#rock no. 124 that quinn would die on: cuddles are the actual best

[eqt-95]

a new kind of romance, pt 6

part 5 | could we? wood we? - - - - -

💤 | cuddles

Kara Zor El, eater of foods, saver of worlds, and, above all else, lover of cuddles, was in a predicament. 

More specifically her predicament was around the whole ‘lover of cuddles’ thing which, normally, wasn’t a predicament. In fact, normally it was second nature. Because of course she was going to sweep Alex into a giant hug any chance she could. And obviously she was going to drag Nia, kicking and screaming, onto a shared loveseat at game night. And most definitely, her internal clock was going to wake an hour early every time Lena slept over to sneak in some extra pre-work cuddles.

Which would have been so normal.

But then Kara discovered The Line in Lena’s closet. And then in the woods there was The Moment.

This was why Kara now lay awake, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars she and Lena had plastered to her ceiling three weeks ago mulling. 

And not the good kind that comes around the holidays and brings festive cheer and warmth and tidings of comfort. 

No. There was absolutely no comfort and definitely no festive cheer. This was the kind of mulling that led to existential crises and fretting and second guessing and exactly four inches of space between herself and a soft, slumbering best friend. A demilitarized zone. A limbo. A Line.

And such a predicament it was because, up until recently, it hadn’t crossed Kara’s mind that these late nights turned sleepovers turned early morning cuddles might have toed a line. A line that seemed to loom larger and bigger and greater and cloudier with each passing day because the looming felt heavier and weightier and - oh gosh Lena just looked so peaceful when she slept.

Kara blinked away from her best friend’s curled form and back to the constellations above, settling on the Coma Berenices Lena insisted on making room for just down from Ursa Major. She replayed the Queen’s story in her head, trying to ignore the fact that, normally, she’d already be curled against Lena’s back with a hand wrapped around her waist and nose pressed to her exposed neck. And normally that would have been met with a small sigh and a hand curled around said arm wrapped around said waist and then maybe - maybe - once the soft, steady breathing meant Lena was asleep, then maybe she’d have normally pressed her lips to her neck as a friendly - platonic - goodnight kiss. 

But tonight played out differently than that.

It began like most: Lena came over with a bottle of wine, a bag of take-out, and the soft kind of smile Kara pretended was only ever meant for her.

It continued as usual: they lingered in the kitchen while the bottle was uncorked, the containers were portioned onto plates, and that same soft kind of smile Kara pretended was only ever meant for her lingered behind stories of their days.

It even managed to stay normal through the first thirty minutes of the docuseries: a glass of red was topped-up, the empty plates were stacked on the coffee table, and the soft kind of smile Kara pretended was only ever meant for her was paired with a contented sigh as tucked legs were untucked and extended across Kara’s lap.

And Kara kept it cool as a cucumber. She didn’t overthink the shared blanket wrapped around them or the slip of her hands beneath the soft weave to settle on Lena’s legs or the muscle memory that sent those same hands lightly massaging tight calves or how those same hands wandered and settled where socks and sweats didn’t quite meet or how they danced across the exposed patch of skin or how a yelp of realization flew out of her mouth when she realized what her treacherous hands were doing.

Admittedly, that last bit was not a cool cucumber sort of thing to do. It was more of a ‘having kittens’ moment.

And that’s when the night derailed.

“What’s wrong?” Lena asked a half-standing Kara tripping over the blanket and spilling confused noises from her mouth. 

“I-I… I gotta-”

“Go.”

Surprisingly, it only took a moment for Kara’s adrenaline-fueled brain to connect the dots: she glanced at Lena who was glancing out toward the city, face serious and full of intent.

“This can wait; Supergirl can’t,” Lena continued, reaching to pause the show.

And yea, maybe Kara should found her big girl pants and told Lena there wasn’t an emergency and that her super hearing hadn’t picked up some tragedy that needed her attention and that actually it was because the pads of her unreliable fingers were toeing the friendship line and the hilarity of them being fingers and not toes was not lost on Kara but this was not the moment or time for laughing. This was a time for panicking. 

So Kara didn’t put on her big girl pants. Instead, she got rid of her pants and flaunted her Supergirl outfit and flew out into the night without so much as a cat to untree.

She kept to the skies until well past the soft murmur of Lena’s heartbeat confirmed a deep slumber before, like the coward she was, Kara crept back into her apartment and settled - floated? hovered - just above the mattress.

And mulled.

She hated lying to Lena. Of all the people in her whole multi-planetary life, Lena’s trust mattered to her the most, yet it was hard to tell the truth about something Kara didn’t even fully understand. Was there something to understand?

Her brow crinkled. It was a crinkle that Alex would poke at and Nia would prod at but one Lena would wipe away with a soft brush. Kara wasn’t quite so gentle. She rubbed her nose a bit too aggressively, and maybe that aggression rattled the air a bit too much because the calm of Lena’s breathing broke and her heart stuttered and curled form unrolled and a pair of sleepy eyes landed on Kara’s still very crinkly face.

“Hey,” and ooph did Lena’s sleep voice hit in ways Kara couldn’t articulate. She didn’t try because a hand had already climbed its way to Kara’s forearm and squeezed. “Everything ok?”

“Yea.”

“You sure? Because… Kara are you floating?”

“I, uh… didn’t want to wake you?”

A soft, sleepy chuckle crawled across the mattress and dragged Kara onto the mattress. “My hero.”

The words tickled Kara’s ears. And other things.

“Everyone safe?” Lena continued, pulling the duvet to cover both of them before finding a home nestled into Kara’s side.

“Mhm,” Kara managed, throat tight, pulse racing, and body temperature sweltering past the surface temperature of the sun.

“Good,” Lena hummed and sighed and tucked closer with a comforting arm slipping onto Kara’s waist.

It took seconds for Lena’s breathing to slow and fall back into a rhythmic slumber. Meanwhile, Kara hardly breathed at all, fighting her natural instinct to squeeze an arm around Lena and in lieu of honoring the line.

The line that had already been crossed. And honestly? Crossing the line felt nice. It felt good. It felt perfect.

So, yea. Kara Zor El, eater of foods, saver of worlds, and, above all else, lover of cuddles, was in a predicament. Because her best friend in the whole world was curled around her and maybe - maybe - Kara wanted to keep crossing the line. Because maybe - maybe - Kara wanted something more.

- - - - - -

part 7 | mistletoe magic

#rock no. 124 that quinn would die on: cuddles are the actual best #it's a rock i share with kara danvers #new romances #supercorp fic #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #rock