Chapter Text
Catherine Grant might be Kara’s beloved mentor, but right now Kara could absolutely kill her.
"First she just up and leaves, out of nowhere," Kara rants as she sticks an arm out to hold the elevator, stepping aside for Nia to join her and jabbing the button for the Tribune office, "and then she goes and gets her shares bought out by Morgan freaking Edge? And she’s not even going to try and fight it? How long until we’re writing glowing editorials for that sleazebag?"
"Cat doesn’t have infinite power. It’s public trading," Nia says fairly. But Kara doesn’t want fair. She wants CatCo to go back to the way it was before this mess began.
"She could pull strings! She knows people! I can’t believe she’s going to give up the company she worked so hard for to the grossest, most misogynistic, greedy corporate jerk-face –"
The elevator opens to the bullpen buzzing with activity, every TV in James’ office playing a single station at full volume, and James himself waiting near the doors.
"Jerk-face? And here I thought we were friends," James says, chuckling. He seems remarkably cheerful for someone who’s about to be working for Morgan Edge, and Kara scowls at him.
"You know who I mean."
"I do, and I also know you can stop worrying about him."
"What do you mean?" Nia asks. James points to the televisions.
"If you’ve been wondering about the acquisition of the newly-traded CatCo in the absence of media titan Cat Grant, wonder no more," the anchor is saying in a voice echoed on 9 screens. "In a surprise move today the company was acquired not by real estate tycoon Morgan Edge, who has been publicly buying shares for the last few weeks in a bid for ownership, but by National City's newest business mogul - Lena Luthor."
There’s a tone of incredulity to the anchor’s voice that matches Kara’s feelings exactly.
"Lena Luthor?" Kara says, turning to James. "The CEO of L-Corp? She bought CatCo?"
"Apparently," James says. "It eliminates our Edge problem, but it does introduce some new ones we should be prepared for."
"Like what?"
"She might be getting good press right now, but we can’t forget that she’s Lex Luthor’s sister," James points out. "That whole family is bad news."
Kara waves him off. Her concerns have little to do with who Lena's brother is – she's watched enough footage of Lex's trial, seen enough of Lena Luthor on the stand bravely telling the jury everything her brother did in an attempt to get him the maximum sentence for his crimes, to know she's not going down that same road. "She’s already publicly denounced his actions. I don’t think she’s anything like him."
"You don’t really know her. You’ve never even met," Nia says.
"Yeah, but I’ve seen her speak. She seems…genuine," Kara says, watching the news footage with interest as one of Lena Luthor's recent press conferences is shown. She's confident at the podium, but tense. She looks almost as if she's expecting an assassination attempt mid-speech. "And she's insanely smart, I've read some of her research. I wanted to write an article about how she’s trying to rehabilitate her company, but she never agreed to be interviewed."
Kara had hounded L-Corp for over a week in her attempt, as a matter of fact. She'd been borderline obsessed – she stopped just short of barging past Lena Luthor's surprisingly protective secretary to get an interview. But in the end she'd shelved the piece, and all the research she'd done on Lena in the process. Enough research to feel like she almost knows Lena by extension.
The idea of actually meeting her, maybe being able to finish her piece and get the interview she'd hoped for, is thrilling.
"Lex was a persuasive speaker, too," James says darkly. The anchor wraps up the segment, lingering on Lena Luthor's photo before going to commercial.
Kara couldn't begin to explain why, but she has a good feeling about Lena Luthor.
Kara comes into work the day of the official acquisition with a hopeful heart. She wears her best shirt, ironed and tucked into her favourite pants. She stops by Noonan's for a special hot chocolate to start the morning. She even gets to work early – early enough to hear the chime of Cat's special elevator, and the click click click of a new set of stiletto heels making their way into the bullpen.
Lena Luthor doesn't sweep in like a tropical storm like Cat used to. If Kara didn't have superpowered hearing, she might not have even realized she'd arrived. Lena doesn't demand or critique or announce herself. She doesn't even speak, at first. She does a slow circle around the bullpen, her sharp eyes taking everything in before anyone recognizes her arrival.
While Lena watches the staff, Kara watches her. She's quite different than she looked on TV. Smaller. More human. She's dressed sharply in a pencil skirt and blouse, her dark hair tucked into a low updo, but she looks softer than she did in the footage of her press conference. Her makeup understated, her face slightly less guarded. She's still the kind of beautiful that makes Kara wonder how she can be real.
In her scan of the bullpen, Lena's eyes catch on Kara's.
It's entirely stereotypical – in fact, until the moment it happens Kara would have sworn up and down that it's impossible – but Kara's heart seems to stutter in its rhythm. Lena's linger on her, darting down to evaluate her head to toe, for what Kara thinks is slightly longer than she observed anyone else. It makes Kara feel warm and strangely restless.
Eve Tessmacher is the one to blow Lena's cover. She darts up to her, squealing in excitement about her new position as Lena's personal assistant, and Lena is warm and polite despite Eve's overexuberance. She insists that Cat's elevator can be used by any staff, not just herself, and she greets James with what looks like a strong handshake for someone of her smaller stature.
Kara practically sprints to the morning meeting. Lena is chatting with James when she arrives slightly ahead of the rest of the writing staff, and Kara fidgets with sweaty palms while Lena personally introduces herself to each individual person. She's perfectly personable, and clearly did her research – she shakes hands, remembers names, and even gives compliments on specific articles until she reaches Kara at the back of the line.
"And you are?" Lena says, holding her hand out to shake. Kara takes it, and puts every effort not to crush it in her nervousness. Lena's hand is dry and cold where Kara's is uncomfortably hot.
"Kara Danvers," Kara says, putting on her best smile. "Reporter. It's great to meet you, I think we really – "
"Ah, Kara Danvers. The newest addition to the roster, and yet one who has her own private office on the 21st floor," Lena interrupts.
Kara freezes. Lena pulls her hand back politely, but Kara's stays afloat between them.
Lena's voice isn't rude, exactly, but her tone is definitely cooler than it was before – Lena had recognized some of the other reporters' names too, but it was because she admired their work.
"I – um, Cat gave that to me," Kara stammers, fighting to find her footing in the suddenly less-than-easy conversation. "I usually work up here in the bullpen."
"And a shocking record of absenteeism," Lena continues as if Kara didn't speak, glancing down at the tablet tucked into her arm. "37 days and counting."
Kara glances at the tablet, too. It's full of charts and statistics that Kara can't parse without examining them harder. "I have family emergencies. James is fine with it as long as I finish my work. And Cat -"
"Yes, I'm quite aware of your unique relationship with your superiors. Thank you, Miss Danvers," Lena says curtly, nodding in Kara's direction and clearly dismissing the conversation as she steps away. "If you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with the art department."
Kara is left with her hand still outstretched, blinking in Lena's perfume-scented wake while James jogs after her with a concerned frown.
Having been Cat Grant's assistant for years, Kara had thought she was accustomed to scolding. She'd always thought her skin was pretty tough. But this felt different. There had been something in the specificity of Lena's assessment, something in the way she looked at Kara while she essentially dressed her down, that makes Kara's blood boil in a way that feels new. Not just anger, not just indignance. Something that settles lower in her body.
Lena had no right to talk to her like that when they only just met. To insinuate that Kara got to where she is through nepotism? Sure, James is technically an ex, but Kara earned every scrap of recognition she got from Cat. And what should the owner of the company care about Kara's personal time as long as she turns in her articles? Kara's boss doesn't care. Lena doesn't even need to be here in person. She only really needs to meet with James.
Everyone else files out of the meeting room when Lena has left – some covertly chuckling, some giving Kara a consoling pat on the shoulder – until Kara is left alone.
"What the heck was that?"
Nia is shockingly unsympathetic over lunch.
"I'm not saying she should have mentioned it right there in front of everyone," Nia says, taking a huge bite of her BLT, "but you can't say she doesn't kinda have a point."
The food truck is bustling, and the only place they've managed to find a place to sit is the stairs in front of CatCo. Kara knocks over her can of Sprite in her shock – she bustles to mop it up with a napkin, but it's already started to attract some of the seagulls who patrol the area looking for dropped food.
"She does not!" Kara hisses. Nia raises her eyebrows silently.
"Whose side are you on?" Kara says, realizing belatedly that she's holding her burger tightly enough to compress the bun almost flat. She loosens her grip, frowning.
"37 days of personal time is a lot!" Nia says. She bats an infringing seagull away from her fries, holding them protectively in her lap. "It's only April. And you do miss a ton of meetings. It looks pretty bad on paper."
"You know why that is! I can't control when the city needs Supergirl."
"Yeah, but she doesn't know that," Nia says. "James doesn't care because he knows who you are. Cat didn't care because she knew you long enough to realize you'd get your work done. To Lena Luthor, you're just a person getting special treatment."
"Then why does nobody else ever say anything?" Kara grumbles, shoving the rest of her flattened burger into her mouth and starting on her onion rings. Nia shrugs.
"They like you too much to call you on it. And they all know how close you are with James."
Kara can barely bring herself to enjoy all the little crunchy bits at the bottom of her onion ring carton.
"How do you know all of this?"
"People talk," Nia says sagely. "I listen. The problem is that Lena doesn't know you. She has no reason to look the other way."
Kara sighs. The soles of her loafers are sticky with spilled Sprite. "I really don't like when you're logical."
"Okay. I'm sorry. She's an asshole and she shouldn't have picked on you," Nia says, offering Kara some of her fries. "Does that help?"
"She isn't an asshole," Kara mutters. She grabs a few fries, dunking them in Nia's ketchup-mustard mixture. She truly doesn't think that Lena is being malicious – where James seems ready to put every character flaw down to Lena's last name, Kara is certain she can see something different in her. Something undeniably good. "Maybe she just needs time to warm up to me."
"Okay, I'm really confused about what you want from me, here."
Kara groans, flopping back against the concrete staircase.
"Yeah, me too."
Kara tries, over the next few days. She truly does. She makes sure to wake up on time every day, to show up bright and early and give Lena a friendly wave as she strides past Kara's desk on the way to her office. Lena usually offers her a curt nod, but it's better than nothing.
Unfortunately all her efforts amount to nothing, because everyone and their mother needs Supergirl's help this week.
Kara is in and out of the office constantly at the whims of her DEO phone. James and Nia do their best to cover for her – at this point half the office probably thinks that Kara has unspeakable IBS with how often Nia says she's gone to the bathroom – but it's only a matter of time before she gets herself caught.
She's sure the fire department could have handled that fire on their own, but Kara hates flipping that coin. If something terrible happens and Supergirl wasn't there, it's on her conscience. So she helps, putting out flames with her freeze breath and managing to save a dog that had gotten stuck on an upper floor, and by the time she gets back to the office she's very very late for a copy meeting.
Kara darts through the bullpen as fast as she can without becoming a blur, dropping into her chair and grabbing her notebook to sprint there before she realizes her shirt is still half-open. The blue collar of her supersuit is peeking out, the El crest just barely visible.
From behind her comes the last voice she wants to hear.
"Busy day?"
Kara winces, finishing up with her top two shirt buttons before she turns around to see Lena Luthor leaning on the edge of her desk. Something about the image – Lena's raised brow, her jarring half-perch beside Kara's pencil sharpener and the suddenly close-up view it gives Kara of her smooth calves – makes Kara's palms sweat.
It's probably because she's about to get in trouble. It's quite clear that's what's about to happen – Lena looks less than pleased, and Kara swallows past a suddenly dry throat.
"Yeah. I, um. Had a –"
"Family emergency," Lena interrupts smoothly. "So I've heard. You've had several this week."
"Yes, but I'm ready for the meeting now, so we should –"
"The meeting ended six minutes ago," Lena says curtly. "And it's the third one you've missed since I took over."
Kara bites the inside of her cheek. She can feel eyes on her - everyone in the bullpen is pretending not to watch. And she's pretty sure she still reeks of smoke.
"If you're going through some kind of personal problem, I’d rather you deal with it outside of the office," Lena says, lowering her voice slightly. She would almost sound understanding if Kara didn't know better.
Even through the humiliation of being called out in the middle of the office again, Kara can't help a spark of indignation.
"I thought you didn't want me taking any more time off?" Kara says, tossing her notebook onto the desk with maybe a bit too much force. She can't quite keep the annoyance out of her voice. "I'm not exactly sure what you want from me."
Lena's face shifts into something slightly colder. Something that makes Kara want to squirm under her piercing eyes. Lena leans closer, and Kara can hear a noticeable uptick in her heartbeat.
"Let me be frank with you. I realize that you had a certain amount of leeway under previous management," Lena says. Her voice is low still, but throaty and a bit condescending now in a way that makes something unfamiliar buzz in Kara's belly. "But consider that over. It isn't fair to your coworkers, or to the integrity of the paper."
Kara might have protested that, if she could form words right now. She's sure every thought is showing on her face anyways, but Lena is relentless.
"People here speak very highly of you, but I have yet to see you deliver on it. I'm a businesswoman. This is an investment, and everyone in my employ needs to earn their keep with me. So far, Miss Danvers, you have not impressed."
Kara grips her armrests, hearing the stiff foam creak under her fingers. Her heart is racing. She's not totally sure what she's feeling - there's guilt happening, and indignance, and anger. But there's also a whole host of other things she can't identify while Lena is looking at her with those bright, intelligent eyes.
They're slightly different colours, Kara realizes dazedly. Two different shades of bluish-green. She can't stop staring. Lena's gaze almost seems to burn.
"Do we have an understanding?" Lena says. There's something firm in her voice that brokers no argument.
Lena's arms are folded. One sculpted eyebrow is raised, her fingers pressing into her silk-clad bicep. It's a strange thing to get hung up on, but Kara wonders why Lena keeps her nails so short – they're clean and shiny, but trimmed. Blunt. Why go through the trouble of a manicure?
Lena seems to be waiting on an answer while Kara silently ruminates on her fingernails. Gritting her teeth, Kara nods silently.
"Good. I hope to see you at tomorrow's meeting. On time, please."
Lena slides off the desk, her red-bottomed heels clicking as she strides in the opposite direction.
Kara turns back towards her computer to see Nia in the next desk over, her face hidden by a magazine she's holding up like a shield. Once Lena has gotten far enough away, Nia lowers it to reveal a grimace.
"Wow. That was brutal," Nia whispers.
"It wasn't that bad," Kara mutters, glancing around to see that indeed over half the bullpen is staring. They all look away, pulling various sympathetic or amused faces, and Kara can pick up more than one whispered conversation about her public dressing-down. It makes her cheeks burn.
Nia sets down her magazine. "You might need to ask J'onn to fill in on Supergirl duty for the rest of the week. Maybe the rest of the month."
Kara groans. She pulls up the draft of her current article, a critique of National City's aging city infrastructure. It's less than halfway finished, and unfortunately due at the end of the day. "He's been busy, too. The city has apparently decided to fall apart at the worst possible time. Can't Dreamer help out?"
"You think I want her mad at me, too? I just got a front row seat to the consequences," Nia hisses, lowering her voice when someone walks by. "No thank you. Dreamer has work to do."
"Why is Lena always here?" Kara whisper-yells back. "I don't get it. She's just the owner, not the Editor in Chief. She doesn't need to be in the office all the time like Cat was."
"She's probably trying to learn how this place operates so she can make the right decisions for the company," Nia says, much too reasonably. "You're just mad she caught you."
"Shush," Kara grumbles.
Just as she's thinking about getting up to go complain to James' more sympathetic ear, Kara hears a long, shaky exhale.
It stands out amongst the general noise of the office. Kara hears it over the hum of the copier and the drip of the coffee machine and the buzz of conversation. There's exhaustion in it, and stress. Melancholy. And it's coming from Cat's old office.
Spinning in her chair, Kara squints towards the glass walls nearby. The blinds are down and the door is closed, which is unusual – James usually keeps the whole thing open, promoting an open door policy – but Kara slips her glasses down and does a quick x-ray through the curtains.
Lena is leaning forward onto the desk, her hands planted and her shoulders hunched. Her head is hanging tiredly. She looks small. Vulnerable, in this moment she believes is private. Her breathing is quick, like she's trying to force something down; after a few deeper, calming breaths she raises her head and looks furtively around, and Kara slips her glasses up again. Even so, through a gap in the Kara can see a tiny bit of Lena's face.
She looks so young. So alone. Kara is reminded suddenly that Lena is actually a year younger than herself and somehow running some of the most powerful companies on the west coast, and her annoyance smooths into unexpected empathy.
Lena straightens again, brushing some imaginary lint from her blouse and wiping quickly under her eyes before she strides out of the office and heads to the elevator, leaving the door open behind her.
Kara watches her go with a strange, amorphous feeling in her stomach.
Kara doesn't mean to eavesdrop. She almost never does it on purpose – it's hard to turn off her superhearing once it's caught on something, and for some reason it's been caught on Lena all week.
Subconsciously Kara follows Lena Luthor as she goes about her days. She listens idly while Lena approves the cover for the next issue, takes a call from her assistant at L-Corp about scheduling a meeting with an investor, and Kara is lulled into a shockingly productive afternoon to the soundtrack of Lena's fingers flying across her laptop keys while she drinks a green smoothie for lunch.
Lena's low, lightly accented voice is strangely pleasant to listen to when it isn't directed at scolding Kara.
When her unintended eavesdropping results in overhearing Lena's afternoon conversation with James, Kara isn't sure whether or not she's grateful.
"Cat Grant promoted Kara for a reason. Her work ethic earns her a little more personal time than most," James is saying, his deep voice rising in volume enough to catch Kara's attention. She tunes in instinctively, tilting her head in the direction it's coming from. A few floors down, it sounds like, somewhere in the art department.
"I’ve yet to see any evidence of a work ethic."
"You will. She’s one of our best reporters."
"She’s also one of your youngest, with the least amount of experience," Lena says sharply. "Her writing is impressive, when she manages to submit it on time. But being Cat Grant's favourite assistant and Clark Kent’s cousin doesn’t give her inborn journalistic skill."
Kara's mind somehow doesn't focus on the fact that Lena knows Clark is her cousin. It catches instead on the tiny nugget of praise Lena offered, ignoring the backhand that followed. Her writing is impressive.
Lena thinks her writing is impressive.
"How did you know -" James starts. Lena interrupts cleanly.
"I do my research when I make an investment. And if I were you, I would focus less on justifying the employment of your reporters and more on justifying your own."
There's a short, frosty silence before James answers.
"Excuse me?"
"Miss Danvers isn’t the only person here who was gifted a position with very little experience," Lena says. She's calm as she speaks. Businesslike. Similar to how she sounds when she talks to Kara, but somehow more detached. There's a note of something missing. "Or who has a tendency to disappear without sufficient explanation."
"Cat Grant trusted me to run this company."
"And you’ve done an adequate job so far. But you aren’t indispensable."
James scoffs. Kara can almost see the indignation on his face in her mind's eye.
"You’re lucky I didn’t sweep in here and clean house, Mr. Olsen," Lena says curtly, her voice rising ever so slightly. "It would have been perfectly within my rights as the new owner."
Kara can hear James' silent anger. His heartbeat is pounding, while Lena's stays perfectly even. Maybe that's the difference, Kara muses as she listens to a conversation she shouldn't be privy to – when Lena talks to Kara, her heart beats faster. Kara had assumed it was simply a biproduct of confrontation.
"I think there’s talent here. I think that you and I even have a similar vision for where we'd like the magazine and the Tribune to go," Lena says, her voice softening again. "But talent isn’t enough to warrant a complete lack of accountability. If I'm going to run this company successfully, I need to have a mutual trust with the people running the day-to-day."
The rest goes unsaid, but Kara can fill in the blanks. And you don't trust me.
James doesn't reply. Kara hears quick, angry footfalls, and she turns back to her computer screen with a frown.
Usually she'd bristle at someone accusing James – or herself, frankly – of lacking accountability. They've always kept each other accountable. There have been times when James has been Kara's moral compass. But as reticent as Kara is to admit it, Lena has a bit of a point.
James doesn't trust Lena. He's been saying from the moment her buy-out was announced that they need to watch her carefully, equating Lena with the actions of her brother. No doubt Lena has picked up on that. And Kara has been absent a record number of times in the last two weeks. If Kara were looking from the outside…
Clearly Kara needs to put more effort into showing Lena that she's not a terrible employee. That her work ethic is better than it appears. That she's on Lena's side, believe it or not.
Flexing her fingers, Kara gets back to work.
Kara is uncommonly proud of how her next piece turns out. She's worked harder on it than she has on any other article since she started; she's sure that if Lena read it, she would understand how invested Kara is in proving her wrong.
Lena has taken up temporary residence in a large unused office on the other side of the bullpen usually reserved for the Managing Editor, a position that's been vacant since James took over, but since Kara's drafts still go straight to James there's no real way to make sure Lena reads it. Kara could just hand it to her in the hallway, but that seems a bit gauche – instead she waits, tracking Lena's movement throughout the day until a 15-minute pocket between meetings when Lena is working at James' desk while she waits for him to arrive.
Kara takes her draft straight from the copier to James' inbox. The paper is still warm when she staples it.
Lena's eyes are on her laptop – they lift only briefly to acknowledge Kara's presence before going back to task, and Kara clears her throat lightly.
"The piece on the city's lack of greenspace," Kara says, lightly dropping the stapled papers onto the desk. "Two days before deadline. And I've started looking into Morgan Edge's financials like you asked."
"Thank you, Miss Danvers," Lena says. And she says nothing else.
Kara waits. Lena types. Kara bounces on the balls of her feet, trying her best not to fidget.
"Do we have an appointment I wasn't aware of?" Lena says after 30 seconds or so of awkward silence, her eyes still fixed on her screen. She somehow manages to type and talk at the same time, a feat which Kara has never managed. Kara clears her throat.
"Oh. Um. No?"
Lena finally looks up at Kara, one perfect brow arched. She's wearing forest green dress that fits her like she was sewn into it, and the colour of it makes her eyes seem greener.
It's not like Kara expects Lena to immediately praise her for doing her job. But somehow it's still disappointing to hand the article in early to nothing more than a simple thank you, Miss Danvers. Lena could at least give her a 'well done'? An 'appreciated', maybe?
"I'll just go…work on the Edge article," Kara says, her shoulders sinking. Lena nods.
"Let me know when you talk to my contact at the bank," Lena says, her attention shifting back to whatever she's working on.
Kara leaves the office feeling distinctly unsettled.
She can still hear Lena's conversation with James echoing in her head, even louder than the tapping of Lena's lightning-fast fingers on the keyboard. Her writing is impressive, when she manages to submit it. Lena had been free to compliment Kara when she wasn't around to hear it, but clearly it's going to take something extra to earn that kind of approval said to her face.
In the weeks following, Kara becomes obsessed.
Her Supergirl duties become thankfully less demanding – Kara has the feeling that Nia might have talked to J'onn about lightening it up for a while – and instead Kara spends her time shut in her tiny private office, honing her writing to a sharp point.
She triple-checks her sources. She gets Nia and James to look over her submissions, picking out imperfections until they can't find any more. She comes in early, and she hands several assignments in before their respective deadlines.
Lena's reactions don't change. Kara still hands her articles in to a brisk and dismissive thank you, and though she can often see Lena reading the submissions along with everyone else's – once, even, with a small and almost imperceptible smile on her face – Lena doesn't say a word to her about them.
Sometimes Kara catches Lena looking at her from across the bullpen, her heartbeat picking up slightly, but she always looks away almost as soon as Kara notices.
When Lena strides into Kara's office on a Thursday afternoon with Kara's latest article in her hand, Kara's heart soars to the ceiling.
"Miss Danvers," Lena says, glancing around at the office walls. Kara has never bothered to decorate much in here besides a few plants, and Lena's brow furrows briefly before she tosses Kara's article onto the desk.
"Miss Luthor," Kara says carefully. In truth, Kara is breathless. Caught in suspension, wondering if this will be the time Lena will finally -
"This is the fifth article you've submitted to me with Supergirl as the primary source."
Kara's heart hits the floor.
"…right. Okay. And?" Kara says, straightening her shoulders and trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered dignity. Lena's eyes narrow.
"And, you need new sources. I won't accept this. Scrap it, or rewrite it."
"It's a crime piece. Supergirl is always the first person on the scene," Kara says, more hotly. Sure, using herself as a source is skirting the line of journalistic ethics, but Lena doesn't know that. James has never had an issue with it. "Any other paper would kill to have exclusives with her this often. It sells copies."
"Using her constantly for the goodwill she holds in this city is harmful both to her, and to your integrity as a journalist," Lena says. Her tone is low and firm; Kara gets the distinct impression that she's being scolded again, this time for a reason so ludicrous that Kara does a double-take.
"Harmful to – are you worried I’m taking advantage of Supergirl?" Kara says. It's hard not to start laughing despite the seriousness of the conversation.
"You two clearly have a…special relationship," Lena bites out, her arms tightly crossed. Set like a shield over her chest. "But using a single source in almost every piece of writing runs the risk of a complete loss of credibility if that source is ever compromised."
This time, Kara does laugh. "Supergirl won’t be compromised. Trust me."
"Supergirl went on a Kryptonite-fuelled rampage and destroyed part of this very city just over a year ago," Lena says.
Kara's stomach lurches.
She's since tried to put it out of her mind as much as possible, but it's true – Kara had to fight and claw to get her reputation back after the Red Kryptonite incident. And that had been before she was a journalist, before Supergirl became linked to Kara Danvers through a trail of articles.
"That was an anomaly," Kara argues weakly, but Lena holds firm.
"Maybe it was. She's since gained back the favour of the population, but we can’t guarantee that it won’t happen again. And if it does, almost your entire catalogue of work is tainted."
As much as it pains her to admit, as much as it makes her want to launch herself out the window and fly into the stratosphere, Kara has to concede that Lena is right.
"If you aren't capable, I'm sure all of those other papers itching for Supergirl exclusives would be thrilled to hire you," Lena drawls. The low, almost teasing note in her voice triggers a different kind of tension. Not anger, but something considerably lower. "But I want CatCo's writers to be as unimpeachable as possible."
"I can write an article without Supergirl," Kara says, crumpling her article into a tight paper ball. Lena nods curtly.
"I look forward to seeing you prove it."
Lena turns on her heel, but before she's walked more than a few steps Kara's mouth has gotten the better of her.
"If you need me to earn your respect, fine. I’ll prove myself," Kara says, swallowing hard past the gigantic lump in her throat. "But I hope you know that you had mine before we even met. And I hope someday it can be mutual."
Lena's heart starts to pound in Kara's ears. She looks like she wants to press Kara for more details – the line of her shoulders is tense, and Kara can hear a soft half-breath that for a moment she thinks might preclude a question. But Lena doesn't ask. She doesn't turn to face Kara, either. She hovers in the doorway, halfway between staying and leaving, and the silence stretches out past the point of comfort.
"Get me this article without Supergirl as a source by next week," Lena finally says toward the hallway. It’s softer this time, and Kara counts it as a victory. "And I’d like you to use your desk in the bullpen, please. Being cut off from everyone else in here is unconducive to a team environment."
Kara stares at the place Lena was just standing, listening to the distant clacking of her heels getting further away, until Lena steps into the elevator.
Lena said please.
Kara packs up her office that afternoon.
Kara doesn't see Lena for a few days after the office incident. Something important seems to be happening at L-Corp that Lena needs to be present to deal with, and it means that for a few days Kara's unexplained absences go unquestioned.
Strangely, Kara almost finds herself missing Lena's piercing stare every time she hurries back into the office.
Even with Lena not around to prod her, Kara is determined to meet every deadline this week if it kills her. Even if it means missing game night and staying late at the office to make sure the work gets done.
She's actually flying through the final assignment on her roster when she hears someone entering Cat's elevator on the ground floor at 8:30pm. Ordinarily this would be an annoying distraction – maybe a reason to grab her laptop and work at home instead.
But Kara could identify the click of those heels from 100 miles away.
The elevator doors slide open to reveal Lena Luthor, dressed sharply in a tight pencil skirt and a blue silk blouse that shines like a sapphire. Her hair is gathered into a high, tight ponytail that swishes as she strides across the bullpen, digging through her purse with a slight frown.
She stops when the light from Kara's desk enters her field of vision. Lena looks up, her frown deepening, and when she sees Kara sitting at her computer by the pale yellow light of her desk lamp the frown clears for a moment into genuine shock.
"Miss Luthor," Kara says quietly.
Lena's face schools itself into something more neutral. She nods in Kara's direction, before walking to her office at a quick clip and closing the door behind her.
Kara tries to maintain concentration as Lena moves around her office. But she can hear everything, and her lead-lined glasses are doing nothing to turn down the volume. She can hear Lena's shoes against the floor. The whisper of fabric as she walks. The rustling of drawers as Lena searches for something, and then the small noise of victory as she assumedly finds what she needs.
Kara's back is ramrod-straight when Lena walks across the bullpen again. This time, though, Lena stops as she passes Kara's desk.
"I'm glad to see you're making up for your personal time this week."
It's less biting than usual. But clearly Lena has still been keeping track of Kara's attendance, even when she's not present.
"The deadline is tomorrow, and I'm going to hit it," Kara says firmly. Lena nods.
"Good. Staff meeting at 8:30. I hope you have it in your calendar this time?"
Kara's hand twitches. That had been her last excuse for being late, and among her lamest. What Kara should do is nod back, go back to her work, and let Lena leave her in peace to finish what she's doing.
But today, Kara is tired. This is her third night working late, and along with juggling Supergirl duty her patience for being questioned is wearing thin. And Lena is always so – so controlled, so perfect as she picks Kara apart. Pristine and composed, from her words to the flawless edges of her lip liner. For some reason it's frustrating Kara more than ever before.
Lena doesn't get more than a few paces from Kara's desk before Kara's filter flies out the 40-storey window.
"Can I ask you something?" Kara says, pushing herself back from her desk and standing up. The wheels of her chair squeak against the floor.
Lena stops in her tracks.
"That depends on the question," Lena says evenly.
"What did I do to make you not trust me?"
Lena sighs. A small, quiet thing, something Kara would have missed without superhearing. A tired sound.
"It's more about what you didn't do."
"Meaning what?" Kara says.
"You're the only reporter in this building with a private office," Lena says sharply, turning around to lock eyes with Kara. In combination with her tight hair and seamless makeup, the effect is devastating. "Despite being the most junior on staff. You landed said spot as a junior reporter despite having no experience and the bare minimum education."
"I don't use that office anymore," Kara says, bristling even when a small part of her wilts under Lena's stare. "And I have a BA in English!"
Lena steps closer. She's in Kara's space, now, close enough that Kara can smell her perfume. It's something Kara can't quite identify, some kind of deep, captivating amber scent that she has no doubt is unthinkably expensive.
"And everyone else here has graduate qualifications in journalism, not in writing papers about Emily Dickinson. Getting coffee for Catherine Grant doesn’t immediately qualify you to write about current events, and it shows through the bias in your writing," Lena says. She doesn't snap, as ever – unlike Cat, Lena doesn't seem to have a temper. Her tone is low and calm, and yet somehow still leaves little room for argument. Like a beautiful, stern teacher expressing disappointment in Kara's sloppy homework. "You struggle with objectivity, Miss Danvers."
Kara can't even sputter a rebuttal. It's like Lena has taken hold of the zipper clasp that holds up Kara's self-respect and is slowly, carefully pulling it down.
"Your boss is your ex-boyfriend, who was promoted to his position also due to a personal relationship with Cat Grant, and he takes no pains to hide his disdain for me," Lena continues. Kara isn't sure how it's possible, but she seems to have an ability to look down on Kara even when she's several inches shorter. "You both disappear constantly, without warning, at inopportune times and with half-baked explanations. You must see how that looks from my perspective."
Kara's mouth snaps shut.
"I’m not arguing that you’re not good at your job. Your reporting is sound, your writing is compelling, and I can see the effort you've been putting in," Lena says, her tone softening slightly. Kara's heart soars at the praise. "But you’ve jumped several rungs up the ladder because of your personal relationships, and I think it’s high time you slowed down and earned your keep."
It feels like Lena has marked the end of the conversation. Drawn a line in the sand that Kara can't think of a way to cross. But among the various emotions warring for her attention – embarrassment, penitence, anger, even a drop of something she might label as excitement – Kara also finds a steely resolve. Fueled, maybe, by the first words of praise Lena has ever uttered to her face.
"I got to where I am because I’ve had a lot of help. But are you saying you’ve never been given a leg up?" Kara says.
Lena’s eyes narrow. "I’d be careful about your accusations if you value your job."
Alex has always told Kara that she's too impulsive, that she needs to think before she speaks and plan before she punches, but she's riding the wave of an emotional high and the words are falling out of her mouth.
"Your family was a pretty messed up situation. I know that. But they're still one of the richest on the planet, and you inherited an entire company before you’ve even turned 30. You probably have more money in your bank account than I’m even capable of imagining," Kara says fiercely. "Denying the amount of nepotism you’ve benefited from would be massively hypocritical, don’t you think?"
"Miss Danvers -"
"I'm just - I’m honestly disappointed, because you should be the first person to judge someone based on their actions rather than the things that brought them to where they are," Kara continues, caught up in the downhill slide like a rolling snowball. "I still think you’re one of the most impressive women I’ve ever met, even though you don't seem to respect me at all."
"I've never said –"
"You’re clearly nothing like your brother, and yet people judge you for sharing his name all the time," Kara says, aware now that she's ranting but unable to stop herself. Lena's eyes widen, shocked maybe by Kara's force and volume. "And I don’t understand why our working relationship has to be so antagonistic when I think in reality we could be –"
"Is that what you think?"
It hits Kara then, just how close they're standing.
While they started out with a reasonable space, now they're mere inches apart. Lena's chest is heaving. Her heart is thundering more loudly than Kara has ever heard it, and Kara can feel those short breaths against her face.
She’s known since she first saw her headshot on the news that Lena Luthor is beautiful. It was only reinforced after speaking to her in person the first time, and every day since. Objectively, she’s gorgeous. But for some reason it’s only truly hitting Kara now, and it hits like a high-speed train.
Lena's eyes, already beautiful in their mismatched colouring, are wide and dark, and Kara notices for the first time a tiny scar just above the corner of her right eyelid. She can see the pulse fluttering at the hollow of her throat, and the single dark freckle that sits above it. Lena's breathing is heavy, harsh and through her mouth, and it reveals a strangely captivating line of uneven bottom teeth.
The lines of Lena's face, usually covered by makeup, are more visible this close. They show themselves at the corners of her eyes. Between her brows. Cracks of vulnerability, they seem like now.
"What do you mean?" Kara says. Her voice has gone rough, and she clears her throat before Lena answers.
"You think I’m nothing like my brother?"
Kara swallows. Her throat feels sticky and thick.
"Yeah. I do."
Lena bites her lip. It slides through her teeth, crimson against white. Her lipstick must be military-grade – it barely smudges. Kara wonders, suddenly and without warning, what it tastes like.
A few heartbeats later Kara finds out. Lena seizes the front of Kara’s shirt, and in a rush she pulls her into a hard, fierce kiss.
Kara's mind goes blank.
Well, not entirely blank. She's aware, hyper-aware even, of the physical. The warmth of Lena's body against her own. The heated press of her mouth. The surprising strength of her grip on Kara's shirt collar. But any more coherent thoughts are still stuck in the time several seconds ago, before Lena kissed her.
Lena is kissing her.
Just as Kara finally becomes aware enough to maybe move her lips, Lena pulls back. Kara's eyes drift open, her mind still hazy, to see that Lena looks –
She looks about as conflicted as Kara feels. Most prominently terrified, and confused by her own actions. She looks flushed, flustered, and a little bit off-balance.
She looks beautiful.
"Oh, god," Lena breathes. Her breathing is short and shuddery. "I – I am so –"
Kara doesn't let her finish.
Before she can think too hard about the consequences Kara has swept Lena into another kiss, harder and deeper than the last, and in a quick movement she takes Lena by the hips and twirls her until she's pressed into the desk.
Lena's hands go from gripping the collar of Kara's shirt to gripping the sides of her neck. She melts against Kara's body, soft and warm and so eager now that they both seem to have turned off their higher thinking, and Kara is a woman possessed. She's running on adrenaline and instinct, sprinting headfirst into unknown territory and following nothing but her unfamiliar desire.
Everything Kara has been struggling with whenever Lena is close by makes sense now. The weeks of confusing, conflicting feelings, her fascination with every tiny detail, the depth of her obsession with impressing Lena at any cost. It was this.
Lena's lipstick doesn't taste waxy like Kara thought it might. In fact, she can't taste it at all. She just tastes Lena. She's not sure when they started integrating tongue but she's all in it now, meeting Lena's hungry kisses with a ravenous hunger of her own. Lena's waist gives under her hands, soft fabric and softer skin beneath. Kara's hands slide up to her back, pulling Lena tighter against her, and she can feel the clasp of Lena's bra under the thin blue silk.
When Lena's hands move down to the buttons of Kara's shirt, fumbling with the first one, it takes far too long for the proper amount of panic to make its way through the folds of her brain.
Kara is wearing her supersuit underneath.
"Cameras," Kara mumbles, pressing Lena harder into the edge of the desk and tugging at the sleeve of Lena's shirt. Lena's hands keep moving.
"I'll delete the footage," Lena whispers into her mouth.
Kara groans. Lena's fingers are clumsy, seeming to shake on Kara's second button, and even in the face of possible disaster it's thrilling seeing her so worked up.
The last thing Kara wants to do is stop. She's not sure she's capable.
Instead, Kara redirects Lena's attention. She pulls away long enough to sweep most of her belongings off the desk, and in a fluid movement she lifts Lena onto the surface and climbs up after her.
It's cliché. It's chaotic. But Lena's heart sounds like a hummingbird's wings, hammering against her ribs, and her legs part eagerly to let Kara settle between them as she pulls her in for another messy kiss. The pencil skirt rides up her thighs, bunching around her hips, and Kara is pretty sure a stray foot has shoved her computer onto Nia's desk.
Again, though, Lena's hands go to Kara's buttons. One more undone would reveal the blue supersuit beneath, but Kara can't fathom not continuing whatever they're heading towards; instead, in a fit of inspiration, Kara grabs both of Lena's hands in one of her own and pins her wrists to the desk.
Lena moans so loudly that Kara wonders if the janitors 10 floors down might hear. She arches into Kara, her hands trapped above her head, and Kara can feel the heat of her where she's pressed against Kara's stomach even through her fire-resistant suit.
Unthinking, propelled by the very basest part of her brain, Kara slips a hand between their bodies.
The scrap of fabric she meets with shaky fingers is soaked through. Damp and hot to the touch, nothing but a pair of thin, overly expensive underwear between Kara's hand and Lena's –
"Do you want – should I –?" Kara mumbles, her fingers light against the wet material. Lena doesn't seem willing to stop kissing her long enough to let her talk.
"Yes," Lena whines. It's high and needy, entirely uncomposed as she moves her hips into Kara's hand, and when Kara presses in a little bit harder she tips her head back to expose her throat to Kara's mouth.
The flimsy barrier shifts easily when Kara slips past it. Lena is so wet on the other side of it, wetter than Kara thought was possible, and her throat vibrates under Kara's lips when she slicks her fingers upwards.
Kara really doesn't know what she's doing. She knows what she likes, the places that make her feel good, and all she can really do is try to apply that to Lena's body. But Lena doesn't seem to notice or care that Kara is inexperienced. She reacts to everything Kara does, and Kara does her best to pick up the cues.
Soon the pace is exactly what Kara might have imagined it to be, if she'd ever let herself think about doing this with Lena. It's hard and dirty, an embodiment of their office arguments with Lena pinned to the desk and yet still giving directions. Whispering, whimpering, moaning how she wants to be fucked while Kara sprints to keep up. Her hands balled into tight fists, but not fighting Kara's grip. In fact it only seems to egg her on.
"Harder," Lena pants, biting hard on Kara's lower lip. She's doing everything she can without the use of her hands – one leg is wrapped around Kara, giving more leverage for her to move her hips into Kara's already-vigorous thrusts. Kara groans, chasing the scent of Lena's perfume up her neck to the soft skin behind her ear.
Lena wants it harder, and Kara wants to give it to her. Everything Lena wants, everything she needs, Kara can give it. She can please her.
When Kara repositions her hand, adding a third finger and upping the pace to something harder and faster than before, she hears the fabric of Lena's underwear rip.
Somehow, that – Kara tearing her underwear, filling her better, fucking her harder – seems to break free Lena's loosened composure.
"God, yes, like that – fuck –" Lena chokes, and something burning hot in the core of Kara reacts to it like it's the most glowing praise imaginable. Kara couldn't feel any prouder of herself even if Lena had presented her with a shiny Pulitzer Prize. "Oh, fuck, right there –"
The vulgarity is thrilling. Lena's pleas, her smudged lipstick, her bare thighs bracketing Kara's hips, it's all electrifying in a way Kara couldn't possibly have conceived of before this. Kara is caught up in it, every sense narrowed to Lena.
"Fuck me, fuck me, god – Kara - fuck me –"
Kara groans long and low as Lena's voice wraps around her name. Lena is getting tight around Kara's fingers, her body going taut, folding in on itself, and Kara finally releases her grip on Lena's wrists to hold Lena's legs open properly as she keeps driving into her. Keeping pace until –
Lena comes with a hoarse shout.
It's strangely appealing to watch. Lena's body bows and snaps up into Kara, her freed hands flying to Kara's shoulders to pull her closer. She bears down on Kara's hand, like she's asking for more even as her body can't take it. Lena looks so intensely vulnerable in those few moments that Kara can barely reconcile her with the cool, collected woman she's known for the last few weeks.
Kara didn't know something as basic as sex could be so beautiful.
In the sudden absence of Lena's moans, the silence feels deafening. They're still panting against each other – Lena is trembling, her eyes closed, still pulsing around Kara's fingers. Kara's glasses are sitting crooked on her nose. Lena's hands are bunched up in Kara's shirt, over her lower back.
An impulse hits Kara hard as Lena opens her eyes. An impulse to hold her. To strip her of the fabric armour and learn all the soft, secret places of her body. To bundle her up and shield her from the harsh world.
Delicately, slowly, Kara leans forward to capture her mouth in a soft kiss –
A harsh buzzing and a quiet ringtone strikes like lightning.
Lena jerks underneath her. Their foreheads collide, and Kara lifts herself a little so that Lena can look down to where her purse has spilled across the floor. Her phone is the one vibrating - the glance that Kara gets at the caller display says that Samantha is calling.
"That's. I should –" Lena says. Her voice is scratchy. Kara scrambles off the desk, pulling her fingers free, and she doesn't miss Lena's tiny, breathy whimper.
"Of course, yeah. Probably important," Kara says. Her voice is almost as strained as Lena's, somehow.
The phone stops vibrating.
Lena is rumpled in the most thrilling way. Her skirt is pushed up around her hips and her underwear torn to expose her to Kara's eyes, and Kara can see that Lena is still so wet. Messy and open. She's only wearing one shoe; her ponytail is crooked, little flyway hairs escaping the perfect shape. Her lipstick is smudged almost imperceptibly at the corner of her mouth.
The phone starts vibrating again. Lena sits up quickly, closing her legs and grabbing the phone to answer with a shaky greeting.
"Sorry, Sam. I got caught up. What do you need?"
Kara hardly hears the person on the other line. She's too busy staring at the harsh, mouth-shaped mark at Lena's throat. The red marks around her pale, delicate wrists, exactly the size of Kara's hands.
Kara grabs her bag and bolts for the door.
She doesn't go home. Instead she flies to the roof, abandoning her bag to pace back and forth from edge to edge. She'd probably look like a blur from the outside, but Kara is too busy spiralling to care. She's not even listening to Lena's phone conversation. She just paces and paces.
Kara raises a hand to run through her hair, but stops short when she realizes her fingers are still wet; she has the sudden impulse to slip them into her mouth.
Kara stops in her tracks.
It's not like Kara has been completely unaware of the possibility of being…somewhat less than straight. It's crossed her mind every so often ever since Alex came out. Passing attractions, easily brushed off. The occasional memory of an overly close friendship in her youth. But it's never made itself known so explosively. Kara has never been overcome by attraction to anyone like this, let alone a woman.
Either way it doesn't change the situation, which is that Kara just had sex with her boss. She just had sex with Lena Luthor. Kara just had sex with her boss Lena Luthor, on her tiny desk in the middle of the CatCo bullpen, and somewhere in the depths of CatCo's security system there's footage of it.
What would Cat Grant think?
The image of the look on Cat's face if she ever found out brings home the reality of the situation. A major line has just been crossed, and Kara can’t even begin to fathom what the next step should be.
Kara focuses her hearing on the office below. She can hear Lena's heart, still beating fast. She's finished her phone conversation and she's typing something. There's a distinctive click – deleting the footage like she promised, hopefully.
Kara hears a shaky sigh. The whisper of skin on skin, like Lena is rubbing her face tiredly. Clicking heels. The chime of the elevator. Kara listens as Lena walks across the empty lobby, climbs into her car, and drives away before she goes back down to clean up their mess.
What she finds is that most of the belongings that had been scattered across the floor are in place again, with her computer back where it belongs and Nia's desk hastily straightened.
Clearly Lena was just as worried about leaving evidence as Kara is. Kara has to wonder how Lena knew where everything was supposed to go – everything from Kara's newly-repaired keyboard to her favourite pen cup is in its proper spot.
The cup, a mug with a photo of herself and Alex printed on the side, is cracked from its impact with the floor.
When Kara goes home, slipping a hand shamefully between her legs in the dark safety of her bed, she comes hard with her face buried in her crumpled shirt where Lena was pressed against it.