Chapter 18
She’s not sure how it starts.
She’s walking Lena back, which, in hindsight, is a little bit ridiculous, considering their respective rooms are right there. But the evening was nice, light banter, good food and she finds herself oddly reluctant to part.
Cassandra Lang’s visiting. Scott, radiating joy in the presence of his daughter, regaled them with – no doubt redacted – stories from his stint in San Quentin State Prison, funny in his usual self-deprecating way. Banner and Natasha resumed their unsubtle dance around each other. And Lena opened a rich – and crazy expensive – Japanese whisky to celebrate (or forget) her one hundredth interview, trying to reassure investors she’s not stepping down as L-Corp CEO.
They’ve reached the door to Lena’s room. She leans forward to open it (which again: truly unnecessary), doesn’t realise it brings her flush against Lena, who’s now turning towards her, tilting her head just so and…
Oh.
Lena’s lips land half on her own and half on the corner of her mouth, before retreating.
…
Holy fuck.
It’s not a kiss, not really. More like a nuzzle.
But still…
Did Lena just kiss her?
“That…”
Lena looks frozen: “I’m sorry!”
“No, no” she frowns. “Don’t be.”
“I thought… Never mind. I must have had a little bit too much to drink tonight” she chuckles.
Except: she may be imagining it but it sounds off, forced. Plus, what does that actually mean? Was this… Did she mean to… ?
“Oh, ok…”
“Um. Goodnight, Alex.”
She’s too shell-shocked to reply. The door falls shut with an offensive click behind Lena’s retreating back.
“Yeah. Uh. Right. Goodnight” she murmurs into the now empty corridor.
…
This happened, right?
She didn’t make it up.
Right?
Her hand is halfway to the door before she realises what she’s doing and stops short. What exactly was she about to do?
She shakes her head and retreats to her own room, going through the motions. Her shower does little to soothe her flushed skin. She brushes her teeth, gets dressed on autopilot, climbs into bed. She can’t clear her head, yet at the same time, finds herself unable to concentrate on anything. She tosses and turns for an hour, her heart racing and loud.
She didn’t imagine it. It truly did happen. Lena kissed her. She’s not… It came out of left field. Completely. But she’s also, if she’s honest, not unaffected. She’s full of this tingly warm feeling. She’d like to chalk it up to physical intimacy after going without for way too long, but there’s no denying it anymore: she’s attracted to Lena.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Of all the people… of all the gorgeous people she’s living with, she had to go for the most… the most complicated one.
It’s fine. It’s just physical attraction. To her sister’s best friend. Her dead sister’s best friend. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t have to lead to anything. She can handle it. You don’t have to act on attraction. It’s just that: attraction, a new colour to their interactions. If she weren’t living in this bubble, she’d be meeting new people every day and would be attracted to plenty. That’s a fact. Yes, it’s probably a result of their living arrangements, isolated in such close quarters. Things were bound to get weird. Not that her attraction to Lena’s weird. No, on the contrary, that’s exactly the point: it’s totally normal, to be expected even, considering how beautiful Lena is. It’s a physical thing, a Human thing, her body reacting to another body. Not that she’s reducing Lena to her body. No, she’s also smart, wickedly so. Which is very attractive. Smart and bold and strong and… Yeah, the total package.
Kara wouldn’t… Kara would understand.
Anyway, the point is: she can handle this.
An hour becomes two and then three. She considers her options. She could masturbate. No, that would feel too… No. She could listen to a podcast. Yes, or an audiobook! No, she doesn’t have the headspace for that. She could read up on the latest news on her phone. But what if it’s too depressing?
She gives up, slides out of the bed and tiptoes in the dark to the kitchen. Maybe a drink will help. Something that burns…
“Alex! Jesus!”
She’s not the only one having trouble sleeping tonight. Just her luck.
“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The counter’s dim lights turn on, bathing Lena in a narrow glow. She’s sitting with her hair down, a steaming mug in front of her. She looks tired, yet not displeased to see her.
“Can’t sleep” she offers, standing there awkwardly, her hand at the back of her neck.
Lena hums, watching her intently.
“I made a pot of fresh chamomile tea, would you like some?”
What?
“Uh, sure. Yes. Please.”
Chamomile sounds like the last thing Alex wants – or needs, for that matter. Her eyes stay on Lena, as she slides down the stool to fetch and pour her a cup.
This feels too… mundane. Too anti-climatic. Too jarring when juxtaposed with the way her heart is trying to beat out of her chest, with the way her thoughts are racing a mile a minute.
This can’t be it. Something’s about to happen, something big, something... Something life-changing. She can feel it… It simply has to, after that almost kiss. And what did Lena say afterwards? She can’t remember, but she didn’t seem repulsed. As if she too…
No. They can’t possibly leave it at that…
The conviction drives her forward.
She ignores the infusion and goes straight for Lena, reaching her side in two long strides.
“Alex?” There’s a question there, but also caution.
She gently guides Lena’s hand to place the mug back on the counter and brings her hands up, cupping Lena’s cheeks in her palms: “Can I…” She swallows. “Can I just…?” she tries again, unable to form a coherent sentence, let alone articulate one.
She wants this. Fuck how she wants it.
She bends down and kisses her.
It’s a chaste kiss, the kind with closed mouths, the kind that’s too surprised to turn curious. She keeps her eyes open, trying to gauge Lena’s reaction, but is too agitated to read the emotions flitting across her face. She feels so lightheaded. She tilts back, terrified of what she’ll see in Lena’s eyes. Except they remain closed, her head turned up, cradled in Alex’ palms.
So Alex does the only thing she can think of: she goes in for more. She parts her lips this time, kisses Lena’s upper lip to the left, changes the angle, then Lena’s lower lip to the right. Short, open mouthed kisses to taste.
Their lips part and Lena opens her eyes. They stay there, breathing each other in. Too close to properly look at each other, yet unwilling to put more distance between them.
This is it.
This is the moment that’ll decide it all. It could be closure, the door their almost kiss from earlier left ajar quietly falling shut. But it could also be the beginning of something. The inescapable culmination of this collision course they’ve been on. Because this has been some time in the making, hasn’t it? Ever since Alex put Lena’s name down. Or maybe… maybe before then, even. Maybe Lena marked her that day in Tokyo, when she sought her out.
Lena’s hand snakes around her neck and pulls. Their lips meet for a fourth time.
Fuck.
Everything’s different this time around. This is hungry, a kiss that leads with certainty to more. A kiss that’s charged with so much want. And fuck: how she wants. Alex’ eyes slide shut. She goes from 0 to 100 in the span of that kiss, aflame. And when Lena’s lips attach to her collarbone, she leaves that scale altogether.
It gets frantic after that. Alex pushes, presses her body closer, always closer. Lena gives as much as she gets: she pulls and clings, scratches and bites.
There’s a little bit of fumbling – ok, a lot of fumbling, it’s been a while! – once they get to Lena’s room. Lena bumps her head, when Alex pushes her against the door. Alex almost keels over, trying to take her shorts off. It’s awkward, but it’s also hot. So fucking hot. And overwhelming. In a good way. In a “holy shit, I could come from her only doing this” way. (And fuck Lena knows what she’s doing. Like: really really does. Like: there’s no universe in which someone who knows how to do that with their tongue, who licks her way down with so much hunger in her dark dark eyes, is straight.)
Alex feels desperate and bold, starved for more more more. The fire in her belly grows, coalesces, so heavy, so scorching, it takes on a life of its own.
Fuck.