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“God, I’m pretty sure I would let Supergirl bend me over my desk and rail me,” Lena says, eyes glued to the television where footage of National City’s resident hero—covered in dust and dirt as she hoists a plane over her head earlier that same day—are playing on a continuous loop.

The thought isn’t necessarily one she’s had before—at least consciously. Has she always thought Supergirl is attractive? Of course. She has eyes, doesn’t she? But she’s attracted to the blonde in the same abstract way she is attracted to Kara: painfully aware of the fact that nothing is ever going to happen, anyway. Which is fine because Kara is her best friend and Supergirl is her something and she doesn’t mind going home alone at the end of the day—at this point, she’s used to it.

That doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have needs, though. Important needs. Sexual needs. And apparently that now includes the need to be fucked raw by Supergirl. Oh well.

“I bet she can go at it for hours.” She runs her tongue over her bottom lip absentmindedly as the footage on the screen changes to Supergirl going head to head with three opponents at once. “Imagine how sore you’d be after. Deliciously, delectably sore—unable to walk straight for days.”

There’s a loud thud to her right and her eyes snap away from the tv to focus on the source of the noise instead—Kara, who just dropped an entire container of potstickers onto the floor. Kara, who is beet-red and squirming in her seat.

“I—” she stammers, eyes darting around the room looking anywhere but Lena. “You—”

A wince.

“Please don’t talk about Supergirl that way.”

Lena cocks her head to the side, curious.

“Why not?”

“Because...” Kara starts, trailing off weakly. She takes a breath. “Because it makes me uncomfortable.”

It sounds so earnest that the apology is at the tip of Lena’s tongue almost instantly no matter how concerned and hurt she is by Kara’s apparent unease with her sexuality. Because they’ve talked about men like this before. Well, maybe not quite as explicitly and maybe only when they’re drunk but it’s not like Kara is a prude. So that can only mean one thing.

Before Lena can actually say anything, though, Kara jumps up from the couch, bag in hand.

“Actually, I—I have to go. I forgot about this article Snapper wanted me to write. I just—”

And she basically runs out of the room.

Lena knows there is no article. Lena also knows that her best friend has an issue with her being into women.


She doesn’t see Kara—or Supergirl, for that matter—for the rest of the week. By Wednesday, she is worried and sends Kara a text apologizing for making her uncomfortable and promising she won’t mention it again. There is no reply. By Friday, she is absolutely furious. How dare Kara treat her like this. How dare Kara be homophobic when her own sister is a lesbian as well. (Briefly, she actually does consider contacting Alex and getting her advice on the whole thing but then she doesn’t think they know each other well enough for her to explain what exactly brought this situation about in the first place.)

So, instead, she stews in anger silently, getting more and more frustrated by the hour.

By Saturday afternoon, she is considering calling one of her exes to blow off some steam, no strings attached, but just as she’s about to reach for her phone there’s a knock at the door. She has half a mind to ignore it and pretend she isn’t there when there’s a second, firmer knock.

“Lena, please open the door. I know you’re in there.”


“Hey,” Kara says when she does eventually open the door, offering her a half-smile and a slight shrug. She seems tense.

It’s good to see her even though Lena feels like she’s walking on very thin ice right now and could fall through at any second, with just a single wrong move.

Wordlessly, she steps to the side, beckoning Kara inside. The other woman enters with just a second of hesitation.

“I owe you an apology,” she says as soon as Lena has closed the door behind her.

The brunette shakes her head, resigned.

“It’s fine Kara. You have a right to your opinion and I need to respect that.”

The other woman’s brows knit together in obvious confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

“Me being gay clearly made you uncomfortable.”

“Lena, no! That’s not—” She stops abruptly, huffs out a breath as her fingers continue to fidget with the hem of her blouse. Then, suddenly:

“I’m Supergirl.”

Whatever Lena expected her to say, it definitely wasn’t that. She feels like a trap door has opened beneath her and she’s in free fall right now. This seems to overwhelming to even begin to comprehend. First and foremost, she is questioning her own intelligence because how the hell did she not realize that her best friend is a superhero.

In her head, she runs through every interaction they’ve ever had. When Kara walked into her office with Clark Kent, of all people. “I flew here... on a bus.” The almost-plane crash. Every time the blonde disappeared suddenly without explanation.

The fact that her and Supergirl look exactly the same.

Suddenly, another thought strikes her.

She said she wanted her best friend’s alter-ago to bend her over a desk and fuck her senseless. To her best friend’s face.

Oh God.

Oh God.

No wonder the other woman was so uncomfortable.

“Kara I didn’t—”

She didn’t what? Mean what she said? They both know that’s a lie.

“I am so, so sorry,” she settles on instead, hoping Kara can forgive her, that they can move past this somehow.

But the blonde stays quiet, eyes glued to the ground as if Lena’s hardwood floors are the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.

The silence isn’t awkward, exactly, but it’s definitely tense. Like a rubber band pulled too taunt, threatening to snap any second and hurt them both in the process.

Lena doesn’t dare speak, doesn’t even know where to start with any of this.

It’s Kara who breaks the silence eventually.

“I have thought about it too,” she murmurs, voice surprisingly even.

Lena’s eyes snap up to hers immediately upon hearing the confession. The other woman is already looking at her—staring at her, really—as her hand travels up to the collar of her blouse. She pops open the first button without breaking eye contact. Lena’s breath hitches in her throat.

She can feel her pulse picking up as Kara opens one button after another to reveal the tell-tale suit underneath.

“About what it would feel like to be inside you.” She takes another step closer, the shirt sliding off her body completely in the process. Suddenly, she does seem almost like a different person. Confident. Invincible. “To make you whimper my name until you’re begging me stop because you’ve had so many orgasm that you can barely breathe anymore. I think about it all the time.”

She’s right in front of Lena now, so close that they are almost touching. The crest on Kara’s chest is shimmering in the light and Lena can’t help but reach out and trace the S with her index finger. She’s trembling.

Her head is spinning, thoughts going everywhere and nowhere with such speed that it’s making her slightly dizzy. Carefully, she lays her palm flat on Kara’s chest, covering her family’s coat of arms. She can feel the blonde’s heart hammering in her chest at a pace rivaling her own and it’s in that moment that she makes the split second decision to just dive into it head first. They’ve already crossed all the lines, what else are they waiting for?

So she looks up, locks eyes with Kara whose pupils are blown beyond anything Lena has ever seen before and says just two words.

“Fuck me.”