Prompt from @goteamsuprcorp – “do you think your write a fic were Kara and Lena have a hurt/comfort moment after Man-Hell is yeeted… and kiss” and @ohhsoadorkable – “Also, Lena feeling guilty for hurting Kara after Mon-El gets yeeted. Cause we all know bb is too precious and will feel bad for hurting the love if her life” and “Someone actually praising Lena for helping them getting rid of the daxamites ?!?!? Pretty bb deserves a thank you !”
She tells herself she’s not being selfish.
That Kara is in need of comfort. That she is Kara’s best friend.
Aside from her sister, of course.
Which is why Lena is setting out for Alex’s apartment.
Because she knows her best friend. And she knows that’s where she’ll be. To lick her wounds. To heal. To be held close by someone who loves her in the ashes of dead Daxamites.
To be held close by someone who needs her after someone she thought she needed had to… leave.
She tells herself she’s not being selfish – that she’s seeking to hold, not be held, to offer comfort, not seek it – and she tells herself that Kara would be the first person to offer her comfort, even when in dire pain herself.
She tells herself she is not taking advantage of Kara’s goodness.
She tells herself that she is not her mother, is not Rhea.
She paces and she rings her hands and she breathes deep, deep, slow, and she knocks on Alex Danvers’s apartment door.
It’s late – so late that it’s actually, technically, early – but there’s a light on under the door, and there’s immediate movement inside at the sound of her knock. Lena gulps and stiffens and prays she won’t regret this.
The detective who’d arrested her – the detective that Kara was coming to accept, coming to like, coming, even to love, who was dating her sister, who was turning her sister into a tremendous puddle of mush – answers the door, wearing boxers and a t-shirt so oversized on her that Lena refuses to believe it’s hers.
“Thank you for what you did,” is the first thing the woman says, and Lena is nothing if not surprised. Shocked, even.
“You and Winn. You two saved the planet. And before you worry about blood on your hands, don’t – Rhea was killed, and so were some of the Daxamites who were on the surface, but most of them transported up and took their ships out of orbit in time. So they can’t come back, but their species… It’s not dead. Okay?”
Maggie says all of this softly, soothingly, leaning slightly forward into Lena’s ear, and Lena doesn’t know the last time – outside of Kara, or Supergirl – that she felt this… heard. Without even having to say anything.
“Babe, who is it?” Alex calls, because apparently Kara is too exhausted, too pained, too agonized, to strain herself with her x-ray vision.
“A friend,” Maggie steps back and gestures Lena inside, and Kara stirs from the blanket Alex has her wrapped in. Stirs from the arms Alex has her wrapped in.
“Lena,” she croaks, and Lena holds out her hands.
“No, no, Kara, no need to get up, I just… I wanted to see if you’re alright. I heard… I heard you’ve suffered a loss.”
She doesn’t give details, and when something flashes across Kara’s eyes – a classic but vague does-she-know panic – she holds back both a sob and a chuckle.
Now isn’t quite the time.
“I’ll be alright,” she murmurs, and Lena holds out the bag she’d carried over.
“Your favorite place for potstickers in all of National City is still open for business, you know. Something about people needing good food and good company in times like this.”
She glances around at the empty pizza boxes and potsticker containers.
“It seems you already knew that, but more can’t hurt, can they?” she asks, almost timidly, and Alex smiles as she stares up at this woman who can save the world, over and over and over, while her own mother is trying to destroy it, but who is so, so, so gentle with her little sister.
“Potstickers can never hurt,” Kara murmurs as she unwraps her arms from the blankets and reaches for the potstickers gratefully. Alex and Lena exchange a soft laugh.
“Well, I’ll just leave you three to it then,” she says, and she starts to head out the door.
“Lena, wait!” Kara is on her feet by the time Lena turns her head.
“We can share these. At my place. If you want. Alex and Maggie have a lot of… processing to do, and we can do the same. Processing, I mean. Processing, as friends. You… Rhea hurt you, and I want to be there for you, too.”
Lena shakes her head – she is not selfish, she is not selfish, she is not selfish – but Kara knows better.
She strides across the room and reaches for Lena’s hands with one of hers, both of them oblivious to Alex and Maggie’s wide-eyed glance.
“You’re allowed to need someone, too, Lena. Just because I’m hurting doesn’t mean I can’t be there for you, too. We can be here for each other.”
“I…” She fights tears and she reminds herself that she is not, perhaps, worthless. “I don’t want to take you from your sister and – “
“Alex? Do you mind? If I go with Lena?”
Alex suppresses a knowing grin and shakes her head.
“I love you,” she pulls her into her, close and warm and very slightly needy.
“I love you, too,” Kara reminds her, giving Maggie a squeeze, too, before setting out the door with Lena.
They don’t speak much on the walk back to Kara’s apartment.
The walk back through war-torn streets and downed electrical lines.
They don’t speak much as they go through Kara’s apartment, powerless, lighting candles and pouring wine.
Kara takes everything that can spoil out of the fridge and freezer and piles it onto the table.
“Who knows how long the power will be out?” she offers by way of explanation, and Lena suppresses the urge to kiss the redness from her eyes.
They don’t speak much as they plow their way through ice cream and yogurt and potstickers.
They don’t speak much until Kara lets herself break.
“Everything I do, everything I try, it just… he made me feel connected to my… my parents, my family, my history, you know? My people.”
She’s either too grieved to notice her slight slip, or she trusts Lena too much to care.
Or a little bit of both.
“You haven’t lost them all over again, you know,” Lena says in a small, small voice. “Your parents. Your people and your history. If anything, Kara Danvers, you’ve honored them.”
Kara furrows her brow and adjusts her glasses and shakes her head, and Lena hesitates slightly before tucking a few strands of loose hair behind Kara’s ear. Kara freezes and meets her eyes with an intensity borne of months of unspoken feelings, months of repressed need.
“I don’t feel like I’ve honored much of anything lately,” Kara sighs, and Lena nods and chuckles slightly.
“Neither do I. You know I was actually foolish enough to let Rhea manipulate me so baldly? I walked right into every single thing she had planned for me. When Supergirl said she’d fight her…” She looks at Kara significantly, and she thinks she sees a spark of unspoken acknowledgment there. “I know it’s ridiculous – she was fighting for the whole planet – but it also felt… like she was fighting for me.”
“You deserve that, Lena,” Kara tells her, her voice barely above a whisper. Her voice barely distinct from a prayer. “Someone to fight for you. You deserve that.”
“Kara,” Lena swallows, and Kara silences her with a slight shake of the head.
Slowly, steadily, eyes a burning, chaotic storm, she takes her glasses off of her face. Lena inhales slowly, steadily, eyes a beacon, chaotic clarity.
“I’d like to kiss you, Lena. Can I?” Kara asks, and Lena lets her body respond.
It’s soft and it’s tentative, because it doesn’t matter what Kara might think she wants tonight – in love with him or not, even liked him or not, she cared for him, cares for him, and Kara Danvers, Supergirl, her best friend, deserves better than mourning sex – soft and tenative is all it’s going to be tonight.
When their lips part and Lena’s heart starts beating again, her eyes stay closed. When she opens them, Kara is looking at her like she’s a work of art, like she’s a miracle.
Like she’s hope.
“Was that alright?” Kara wants to know, and Lena’s smile is as warm as her fingers on the underside of Kara’s wrist.
“That was perfect,” she whispers, and when she reaches across the table for a spoon, Kara giggles softly, because maybe there is hope after all.