#Kara love poetry because it's not something really valued on Krypton is a HC I will always lean into

[vox-ex]

write

supercorptober 2023

“Let us turn over the pages, and I will add, for your amusement, a comment in the margin.” - Virginia Woolf

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A soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room as Lena stirred from her sleep. Wrapped in the comforting embrace of the sweatshirt she had come to wear most nights, she breathed in deeply, catching the lingering scent of Kara's laundry detergent still caught in its threads. It was a subtle reminder of the delicate place they were in now, of all the ways Kara had made her way back into her life And as the days passed, Lena began to notice the little traces of Kara reappearing around her apartment more and more. A handmade mug in her kitchen cabinet. A colorful painting on her wall. The woody citrus scent of her shampoo clinging to the tiles from time to time while she used the shower. And now, as the evenings turned colder, even a thick wool blanket that found its way too onto her couch; and eventually wrapped around the both of them.

Little by little the thought of Kara in her home became familiar again.

Little by little, Kara became familiar again.

One Sunday afternoon, while waiting for Kara to return from a mission, Lena found herself going through her bookshelves for something to read. Her finger trailed along the spines; she hesitated at a small collection she didn't quite recognize, wondering if Maybe this was another piece of Kara slipped in.

"Those don't look familiar," she said quietly to herself, an eyebrow arching in curiosity. She pulled at them carefully, tipping out the warn paperback one by one.

Each was a slim volume of poetry. Mary Oliver, June Jordan, Louise Glück.

She flipped each of their well-loved covers open. She noticed the dates scribbled in the corner. Noticed her name — Lena — in Kara's familiar writing just underneath. Noticed that all the dates were newer than the books themselves, but also much older than they should be.

She sank into her armchair, the soft fabric cradling around her as she began to leaf through the pages of Mary Oliver's poems. Each turn revealed more and more of Kara – a hastily scribbled note in the margin, a title underlined in pencil, a phrase circled with a question mark beside it. Notes on what song to listen to after reading it. Her fingers traced over Kara's handwriting, feeling the indentation left by the force of it against the paper. Lena could almost see the years between them just in what Kara writes — in how she writes.

At least one of the notes she found was for her.

"Share with Lena."

Written in the corner of a poem titled "Wild Geese," — her heart swelled at both the words and the idea she could be known by someone else in such a way.

"I wonder," Lena breathed into the stillness of the room.

She stood up and walked back to the bookshelves that lined one whole wall of the office. She scanned the shelves again, her fingers brushing against the spines of well-worn novels she had packed and unpacked a hundred times to heavy textbooks and research volumes.

She started pulling down more books. One she had told Kara about, ones she had told her were her favorites.

Soon, she was sitting on the floor, books scattered all around her.

Her fingers traced the words that Kara had left. Unlike in her books, the writing wasn't on the pages themselves, but scribbled on pieces of paper — small post-its or even a few bits of napkins — and stuck in between the pages. Her thoughts, questions, even elegant equations.

"Hey," Kara's voice drifted through the open doorway before the rest of her appeared, body angling just past the doorframe.

"Am I interrupting?"

"No, not at all," Lena replied quickly, smiling gently. "I was just…" She hesitated, not quite sure.

"Looking for something?" Kara ventured, taking a step closer, her expression shifting from confusion to a gentle understanding

Something like that," Lena admitted from her spot on the floor.

Kara's gaze fell to the book that lay open on her lap, and Lena could see the flicker of surprise and recognition in her eyes.

"I didn't think you'd find them," Kara admitted, her voice caught between awe and vulnerability as she stepped fully into the room. "I mean, you have so many."

Lena hesitated, then added, "I wanted to show you something."

Kara nodded, and Lena stood up, holding out the book. It was one of hers, Felicity, by Mary Oliver. But it was newer than all the others.

Kara took the book from Lena, careful not to lose the page it was on.

She caught a hint of Lena's neat script at the bottom but didn't look at it yet.

How do I love you?

How do I love you? Oh, this way and that way. Oh, happily. Perhaps I may elaborate by demonstration? Like this, and like this and no more words now

When she got to the end, her eye fell back into the margins, back to what Lena had written — a question.

'No more words?''

She read it a couple of times just to be sure.

She grabbed a pen from her pocket — but then looked up at Lena instead.

"Perhaps I could elaborate with a demonstration?"

Kara's kiss, when it came, was soft and unhurried, her lips warm and gentle. And like the rest of Kara that had made her way back to her, there was comfort in how familiar it was.

And when Lena pulls her back in a second time, it's with a tenderness that says I will be patient with your heart if you are careful with mine.

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read and follow along all month on Ao3

#sg prompts #supercorp #supergirl #supercorptober #supercorptober2023 #supercorptober 2023 #softness #just hints of heaviness #hopeful endings #Lena kinds pieces of Kara in her apartment again as well as in the margins of her books #Kara love poetry because it's not something really valued on Krypton is a HC I will always lean into #It probably also made Earth make more sense...or potentially less