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Lena knew, intellectually, that lesbians existed. Bisexuals, pansexuals, humans all along the Kinsey scale - a full range of human sexuality was actually the norm.
But norms were relative to the culture they existed within - and while homosexuals existed, homosexual Luthors did not. Lillian made that clear to Lena from a very early age.
She was a Luthor, and that carried with it certain expectations. There were standards. There were best practices. There was a timeline of productive - and procreative - heteronormativity. Lex’s apparent disinterest in adding to the Luthor line through any traditional means meant that burden fell to Lena.
Lena could have dalliances, of course. Dalliances of any degree of impropriety were to be expected; Lena herself was the product of one, granted of a more garden, heterosexual variety. But they had to be discreet. And if she was indiscreet - like with Abigail Bauer in the seventh grade, caught exchanging chaste, closed-mouth kisses in the science lab - there were consequences.
There was always a chance that Abigail being expelled two weeks later was unrelated - but the gleam in Lillian’s eye as she shared this information made that seem unlikely.
Lena was willing to live with her own consequences. She had endured more than one evening locked in her bedroom, devices and books taken away. She had lost possessions, people, places dear to her. She found in herself the capacity to endure all manner of things.
But she wasn’t interested in being a conduit of consequences to others. Especially not in pursuit of something so base as desire.
There was no need. She could allow herself to be courted by the occasional perfectly adequate boy, with perfectly adequate kisses and perfectly adequate clumsy hands. She could endure.
And perhaps she could more than endure. There was Jack, darling Jack, with his sharp eyes and sharper tongue. When Jack flirted with her, kissed her, she felt some stirring deep inside. Not quite the giddy excitement of touching Abigail Bauer for the first time - but something not unlike it. When she flirted back, kissed him back, she found herself meaning it. He was handsome. He was fun. He was charming.
Lena fucked it up, of course. It had all been too good to be true. There was no kissing allowed in the science lab, and there was no tolerable man who could tolerate her in return.
She kept dating. It was expected. Some men Lillian arranged; others she found on her own. Lena endured their attention, and they suited her purposes.
She would marry one of them.
There were expectations.
In the meantime, Lena had gotten so good at distancing herself from her desire, it barely registered as such anymore. She knew, abstractly, that women were attractive. She knew, on some animal level, that she wanted them. When she first met Veronica Sinclair and experienced her keen full-body appraisal, she couldn’t stop her skin from prickling in answer. When she first met Sam Arias and shook the taller woman’s hand, she couldn’t prevent her brain from registering the softness of those slender fingers.
When she first met Kara Danvers and watched her adjust her glasses shyly, she couldn’t keep herself from smiling.
But she could remove the physical from the mental and emotional. She ruled her body. Her body did not - would not - rule her.
It was easy.
Until it wasn’t.
Because unlike Veronica, Kara Danvers did not elicit only passing fancy.
Unlike Sam Arias, her interest did not melt in the warmth of friendship.
This did not pass. It did not melt. And Lena was so out of touch with herself, she barely noticed how bad it had gotten.
Certain things had brought her terrifyingly close to self-awareness. There was the first time she had met Kara for drinks, and Lena had said something that made Kara laugh a goofy laugh capped in a snort. Lena almost couldn’t ignore how satisfied she felt at being the source of such a ridiculous sound.
There was the first time Kara had defended her, brow furrowed and mouth twisted into a scowl as she outlined Lena’s accomplishments in explicit, accurate, and overwhelmingly flattering detail. Lena almost couldn’t ignore the way gooseflesh rioted over her crossed arms.
There was the brutal day when Lena first found out - when all the lies were stripped away, and Kara Zor El were laid bare. Lena almost couldn’t ignore that the violence of the moment very nearly brought her face to face with the lie about Kara she had been telling herself. The weeks and months of work it took to forgive her friend took all the longer for taking the long way around her own idiot heart.
Those moments, and the countless others like them - moments dear Sam and poor Jack and sweet Brainy had drawn her quickly dismissed attention to - had come and gone, and Lena had endured them all, willing herself oblivious.
Until Kara arrived for their lunch date on her sister’s goddamn motorcycle.
Perhaps things would have gone differently were it not such a beautiful day - sun shining, birds singing, the well-swept curbside of the coffeeshop idyllic. Perhaps had Kara not pulled into the empty space right in front the table at which Lena sat, a handsome stranger in a leather jacket Lena could abstractly appreciate until she revealed herself with a flourish of her helmet, her gorgeous hair tumbling free like something out of a goddamn shampoo commercial. Perhaps had those kind blue eyes not met Lena’s immediately, that soft mouth twisting into a wry smile as she placed her glasses on her nose and let out a low and far too pleased “Lena! Hi!” Perhaps had she not pulled her lean leg over the seat, thigh flexing against dark denim as her tall boot made its way the ground. Perhaps had she not shrugged off the leather jacket - the black material creaking as it rubbed against itself, sending an unexpected shiver down Lena’s spine - to reveal a crisp white oxford rolled to the goddamn elbows, biceps straining against the gathered fabric.
Lena’s endurance… wavered.
Lena crossed her arms and crossed her legs and felt a flush erupt all over her entire idiot body. Her breath came out ragged and labored, exactly as it does when one’s friend says hello. She could feel her stupid nipples catch against the texture of her bra as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, par for the course when one’s bestie was walking towards you, their face transforming from joy to concern in a heartbeat.
“Lena?” Kara’s expression was so earnest and open, and Lena was in such deep shit. “Are you okay?”
Lena was not okay. Her fingers ached to reach out, to feel the waffled texture of Kara’s shirt, to drag her fingertips down and feel the catch on the fine hair that dusted Kara’s forearm. Her mouth ached to follow the same path, for fingers to blaze a trail and draw the sleeve up and over the muscle flexing under that warm skin.
Lena Luthor had never in her life wanted anything the way she suddenly wanted to put her mouth on her best friend’s bicep, and she had no capacity to handle the sudden intensity of her emotion.
Lena was not okay.
“I’m fine,” she replied, lips tight, jaw clenched. Her voice came out unnatural and high, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “How are you, Kara?” Of course she had overcompensated, her voice coming out husky and low.
Kara squinted, head tilting thoughtfully, eyes roaming over her friend’s rigid body. “What’s going on?” A thought visibly occurred to her and she startled, glancing around them. “Is something up? Did someone do something?”
Lena could almost see Kara’s hackles rise at the very concept, and the coil low in her belly tightened.
Kara’s eyes snapped to Lena’s once more, and she walked forward, placing open palms on the table, forearms flexing as she leaned forward and asked in a quiet voice, “Is everything okay?”
Lena laughed, the sound so clipped and manic even to her own ears that she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She heard Kara pull out the opposite chair, felt the table scoot gently as her boot knocked into a leg as she sat - and then the worst possible thing happened.
She felt Kara Danvers reach out and put her large, warm hand over Lena’s.
Lena pulled away her hand with a jerk, eyes popping wide open. Kara stared back at her with bewildered hurt.
Kara leaned away, unconsciously mimicking Lena’s body language - arms crossing, shoulders hunching. “Lena, are you okay?“
Lena was not okay, possibly would never be okay ever again. As evidenced by the fact that, without checking in with her brain, Lena’s stupid idiot mouth opened of its own accord and said, “I’m gay.”
Kara’s entire body went slack, jaw dropping, brows winging upward. “Oh.”
“And this?” Lena allowed one forefinger to stop gripping her arm bloodless long enough to flick toward Kara’s everything. “This isn’t helping. The motorcycle. The jacket. The shirt!”
Kara looked down, face blank. “I… like this shirt?”
“I do too.” Lena felt her nostrils flare. “That’s the problem.”
“Okay.” Kara’s face twisted in confusion again, and she glanced up at Lena, hesitant. “Uh. Well. I’m… bisexual? If that… means anything?”
Lena couldn’t bring herself to look at her best friend’s stupid, handsome, apparently bisexual face anymore. “That’s great for you. Congratulations.” She glanced away, jaw lifted high to keep it from trembling. "But I’m not allowed to be gay.”
Kara let out an irritated sound. “What do you mean, allowed? You’re an adult; you’re allowed to be whatever the heck you want.”
Lena Luthor did not react bodily to women, much less women who used the word “heck” with absolute sincerity. Irritation began to steep under her skin. “I’m a Luthor. That means something.”
“Maybe it means something to someone else - but if I know anything about you, it’s that you’re not interested in what anyone thinks you should or shouldn’t be.” Kara was irritated too, and leaned forward, searching to meet Lena’s eyes. “You never let what other people think stop you.”
Lena smiled without humor. “If that was true, I wouldn’t have taken over the company. I would have let things run their course without me, and done literally anything else but work at the place with my name on the side of the building. I chose to be a Luthor in the most visible way imaginable.”
Kara let her breath out in a huff, hand running through her hair. “Yeah, you chose that so you could challenge what people thought that meant.” Her fingers caught in a knot and she jerked them free, agitated. “And what the heck does that have to do with you being gay, anyway?”
This was apparently a double heck conversation. Lena was attracted to a double hecker, wanted to kiss the heck right out of Kara’s mouth, and the thought of it made her feel ridiculous. Lena stood, grabbing her purse. “You know what? I’m not doing this.”
“What is this?” Kara said, exasperated, her voice a whispered shout. “What is happening?”
And she reached out and touched Lena’s arm, grip soft and hesitant. Heat radiated from the point of contact, and Lena felt her stupid blush deepen.
“Nope!!!” she said, voice over-loud, the word deep and elongated for emphasis.
It was Kara’s turn to jerk away, face pale, warmed only by the blush spotting her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Lena.” Kara looked a little hurt and a lot mystified. “I don’t know what I did, but I feel like I did something wrong, and I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” said Lena, rolling her eyes. “You’re very much so Kara Danvers, and that’s the problem.”
“Okay?”
“You’re the most important person in my life.” Lena turned her back on Kara, willing herself to walk away. Apparently her stupid feet weren’t cooperating either. “It’s logical that I would conflate that affection with something sexual.”
She heard the table scrape the ground behind her. "Wait, what?“
Lena reached into her purse, grabbing her phone to call her driver. "But you’re too important for me to be so cavalier as to date you, much less fuck you.”
“….I thought you were mad at me, you want to – wait, cavalier as to WHAT?”
“I almost lost you before and it very nearly broke me.” Lena thumbed her driver’s alert, and put her phone back into her purse. “I’m an idiot. Forgive me. Let’s just forget this conversation ever happened.”
“Lena, hold on. Please. You’re the smartest person I know. But not always, like… The most emotionally healthy, for sure.” Kara walked into Lena’s line of vision, her stupid handsome face making itself known, along with the rest of her, and Lena felt arousal and irritation warring in her all at once. “So let’s talk about what we know. We both know this only works if we’re honest with each other, right? If we’re honest with ourselves.” She reached out a hand, and froze halfway through the motion. “Can I touch you?”
Lena felt the buzz of her phone, most likely her driver confirming her summons. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Okay.” Kara’s hands fell to her sides, clenching and unclenching in and out of fists. “Can you tell me why it’s so bad that you’re gay?”
Lena heard the voices of Lillian, of countless nuns and priests, answering through her mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay. It’s only wrong if I act gay.”
A smile twitched at the corner of Kara’s mouth. “And my motorcycle makes you want to act gay?”
Lena shot her a look. “It’s not your motorcycle.”
Kara grinned in earnest, adjusting the collar of her oxford. “Right, it’s my shirt.”
“You’re having fun,” said Lena, relieved to see her driver appear down the street over Kara’s shoulder. “I’m not.”
Her eyes moved back to Kara’s, and the expression there took her breath away. The humor was gone - replaced by an intense focus, centered on Lena utterly.
“You could be.”
Lena’s mouth was suddenly dry. “I could be what?”
“Having fun.”
Kara reached out her hand.
Lena stared at it a long moment. She knew how it would feel, to take that hand - dry and implausibly soft and so, so warm. And more than those things - it would feel safe.
She waved her driver off. Kara glanced over her shoulder, realizing what just happened, and turned back, grinning.
“For the record,” said Kara, as Lena’s palm slid against hers, “I think it’s cool as heck that you’re gay.”
Lena was an idiot. Kara Danvers was an idiot.
Maybe Lena could endure a little stupidity.