Note: this is unfinished! I had the best of intentions of finishing it in October, but that seems unlikely, so I thought I'd share what I'm happy with.
Lena Luthor appreciates a well-put-together outfit.
Lillian had always expected Lena to dress appropriately, but it wasn't until she met Andrea Rojas at boarding school that Lena understood the power of her clothing. Lena had learned so many things from Andrea — her love of an aged scotch, how to French kiss, and especially, how to perfectly curate an outfit to command a room.
Men pay more attention to well-dressed women, Andrea had told her one day as they got ready to attend a school mixer with college representatives. You can have as many good ideas as you want, but you'll never see them to fruition if no one listen to you. Andrea had looked over at the two outfits Lena held up, and decisively chose the sleek black dress. She had circled behind Lena, pulling the dress up in Lena's hand until it covered Lena's body, allowing Lena to picture what it would look like in the mirror. Then, Andrea's soft hands had slowly gathered her hair until it was in a slick, tight ponytail in her hands. Andrea's face had appeared beside Lena's in the mirror. Give them something to look at, and you'll have a better chance of being listened to.
It had made Lena's cheeks flush furiously, but she took the advice to heart. As her body matured, she noticed the reactions she got to her breasts, to her waist, to the curve of her ass. She learned to accetuate her best features when she needed to grab attention, and to hide them when she needed her ideas to speak for themselves. She learned to dress for success.
Lately, though, Lena's been dressing for revenge.
Despite her falling out with her ex-best friend, Kara Danvers, for some reason, Supergirl keeps making unexpected appearances at L-Corp and her apartment. She thinks at first that Kara is trying to hide her check-ups on Lena. The first few days, all she glimpses of Kara is the edge of a billowing cape or a flash of blue out of the corner of her eye. The next few days, she clearly sees Kara fly by her window. By the third week, Kara has taken to hovering a ways away from the window until Lena makes eye contact.
But eye contact is as far as it ever goes. Lena's eyes meet sad, blue ones, and then Lena goes back to whatever she was doing, until the Super gives up and leaves.
It annoys Lena to no end, the constant watchfulness. Either Kara is trying to keep an eye out for her to make sure nothing happens to her, or she's keeping an eye on her, to make sure she doesn't do anything villainous. Both options make Lena's blood boil. She doesn't need protection, and she's not doing anything wrong.
It's not until Kara's daily visit to her apartment late one night that Lena sees an opportunity. Lena is on the couch, legs spread slightly and elbows resting on her legs, sipping on a glass of scotch and deep in thought, when something moves outside the window. Lena lifts her eyes and sees Supergirl, hovering above her balcony, blue eyes wide and mouth agape.
Lena squints with displeasure and takes another sip of her drink. Kara's eyes seem to follow her movement, then scan up and down her body. Lena watches her throat bob as she swallows hard.
Interesting. Lena takes note of her outfit today. Normally when Kara stops by, she's already in pajamas, but today, Lena had come home late and hadn't changed yet. It had been a while since Lena wore a suit, but she had important meetings today and needed to wield the illusion of authority over the men on the L-Corp board with a well-cut suit and a high ponytail.
Lena knows she looks good. She always looks good. What she didn't know is that Kara thinks so, too.
Lena smirks. Without breaking eye contact, she leans back against the couch and crosses her legs, bringing an arm to rest on the back of the couch. She takes a sip of her scotch, finger rubbing the rim of the glass. Kara's eyes follow the movement hungrily.
Lena takes up space, tries to exude a confidence she doesn't completely feel in the moment. This is Lena's apartment, after all. Kara is the one intruding, and if she's going to sit there, ogling her, Lena knows how to play with her food.
Lena raises an eyebrow as Kara flies closer to the balcony door. Kara's cheeks are almost as red as her cape. She reaches for the door handle, then thinks better of it. As Lena continues staring at her, Kara seems to hesitate, and then not a moment later, she's gone.
Lena finally has a line of defense against Kara's unwanted presence. Over the next few days, she pulls out the best of her perfectly-tailored suits. Each night, she watches as Kara's eyes roam the sleek and sumptuous curves of her body in a three-piece suit before flying away with a frown.
Lena doesn't think she's doing anything wrong. Kara is the one dropping by her house unnanounced, and it's her body. She can wear whatever she wants. If her choice of outfits makes Kara feel things, well, that's just karma, isn't it? If Kara wanted her, maybe she should have told Lena the truth rather than lie to her over and over every day since Kara set foot in her office for the first time.
And if Lena's thoughts drift to Kara's hungry expression as Lena slides her hand into her underwear each night laying alone in her bed, no one else has to know that but Lena.
She thinks about what it would be like to feel the force of a Kryptonian in bed, what it would feel like to watch Kara kneel before her and ease the clasp of her slacks open, what her name would sound like falling from Kara's desperate mouth. She pictures strong hands ripping her vest open and soft lips marking her collarbone, and it makes her heart ache and her fists clench angrily.
Somehow, the knowledge that Kara might want her like that makes Lena even more desperate for revenge. They could have had it all. Kara could have told her the truth, and they could have had what they both wanted. Instead, all Lena can do is use her best assets to make Kara regret what she chose to throw away and hope that the Kryptonian will finally learn some sense and leave her alone.
But Kara doesn't stay away. Kara stays longer on her daily check-ins. Kara hovers, the kicked puppy dog look replaced by a hungry longing. Kara stares, for minutes at a time, following Lena's movements like a jungle cat waiting to pounce.
Lena knows if she closes the curtains, she'd be admitting defeat. She knows if she opens the balcony door, she'll open herself up to words, to a conversation, to inevitable heartbreak. So she keeps the curtains open and the door shut and the suits fitted and tight and eventually, Kara leaves.
Until one night, she doesn't.