All the Ways I Come Back to You (Through Every World)
«There are many worlds that pull her away. But there’s only one that brings her home.»
Kara blinked awake to the weight of sunlight and Lena’s arm draped heavily over her stomach.
It was quiet—the kind of quiet that only existed in the window between sunrise and responsibility. Birds outside chirped with maddening optimism, but the apartment itself, cocooned in filtered morning light and the smell of roasted coffee from the pot Lena had clearly programmed the night before, remained untouched.
Kara exhaled slowly, trying to not move too. Lena might wake up if she shifted and she didn’t want to lose this moment. The gentle rhythm of Lena’s breath against her neck, the bare leg tossed almost possessively across her thighs and the lazy way Lena’s fingers twitched in her sleep against Kara’s ribs—it was all too perfect to disturb.
Her body wasn’t on the same page as her brain. It had been weeks. Weeks spent apart—Kara lost in other worlds, other stars; Lena buried in deadlines and time zones. Both of them trying not to notice the empty side of the bed. But now, finally, they were here. Together.
Kara had come back late last night, worn down from yet another Earth-1 mission—one that had dragged on far longer than it was ever meant to. She’d slipped into bed quietly, well after midnight, careful not to wake Lena. But Lena had shifted toward her anyway—half-asleep, instinctive. Her leg had found Kara’s hip, her hand sneaking under her shirt to rest warm and familiar against her ribs. And now, in the tender light of morning, she was still there. Warm. Soft. Draped over Kara like she belonged there. Like no time had passed at all.
Not with need, exactly, but with something deeper—an ache for closeness, for comfort. For the quiet, everyday intimacy she’d missed more than she could admit. The weight of her sleepy wife against her own body made her feel real again—like she’d finally returned to the purest version of herself.
Kara rolled onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow so she could watch Lena. God, she was beautiful. Her dark lashes fluttered lightly and her mouth parted just enough to give Kara thoughts that <em>absolutely</em> didn’t belong in such a calm setting.
A smile tugged at Kara’s lips.
Her hand moved of its own accord to brush a loose strand from Lena’s temple. Then her fingers were trailing down—light and barely there—over Lena’s collarbone, her ribs, the soft curve of her waist. Lena stirred with a hum, her body arching toward Kara’s touch like it had been waiting for it.
“Kar’?” Her voice was low, soaked in sleep.
“Didn’t mean to wake you, baby,” Kara whispered, but didn’t stop her hand’s wandering journey over her wife’s body.
Lena’s eyes opened lazily. “Liar.”
Kara leaned down to brush her her lips over Lena’s bare shoulder. “Maybe a little.”
There was a lazy, mischievous grin on Lena’s face now—the one that only Kara ever got to see. “We have like…fourty-five minutes before I have to be at that board meeting at L-Corp.”
“Plenty of time,” Kara said while already shifting closer, nudging herself between Lena’s thighs.
Lena sighed dramatically, but her fingers were already curling into Kara’s bicep. “You’ll make me late again.”
“I’ll fly you there—with coffee,” Kara offered, and kissed her—slow and indulgent and filled with all the longing that had built up over the past few weeks.
Underneath the kiss, Lena laughed. “Bribery. Very Luthor of you.”
“Well,” Kara murmured, lips brushing Lena’s, “I took the name. There are standards to uphold now.”
Lena laughed, low and husky, and Kara felt that familiar a spark trailing down her spine. Her hand skimmed slowly along Lena’s thigh now, before gliding deliberately under the soft hem of her silk tank top. Lena’s skin was warm and smooth beneath her fingers, and her breath stuttered when Kara pressed a lingering kiss to the hollow of her throat.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Lena whispered.
“Trying to distract me into forgiving you for being gone so long.”
Kara’s lips curved into a smile against her skin. “And is it working?”
Lena’s response was a soft hum, and she wrapped her arms around Kara, pulling her down until their foreheads touched.
“I missed you.” Kara said and let her lips trail lower, across Lena’s jaw and to the oh so sensitive spot just below her ear.
Lena’s breath caught and for a heartbeat, all she could do was look at Kara. This strong woman who sometimes carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, and still found time to make her feel like the center of the universe.
“Show me how much,” Lena said softly.
Kara kissed her without hesitation, without holding back. Just heat and closeness and longing, all poured into the slide of their mouths and the press of their bodies. She shifted further, easing Lena fully onto her back and let their legs tangle beneath those expensive Egyptian sheets Lena insisted on buying. Her hand cupped Lena’s perfect jaw, thumb brushing over the softness of her cheekbone, and she kissed her again, slower this time. Purposeful.
Lena’s fingers pressed into Kara’s neck, holding her there like she couldn’t bear to looose even a few inches of contact.
Kara’s touch roamed lower, reverent. Over Lena’s collarbone, then over her ribs, enjoying the slight hitch in her wife’s breath when her fingertips grazed the underside of her breast. She paused, drawing back just far enough to look at her like she was trying to memorize the sight of Lena beneath her, languid and wanting and so impossibly gorgeous.
“You’re staring, darling,” Lena murmured.
“You’re…perfect, baby,” Kara answered, before she bent her head to kiss a slow trail from shoulder to sternum and over that fluttering heartbeat she could hear so clearly.
Lena sighed, a sound somewhere between relief and hunger. Her hips shifted and Kara followed the movement. She let her hand sliding down, teasing the line of Lena’s thigh, before dipping inward with agonizing patience.
Kara’s fingers found her slick and warm and already trembling.
“God, you’re beautiful like this,” Kara murmured, kissing her way back up to Lena’s mouth as her fingers began to circle in a slow and steady rhythm. She matched her kiss to the movement, deep and lazy. This was all about sensation, no rush, letting Lena fall apart inch by inch.
Lena gasped into her mouth and let her hands run down Kara’s back, gripping her waist as if to ground herself. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, voice shaky and broken in that way Kara secretly loved. “Please don’t stop.”
Kara curled her fingers further and Lena’s whole body arched off the bed, while Kara stifled her moans with her mouth. The tremble of her thighs, the way she clung to Kara as her orgasm crested and crashed—it was all so intimate, so raw. Like letting go and being held at the same time.
And still, Kara didn’t stop.
She shifted again and pushed the sheet aside. She kissed her way down over Lena’s breast, her stomach and over the sharp lines of her hips. Her hands slid beneath the fabric of her wife’s shirt, only to ease it further upward and reveal more skin with every slow kiss. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of Lena’s panties and pulled them down in one unhurried movement.
Then she looked up again and caught Lena’s hazy eyes, pupils blown wide with need and heat—and without breaking the gaze, Kara pressed a kiss between her legs.
Lena moaned and her hips jerked slightly as Kara’s tongue took over where her fingers left off. It was slow, deliberate, until Lena was panting again, whispering Kara’s name like a prayer that echoed off their bedroom walls.
This wasn’t about how quickly she could make her come again.
It was about Lena’s body opening to her, the quiet surrender, the trust.
It was about the way Lena’s fingers threaded through her hair, anchoring her there, and the broken, breathless, “Kara—please—” when she couldn’t take any more.
This, this was about coming home.
When Kara finally crawled back up her body, Lena pulled her into a bruising kiss. Kara’s mouth still tasted of her and her hand slide down between them with practiced ease.
“My turn,” Lena whispered against Kara’s lips. She flipped them over gently, so Kara was beneath her. Already breathless and grinning and gorgeous.
Her head tilted slightly toward the door and a small crease formed between her brows.
Lena drew back just enough to see her face. “What’s wrong, darling?”
Kara didn’t answer right away. Her gaze unfocused and she stretched her hearing beyond the walls of their bedroom. Before she could speak, a small, delighted voice rang out from the living room—a bit muffled to Lena, but crystal-clear to Kara:
Another tiny gasp. Then, joyfully, “S’nooouw! Mamas, wook! Wook, it snouw!”
Lena’s heart clenched in that achingly full, familiar way. She let her forehead drop gently to Kara’s shoulder, her laughter all breath and warmth.
Kara smiled, her eyes flickering as she turned her gaze toward the far wall. Her vision slipped through plaster, wood and brick, into the living room—and she couldn’t help the soft laugh that bubbled up in her throat.
“He’s at the window,” she whispered, wonder and amusement tangled in her voice. “His whole face is smushed against the glass—like, full nose-print. He’s missing one sock, and he’s got bed hair that looks… honestly kind of heroic.”
“He’s whispering to the snow like it’s some ancient secret only he knows.” She looked back at Lena, eyes glowing. “Lion’s on the ground, of course, totally abandoned.”
Lena smiled into Kara’s neck. “Always drops the lion when he gets excited.”
They lay there for a moment, tangled and warm, letting the sound of their son’s wonder float softly through the quiet.
Then Kara kissed Lena’s temple and whispered, “I’ve got this.”
She eased out from under Lena, moving with that careful, deliberate quiet only a mother or a superhero could manage. She pulled on her soft black yoga pants and one of Lena’s MIT sweaters—the cream one that hung long and loose on her frame, sleeves too long even for her. She ran a hand through her tousled hair and padded barefoot to the door. She paused just long enough to glance back at Lena.
Her dark hair was a mess. Her lips kiss-swollen. Her eyes glowing.
Kara turned, walked back to the bed, and leaned down—just far enough to press a feather-light, lingering kiss to Lena’s lips. An unhurried, stolen thing. Not full of heat, not urgent. Just full of them.
“I love you,” she said softly—words that had burned a hole in her chest for weeks, unsaid but constant, waiting for the moment they could finally land where they belonged.
The words wrapped around her like warmth after a long winter. She knew Kara loved her—of course she did—but hearing it now, after so many weeks apart, in this quiet after closeness, after skin and trust and breath shared—it unraveled her. Softly. Completely.
She reached out, let her fingertips brush over Kara’s wrist, feeling the warmth of that kryptonian skin. “I love you too,” she whispered, voice thick with everything they hadn’t said. “So much.”
Kara leaned in and pressed one last gentle, unhurried kiss to the corner of her mouth—quiet and full of promise.
Then she smiled, and finally slipped out of the room—into the golden hush of morning, toward the sound of their two year old son whispering joy into the falling snow.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/64749364
