Superfluffy, activate!
Morning was absolutely not Kara’s friend. Hell, sleeping in general was just generally problematic. After all, years and years of being National City’s constantly on-call superheroine made the whole...relaxation thing more than a little problematic. Despite her best efforts, despite the breathing exercises she's gotten from Nyssa, despite the logical knowledge that she had nowhere in particular to be...she was always going to have a wary ear out.
After all, even with a dramatic scaling back of Supergirl duties, there’s always the chance some world ending alien invasion could happen that would require her to get suited up as soon as possible. It’s just a matter of time really. She knows how this goes.
...Naturally, this was all even more of a giant pain in the fluffing ass when she had a Supergirl sized hangover.
So, is it really any surprise that despite going to bed sometime well after 1am, the Kryptonian is rudely awakened around half past five. While it may not be New York, Star City never truly sleeps. Nor does crime for that matter. Which, of course means that Team Arrow has to get involved in some sort of stupid bullshit shenanigans that make Kara want to growl at them to be quiet.
Unfortunately the periodic booms and near constant screeches of metal tearing metal are actually halfway across the fluffing city. It’s not like she can just yell from her bed to knock it off with the sword fighting and dramatic car chases and be actually heard. Well, with her powers she probably could, but blowing out every window in a two block radius is probably a disproportionate reaction. That’s probably bad.
Plus, she’s supposed to be keeping a low profile while in the states. The whole living out of the alien closet thing imposes a whole different set of restrictions on her actions. Starting another round of anti-alien sentiment because Supergirl just had to get a drunken disorderly charge at 5 in the morning on a Saturday was not a good idea.
...She still kinda still wants to. The stabbing migraine their fluffing shenanigans are causing her is not fun.
(Even if she’s glad of the heads up for trouble and takes to tracking Sara and Nyssa’s thumping heartbeats across the City. Fuck if she’s going to let her best friends be hurt because she was having a grumpy hungover gus day.)
Still, one way or the other, she’s well and truly awake now. Thus, she very, very bravely opens her eyes to the searing first rays of dawn peaking over the horizon. While the ensuing rush of pain feels more or less like getting an icepick jabbed in her eye socket, it’s blessedly quick to fade as the warm sun on her face kickstarts her powers into full gear again.
(and trust Kara, that’s really fucking saying something. Since she actually knows more or less what that feels like from one memorably fucked up kidnapping while saving the world. Kryptonian healing powers are no joke.)
All of this leads up to a very strange moment of shock when the blonde haired alien actually glances around at her immediate surroundings. It takes a solid minute of dumbfounded staring to actually process the very clearly unambiguous vision before her.
Lena goddamn Luthor, and Maggie baddass motherfucker Sawyer.
...fucking naked and cuddling her, Kara stupid dumb coward Zor-El underneath expensive black sheets.
She has a moment to smile happily as a warm blush creeps up her cheeks. She’s not really sure what fucking good deed she’d done to receive such a pleasant hallucination this fine morning, but she’ll happily praise Rao in thanks. She’s pretty goddamn sure this fantasy moment will be filling her personal spank bank for at least the next month.
Then the rest of her senses catch up to her with all the grace of a sledgehammer to the nose. After all, both women, the sheets, the fucking headboard, hell the entire fucking room are drenched in a cloud of lust soaked pheremones. The worst of which she is certain is from slowly drying cum on the fingers of both women. Not all of it is even from Lena or Maggie. Kara’s superpowered nose is strong enough now that she's off the suppressing drugs to pick up blood dozens of blocks away, so of course she can smell her own embarrassing musk between her legs.
Which, now that she’s sufficiently mortified to want to escape into the floor, calls into question the whole pleasant karmic fantasy thing. Especially since the scene, as a person who has experienced more than her fair share of hallucinations and mind control, is far, far too realistic to be faked. Those sorts of hallucinations are usually only truly accurate visually. Getting all the other complex senses involved is...complicated to say the least. Enough that very, very few supervillains would even bother trying to capture them. All of which naturally implies…
...holy shit. Flufferducks. Sweet merciful Rao take her home.
Right, right. The bar. Meeting Lena and Maggie again. Sara sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Upchucking her stupid cowardly, secret keeping guts all over the conversation. Talking about fucking Clark. Getting wasted with Lena and Maggie after. Cuddling together in a too warm car. Soft, vulnerable looks and lingering touches. Winding up at their place sometime after. Making out with Lena and Maggie while very, very drunk. Getting overwhelmed and overstimulated, especially as her anxiety over breaking the fragile drunk humans mounted. Moving off to sit on a chair beside the bed and just breath for a minute. Having a great time just watching and occasionally sneaking a quick kiss while Maggie made Lena scream and scream and scream.
(Shamefully sneaking her fingers into the waist band on her own pants. Sweet, hot slick under her fingers. Hot, panting growls in her throat.)
Playful eyes flashing across the room. A tired Lena flipping her and Maggie’s positions with a growl. Lena with her entire bloody hand in her girlfriend's pussy. Whispered, taunting offers from across the room to put on a show. Furious, desperate nods. Wet, filthy squelches ramping in time to Maggie screaming in the throes of violent pleasure. Trembling in all of Kara’s limbs. Barked orders to Kara not to come until Lena says so. Whining, pathetic begging rumbling through the room, deafened by the Latina’s happy squeals.
...a frantic command, then stars, so many stars, bursting behind her eyes.
Desperate, frantic breathing. Hot, sweat soaked flesh curled into each other. Trembling Arms pulling her up onto the bed to cuddle. A happy purr in her throat as three pulses slowly settled into exhausted repose. Pleasantly blank wine soaked dreams.
...yeah, that all happened. Right.
Fuck.
...What now?
Clearly the answer was to silently freak the fuck out for a solid 20 minutes.
Then, when that lovely activity lost it’s charm, Kara moved on to freaking the fuck out by tapping a finger nervously on the bedside table. Of course, that only resulted in a series of pained, unhappy grumbles from her much less durable bedmates. Clearly she wasn’t the only one going to have a hangover when they woke up. Which...was less than helpful. She really, really, really didn’t want her first interactions with entirely sober post make-up Lena and Maggie to be about her making their hangovers worse. That’s just bad karma. Everybody knows that.
So then the obvious answer is to carefully, very carefully slip out of the bedsheets and hover out to the living room. A quick spin around the place finds that the buttons on her shirt and pants (one of which had somehow been thrown onto the bloody ceiling fan) were destroyed. Of course. Fluffing of course. After all, drunk, horny as fuck Kara was not actually known for her grace and delicacy.
So yeah, the plan after a quick shower is to hang out in Lena’s apartment for at least a few hours until the saner members of the household actually wake up and she can borrow some clothes. Mostly naked of course. Except for a set of questionably clean booty shorts and a black leather jacket. Great.
...At least she had the presence of mind to bring her Superhero ‘go bag.’ Which, really, is nothing special. All it really has in it is a bunch of the most popular Earth currencies (hey, the munchies wait for no Superheroine (What? Do you want to be SOL after stopping a mudslide in Thailand and needing a quick power snack?). Of course there’s also a sketch pad and pencils for when she gets bored. Plus, just in case, she still has her old superfriends communicator (not that she really uses it anymore) and her Super suit.
...Which, yeah, no, not an option. That would just be like waving a red flag in front of a bull to wear in Lena goddamn Luthor’s swanky apartment. Nor did she want to risk a camera capturing her escaping out of Lena’s window as Supergirl to grab real clothes. Lex is probably still somewhere around being a massive, creepy, prick. Kara sighed, resigning herself to still being quite a bit more naked than she’d like.
So. Yeah. The whole waking up and getting ‘dressed’ freak out took...maybe an hour? So the clock on Lena’s over is only reading 6am. She wonders when exactly is normal for default humans to wake up after a night of drunk fucking. Plus, well, even if she distantly knows Lena isn’t at L-Corp anymore (it was all over the papers) Kara stil has to assume she has some sort of work engagement. Lena is fundamentally a workaholic after all.
...Which, now that she thinks of it, raises a few thoughts.
Namely, some good ideas for how to make the time pass a bit more quickly while she waits here awkwardly.
So, yeah, the Kryptonian firmly concludes that it’s time for sneaky, helpful ninja Kara to activate!
Of course, given that her powers can’t quite fully deaden the dehydration headache from a long night drinking, she goes ahead and downs a couple cool glasses of water. It just makes sense to pour several more for Lena and Maggie after that. Of course it also makes sense to sneakily hover her way into the bedroom to silently drop them off on the bedside table. Since she figures she has plenty of time to whip something up quickly, she also scribbles out a quick note to join her in the kitchen for breakfast after finishing the water.
...If she leaves soft kisses on the foreheads of both slumbering women, well, that’s just her business.
Then of course, she has to beg the question of what exactly to make for this hypothetical breakfast. She’d kinda been hopeless in the kitchen for awhile there (stupid superpowers making it too easy to break everything and scaring her off exploring) but she’s been learning a lot lately. Especially since Nyssa’s therapist has been urging her to take things slowly and start appreciating the simple, everyday tasks of life more. Apparently it was supposed to help her manage the awful anxiety that had been burning in her chest for weeks and weeks. Learning to cook for herself instead of always order out had been a prime opportunity and case study.
It had been full of stops and starts, but slowly she’d learned to appreciate the simple, soothing motions of chopping ingredients and carefully stirring pots to ensure things don’t burn. After a solid week of intensive lessons from Nyssa, slowly, slowly she’d learned to stop being such a forgetful, clumsy cow in the kitchen. She’d learned to stop breaking knobs and twisting knives into pretzels and to stop getting distracted halfway through and forgetting something was in the oven.
...She’s just glad Nyssa was able to get the scent of smoke out of her apartment. Kara’d feel awful if she somehow fucked that up for them as well.
(A distant, pointed voice that sounds like the woman herself reminds her that one of the prime symptoms of being on that damn drug was loss of attention span. How this was supposed to get even worse during withdrawal. How ‘brain fog’ was a key symptom to manage for the first few weeks. That it’s not her fault and a normal part of learning to cope with unmedicated life again.)
So, yeah, that means breakfast is totally a thing she’ll be able to fluffing nail. Kara is absolutely determined with every fiber of her soul to make the best damn breakfast either woman will ever fluffing have.
(Maybe then they’ll stay, a sneering voice that sounds suspiciously like Clark snipes)
Well, first things first, she does a quick round through the kitchen and pantry to see what exactly there is on offer in terms of ingredients. Predictably, the CEO has an incredibly well stocked kitchen filled with stupidly expensive and high-quality ingredients.
...Kara’s not going to lie, now that she has a new hobby, she has to do a squealing little happy dance to just have so many options.
The first thing she ends up whipping up is an old family recipe Nyssa showed her for a type of spiced potato and chickpea cakes (well, family in the sense of she learned it from the rather amazing cooks at the league at least). From what she remembers, she knows the nice balance of grease and wicked spices will probably hit exactly the spot for a hung-over Maggie. Plus, she can whip up a quick cooling chutney with mint for Lena while she’s waiting for them to cook. Sensitive irish tongues weren’t ones for too much heat as she recalled.
Making all that occupies her for a while in a very familiar rhythm of chopping, stirring and frying. Still, when all is said and done, she’s popped them into the fancy oven’s warming tray and it’s barely half past 6. Fidgeting for a productive activity, she ends up chopping a whole whack of fresh fruit and putting together an impressively gigantic tangy fruit salad. She found herself grinning the whole time though, since this will definitely be a fruit salad to remember. Apparently Lena is clinically incapable of buying anything but rich people fruit. Everything is guava this, dragon fruit that, lychee something else. It’s honestly to the point that she needs to try everything at least a few times to figure out what tastes good with what.
...not that she’s complaining at all really. The looming monster of Kyryptonian caloric intake must be appeased one way or another.
Of course, seeing the fancy sourdough bread in Lena’s cupboard Kara is contractually obligated as a sortof millennial budding foodie to whip up some truly rocking avo toast. Only, she decides to spice it up a bit with a nice option between caramelized onions or some toasted nuts to go on top. What? It tastes good alright? Especially since she’s careful to keep the dry and wet ingredients separated until she’ll plate them at the last moment.
...It just wouldn’t do for anything as simple as soggy toast to ruin her girls morning after.
(Holy shit. Based on at least some of the conversations she could remember last night, there might even be a chance of them actually being her girls! Yay!)
Sooooo, she’s kinda stumped for other ways to occupy herself.
Scones! She can make scones!
Which, given the fancy blood oranges in the fridge, end up being deliciously glazed with luscious, tangy red icing. While her baking will certainly never be quite as good as a Noonan’s sticky bun, there is something to be said for baked goods, warm, right out of the oven.
That’s around the moment when Kara turns around and notices the absolute disaster she’s made of Lena’s kitchen. Everywhere she looks is flour on countertops, dirty dishes and used pans. Which causes her to let out a few muttered Kryptonian curses that would cause her mother to rinse her damn mouth out with soap if she heard. Being the gracious houseguest that she is, Kara spends at least a little of that her time to kill cleaning up the giant mess she’d made of Lena’s kitchen. Which... given that she sometimes injects a bit of superspeed into the less fun kitchen tasks doesn’t take that long at all.
For want of anything else to really occupy her time, Kara ends up on the couch, looking out over the truly amazing view, awkwardly tapping her fingers on a table. That works to keep her calm for about...10 or so minutes. By then, a truly irritating itch has built up in her fingers and she just needs to do something else productive. Which, given that she’s exhausted all conceivable cooking options (no, bad Kara, popping out to grab a pound of bacon isn’t workable, you’re cooking for two vegetarians and you’re naked) leads to her pulling out her sketchbook.
Painting may be her longest lasting hobby slash coping mechanism, but she has the tools to at least do a nice charcoal drawing of the dawning Star City skyline.
(She firmly resists the temptation to sketch out the adorable, sexy vision in the bedroom. At least for now. Maybe she’ll give in when she gets back to Sara’s apartment. She’s needed to practice her nudes anyway. Shut up Sara, that’s totally a valid excuse!)
Eventually, of course, her Superpowered ears pick up a pair of quickening heartbeats. Shortly afterwards there are a pair of pained, clearly hungover groans. A quick glance over her shoulder makes her smile as sulky pouts turn to confused, pleased surprise on the discovery of the glasses of water. The glasses are quickly drained but it takes a few minutes for the women to drag themselves out of bed and stumble their way into the bathroom.
...If Kara has to discreetly pick up her jaw from the floor and fan her heated cheeks down, well, that’s just her business. Lena and Maggie hung-over but naked is still Lena and Maggie naked.
Though, all of this reminds her that it’s basically showtime.
A quick couple bursts of Superspeed has everything out of the warming bins and onto the long breakfast island. As Kara putters about putting the finishing touches on everything she takes a moment to remember the most important part of any hungover breaking of fast.
Coffee!
It’s the work of a moment to sniff out the cupboard full of a variety of clearly expensive, fancy bean blends and teas. For a moment she just...goggles at the sheer variety of choices. Still, being the cheatey, cheater, McCheaterson she is, she has ways of knowing which are the favorites. After all, every time Lena or Maggie pick up a can of the stuff, they leave a faint trace of their unique personal scent on them. A careful couple of sniffs around reveal that Lena has been favoring a nice dark roast coffee, while Maggie has apparently been going back to a dark pu-erh tea. She gets the coffee thrown into the machine, and sets the tea to steeping before zipping back to her spot on the couch.
So she can, you know, go back to casually and comfortably drawing in peace. Rather than pacing nervous circles around the Kitchen like a nutbar.
...fuck, she really hopes the girls like the breakfast she’s made.
(Please, don’t leave me! I’ll be good Clark, I’ll be so good! I don’t want to be alone again!)
“The fuck? Kara, did you do all this?” A shocked and amazed voice mutters over her shoulder. Kara’s gaze flits around and takes a long, lingering look at a dripping wet Lena wrapped up in a towel, with an amused looking Maggie behind her.
...then promptly chokes on her spit and bursts into a startled red blush.
Well. That’s a thing!
...Kara decides she can now probably die happy and content. Nirvana has been achieved.
“Yup!” A squeaky, high strained voice replies.
(Oh right, that’s her. Duh.)