The waves crashed in the distance over warm sand as the yellow sun beamed down on the picturesque cliffs of National City. White folding chairs lined the lawn in neat rows, set up in front of a rustic gazebo that overlooked the ocean. Flowers - roses in deep red, white, and pink like a Kryptonian sunset - decorated the vestibule.
Kara wore a flowing white dress with intricate lace designs, fit for a queen. Her golden locks were braided like a delicate crown with small flowers intertwined between strands of hair. She glowed in the sun as she walked down the aisle on her mother's arm and Lena's heart clenched at the sight. She was so beautiful.
It seemed like just yesterday that they met. Kara walked into her office, pure sunshine and understanding, and it wasn't long before the same smile was haunting her bedroom.
—
The reporter had extended her a casual offer of friendship upon hearing she was new in town, so she wasn't too surprised to receive a text from the blonde late one Friday night.
Kara: Hey, I'm going to Al's with some friends. You interested?
As Lena examined her kitchen table - littered with too much paperwork and a thankfully not too empty bottle of wine - she decided that yes, she was interested. She certainly didn't have anything better to do.
When she arrived at the bar, Kara's usual exuberance was highlighted by the half-empty beer in her hand. "Lena! Sit!" She slid into the booth as Kara stumbled over introductions. "Alex and Maggie went to dance, I think." She paused, her brow furrowing. "I hope."
Lena laughed at the nauseated look that crossed the blonde's face and offered a distraction, "Come grab a drink with me?"
"Yeah, of course," Kara smiled in agreement.
As they walked toward the bar, Lena noted Kara looked different. She was more confident, somehow more herself, in a casual National City University t-shirt and ripped jeans.
"Have you been to dance yet?" Lena asked as they waited for the bartender to return with her vodka soda.
"What? God, no."
"Let's go!" The brunette urged her on.
And suddenly, they were dancing and their bodies were closer than they had ever been and everything Lena hadn't noticed about the unassuming reporter was front and center - her hips, her breasts, the way her lips moved around words against Lena's neck as she spoke. Kara, on the other hand, had noticed every infinitesimal detail about the L-Corp CEO, from the tip of her sharp overpriced heels to her bright red lipstick. How could she not? She was magnetic.
So, when their movements became more intentional and Kara's thigh was shoved in-between hers, Lena said, "I think your place is closer."
Lena Luthor wasn't out to fall in love - and if she was being more honest with herself than she cared to be, Kara Danvers was certainly capable of changing her mind. So, the following morning, she tiptoed ineffectually out of the Kryptonian's apartment with a brief follow-up text and a series of self-flagellations.
Of course she had to sleep with her only friend in the whole city.
Lena: I had fun last night, but I hope this doesn't change anything.
Kara: Yeah, of course not. We were drunk.
—
She started crying when Eliza handed Kara off. Big, messy tears that made her grateful for waterproof makeup and Alex Danvers' steady hand on the small of her back.
—
The second time it happened, Lena invited Kara over for "game night practice," which was just a thinly veiled excuse to get the blonde alone. It'd been over a year of perfectly normal, platonic friendship but something shifted in Lena when Mike showed up in Kara's life.
She hated him. Hated his smarmy grin and his stupid hair and his washboard fucking abs. And she couldn't believe Kara would stoop so low as to be with such an idiot…the man barely knew how to work a phone, for god-sake. Kara could do so much better.
At first, she just wanted to point this out to Kara - as a friend. You know, a platonic, objective friend. A platonic, objective friend who simply wanted the best for her mutually platonic, objective friend. But her plan veered sharply into left field when Kara read further into her words than she'd have liked.
"Lena…? What are you saying?"
The question snapped her near-subconscious desires into focus.
'Oh, fuck it,' she thought, before lunging forward to capture Kara's lips in a kiss. The blonde only hesitated for a moment before she was readily pinning Lena back against the arm of the couch.
It felt different from the first time, now sober. Sure, the thought of Mon-El gnawed at the back of her mind, but Kara couldn't bring herself to care. She wanted to feel everything the moment had to offer; she didn't dare dull her senses to the experience of Lena Luthor this time around. Everything about her was intoxicating: the scent of her shampoo, the intensity of her gaze, the feel of her fingertips as they slid underneath the soft cotton of Kara's t-shirt.
Barely a moment passed before she nodded, take it off.
Lena obliged, tugging Kara's bra off with it. She ran her hands reverently over the newly exposed skin, "Fuck, you're gorgeous." Her movements paused over the blonde's breasts as she began to massage the flesh heaving under her palms, feeling hard nipples brush against the pads of her fingers.
Kara didn't waste time responding, instead bending down to kiss the other woman. As one arm flexed enticingly next to Lena's head, the other hand soon found its way to the apex of Lena's thighs, rubbing torturously through her clothing.
Through desperate kisses, Lena managed, "Bedroom. There's gloves in my bedroom."
Kara grunted acknowledgement as she shifted, using her strength to lift the brunette off the couch to carry her to the bedroom, legs wrapped around her waist.
They fell long and fast into bed and the next morning began just like many mornings after. It was always at Lena's. Mike had a key to Kara's place. They couldn't risk it. It always coincided with game night by-weeks, or what became known as "pizza nights," since Kara told the group they met for Best Friend Pizza every other week. It was always then that reality sunk in. It always hurt.
Most mornings, the conversation was the same. Like two sharks unable to stop moving forward for fear of death, their routine was a bitter comfort.
"I can't do this again."
Lena held back a sigh."You said that last time."
—
The last records of Kryptonian wedding rituals were lost with Argo City and though Kara tried desperately to recall, her childhood memories of nuptials on her home planet were at best fantastical and at worst…well, childish. Instead, they carefully chose a passage from The Zohar under Eliza's guidance. Alex read the scripture in the original Hebrew, then translated seamlessly to English for the goyim in attendance.
"A husband and wife are one soul, separated only through their descent to this world. When they are married, they are reunited again."
Lena couldn't help but flinch. Of course, the selection was obvious. Once she learned the truth of who Kara really was, so much about the blonde fell into place - like how her eyes lit up when Lena talked about astrophysics or quantum mechanics, in spite of the fact that she wasn't even certain Kara finished college. So, sure, if anyone had descended to this world, it was Kara.
But she could think of so many reasons the words were wrong, starting with last night.
—
"I'm getting married in the morning."
"I know."
"We shouldn't do this."
"I know."
"I love you."
"I know."
"It's just—"
When Kara - who hovered half naked above her breaking heart - started to explain that it's not you, it's me and I can't disappoint Mon-El and we're the last of our planets and it's what's expected for what must have been the millionth time, she needed it to stop. If it didn't, she wasn't sure she could trust herself in the morning.
She pulled Kara into a kiss, what would be one of their last, and prayed to whatever God was listening that Kara loved her enough to stop all this. The brunette poured every ounce of her love into each touch, kiss, sigh, and moan. Everything was too delicate, too soft, too breakable as they laid in Lena's hotel suite. Their movements lacked all of the feverish lust of their previous encounters, instead replaced with an enduring sweetness. The passion was there, of course…but it paled in comparison to the love and care that went into each kiss Kara placed on her thighs before gently laying a dental dam across her mons, or the whispered "I love you"s that floated across the air, or the tears that mixed together on their cheeks as they drifted to sleep, together one last time.
—
In all the utter chaos that circled her mind, Lena almost forgot she was maid of honor. Kara insisted she didn't have to give a speech, ("Lena, no. I can't make you do that." "You already are." They didn't have sex that night.) but she knew there was no way out of it. If she sat there, scowling and refusing to gush over the bride and groom…four years of hiding and pain would have been all for naught. As appealing as the thought was - wedding destroyed, Mon-El out of her life forever - she couldn't do that to Kara.
Instead, she stood up and spoke.
"Anyone who has met Kara knows how big her heart is. Her capacity for joy and kindness is astounding…when she isn't being infuriatingly selfless." This earned a chuckle from the Danvers family, but the woman in question sipped at her water in distraction. "So, to Kara…and Mon-El, always remember you are the luckiest man in this galaxy and the next." She raised her glass, "Congratulations."
If anyone noticed that she drank the entirety of her flute in one shot, they didn't dare mention it.
—
One night, when the joke of it all had grown tired, they really ordered pizza.
It was that night, while Kara shoveled an entire extra-large pie (save for one slice, gutted of its cheese with surgical precision) into her mouth straight from the box, that Lena looked at her - smiling and happier than she'd been in ages.
"I love you."
Kara looked up at her best friend's words, swallowing the mess of pizza in her mouth.
"I love you too."
There were no grand gestures or sweeping platitudes, just the comfort of a woman who felt like home.
—
The majority of the wedding guests migrated to the dance floor, with Kara and Mon-El in the middle of a huddle of their closest friends and family as they moved excitedly to the song bouncing from the speakers. Lena stood back against the bar, sipping a dry martini as she chewed bittersweetly at a macaron that was unmistakably flown in from her favorite patisserie in Paris.
She watched as Kara moved happily across the room, her smile wide and radiant and decidedly more comfortable than she'd been when they first met. She saw the woman that thought to buy her gifts on what was supposed to be the best day of her life, because she knew it was - in fact - the worst imaginable for them both.
With one final swig of her drink, the brunette strode confidently toward the center of the dance floor. Kara had shifted to dance with her mother and sister, the trio happily moving to the beat.
"Can I cut in?" She asked into Kara's ear, a hand touching lightly against her lower back.
The blonde swung around happily to pull the other woman into a hug - cheeks tinted bright pink from exertion and alcohol, jumping out against the soft white of her flowing dress. "Lena! Where have you been?"
Lena shrugged as Kara's arms encapsulated her, her eyes closing at the sensation. She wanted to make a joke so, does this make us sister wives or say thanks for the macarons, but all she could think was it should be me.
Then, Kara spoke into her shoulder.
"It feels so real when you're this close."
—
In another life, it was their wedding day. Their friends would be there to celebrate their love, not pass concerned glances across the room. They would laugh about just how easy it all had been. Kara would persuade her to take at least a week off for their honeymoon. After, she'd fly her all over the world. And if she wouldn't take off, if she'd insist on working from home, Kara would spend the week bringing her gifts from the furthest reaches of the globe.
Steaming hot chocolate, fresh from Switzerland.
"It may be slightly freezer-burnt," she'd admit sheepishly.
The brunette, feigning disgust, would sigh and say, "Well, in that case, take it back," as if it wasn't the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her, before a bright grin split across her face as she giggled at Kara's eager hand grabbing for the cup. "No, don't! I love it, thank you."
Warm, doughy apple strudel pretzels from a German street market.
Or…one and a half. Kara would, unsurprisingly, eat part of the sweet pastry on the flight back. Still, they tasted better than anything she'd let herself indulge on in ages.
Grilled cheese from her favorite diner in Cambridge.
Years ago, she told Kara that the only reason she made it through college was the 24-hour diner a block from her dorm at MIT. A cup of coffee and grilled cheese, though greasy and otherwise unappetizing, was perfect study fuel. One bite of the crisp bread and melted cheese was enough for her to power through the rest of her work.
She'd grow less attached to her laptop with each passing moment, until eventually she joined Kara. They'd go to Ireland and revel in live music over fresh Guinness; Easter Island…Egypt…the Yucatán Peninsula…Greece to marvel at the unexplainable wonders of the world; and of course, China, for potstickers.
But this was not another life. Lena would not wake to find the day was simply an unyielding nightmare. No, in the morning, Kara would still not be hers. They had a chance once, years ago…when Lena wasn't looking for love and found it anyway. Now, all they had were small moments…suggestions of moments, hints of what their life together could have been and what would never be.
It would never be enough.