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Say it With Your Hands

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Lena Luthor is not a dimwitted woman. 

She’s spent the last five years rebuilding their only somewhat illegal MMA fighting empire her brother so nearly destroyed, all while expanding the public business tenfold. Thanks to Lena, the newly relocated and renamed L Corporation has its claws in nearly every significant business and government operation in National City. She’s taken the name Luthor and made it feared again. Her father would be proud.

Lena Luthor is as sharp as they come, and as such it doesn’t take her long to see the signs of trouble brewing. Of course she notices when some new fighter starts making a name just as her inside source mentions rumors of a CatCo exposé in the works. Her brother would have laughed at the idea - why would they send in a girl to expose a male-dominated fight club? Thankfully, Lena is not her brother. She knows the power of a woman on a mission, and every week’s end her point is further made as the woman wins match after match.

She’d hoped the girl would be knocked out first round and the problem would solve itself, but apparently she’s quite the fighter. Some folks - some especially brave idiots - have started calling her Supergirl when they think no one important can hear.

Lena makes a point to always hear.

And after the public debacle that was Lex’s run-in with Clark Kent (Superman, as they’d called him during his two-year stint in the Metropolis fight scene), well. Lena isn’t taking any chances.

She tries the diplomatic approach, at first. She has some of her men meet the fighter in the parking lot after a bout and try to gentlypersuade her to stay away. They came back to her office with black eyes and bloody noses. She sends word through her sources that it is in CatCo’s best interest to back off. It’s a move she tries to avoid usually but hearing the term super thrown around sets her on edge enough to make big moves.

Despite receiving word that there is no story in the works, the fighter keeps showing up again and again, and every match brings them closer to the big final event - one that brings out the billionaires with a B, and the one Lena can’t afford to lose to some fame hungry Clark Kent wannabe. 

Now Lena is just angry.

So, she decides to solve the problem.

It takes very little effort to connect the dots and within a day she’s followed the trail from this new mystery fighter to one Kara Danvers, a rookie reporter one step above intern. She learns Miss Danvers spends her days crammed in a glorified coat closet writing obits and puff pieces, and at night she shows up at whatever location they’ve secured and beats the shit out of everyone, half of whom Lena has money riding on. Most importantly, her research tells her Miss Danvers isn’t even on assignment - the man they had assigned to the fight story lost his first round and had the whole story scrapped long before she’d demanded it. 

So no, Miss Kara Danvers is not an undercover spy acting on the orders of a superior; it seems to Lena that no one even knows of what she’s doing. Most likely she’s hoping an in-depth exposure piece will be her big break. Please. Lena would love to give her a big break, alright, maybe two.

Even so, Lena decides to give the woman one last chance. One out, before bones and careers are broken.

(Never say Lena isn’t a giver.)

It’s a testament to how powerful she’s grown over the years that the entire bullpen seems to freeze the moment she steps off the elevator. She can practically hear the collective gasp as everyone holds their breath, scared little rabbits watching the fox approach. She glides confidently through the space, the clack of her heels on tile the only sound. 

Only one man braves approaching her, a man she recognizes as acting CEO James Olsen. She can’t help the wicked smile she flashes, especially at his noticeable flinch. It’s always good to start at the top.

“Miss Luthor,” he says, slow and stunned, “I- did we have an appointment?”

“I’d like to speak to Kara Danvers,” she states. All at once there’s a noticeable murmur throughout the office. James visibly gulps, much to her satisfaction. 

“I don’t understand. Kara’s not- are you sure there’s nothing I can help you with?”

Her head tilts ever so slightly, her right eyebrow raises. The look is calculated, piercing, and she can practically see the blood draining from the man’s face. 

“I’ll let her know you’re here,” he says, turning to head into his office, but Lena’s checked the layout of the building prior to arrival and she’s already turning to walk away.

“No need,” she calls over her shoulder as people dodge from her path, “I’ll let her know myself.”

She’d hoped the door would give a satisfying bang! against the plywood walling when she marched in, but unfortunately Kara Danvers’ office is jammed so fully the door can only swing halfway before bumping against a filing cabinet. 

Her momentum is jarred by this, her thoughts unintentionally jumping to fire codes and safety concerns, only for her to be even further frazzled by the cheery greeting called just out of view. Lena slides as gracefully as she can into the office, letting the door close behind her.

And there, crammed behind an overflowing pile of papers, is Kara Danvers.

“Gosh, hi there!” Kara says with a toothy grin so bright Lena squints in its shine. “James said you wanted to talk to me. It’s real neat of you to come out here just to see me!”

It actually takes Lena a moment to catch up to just what situation she’s found herself in, because the Kara Danvers she sees ducking over what is clearly an old storage unit converted into a desk looks nothing like the Supergirl fighter she’s watched with disdain over the last few months.

Lena’s stomach turns uncomfortably. This is the fighter who has been pounding her way through even the toughest of Lena’s men? She’s wearing a pastel cardigan, for fuck’s sake! Lena can see the collar of some twee blouse peeking out and she can’t tell from the distance but she’s pretty sure it has tiny pictures of dachshunds on it. Even her face seems off, though that might be from the glasses Lena’s never seen her wear. 

All in all, this is not the impression she anticipated, but Lena is always quick on her feet and in seconds she’s back. She stands taller, clinches her jaw, stares down at the smiley girl.

“Well, when I learned my newest star fighter was a famous reporter, I had to come meet her.”

Kara has the actual audacity to look pleased by this, an aw-shucks expression where Lena had assumed discomfort would be. Kara stands then and moves towards her, and Lena braces at once for a potential fight, but Kara just slides past her to a cruddy little coffee maker. 

“Well, I don’t know about famous reporter, but I am a pretty good fighter. Would you like some coffee?”

She’s met with just a quirked eyebrow, a move that should devastate. Kara seems unfazed and pours her a cup. Every single aspect of this encounter is throwing Lena for a loop. Kara hands her the coffee and asks if she’d like sugar, which at last kicks her into gear.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” Lena says slowly, years of Luthor training bleeding into the menacing tone, and finally some control seems to come back as Kara meets her eyes. “But the games are over. You’ll throw the next fight, or not show up at all. You can pick which, but either way you’re done.”

Kara seems to consider this for a moment, then smiles. For the first time in this entire encounter, Lena can see the fighter in her eyes.

“No, I don’t think I will,” she says with a confidence that nowhere matches her manic pixie appearance. “I think I’m gonna keep fighting. And if you don’t get better fighters, I think I’m gonna keeping winning.” 

She steps closer to her, nearly toe to toe, each staring deeply into the other’s eyes. Lena scoffs in amused disbelief, shakes her head, speaks low and dangerous,

“You’ll eat those words, Kara Danvers.”

Kara smiles, shrugs, speaks slow in return,

“Maybe. Maybe not,” she steps back at that and her smile brightens, her voice back to that jovial level, “Well, this has been real nice, but I’ve got a piece on local flora that’s calling my name, so. Thanks for stopping by! It’s real nice to finally meet you!” 

Kara offers her hand which Lena doesn’t even acknowledge. She just continues to stare into her eyes unflinchingly. Slowly, she tilts her hand to the side to allow the coffee Kara had just given her to spill out on to the cheap carpeted floor. It drags on for nearly fifteen seconds, after which she presses the now empty cup into Kara’s still extended hand. At that she turns to leave, her ponytail slapping across Kara’s face.

Good. The slap she’s too professional to give.

She ignores Kara Danvers’ goofy little smile she sees reflecting on the metallic filing cabinet and slouches through the hazardous door as domineeringly as she can.

Nothing changes at first.

Kara keeps fighting and, worse still, she keeps winning. Kara Danvers has worked her way up in the fight scene – she’s no longer sparring in back alley gyms or unused parking garages. With every win she gains entry into the next highest venue, the next highest opponent.

The rumblings around her are intensifying, and at this point any moves to take her out would bring more scrutiny than Lena wants this late in the game. It’s too late now to derail the Supergirl train. They aren’t hiding the nickname any longer, either – they chant Sup-er-girl! Sup-er-girl! as she knocks out another, then another, then another.

Every single time she’ll stand there amidst their cheers, breathing hard and barely bruised, and she’ll find Lena’s eyes in the crowd.

Lena is really starting to hate Kara Danvers.

Lena escalates. 

To win against a challenge, you need as much information as you can get, and she seems to lack any. Who is Kara Danvers? Where did Kara Danvers come from? How does someone come out of nowhere and fight at that level? It doesn’t make sense. 

So, she does the only rational thing she can do and has Kara followed.

They follow her to work in the morning, watch her go eat far too much lunch for one person at a local café, watch her skip back to work. They follow her home – or try to, at least. Kara will turn down a street unexpectedly and vanish. No matter how quickly they try to catch up with her, every single time they turn the corner themselves she’s gone. She sends more people and they all report the same things: her day is heavily structured until she leaves work, at which point she will always shake her tail. Sometimes she won’t reappear until morning; sometimes she shows up five hours later to a fight. No one knows where she goes or how she does it.

Lena knows her people aren’t incompetent – they wouldn’t be her people if they were – yet she still struggles to accept that Kara Danvers is really that difficult to track. The woman wears pastel prints; she doesn’t exactly blend in to the crowd. It doesn’t make sense to Lena, so can she really be blamed for eating her lunch one day at the same local café as Kara does? Can anyone truly find her at fault for watching Kara from afar as she talks animatedly with the waitress about how Kara’s button-up is covered in tiny dolphins jumping over rainbows? That same passion she exhibits in her fighting is apparent in her gestures, in the way her face lights up when the waitress rolls up her sleeve to show her her dolphin tattoo.

Lena watches with disdain as Kara takes a thumbs-up selfie next to the woman’s arm.

For fuck sake. This is one of the top fighters in National City.

She isn’t even entirely sure why she’s here. She knows where Kara will be, knows Kara goes back to work after this. There’s no reasonable reason for why Lena wanted to watch her beyond the pull she is feeling, has been feeling, deep inside her since she first met the fighter. There’s just something about Kara Danvers that digs deep into her skin. 

Finally, after another agonizing twenty minutes of dolphin discussion, Kara gathers her leftovers and takes off. Lena trails behind at a safe distance, sunglasses and venti latte blocking her face. She watches Kara walk to the CatCo entrance and stop, thoughtful, before walking past it.

Lena’s heart quickens at the sight.

Kara walks with slow but confident steps for another two blocks and Lena follows close behind. It’s thrilling, and idiotic, and she has to know where this will end. Kara turns suddenly. Lena finds herself running after her like a fool. She takes the turn fast and sure enough, Kara’s gone, except – there, just off to the left she can see the back of that terrible button-up disappearing down an alley.

She slows down as she approaches it, watches Kara slinking deeper into the darkness and around another corner. Her skin is buzzing, heart racing, everything inside of her screams that this is a trap. 

Like a doomed sailor seduced to the siren’s rock, she follows behind. 

She steps around the corner Kara just turned only to find it leads to a dead end. The alley is empty, just three walls and a dumpster. Somehow, Kara has vanished. It makes no sense.

“First my office, now here,” Kara says then from directly behind her. Fuck, how did she- “I’m starting to think you like me, Miss Luthor.” 

She turns and finds Kara standing cocky in her rainbow dolphin button-up, blocking the alley’s exit. She should have listened to her instincts.

“Just wanted to say hello,” Lena says, taking a step to her right. Kara doesn’t move to block her. She takes another step. “Been awhile since we spoke. Wanted to see if you were ready to drop out.”

Kara laughs at that, says,

“Thanks for checking in, but no. I’ve decided I’m going all the way.”

It’s said so light-heartedly even as it makes Lena’s heart race.

All the way could only mean one thing – Kara wants to make it to the final showdown fight; the one Lena has carefully been building towards. The annual event that seemingly died down with Lex’s arrest only for Lena to revive it this year, when the greatest fighter in her circuit fights the greatest fighter from the only other fight scene in town – Roulette’s. In the past, Lex would fly his fighter in from Metropolis for the fight. It’s a multi-million-dollar event hosted by Veronica Sinclair herself, and Lena needs it to go as well as it possibly can. For that to happen, Kara Danvers cannot be her fighter.

“Not sure that’s your decision to make,” she says with barely concealed anger, stepping in close. She is just an inch taller than Kara with her heels on, yet still Kara seems to tower.

Kara smirks, and holds her hands up so that Lena can see the fading bruises and cuts.

“I dunno. It kinda is,” she says.

“I wouldn’t get too cocky, Supergirl. I don’t see you lasting much longer.”

It’s the first time she’s said it out loud and the words burn in her throat. Anything ‘super’ brings back terrible memories. 

Kara makes a face.

“Hey, why is it that I’m Supergirl when he got to be Superman? I’m a way better fighter than him.” 

Lena’s fingers twitch. No one has dared to say that name around her in months, not after all the hell they went through. For Kara Danvers to acknowledge that comparison, the connection, between her and Clark Kent—

Lena feels anger close tight around her chest like a coiling snake.

“Well now, I don’t know if I’d say that,” she sneers. “You’re good, but you’re not that good.”

Kara just smiles at her, which only infuriates her further.

“I am. I know I am.”

“You speak with a lot of confidence. Close friend of yours?”

“We’ve met.”

Cryptic. Concerning. Lena takes another step, then another.

“You know, Superman almost destroyed my family-”

“Pretty sure your brother is the one who did that.”

“-and I wonder, if you’re such a close friend of his, if you aren’t here to finish the job.”

Lena circles around Kara like a panther ready to pounce. Kara looks only concerned, eyes shining with something disturbingly close to sincerity.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Lena,” she says. Lena laughs.

“Really?” she drawls, “You wouldn’t be the first. I know people weren’t exactly thrilled to have a Luthor in National City.”

“You are not your brother.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Not yet,” Kara says, edge of her lip quirking up. “But I know enough.”

It’s too much. The walls of the alley seem to be closing in, trapping her with the garbage and sewage and too-familiar smile of an enemy.

Lena leaves. Kara doesn’t move to stop her, doesn’t move to give her space.

Their fingers brush as she walks past.

Lena buys the latest CatCo issue. There’s an article on what cut of pants are in this season. A small news piece discussing the rising rate of human trafficking on the west coast. A collection of terrible sex tips people tried and failed. And finally, buried under all the articles of significance, is one small paragraph with the byline of KARA DANVERS.

The flowers of National City are in full bloom, she writes, and so is the spirit of our great town.

Lena throws it in the trash.

The next fight night Kara finds Lena’s eyes before she starts, nods. Destroys every one of her opponents. 

It isn’t even a contest.

She fights four people and takes each one out within the first minute. The last one takes a few minutes, but Lena realizes it’s on purpose when she sees Kara throw a devastating punch to the face, then pause, reset, and throw it again – slower. Her opponent barely blocks it, and Kara grabs his hand to hold it higher. Lena realizes then. She’s showing him what she did and how he could have blocked it. The difference in skill level is so devastatingly wide it’s like watching a teacher training a student.

Supergirl is the name on everyone’s lips for the rest of the week. She moves further up the chain, closer to the big season ending match.

Lena makes a few calls and has Ben ‘the Reactron’ Krull on a plane within a day.

She has a bouquet of black roses sent to Kara’s office.

“Folks, tonight is gonna be one for the history books,” her announcer calls, quieting the rambunctious room. Word on the street has been hyping this match up all week, so the room is packed with all sorts just waiting to watch a beat down.

“We have the most iconic match up in National City history tonight,” he continues, “Coming in left we have our favorite up-and-comer, Supergirl!”

It’s the first time they’ve used that title for her officially and most of the crowd loses it. They cheer and scream, stomping their feet as Kara Danvers hops into the ring. Even still, some people remain quiet, look to Lena with nervous eyes. They wonder if this is a trap or trick. Kara seems surprised by the name, but otherwise doesn’t show anything beyond excitement. Lena remains neutral.

“And coming in right we’ve got a real surprise for you folks, a long-lost warrior risen from the grave, coming all the way from Metropolis, the greatest of the great, two-time national champion – Reeeeactron!”

Gasps ripple through the crowd, applause scattered and mixed with murmuring. Even Supergirl looks taken aback. Everyone knows the story of Superman’s Metropolis domination, how every fighter he faced fell under his fists. Everyone knows that the only fighter who ever came close to winning was the great machine himself, ‘Reactron’ Ben Krull. After the Lex debacle, he’d dropped off the map for a while. “Retired.”

When Lena told him there was a new kid on the block connected to Clark Kent calling themselves a super, well. He decided retirement could wait.

“I was told our Supergirl is stronger than Superman. A better fighter, even.”

People boo and people cheer and all of their commotion fades into white noise. All she can see is Kara Danvers watching her with hesitant eyes. Not so cocky now, she thinks, and smiles.

“Well,” he continues, “Let’s see for ourselves just how strong she can be.”

And with that the bell sounds, they tap their fists, and they fight.

It is immediately clear how different this fight will be from all of Supergirl’s past bouts.

She tries that light-footed style she’s known for: quick steps, jumps around her opponent’s jabs, staying always just out of reach, but Reactron seems to see through her technique immediately. Within seconds he catches her in the air mid-leap. Snaps her right leg over his knee. Slams her down hard.

The sound of her breath being knocked from her lungs meshes with the gasps of her audience. 

Lena expects it to be fast after that.

Superman could never beat Reactron in all his time fighting – every match was a draw. Surely this nobody will fall quickly. Better still is how much the crowd is loving this, cheering out screams as Supergirl struggles to block any shots at all. They revel in the blood spattering across the cage.

Kara gets back to her feet unexpectedly during a momentary pause. Her right leg gives out, she stumbles. She pulls herself back up and leans heavily on her left, fists raised.

It isn’t fast. 

She takes a hit, then returns it just as hard. Their shirts are soaked equally in sweat and blood. Her athletic body shines through the skin-soaked material; Lena can see every muscle ripple as she moves. As she takes him down. 

What was a surefire defeat starts to shift with every blow exchanged until it’s Reactron on his knees, his arms raised in a desperate defense. Supergirl steps heavy into her punches. Her fist cracks against his skull and, moments later, his skull cracks against concrete.

The roar of the crowd is deafening.

She stands there above him with beaten bloody fists, her shaking muscles glistening in the limelight. The crowd chants her name, people fall over each other in their excitement over what they have witnessed. Supergirl’s eyes find Lena’s in the crowd and she smiles red.

Lena follows the trail of blood droplets after the fight until she finds Kara sitting on a bench just down the hall, eyes closed and head resting against the wall behind her. She can see the way her muscles clench, how she squeezes and releases her grip. Even beaten raw under the terrible florescent lighting Kara practically glows.

It’s infuriating. 

“Some performance out there,” she says, and Kara cracks an eye open. The other seems swollen shut. She smiles, her teeth stained red.

“Miss Luthor,” she says with delight, “I’m glad you liked it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

She continues like Lena said nothing.

“I have to say, I’m touched. You flew him all the way here just for me. You really do like me.”

 “I definitely didn’t say that,” Lena gives her a once over, “You look like hell.”

“You should see the other guy.”

“I did. You really let him have it.” 

“Perhaps you need to find better fighters.” 

A thought that’s been simmering within her for weeks now bubbles up, bubbles out.

“Perhaps I’ve already found one. Why not come work for me?”

If you can’t beat them, recruit them. If Kara Danvers has to be her star fighter, it’s significantly better that she be under Lena’s control than acting freely. Kara stares at her like she’s assessing her, then shakes her head.

“No thanks. I already have a job. This is just a hobby.”

“A very profitable hobby.”

“I’m not here for money, Miss Luthor.”

“Than what are you here for?”

Kara smiles, then flinches and touches her head with reddened fingers.

She doesn’t know why she does it. Why she says, “Let me see,” and then reach for Kara. Why she grabs a small gym towel from a nearby stack.

Lena holds Kara’s chin in her hands, tilts her face up. With the gentlest pressure she slowly drags the cloth down Kara’s cheek, drags it under her nose, down over her lips. Kara’s mouth opens against her movement. Her bottom lip falls open under the pressure, pulled down by it. Kara’s tongue darts to swipe at her teeth, brushing the cloth. Kara’s eyes never leave hers.

She pulls away.

“Well,” she says, and much to her horror her words sound flustered. “Here’s hoping your next fight isn’t so lucky, then." 

Kara smiles.

Lena’s in the gym office when there’s a knock at her door. A delivery driver holds a bag and drink out and says, “Lena Luthor?”

It’s a Big Belly Burger combo meal and a note that says, “Didn’t eat my words, but figured you might be hungry. XOXO Supergirl.”

Lena throws the bag hard enough for it to explode, raining fries and grease down her wall.

(She drinks the milkshake. Everyone has their weaknesses).

Their next encounter is a surprise for them both.

Every year, Roulette hosts a gala to ostensibly raise funds for some local charity while actually giving all the wealthy of National City a chance to show off and show up one another. Its hours spent in a room full of peacocking show-boaters and Lena would rather shave off her eyebrows than spend even a minute with any of them.

Sadly, that was not an option she was allowed to choose. Instead she had to smile, and wear a revealing dress, and count the hours ticking by, and she would have done exactly that if she hadn’t spotted the biggest thorn in her side.

 “Looking a little rough today, Miss Danvers,” she greets, interrupting the other woman just as she is enthusiastically telling some story while simultaneously stuffing a deep-fried shrimp into her mouth.

 Her audience of two – James Olsen and some wiry little man -- all look at Lena and immediately blanche at the sight of her, which is comforting. At least someone here recognizes her for the threat she is. Kara gives her a chipmunk-cheeked smile, chewing aggressively while nodding. One of the men in her entourage speaks then, saying nervously,

“Yeah, Kara, are you okay? I didn’t want to say anything, but-” he gestures to what everyone surely noticed by now – namely, the massive black eye and busted lip she was sporting. Swallowing loudly, Kara says,

“Oh, I’m fine! I just – fell. Into a door.”

She stuffs another two pieces of shrimp back into her mouth like she was embarrassed by her own answer and wanted to stall. 

“How very clumsy,” Lena chastises, reveling in the look Kara gives her. How satisfying it is to know something Kara does not want others to know. She turns her eyes on the group, all still staring at her with fear. “Where are my manners – hello, I’m Lena Luthor.”

The man who spoke before nods, reaches a hand out like she’d shake it, then pulls it back awkwardly.

“Yes, I know! I mean, I – I’m Winn, I work at CatCo with Kara. It’s nice to meet you.”

She smirks, then nods to James Olsen who, for his part, at least doesn’t look like he’s two seconds away from passing out.

“So, what brings three of CatCo’s finest to a party like this? Here for Roulette’s charity?”

“Absolutely! I mean I am all about supporting—” he reads from the gala program, “--human trafficking! I uh … Wait, that’s not-”

“What Winn is trying to say,” James Olsen cuts in, “Is we are happy to support charity work.”

“And free food,” Kara adds sagely.

Not for the first time, Lena wonders how her life veered so off track so as to be having this conversation in the first place. Stranger still is how she can’t seem to stop herself from smiling. 

They are interrupted then as a woman approaches and places a hand on Kara’s arm protectively, eyeing Lena like a threat.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says, “Got caught up at work.”

She speaks to Kara but her eyes stay locked on Lena. Kara seems unphased by the stare down, however, and just loops an arm around her waist.
“That’s okay! I’m just glad you’re here now!”

Lena stares at where Kara’s hand grips the other woman. All at once this conversation feels less amusing.

“Well. I think it’s time I make my rounds. Excuse me,” and she escapes.

She ends up in the bathroom staring into her own reflected eyes wondering what on Earth was wrong with her. Nothing was happening, nothing at all, yet her heart is racing. Ridiculous, unnecessary. Embarrassing.

After giving herself another few minutes to regain some semblance of control, she finally decides to venture back into the gala. Kara is waiting in the hall for her. Lena moves to stand beside her, leaning back against the wall. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” she says, and the jovial girl eating shrimp seems to be gone. She moves then, turning to face Lena and bracketing her arm beside Lena’s head. “I don’t exactly want everyone in the world to know what I do in my spare time.”

Her closeness makes Lena’s face burn. Lena ignores the obvious way she flexes her bicep, how the muscle’s shadows are so clear in the dim hall lights.

“Not my fault you keep secrets,” she says, “does your girlfriend know where you sneak off to at night?”

Her words come out defensive, harsh. She hates herself for it. Kara just looks confused.

“What girlfriend?” 

Lena makes a gesture towards the gala, not trusting herself enough to speak. That feeling worsens when she sees the smirk on Kara’s face.

“Do you mean Alex?” she asks, and Lena’s lip sneers a bit at the name. Kara laughs, “Alex is my sister. Definitely not my girlfriend.” Again, a visible arm flex, followed by, “I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jealous.”

It relieves and infuriates, and Lena tries not to show either on her face. Instead she just huffs, rolls her eyes, and says, “in your dreams, Supergirl.”

Lena ducks very purposefully under Kara’s arm then and struts away. If she put a little more emphasis on the swinging of her hips it’s just because of the tightness of her dress, nothing more. Nothing else.

Faintly, she can hear Kara say, “you got that right,” and Lena realizes at once that she’s let this all go on for too long now.

Lena’s had enough of these games. She’s ready to finish this. 

She needs to get rid of Kara Danvers.