Lena knows how clumsy Kara is on Earth, but here on Argo it's much, much worse.
It's like Kara forgets how to touch things, or how to balance in the way she's used to, so she trips. She drops things. She fumbles, and the clumsiness is not an act here—maybe it never is.
They're in an ascetic, Kryptonian style lab, and Lena is in awe of all the machines. The science is amazing, and Lena wants to feast on it, but the thing that's filling her up most of all is the fact that she's trusted to be here.
On Argo, with Kara Zor-El, in a lab that flaunts every Kryptonian strength and vulnerability for Lena Luthor to learn. This level of trust is still unnerving, but there's comfort in it too, now.
Kara smiles all the while as she excitedly explains each unique gadget, and Lena is glad Kara no longer has to hide how smart she is—promised to the science guild at age thirteen, thank you.
Lena sometimes imagines what she and Kara would have been like if they'd been friends at school while growing up—probably aggressively competitive but with a begrudging respect for each other's intelligence, and a very inconvenient crush on Lena's part, but that's not the point. The point is that Lena can imagine Kara at any point of her life. It's as if Kara was meant to be there. Lena can't imagine her life without Kara in it at this point.
She shakes her head at the thought and searches for a distraction.
"What's that one?" Lena points to a simple looking podium made of sleek white metal with a pale blue glowing orb on top of it.
"Oh, um..." Kara glances at it and blushes, and that's certainly interesting so Lena makes a slow course over to it. She's not sure if she's allowed to touch, so she keeps her hands to herself. At least until Kara rushes after her, crying, "Wait, no! Wait!"
Kara trips on the hem of her flowing navy robes and bumps into Lena's back, and Lena steadies herself on the strange podium. Her fingers barely graze the dull glowing orb, but it brightens from within, casting the lab in tranquil teal hues that shimmer across reflective surfaces until if feels like they're under water.
Lena's hand eases fully onto the orb without her permission, like she is pulled in place by magnets.
"Kara?" she asks, nervous about what this unknown might do.
"Don't worry, it's... it's harmless," Kara says, but she's staring at the orb as if it has the power to destroy entire worlds, and it's not exactly a comfort to see her so fearful.
Kara steadies herself and stands beside Lena, and a hologram of Lena's face rises above the podium in a square. Next to Lena's hologram is an empty square. The two of them almost look like a book, but there's nothing written on the other side.
"What is this?" Lena asks as the empty square starts buffering with light that struggles to take form.
Kara frowns and looks down at the ground, trying to hide her inexplicable disappointment. She sighs and says, "Broken, apparently."
Lena's brows furrow as she studies her friend, but her gaze is drawn to a hesitant flickering in the empty square.
"No, look," Lena says, still unable to pull her hand away.
Kara's head snaps up and they both stare as countless faces start flickering next to Lena's at a sickening speed.
"What's it doing?" Lena asks.
"Filtering through the Kryptonian population," Kara explains, but then she squints at the holograms and she makes that small grimace that she does when she's trying to hide a pout. "And the Human population, apparently. I didn't even know it could even do that. Maybe the system made a leap based on your genetic code."
She sounds almost bitter. Jealous?
"To find..." Kara begins to explain, but the words fall away as she blushes. Her pale eye flicker to Lena's, and for someone who is invulnerable, Kara seems vulnerable now. Fragile, like all the steel pieces of her have been replaced with glass, and Kara is clumsy enough to make it shatter.
Lena wants desperately not to break her. She doesn't want to break anything anymore.
The machine beeps but neither of them look at it. Lena is lost in swirling blue—eyes like rain falling over the ocean.
"What's wrong?" Lena asks, because Kara is more important than whatever is on the hologram.
"Nothing," Kara breathes, but she says it as if everything is wrong. Kara's brows pull upward and her eyes water, and she looks so sad. Tender, but truthful. "I want you to be happy, Lena."
"I am happy," Lena whispers, and that's also tender and true. She is happy with Kara, but she doesn't know where all of this is coming from, or how their fun exploration of this lab turned into a sharp ache in her chest.
Kara smiles sadly and bites her lip, looking at the ground to gather herself before she explains.
"It's the... there's not really an English word for it. It filters through the population and finds your most optimal match."
"My what now?" Lena scoffs, because damn any machine that would dare take away a choice like that from her.
"It's... old Kryptonian. It's based on..." Kara blushes again, and it looks like she's trying very, very hard not to look at the holograms. "Based on everything. Physical attraction, emotional compatibility, communication styles, like and dislikes, tolerance levels for personality traits, sexual desires and compatibility-"
"This machine knows about my sexual desires?" Lena asks, lifting her brow.
Kara scrunches up her nose and mumbles, "...Yeah."
Lena's eyes widen and Kara rushes to comfort her.
"We don't have to look. It's um, it's a bit outdated. It was created when our population was struggling, you know? Plus it's kind of rude if I look. You're supposed to do this in private, so I feel super weird right now. Um... anyway, it's kept here mostly as a historical exhibit, or for curious couples, to, you know-"
"Test compatibility?" Lena asks after raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Kara chuckles in that nervous way she does. "Anyway, you just have to tell it to disengage, and the holograms will leave. I know you like to make your own choices, so you don't have to see what this says," Kara rambles, still forcing herself not to look. "Or you can look, if that's what you want. Up to you. Obviously."
Lena snorts, intent to scoff at whatever person has appeared on the hologram, because Lena has already made her choices, already knows who she wants, and Kara is standing right next to her already—they just haven't talked about it yet.
Lena shakes her head as if these result mean nothing to her, and Kara resolutely keeps her eyes focused elsewhere.
Lena turns her dismissive gaze toward the hologram beside her own, and her lips part before pulling into a gentle smile. She's not surprised at all by the face she finds.
"Kara," Lena breathes, her voice full of awe, and truth, and tenderness. "Look."
"No, I don't want to know," Kara admits, and that in itself is an admission that makes Lena's heart race.
"You do," Lena whispers. "I promise that you do."
Kara's vulnerable eyes lock with Lena's equally damp ones for long moments in which nothing is said but truths are revealed, and Kara slips her hands around Lena's free one as if making a promise before she turns to see their faces shining back at them.
She squeezes Lena's hand as they stare together at what they have both always hoped for.
"It's us," Kara murmurs, and a tear spills over her cheek.
"It always has been, hasn't it?" Lena asks, tearful and smiling, and filled with every affection she has ever held for the woman holding her hand.
"Yeah," Kara says, and she turns with a smile full of beautiful hope. She steps closer to Lena until their faces are inches apart. "Yeah, is has."
Lena's eyes flicker down to Kara's lips, and then they're pressing against Lena's own, sealing their history in place with the promise of writing the rest together.
