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“Would you stop fondling my boobs?” Lena hisses, watching as a man nearly wanders into traffic staring at what looks like Lena Luthor, elbow-deep in her own cleavage. He swerves, promptly face-planting into a lamp post when he sees Supergirl herself slap Lena’s hand away. “We’re in public,” Lena reminds her.
“Ouch,” Kara yelps. “Gentle!”
“Sorry,” Lena says. But she only feels a little bad, because at least Kara is now cradling her arm instead of getting Lena arrested for indecent exposure.
Kara is still squirming when Lena checks them in, the receptionist beaming at her in a way Lena has never been beamed at before. Dr. Sattler’s ready for them. Kara gives Lena a last, panicked look, and then she takes the therapist’s offered hand and introduces herself.
“Lena Luthor,” Kara tells Dr. Sattler with a lopsided grin. “Good to meet you.”
“And Supergirl,” Dr. Sattler says, turning to Lena, her gaze briefly flitting down at the S on Lena’s chest. “How wonderful you managed to finally come in.”
Kara flops down onto the couch with a grateful sigh, the skirt of her dress gapping immodestly as she kicks off Lena’s heels. Lena nudges her legs to close them, annoyed. The injustice of Kara getting to act as if she wants to be here. As if she hasn’t been avoiding this visit for months.
(Do we really need to do this? Kara had asked Lena just this morning. Kara’s gaze had been a cross-eyed, sparkling green as Lena applied her eyeliner with a trembling, freckled hand.
Lena had growled in response, knowing even the barest bit of unintentional pressure could blind her for life. We’re not going to cancel just because we’re wearing each other’s bodies, Kara. Hold still.
I bet you’d look good with an eyepatch, Kara had breathed, after which Lena had given up on the endeavor altogether.)
“Your work must keep you busy,” the therapist says magnanimously.
Lena huffs out a laugh. “You can say that again.” And when the Dr. looks at her, curious, “Being a superhero and all that. Always off saving the world!”
“That goes for both of us,” Kara points out. “You—I—don’t even make it to bed, most nights.” And then, softer, “Even when you tell me you’ll wait up.”
“I wish I wouldn’t.” Lena turns to the therapist and explains, “I eat when I’m bored. She comes home to a bed full of crumbs. Who wants to have sex when the sheets are littered with bits of Captain Crunch?”
Dr. Sattler opens her mouth to answer, but Kara doesn’t give her the chance. “Maybe I could make an effort not to be such a neat freak,” she pouts.
Lena’s eyes flash. “Maybe I could make an effort to wash my hands after I use the bathroom,” she snaps back.
Kara sits up. “You do!” she yells. “You’re just quick about it!”
Lena sighs. “The laws of nature don’t work that way, darling.”
Kara makes a face Lena vows never to make again if she ever gets her body back. “I leave my hair in the shower.”
Lena snorts. “I wash it down the drain. That’s worse.”
“But you fix it!” Kara looks at her with Lena's own wide, pleading eyes. “That’s how—how you show love. By fixing things.”
“Wrong,” Lena flings back. “I break them, so I can feel needed.”
Kara blinks at her, looking hurt.
“That’s.” Dr. Sattler pauses for a moment. “Some very impressive self-reflection,” she decides.
Lena smiles at her, glad they’re getting somewhere.
Kara looks from the therapist to Lena, her blood red lips—easier than eyeliner—pinching together with uncanny chagrin. “I faked my own kidnapping to get out of her family’s Thanksgiving,” she accuses darkly.
Lena sniffs. “I have a codependent relationship with my sister.”
Kara gasps. Dr. Sattler’s eyes widen. Lena arches an eyebrow with considerable effort.
“Oh yeah?” Kara sputters. “Well,” she flails, her nostrils flaring. “You—" she takes a deep breath. "I have mommy issues.”
Oh, fuck no. That's too far. “You do not,” Lena squawks.
"No?" Kara cocks her jaw in a way that makes Lena feel, for the first time, a little sorry for the men she’s similarly stared down. “Let’s find out,” Kara says with the smallest of smirks, and then she retrieves, horribly, from Lena’s purse, Lena’s phone.
“You wouldn’t,” Lena whispers, her heart stopping.
Kara jumps up with surprising agility, dancing out of Lena’s reach. “This’ll just take a second,” she promises Dr. Sattler. “Hello? Mother?”
Lena scrambles over to the other end of the couch, practically throwing herself across the room in an effort to get to Kara.
“No reason,” Kara croons into the phone, grinning as she maneuvers herself away from Lena’s grasp. An elaborately painted and unfortunately placed vase isn’t so lucky. “Just calling to say hey,” Kara says. “It’s been a while, huh?”
Lena really should have taken Kara up on her offer to help Lena master her power of flight. “Don’t make me hurt you,” she yells.
“It is!” Kara sing-songs. “Still going strong, yup. Which is why I called! We were wondering—”
“Don’t you dare,” Lena hisses, clawing for Kara’s shoulder and exploding a couch cushion instead.
“—how would you feel about coming to our wedding?”
Lena freezes, flecks of stuffing falling around them like snow.
“Excellent!” Kara chirps. “We'll see you there.”
Dr. Sattler clears her throat. “I don’t think you two have anything to worry about,” she says. “Your communication style is—unique, but obviously effective.”
Kara beams at Lena as they're leaving, wearing a deeply pleased expression Lena didn’t even think her face was capable of making. “You really should start wearing more comfortable bras,” she says, rolling her shoulders. “Also maybe take up yoga.”
Lena hums. “You’ve never had any complaints before.”
Kara stops and stares at her, aghast. "Is that what I look like when I'm coming on to you?"
Lena grins at her. "Why do you think I'm marrying you?"
Kara giggles.