed about their engagement, but as their Yeyu launches in her nth retelling of that fateful night, they can only remember this version and it seems very much like her to have just blurted it out anyway.

"Do you want me to time travel to your wedding day ? Like 'hello, it is I a random person who looks like both of you, nothing to see here' ?"

"You are banned from time travelling for the rest of your life," their Mum says, absolutely unamused by the joke.

"You can't do that, I'm an adult !"

"Try me," she replies, tone icy and eyes narrowed in two green piercing slits.

Considering they haven't even told her about the suit yet, Taylor does not in fact want to "try" their mother. Their mums have never outrightly been against them going into the hero business but still, it's better to wait a little before dropping that particular bomb. Instead, they say, "Max wants to go to college, and I think I'll go with her. Get another degree, or extend this one into a phd. Live on campus, get the full experience. She applied to NCU, so we wouldn't be too far."

"That's a good idea," their Mum says softly, her eyes lighting up at the thought of school and learning like the big nerd she is. "Have you called Doctor Walden yet then ?"

"Yeah, I have an appointment next week," they say, feeling a bright smile stretching on their face. "I realised, while I was away," they add, slowly, not because they're hesitant but because they're not sure how to voice it, "that I don't need to have everything figured out just yet. I have time."

"You do," their Yeyu agrees with a little wise nod. "You have all the..."

She cuts herself, cocking her head to the side and sliding her glasses off her nose in one swift motion. "Ambulance stuck in traffic," she says, but she does not get off the couch. Instead, she turns to look at Taylor, smiles, eyes crinkling at the corner, and says, "I'll leave you that one."

Taylor's mouth falls open and they stay frozen, vaguely aware that they must look incredibly stupid.

"We have eyes," their Mum says, "please tell me it was my idea to put the suit in the watch."

"Well yes," Taylor says slowly, trying to catch up with the situation, "it was but..."

"Well go then," their Yeyu laughs, "up up and away, Junior."

"Absolutely not !" Lor-El squeals, stomping on the ground with zero dignity. "We are not calling me that !"

"It's tradition for the CEO of CatCo to name the new Super in town," their Yeyu replies with barely concealed hilarity.

Lor-El turns their watch's bezel a quarter to the left. "This conversation is not over," they say pointedly before tipping out of the window, back first.

While the suit unfurls, they barrel roll mid-air, and, putting away all thoughts of shit superhero names, a blunder they've been dragging since Uncle Brainy gifted them a mock supersuit at two years old, they rocket off in direction of the always congested Otto Binder Bridge.

It's quiet in the house. Taylor isn't back yet, Max is lounging in their room, and Kara is downstairs in the kitchen, making dinner. It's Lena's favourite time of the day, this precious hour between afternoon and evening where there are few obligations and she can just be. She pads out of her office, sliding a little on the old polished floorboards. She needs to invest in these old people socks, the one with grip control underneath. Maybe she can get everyone a pair for Christmas, it'll be a fun joke.

Idly, she makes her way to the stairs, stopping only to grab the sweater that now permanently resides on the banister, ready to be slipped on before she goes down one level, where it's always imperceptibly colder. As she always does, she glances at the newspaper clipping framed above the landing. "Youngest Luthor Latest Outlandish Claim ! The Moon Is A Hoax !" The ludicrous title is printed fadedly over one of her favourite pictures.

It's a group photo, taken at a gala the night of her engagement, and on it she stands next to Kara, her right hand weirdly outstretched in a gap that separates the couple from the others. She's always wondered about that gap, about why Alex hadn't been standing closer to her but now, she thinks she gets it.

In a hurry, she rips the frame of the wall and runs down the stairs, jumping over the last creaky step. "Kara !" she shouts, slipping on the hallway's tiles and rounding the corner to the kitchen sharply, "Kara !"

Her wife emerges from the kitchen at full speed, spoon in one hand and they collide on the threshold. Only years of practise prevent Lena from getting all her bones shattered on impact.

"Look," she says, thrusting the picture under Kara's nose. "Look !"

"I'm looking," Kara says, adjusting her fogged up glasses over her nose. "What am I looking at ?"

"I've figured it out," Lena says in a rush. "The gap. In the picture. It's Taylor !"

Kara squints adorably, taking the frame from her hands. "I see," she says, "it does make sense." Absentmindedly, she puts her arm around Lena, tugging her closer to her. "There should be a clean copy in the archives at CatCo," she continues, "I'll ask for a reprint. I could paint it over, hang it over the fireplace."

Lena looks up at her wife, then down at the picture again. "We look so young," she whispers, her hand coming to trail over her greyish temple. "Can you believe how young we look ?"

"I can," Kara replies, "I've catalogued each of my wrinkles, and I haven't forgotten a second of the past twenty-five years."

"If your memory is so incredible, how come you always forget to pair up your socks when you hang up the laundry ?"

"Okay," Kara concedes with a warm, unfair, laugh, "I haven't forgotten any of the important stuff. I apologise if my brain privileges loving you over remembering the correct way to hang up socks."

"Don't think you can sweet talk your way out of this," Lena grumbles, nonetheless burying against the furnace that is her wife.

"I wouldn't if it weren't working," Kara says, bending down to press a soft kiss on her lips.

"I hate you," Lena mouths against her.

"No you don't."

"You're right," she sighs, fisting her hands in her wife's soft cotton shirt and drawing her closer than is possible, "I could never hate you, you bloody idiot."