Chapter Text
“So are you, uh, studying mime in college?”
This gets her a snort from Kara. Things have cooled a bit since their painted make-out. Kara washed the makeup from her face and Lena quickly dropped her wet clothes in favor of the fresh ones Kara offered. She tries to be subtle when she presses the collar of the faded old sweatshirt to her face, breathing in the scent she’s come to associate with her dumb mime. She also pointedly avoids looking at the soft red glow of Kara’s freshly scrubbed cheeks, no matter how attractive they may be.
“No,” Kara says, “that’s not really a hot major here. I’m studying dance and performance arts.” She moves to the kitchen area and grabs a kettle, takes it to the sink to fill. Lena finds herself trailing a few steps behind as if pulled by some tether tying her to Kara. It’s instinct, being close to her. “There really is no career in miming, sadly.”
Lena wants to say something cute, something flirty that might guide them back towards the bed. So she says this:
“Well, that makes sense since miming is pretty stupid.”
Kara just smiles crookedly at her, and the glint in her eye has Lena immediately regretting saying anything.
“Well,” Kara drawls, “did you know that the world’s most famous mime-”
“Without even hearing the rest of that sentence I can promise you the answer is no.”
“-The world’s most famous mime,” Kara continues, poking Lena’s stomach affectionately, “was literally the coolest person that ever lived?”
Lena can’t even imagine what her face must be doing in this moment, but judging by Kara’s immediate burst of laughter it’s definitely conveying how she feels.
“I’m serious!” Kara insists, turning back to the kettle. “He was a French Jew during WWII and joined the resistance. He actually helped save hundreds of Jewish orphans. He used his mime skills to keep the kids calm while they snuck over the border. He was the coolest guy.”
Kara pours them both some tea and guides Lena back over to her bed, as its basically the only seating in the apartment. She seems lost in her thoughts then, so Lena waits. After a few more moments Kara speaks again.
“His life was amazing, and he spent most of it silent in stage makeup. He wasn’t afraid, and he lived a long full life built on communicating through body language. It’s-” she sighs, shakes her head, looks down at her lap timidly, “It’s incredible. English.. it’s still hard for me, sometimes, but my body is always clear.” Kara pauses to sip her tea then, looks so thoughtful in this moment in a way Lena has never seen before and she realizes that this is something serious for Kara. Something important.
She tries to tread lightly.
“So English isn’t your first language?” she asks.
Kara smiles sadly.
“Russian,” she says, then adds, “Did you know I was adopted?”
Lena just shakes her head because no, there is a lot she doesn’t know about Kara.
“When I was a child my family wanted me to learn English, so they sent me to stay with my American cousin for the summer,” she pulls back, inward, place her cup on the floor so she can wrap her arms around herself before pushing on, “Their car crashed driving home from the airport that night. By the time my plane touched down in Kansas I’d gone from having two parents to none.”
The words fall so steadily from her mouth they have to be rehearsed. Undoubtedly Kara has told this story many times over the years, her life’s greatest tragedy condensed to a soundbite.
“I am so sorry,” Lena says, floundering a bit in the face of immeasurable grief. So she just follows with, “well, your English is impeccable.”
This gets a small, self-deprecating laugh.
“Yes, well. I had a bit of a crash course when I realized my cousin Clark barely spoke my language. Clark did his best but he was so young and unprepared. He expected two months with me, not a lifetime. So instead he connected with some Russian language professors at Metro U who were looking to foster and soon enough I was Kara Danvers.”
She holds her hands up in a small ta-da! flourish, a thin smile on her face.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Lena says again, grabbing her hands. She runs her thumbs over them firmly, hoping to convey even an ounce of her feelings through such a tiny gesture. Kara smiles for real then and laces their fingers together. Lena can feel the pressure building in her chest and her only choice is to break the moment entirely by blurting something out.
“But why did you choose to be a mime? Other than to be the absolute bane of my existence?”
Thankfully Kara laughs.
“You are an added bonus,” she says with a wink, “but I’ve been into it since I was a kid. Not into miming, I mean, but like, storytelling through movement. Mr. Danvers died so soon after I came to stay with them and their home was just, shrouded in grief. There was so much sorrow and there was nothing I could do - I could barely speak their language then, how could I know the words to say? So I spoke with my body, my face. I may not have words to comfort, but I knew the ways to make them laugh.”
She smiles distantly, lost in memories.
“The first time my adoptive sister Alex laughed was a month after his death, and it was because I pantomimed being eaten by a shark and then accidentally fell off a sand dune. I sprained my wrist, but I’d made that weight of mourning lift for a few minutes. There was nothing better.” Her eyes met Lena’s again and she shrugs, “And I’ve been doing it ever since.”
Kara lays back on the bed with a sigh and slowly Lena follows. She tries to leave space but Kara scoots over immediately, pressing fully against her side. Every part of her is aware of Kara, it’s like she can feel an electric hum at all the places they touch. She waits. After a few moments, Kara speaks.
“I speak so little Russian now. I can feel it slipping away from my tongue. There are words I knew that are just gone now, and words I was too young to learn that I’ll now never learn. And English is still so hard, there are so many parts to it that I can’t connect.”
Kara rolls on to her side then, props her head up against her hand to stare at Lena. Lena can do nothing more than stare back.
“I feel like I am floating between worlds with no solid ties to hold,” Kara continues, “I don’t know how to say how that makes me feel, but I do know how to convey it physically. Bodies are a universal language. I feel most articulate when I’m not talking at all.”
“That’s really nice, actually.”
“Also miming has a 100% return rate on getting me pretty girls.”
“And there it goes. Wait, who are all these girls you’re miming for?”
“Only you, of course. And I managed to get your affection, so I’ve got a perfect score.”
“You’re an idiot,” she says, blushing. “And you overestimate your game.”
Something flashes in Kara's eyes at the challenge, and all at once Kara is crowded into Lena’s space. Lena can’t stop the jilted little breath that escapes at having Kara so close, breathing the same air. Kara waits a moment before kissing her. Lena melts immediately into it, letting out a little noise when Kara’s tongue brushes across her lower lip. All her focus buzzes away til she’s only aware of the points Kara connects with her. Hands, chests, lips. It's a slow kiss, wet and open mouthed, lips softly dragged between teeth. Her insides might be melting.
Eventually, slowly, Kara pulls away. Lena’s staring with half lidded eyes, ears rushing.
“I dunno,” Kara says, voice rough and low, “I think I’m doing pretty good so far.”
She's smirking like she's won. Like it hasn't only just begun.
Lena barely gives her a second to breathe before she's pulling her down. Mouths slanted, teeth clanging, her kisses are messy and off-center and she needs a thousand more. Kara moves to cover her fully, thighs bracketing Lena's hips. She presses her down into the bed, presses kisses across her mouth, her jaw, against her ear.
It's sensitive there, the soft touches causing chills along her arms and her hips to buck against her. Lena's hands skirt along, never finding a spot along Kara's body to linger on. She wants to touch everything. The fabric shifts under her grip and like this, with her eyes closed and the sound of breathing the only melody filling the air, she allows herself to see through her mind's eye. She imagines the familiar stripes for a moment, sees how they fit snug around Kara's body, how they would look pressing her down into the mattress. Unexpectedly, she moans, drawing a moan in response from Kara.
“You are so beautiful,” Kara whispers then, and all at once Lena crashes from that floating headspace. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Lena squints her eyes just a bit tighter, grips her firmly.
“Stop talking. You’re ruining it.”
And then, for some unfathomable reason, Kara stops. Just, freezes there, on top of her.
“Lena,” she says, and there’s a definite smile in her voice, “Is my talking ruining your fantasy of me? Do you prefer when I... don't talk?"
Finally Lena catches up to the conversation. Like a tidal wave embarrassment washes over her. She tries to sit up and push Kara away from her but the taller girl wrestles her back down, pins her wrists beside her head. Lena’s hips grind up unintentionally, which only makes the fool even cockier.
“Did you imagine this happening in a different way?” Kara whispers into her ear, and it’s very embarrassing and very sexy and Lena wants to die. “Like, for instance, with me as a mime?”
“You are a mime,” Lena tries to deflect, but Kara’s smiling like she’s been let in on the best secret there is to know. That smile turns deadly as she rolls back against the steady roll of Lena’s hips - when did she start doing that again? - and nuzzles her way to her ear to whisper,
“Are you picturing me with the makeup on?”
Goosebumps and shame dance across Lena in an instant as she tries once again to worm away from Kara, but the other girl only presses her down more firmly beneath her. Kara releases a hand so she can drag her fingernails up Lena’s side, dragging her shirt up with the movement. Lena’s newly freed hand tangles in the hair at the back of Kara’s head, gripping tight.
“Are you thinking about me in those stripes?” she presses an open mouthed kiss to Lena’s throat, earning a gasp, “About me leaving paint smears all over you?”
Lena arches against her with an embarrassed groan, gripping at her hair tight enough to make Kara's head lift a bit. She hates this so much, hates that she can feel Kara’s smirk against her collarbone. Hates how fucking turned on she is.
“Do you want me to put my gloves on?” Kara whispers, kissing where the shirt meets Lena’s cleavage. This is the moment that does it. Despite the teasing, despite all the embarrassment Lena feels and has felt from the instant she first laid eyes on this idiot in the park, Lena doesn’t hesitate.
“God," she moans, "Yes. Please.”
Kara’s climbing off her in an instant, rummaging through the dirty clothes pile on her floor while Lena lays on her back, panting and aching in a way she will never discuss out loud after this. She barely has time to react when Kara rips her shirt off before sliding a striped shirt over her head while she moves to straddle Lena again, smirking at the pathetic moan Lena lets out at the sight of it. A few movements more and she’s got the gloves on as well.
Helpless, Lena clenches her fist in the striped material and tugs until Kara’s lips meet her own.
There's a desperation to her kisses that she's never felt before, and the feel of gloved hands on her bare skin has her shaking. Her hands move from tugging and gripping at Kara's shirt, undecided on if she wants to tear it off or keep it on forever. What makes it worse, though, is that she can feel her fool smiling into each of their kisses, like she's enjoying Lena's shameful interest. It's infuriating.
It worsens still when Kara pulls away suddenly, sitting up to carelessly card her white gloved fingers through her hair. Lena tries not to whimper at the lost contact but absolutely does whimper when she takes in the full sight. Kara, face flushed and red, clear and beautiful. The striped shirt, tugged so low her shoulder peeks out yet bunched up enough to reveal a tummy Lena wants to kiss. The stupid fucking gloves, capturing all of her focus as Kara drags her hand over her glistening mouth.
“If you’d like,” Kara says, smiling while Lena suffers, “I can go put the makeup on.”
Her smile is so earnest and open that it makes Lena feel a little nauseous. She's hit then with a terrible urge to cry or confess her love, so instead she just shakes her head and pulls Kara back into another kiss, swiping her tongue across her lower lip in hopes of distracting her from this entire situation. And it works for a few minutes, the two exchanging kiss after open-mouthed kiss, Lena quietly shivering at the feeling of gloves tracing along her skin. Her trembling only escalates as the gloves dance along her chest, down her stomach and along her thighs, circling with a leisure Lena can hardly stand.
Finally Kara lets her hand rest for a moment there, right at the crease where her thigh meets her embarrassingly wet panties. Her hand is steady even as Lena shakes.
"Sweetheart," Kara says, and Lena just tightens her already tightly closed eyes. "Please look at me."
It takes a moment to do it, to release the tension enough to fully open her eyes and look into Kara's. She immediately wants to slam them closed again forever.
There is so much unbridled affection in Kara's eyes, shining down on her like she's some precious thing, like she wasn't just getting off to the idea of boning a mime.
"All I want is to make you feel good in whatever way you want. We don't have to have sex. We can watch a movie or I could give you a back rub or I could take you home. Whatever you want! I don't wanna do anything you don't wanna do."
Lena wants to say that all she wants is to get fucking railed, but her jaw is locked up from the tension and she hasn't quite stopped shaking. This terrifies her completely and she can feel herself spiraling over all the reasons this could never work. How she could never work for someone like Kara.
But she's so tired of being afraid, and this desire for Kara outweighs every fear she carries. There's no one she would trust more with her fears than Kara.
So she grabs one of those stupid gloved hands and brings it to her face, kisses her palm and presses it to her cheek. Bites her lip again to hold in those stupid loving words, but knows her eyes give her away. She can see it all reflected back at her in Kara's eyes anyway.
"I want you," she finally says, and pushes the hand back down her body. "Touch me. Please."
Her heart freezes for a moment when Kara stops her, pulls her hand back. But instead of yanking it away in disgust like she halfway anticipated, Kara drags it up to her mouth to bite at the glove's fingertip. Pulls it off with her teeth. Lena moans at the sight, feeling a mix of arousal and disappointment as Kara tosses the glove aside.
"Yeah no, that glove is super dirty," Kara says, smiling at the little jolt Lena has when her now bare hand touches her thigh again. "Don't worry, babe. Next time I'll make sure I have a clean pair."
Lena's hips roll sharply at the implication of a next time, of a this time, and she lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
Kara kisses her then, softer than before. Carefully, like she's handling something precious. Lena gasps when she feels the tentative press of fingers against her panties, light pressure matching light kisses. Lena doesn't want light, though, and she wraps her arms once more around the striped shirt she loathes and loves, tugs her firmly against her. She moans as the pressures along her body increase to match, the touch of Kara's hand grinding in time to her hip's thrusts. The taste of Kara's tongue has her moaning again and she's sure her hands scraping across her back are leaving marks.
Finally Kara shifts, and her hand glides from outside her panties to within.
Kara is pressing kisses against Lena's throat and mumbling something she can't quite make out and all at once Lena is overwhelmed by the heat of it, by the sweat that's already forming on both of their bodies and the heat that's building inside of her from the steady drag of Kara's fingers against and then finally in her.
She can't focus on anything beyond the sensation of Kara; it surrounds her and consumes her and she never wants to be anywhere but here, with her.
It hits her suddenly, a shuddering flash of white, her body locking again from a different sort of tension before slowly melting away. Her toes curl at the feel of it. Kara's weight above her feels like a sweaty blanket of safety. Lena definitely might be in love with her.
She doesn't even realize she's crying until Kara wipes at her tears with her other, still gloved hand. When she smiles at her Lena can feel the world shift, just a bit. Just for her.
They lay in bed together afterwards, staring into each others eyes. Kara looks so incredibly happy that Lena almost wants to look away - never in her life has anyone looked at her with such joy. Joy for her.
“How lucky am I?” Kara finally says, voice dripping with affection. “I found the one girl in the world who’s super horny for mimes.”
Lena promptly shoves her off the bed and on to the hardwood floor below.
It takes very little effort for Kara to regain her spot in the bed cuddled around Lena like an octopus.
"Jeez," Kara says, and Lena can hear the deep smile in her voice. "I'm so happy right now."
There's so much joy in that one statement and it brings back that panic from before, rumbling within Lena like an old break you still feel years after the cast has been removed.
"You are such a weirdo and I like you so much," Kara continues to say, and for some reason that's what breaks her.
“Why do you say things like that?" Lena snaps, pulling away. "Why do you like me so much? What could you possibly like about me?” There are tears in her eyes unexpectedly, and the sight of them combined with her words brings a concerned little noise from Kara. “No one else has ever treated me like this and I don’t understand why you do.”
Kara pulls back to look at her, really look at her, eyes darting across her face with slow sweeps.
“I think you're one of the neatest people I've ever met," she says after a moment, steel in her voice, "And I treat you like this because you’re important to me, and I enjoy being with you. I want us to date.”
Lena won't meet her eyes.
“But I’m so mean to you."
Her lip shudders. Kara touches it gently with the one hand still wearing the glove, rubs across it until the shaking stops.
“You’re really not. You’re kind of grouchy sometimes, but it’s cute. You’re cute.”
Lena can't help the intensity of her stare nor the tears streaming down her face, not when Kara is talking in such strange ways.
“You actually want to date me?" she asks again, "This isn’t some weird elaborate prank?”
And Kara just smiles at her like she always does and says,
“I actually do. I’m pretty sure we already are dating. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch on.”
Lena wipes her nose with a loud unlady-like snort, then nods.
“Fine! We’re dating, fine."
Kara kisses her then, snot faced and all, and it's like a part of Lena's heart just clicks into place. Of course it's the idiot from the park, of course.
Who else could it have been?
They kiss for long moments, lost in each other, before Kara finally pulls back with a sigh.
“Lena," she says, and Lena already knows something's coming, "I’m just so glad you finally made up your mime.”
Lena grabs her face at that, presses forehead to forehead staring deep into her eyes, and whispers, “I’m gonna fucking murder you,” before kissing the laugh right off of Kara’s lips.