I do not own the rights to the TV show, the characters, or the music. This is just me writing as a fan.
No copyright infringement intended. Pls don't sue me. :) Also, do leave reviews. They keep me going.
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Truth in the Dark
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"You're the only person in the galaxy I know would do right by it," Supergirl said, her blue eyes filled with unwavering trust as she handed Lena the Harun-El.
The words hung in the air of the L-Corp lab, heavy with meaning. Lena's fingers closed around the black crystal, but her eyes remained fixed on Supergirl's face. There was something achingly familiar in that expression of absolute faith – something that reminded her of soft cardigans and shy smiles over lunch.
Hours turned into days as Lena worked tirelessly with the Harun-El, Supergirl checking in regularly. Each visit lasted longer than necessary, filled with conversations that strayed far from science and strategy. And with each moment, Supergirl felt the weight of her secret pressing harder against her chest.
It was during one of these late-night visits, when the city lights twinkled beyond the windows and Lena's hair was falling loose from her usually pristine bun, that Supergirl couldn't bear it anymore.
"I need to tell you something," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lena looked up from her microscope, noting the unusually serious tone. "What is it?"
"When I said you're the only person in the galaxy I trust with this..." Supergirl's hands trembled as she reached for her glasses. "I meant it. Not just as Supergirl, but as... me."
Kara gently put them on, superspeeding into her civilian clothes right in front of Lena. Lena's sharp intake of breath cut through the silence like a knife.
"No," Lena whispered, stepping back. The Harun-El glowed ominously in its containment unit. "No, you can't be..."
"Lena, please—"
"Kara?" Her name from Lena's lips had never sounded so broken. "All this time?"
"I wanted to tell you so many times," Kara rushed forward, but Lena held up a hand to stop her. "Every lunch, every game night, every time you looked at me with that trust in your eyes – I wanted to tell you."
"Trust?" Lena's laugh was bitter. "That's rich, coming from someone who's been lying to my face for years. I confided in you, Kara. I told you how everyone in my life has betrayed me. How they all kept secrets, all lied to my face while pretending to care. And there you were, nodding along, holding my hand, telling me I deserved better – all while doing the exact same thing."
"I was trying to protect you—"
"I don't need protection!" Lena's voice cracked. "I needed honesty. I needed my best friend to believe in me as much as I believed in her. Do you have any idea what it feels like? To finally think you've found someone who sees you for who you really are, not your last name, not your family's legacy – only to discover that even she didn't trust you enough to tell you the truth?"
"I do trust you!" Kara's eyes filled with tears. "Why do you think I'm telling you now? Not because I have to, but because I want to. Because you deserve to know all of me."
The lab fell silent except for the quiet hum of equipment. Lena turned away, bracing herself against her desk, and Kara could see her shoulders trembling.
"Every time," Lena finally spoke, her voice low, "every time I thought I was falling for two different people... it was just you. It was always just you."
Kara's heart skipped a beat. "What? You what?"
Lena turned back, her green eyes bright with unshed tears. "How could you not know? The way I looked at Kara Danvers, my best friend who shared meals with me, fought for my honour, my reputation, who was always there when I needed her, who believed in me when no one else did. The way I looked at Supergirl, who trusted a Luthor with something as powerful as the Harun-El. A Super and a Luthor working together."
"Lena..."
"And now I find out they're the same person," Lena laughed softly, the bitterness fading into something more vulnerable. "I don't know whether to be relieved or terrified."
"Terrified?" Kara took a tentative step forward, her heart pounding so loud she was sure even a non-Kryptonian could hear it.
"Because now there's no hiding from it. No pretending these feelings are split between two people. It's just you, Kara. It's always been you."
Kara felt the world tilt on its axis. "Lena, I..." She reached out instinctively, then pulled back, remembering she'd lost that right. "I never meant to hurt you. Everything else might have been complicated, but how I feel about you, how I am around you – that's always been real. You have to believe me."
"That's the problem, isn't it?" Lena's voice was quiet, controlled. "I believe you. And that makes it worse somehow."
"Tell me how to fix this. Please." Kara's voice cracked. "I'll do anything."
"I don't think you can, Kara. Not right now." Lena turned back to the Harun-El. "We still need to stop Reign. After that... I need time."
"Time," Kara repeated, the word tasting like ash in her mouth. "Yes. Yes, of course."
"You should go."
"Lena—"
"Please."
It was the slight tremor in Lena's voice that made Kara step back. She knew that tone – it was the same one Lena used when she was trying desperately not to fall apart.
"I'll... I'll have Alex coordinate with you about Reign."
Lena nodded, not turning around. Kara walked to the balcony, each step feeling heavier than the last. Just before taking off, she whispered, "I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough sooner."
...
"I messed up, Alex. I messed up so badly."
Alex's apartment had become Kara's refuge in the days following the revelation. She lay on her sister's couch, ice cream melting forgotten on the coffee table.
"You did the right thing telling her," Alex said, running her fingers through Kara's hair. "She deserved to know."
"But I should have told her sooner! Before... before everything got so complicated."
"Before you fell in love with her?"
Kara shot up so fast she nearly fell off the couch. "What? I didn't— I mean, how did you—" She gaped at her sister. "I never said anything about..."
Alex's laugh was gentle, knowing. "Kara, you've been bringing her lunch every day for two years. You fly to her balcony just to 'check on her' even when there's no crisis. You literally light up every time someone mentions her name." She bumped Kara's shoulder. "And don't think I didn't notice how you started wearing blue more often because 'Lena once said it brings out my eyes.'"
"I... is it that obvious?" Kara groaned, burying her face in a cushion.
"To everyone except you and Lena, apparently."
"It doesn't matter now anyway," Kara slumped back down. "She hates me."
"She doesn't hate you. She's hurt. There's a difference."
...
"Your heart rate elevates by approximately 32.7% whenever Lena Luthor enters a room," Brainy observed during a particularly tense DEO briefing about Reign.
"Not now, Brainy," Kara muttered, trying to focus on the hologram of Reign's last known location.
"I merely wish to point out that such physiological responses, combined with your current emotional distress, suggest—"
"Really not now."
"—that your feelings for her exceed traditional parameters of friendship, which, given the current circumstances—"
"Brainy!" Kara felt her cheeks burning, especially with Alex smirking behind her tablet.
"—might actually work in your favour, as studies show that genuine emotional connection can facilitate reconciliation in cases of broken trust." Brainy tilted his head, studying her with that characteristic analytical gaze. "Additionally, my calculations indicate that Ms. Luthor's pupils dilate by approximately 43.2% when you enter a room, suggesting—"
"Wait, what?" Kara's head snapped up.
"Indeed. I've been monitoring both of your physiological responses. For science, of course." Brainy began pulling up charts on his tablet. "Would you like to see the data? I've mapped out every instance of increased heart rate, pupil dilation, and unconscious leaning—"
"Brainy," Alex interrupted, taking pity on her increasingly flustered sister, "maybe save the PowerPoint presentation for later?"
"But I haven't even gotten to the statistical analysis of their shared casual touching patterns pre-revelation, or the fascinating correlation between Ms. Luthor's productivity levels and Kara's presence in her lab—"
"She works better when I'm there?" Kara couldn't help asking, then immediately ducked her head when Alex shot her a look.
"Oh yes," Brainy brightened. "Her efficiency increases by 27.4% when you're present. Though currently, it's dropped by approximately 12.8%, which I theorize is due to the emotional strain of—"
"Okay!" Alex clapped her hands. "Let's focus on Reign, shall we?"
But Kara barely heard the rest of the briefing, her mind stuck on those numbers. 43.2% pupil dilation. 27.4% increased efficiency. Little data points that painted a picture she'd been too scared to see before.
They worked together to stop Reign because they had to. Professional. Distant. But sometimes Kara would catch Lena looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite read, and hope would flutter in her chest like a trapped bird.
Every DEO meeting was an exercise in restraint. Kara would find herself starting to make a joke only Lena would get, or reaching for Lena's hand when the scientist looked tired, only to pull back at the last second. The easy rhythm they'd built over years of friendship was gone, replaced by careful words and measured distances.
"The Harun-El synthesis is complete," Lena would say, her voice clipped and professional.
"Good work," Kara would respond, fighting the urge to tell her how brilliant she was, how much she missed their late-night talks in the lab.
Alex kept shooting her concerned looks. Brainy continued spouting statistics about their "mutual elevated heart rates." But it was J'onn who finally pulled her aside after a particularly tense meeting.
"Sometimes," he said quietly, "the hardest part of loving someone is giving them the space they need to find their way back to you."
...
After the briefing, Brainy caught up with Kara in the DEO hallway, still clutching his tablet.
"I feel I should mention," he said, falling into step beside her, "that there's a 94.6% probability that Ms. Luthor has been intentionally working later hours to align with your patrol schedule."
Kara stopped walking. "What?"
"Yes. Despite claiming to be 'too busy' for your usual lunch meetings, she has maintained a consistent pattern of remaining at L-Corp during the hours you typically fly past her building." He pulled up another chart. "See? The correlation is quite remarkable."
"She's... watching for me?"
"More accurately, she's making herself available for you to watch over her, while maintaining enough professional distance to process her emotional response to your revelation." Brainy paused. "Humans often exhibit contradictory behaviors when experiencing both hurt and longing."
Kara leaned against the wall, processing this. "So when you say my heart rate increases around her..."
"It always has. But now, hers increases 15.3% more than it used to when she sees you. Particularly when you're in your super suit." He tilted his head. "Though I suspect that's related to the additional layer of complexity your dual identity now presents in your relationship."
"Brainy, I..." Kara scrunched her nose nervously. "I really messed up, didn't I?"
"Actually, my analysis suggests that while your timing was not optimal, your decision to reveal your identity voluntarily rather than having Ms. Luthor discover it through other means increased your chances of eventual reconciliation by approximately 68.4%."
...
That evening, Kara found herself hovering high above L-Corp, watching Lena work late again. Brainy's statistics tumbled through her mind: 43.2% pupil dilation, 15.3% increased heart rate, 68.4% chance of reconciliation. Numbers that somehow made her feel both more hopeful and more terrified.
She was about to fly away when she saw Lena step onto the balcony, arms wrapped around herself against the night chill. Her heart clenched at how tired Lena looked.
Before she could stop herself, Kara floated down just enough to be visible in the moonlight.
"You should go home and rest," she called softly. "The Harun-El trials can wait until morning."
Lena stiffened but didn't turn away. "Says the woman who's apparently been watching my office."
"I..." Kara swallowed hard. "I always watch over you, Lena. Even when you're mad at me. Even when you don't want me to."
"I'm not mad," Lena said quietly, finally turning to face her. "I'm..." She paused, considering her words carefully. "I miss my best friend. And I hate that I miss her when I'm still so hurt."
Kara landed softly on the balcony, keeping a careful distance. "I miss you too. So much it hurts." She fidgeted with her cape, a nervous habit she'd never quite broken. "Sometimes I start typing out a text to tell you something funny I saw, or I grab your favorite salad at lunch, and then I remember..."
"That we're not there anymore," Lena finished, her voice barely a whisper.
"Yeah." Kara looked down at her boots. "Brainy, um... he's been tracking our vitals. Did you know your productivity goes up 27.4% when I'm in your lab?"
A ghost of a smile touched Lena's lips. "Is that what he's been doing with all those tablets and charts?"
"He has a whole PowerPoint about our 'physiological responses' to each other." Kara made air quotes, then immediately felt self-conscious about it.
"Let me guess – he's analyzing everything in the name of science?"
"You should see his statistical analysis of our casual touching patterns."
The words slipped out before Kara could stop them, and both women fell silent, remembering all those easy touches that had once felt so natural – a hand on an arm, a head on a shoulder, fingers brushing while sharing food.
"We were good at that, weren't we?" Lena said softly. "Being friends."
"The best," Kara agreed, her voice thick with emotion.
Lena turned back to look at the city, her fingers gripping the balcony railing. "You know what the hardest part is?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Every time I start to forget I'm angry, every time I catch myself wanting to call you or text you about my day... I remember that while I was sharing everything with my best friend, she was keeping a huge part of herself from me."
"Lena—"
"And then," Lena continued, her voice wavering slightly, "I think about all the times Supergirl saved me. All the times you saved me. And I wonder how I never saw it. How I could be so blind when it was right in front of me."
Kara took a tentative step forward. "You weren't blind. I was just... really good at hiding. Had to be. But Lena, every single moment we shared was real. Every lunch, every game night, every late-night conversation... that was all me. Just... all of me."
"I told you, that's what makes it complicated." Lena finally turned to face her. "Because I believe you. And because both versions of you... both of them meant everything to me."
Kara's breath caught in her throat. "Lena..."
"No, let me finish." Lena took a shaky breath. "I had feelings for my best friend and I also had feelings for Supergirl. Turns out they were both you. And I don't know how to analyse that."
"I didn't know," Kara whispered, her eyes wide. "I never thought... I mean, I hoped, sometimes, but..."
"Of course you didn't know." Lena let out a small, bitter laugh. "I was too busy trying to convince myself I wasn't falling for two different people."
"And now?"
"Now?" Lena's voice softened. "Now I know they're both you. And that makes it so much harder, Kara. Because I can't just be angry at Supergirl while taking comfort in Kara Danvers. I can't compartmentalize my feelings anymore."
"You don't need to compartmentalize anymore. At least not with me," Kara said softly. "No more walls, no more secret identities. Just... us."
Lena's eyes glistened in the moonlight. "That's the problem, isn't it? 'Just us' is so much more complicated than I ever imagined." She hugged herself tighter. "We still have to stop Reign. We have to work together."
"We do," Kara agreed. "And I'll follow your lead on that. Whatever boundaries you need to set, whatever space you need – I'll respect it."
"Even if that means keeping things strictly professional for now?"
The 'for now' made Kara's heart skip. "Even then." She took a step back toward the edge of the balcony. "But Lena? When you're ready – if you're ever ready – I'll be here. All of me."
Lena nodded, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, all the unspoken words hanging in the air between them.
"We have a briefing tomorrow at the DEO," Lena said finally, her CEO mask slipping back into place. "I think I've found a way to stabilize the Harun-El's molecular structure."
"Right," Kara nodded, understanding this was Lena's way of drawing the line for now. "I'll make sure Alex has the lab ready for your tests."
She was about to take off when Lena spoke again, her voice so quiet that even Kara's super hearing barely caught it.
"You know I still care about you, right? Both parts of you. That's what makes this so hard."
Kara turned back, her cape rustling in the night breeze. "I know. And I'll wait, Lena. However long it takes for you to trust me again."
As she flew away, she heard Lena's heartbeat – that familiar rhythm she'd grown to know better than her own – skip and stutter. Maybe Brainy was right about those statistics after all.
...
The next few weeks were a delicate dance. At the DEO, they worked together with professional precision. Lena would explain her findings, Kara would nod along, trying not to show how much she missed the way Lena used to get excited about science, hands gesturing animatedly as she explained complex theories in ways only Kara could follow.
Alex watched from the sidelines as Lena presented her latest findings about Reign's DNA structure, her voice clinical and detached. The Lena who used to light up explaining science to Kara was nowhere to be found.
"The separation process will require precise timing," Lena concluded, not quite meeting Kara's eyes. "Supergirl will need to—"
"I'll be there," Kara interrupted softly. "Whatever you need."
Something flickered across Lena's face – a crack in her professional facade. "Right. Well, if there are no questions..."
"Actually," Brainy piped up, tablet in hand. "I've noticed a 47.8% decrease in your usual scientific enthusiasm, Ms. Luthor. And Supergirl's response time to your explanations has slowed by—"
"Thank you, Brainy," Alex cut in quickly, shooting him a warning look. "I think we're good here."
Later, during test runs with the Harun-El, they fell into an almost-familiar rhythm. Kara would hold the containers exactly as Lena instructed, their fingers brushing accidentally-on-purpose during handoffs. Sometimes, when something went right, they'd both start to smile before catching themselves.
It was during one of these late-night tests that everything shifted slightly. Lena was adjusting some calculations, her hair falling from its usually pristine bun, when a small explosion rocked the containment chamber.
Without thinking, Kara had Lena in her arms and across the room in less than a second, her body shielding her from the blast. The danger passed quickly – just a minor reaction – but they stayed frozen, Kara's arms around Lena's waist, Lena's hands gripping Kara's shoulders.
"Are you okay?" Kara asked, her voice rough with concern.
"I'm fine," Lena breathed, but she didn't let go. "You didn't have to—"
"I'll always protect you," Kara said simply. "That's never changed."
Their eyes met, and for a moment, all the walls came down. Then Lena stepped back, smoothing her lab coat. "We should... we should check the readings."
But something had shifted. The next day, when Kara brought coffee to the lab (leaving it quietly on Lena's desk like she had been for weeks), there was a note waiting for her:
"Thank you. For yesterday. For always. - L"
The note became a turning point. Small changes started appearing in their careful dance around each other. Lena began looking up when Kara entered rooms instead of staying focused on her tablet. Sometimes, Kara would catch her hiding a smile at one of Brainy's statistical updates about their "mutual proximity patterns."
During one particularly frustrating test, when the Harun-El refused to stabilize, Lena muttered under her breath, "I could really use some comfort potstickers right now."
Kara's head snapped up so fast she nearly dropped the container she was holding. It was their old code – what Lena used to say when she needed their food-and-feelings talks.
"I could get some," Kara offered hesitantly. "If... if you want."
Lena was quiet for so long that Kara thought she'd overstepped. Then, softly: "Maybe after we finish this trial."
They ended up on the L-Corp balcony, takeout spread between them like old times. The silence was different now – not as comfortable as before, but not as painful as it had been.
"I found one of your letters yesterday," Lena said suddenly, poking at her food.
Kara nearly choked on her potsticker. "Oh... which, um, which one?" Kara had the habit of leaving Lena letters as Supergirl whenever she thought the CEO scientist could use one.
"The one you wrote after the first time I mentioned my mother." Lena's voice was soft, contemplative. "'Dear Lena, Today you told me about Lillian, and all I wanted to do was fly you far away from every person who ever made you feel unwanted. But then you smiled – that brave, brilliant smile – and I realized you never needed anyone to save you. You just needed someone to see you.'"
"I remember writing that," Kara said quietly, setting down her chopsticks. "It was the first time I really understood... how similar we were. Both trying to live up to impossible expectations, both trying to prove we're more than our families' legacies."
"Is that why you didn't tell me? Because you thought I wouldn't see you the same way?"
"No! I mean... maybe a little?" Kara fidgeted with her glasses. "Mostly I was scared of losing what we had. Which I ended up doing anyway."
"You haven't lost me, Kara." Lena finally looked up, meeting her eyes. "I'm just... learning who you are all over again."
"Learning who I am?" Kara repeated softly, hope flickering in her chest.
"Mm-hmm." Lena took a careful sip of her wine. "Like how Supergirl's crinkle when she's worried is exactly the same as Kara Danvers' crinkle. Or how you both – how you fidget with your glasses even in the super suit sometimes."
"I do not—" Kara reached up, catching herself about to adjust her glasses, and dropped her hand with a sheepish smile.
A ghost of Lena's old smirk appeared. "You were saying?"
For a moment, it felt like before – the easy teasing, the fond looks. Then Lena's smile faded slightly.
"I keep finding pieces of you in my memories," she admitted. "Moments where I should have known. Like how you always disappeared right before Supergirl showed up, or how you both have the same terrible taste in puns."
"Hey! My puns are amazing!"
"You once said 'ice to meet you' to a criminal, Kara."
"That was a great pun!" Kara protested, then softened as she heard Lena's quiet laugh – the first real one in weeks. "I missed that sound."
Lena sobered, but her eyes remained gentle. "I missed this. Us. Even though..."
"Even though it's different now?"
"Even though I'm still trying to adapt to my best friend who stress-eats pot stickers and the superhero who lifts buildings being the same person." Lena paused, considering. "Though the appetite does make more sense now."
"If it helps," Kara offered hesitantly, "I'm still just me. The same person who marathons Golden Girls with you when you're sad, who can't operate your fancy coffee machine, who..."
"Who flew across the city at 3 AM because I was having a bad day?" Lena raised an eyebrow. "That actually explains a lot about your timing."
"Well, super hearing comes in handy when your best friend's heartbeat spikes because she's working too late again."
The words slipped out before Kara could stop them, and she watched as Lena processed this new information.
"You..." Lena's voice wavered slightly. "You can hear my heartbeat?"
Kara ducked her head, suddenly finding her potstickers fascinating. "I, um... yes? I kind of... tuned into it. A while ago. It helps me know when you're in danger, or upset, or..."
"How long?"
"Since the first assassination attempt," Kara admitted softly. "I was so scared of not getting to you in time, I just... started listening. And then I never stopped."
Lena was quiet for so long that Kara risked looking up. She found Lena staring at her with an unreadable expression.
"Is that why you always seemed to know when I was having a rough day? When I'd get those surprise lunch deliveries or random text messages asking if I was okay?"
"Sometimes," Kara fidgeted with her chopsticks. "But mostly I just... I know you, Lena. Powers or no powers, I know when something's wrong. Like right now, you're doing that thing with your eyebrow that means you're processing something big."
Lena's hand flew to her eyebrow self-consciously, and Kara couldn't help but smile softly.
"See? That's not super hearing or x-ray vision. That's just... me knowing you."
"But you hear it now?" Lena asked quietly. "My heartbeat?"
Kara nodded, listening to the steady rhythm that had become her favorite sound. "It's... faster than usual. Like when you're nervous about a board meeting, or when you're excited about a new project."
"Or when I'm sitting here, realizing that my best friend has literally been carrying my heartbeat with her all this time?" Lena's voice was thick with emotion.
"I can stop," Kara offered quickly. "If it makes you uncomfortable, I—"
"No," Lena interrupted, surprising them both. "No, it's... it's actually oddly comforting. Knowing that even when I thought I was alone in my office at midnight..."
"You were never alone," Kara finished softly. "Not really."
A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the distant city sounds and their synchronized breathing. Lena absently pushed her food around her plate, lost in thought.
"When did you learn to distinguish it?" she finally asked. "My heartbeat from others?"
"Remember that gala where Morgan Edge tried to poison you?" Kara's hands clenched at the memory. "There were hundreds of people there, but the moment your heart started racing... I just knew. It was like my own heart recognized yours."
"That's..." Lena swallowed hard. "That's why you appeared so quickly. Not just super speed, but because you were already listening."
"Always," Kara admitted. "Even now, when things are... complicated. I can't help it. It's like background music I've memorized."
"And what's it telling you now?" Lena's voice was barely a whisper.
Kara closed her eyes, focusing on the familiar rhythm. "It's steady, but quick. Like when you're gathering courage to say something important."
"Maybe because I am," Lena said, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. "Gathering courage, that is."
Kara waited, barely breathing, as Lena collected her thoughts.
"I've been reading all your letters," Lena finally continued. "Not just the one about my mother. All of them. And there's something that keeps appearing in almost every one – this fear of losing me. Of ruining what we had."
"Lena..."
"Let me finish. Because what I'm realizing is... that fear? It's exactly why I was so hurt. Because I've spent my whole life waiting for people to leave, to betray me, to prove that Luthors don't get to keep good things." Lena's voice cracked slightly. "And then there was you, writing letter after letter about being terrified of losing me, while I was terrified of losing you."
Kara's eyes filled with tears. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?"
"We really are," Lena agreed softly. "Two people so scared of losing each other that we nearly did anyway."
"Nearly?" Kara couldn't help the hope that crept into her voice.
"Well," Lena's lips curved into a small smile, "I'm still here, aren't I? Having potstickers on my balcony with a superhero who apparently keeps tabs on my cardiac rhythm."
"When you say it like that, it sounds kind of creepy," Kara mumbled, ducking her head.
"It's not creepy. It's... very you." Lena paused. "Both versions of you. Kara Danvers who brings me lunch because she knows I forget to eat, and Supergirl who listens to make sure I'm safe. They're both just... you, caring too much."
"I don't think it's possible to care too much about you," Kara said quietly, then blushed. "I mean... you know what I mean."
A soft beeping from Lena's tablet interrupted the moment. The Harun-El readings needed checking.
Lena's breath caught at Kara's words, and for a moment, all the walls they'd carefully built came crumbling down. She stepped forward, close enough that Kara could feel her warmth.
"I think I do know what you mean," Lena whispered. "Because I've never known how to care about you in half-measures either."
Before Kara could respond, Lena's hand was on her cheek, trembling slightly as her thumb traced the line of Kara's jaw. There was a moment of hesitation, a silent question in Lena's eyes that Kara answered by leaning ever so slightly into her touch.
The first brush of Lena's lips against hers was feather-light, experimental, as if she was afraid Kara might disappear. Kara stayed perfectly still, letting Lena set the pace, her heart thundering so loudly she was sure Lena must hear it too. When Lena pulled back slightly, searching Kara's face, Kara offered a soft, encouraging smile.
That was all Lena needed to lean in again, this time with more certainty. The kiss deepened, slow and sweet, Lena's fingers sliding into Kara's hair as Kara's hands found their way to Lena's waist, steadying them both. It tasted like coming home and new beginnings all at once, like every letter Kara had never sent and every feeling Lena had tried to hide.
When they finally pulled apart, Lena kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, as if memorizing the feeling. Kara watched in wonder as a smile bloomed across Lena's face – not her CEO smile, or her press smile, but the real one, the one that had always been just for Kara.
"We still have a lot to figure out."
"We do," Lena agreed. "And we have Reign to stop."
"But after?"
"After," Lena smiled, her fingers intertwining with Kara's, "we have all the time in the world to get it right. No more secrets, no more hiding."
Above them, the stars twinkled over National City, witnesses to a Super and a Luthor finding their way back to each other, stronger than before. They had a world to save, trust to rebuild, and a love story to write – this time, together.