Supergirl. Supercorp. Jess. Lena Luthor x Kara Danvers. Alex Danvers. Esmé Danvers. Sam Arias.
Word count: 4k
Jess flinched. The sound of the door slamming shook the glass in its frame, sharp and final. Whatever that was, it wasn’t just a disagreement. No. That was a fallout. And Jess hadn’t known anything was falling.
Kara stood in front of her, blinking fast, like she could push the tears back. Her eyes weren’t their usual bright blue. They looked clouded, raw, and most definitely wet.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Danvers,” Jess said, scrambling for professionalism and barely finding it. “Miss Luthor can’t see you right now. Maybe another time?”
It was a lie. Obviously. Lena hadn’t said ‘not right now,’ she’d said nothing, just closed the door like she was slamming a vault shut. There was no ‘maybe’ in that.
Kara gave her a smile that hurt to look at. Watery, uneven, nowhere near her eyes. Like a sun being hidden by rainy clouds. “Yeah. Maybe.”
When the elevator doors slid closed, Lena's voice rang on her phone.
“Jess, come in. Now.”
Crisp. Clipped. The kind of tone that meant Lena was either about to deliver a million-dollar idea or emotionally decapitate someone. And judging by the timing, Jess was leaning toward the latter.
She stepped into the office quietly. Lena was at the window, her arms crossed tight, posture like steel. The city lights glittered behind her, all calm and pretty and completely at odds with the tension radiating off her back.
“Yes, Miss Luthor?”
Lena turned. Her face was a mask, perfectly composed, perfectly cold. But Jess had worked for her long enough to know better. That stillness meant something was breaking underneath.
“Make a note,” Lena said, voice low and terrifyingly even. “Kara Danvers is no longer allowed access to this building. At any time. Is that clear?”
Jess’s mouth dropped open before she could stop it. Her brain scrambled. What?
She shut it again quickly, forcing her face back into something professional, but it was already too late. Kara? Not allowed? Ever?
That made no sense. They were always together. Lunch in Lena’s office nearly every day, whispered conversations and shared coffees and—
Oh god. The flowers. The thousands of flowers.
And the CatCo acquisition… Jess had always told herself it was a strategy. Smart move. Expanding influence. But now? Now there's more to it.
Jess blinked. Her brain was spinning, trying to reprocess everything — every lingering glance, every too-long lunch break, every quiet little moment she’d been too busy or too polite to question.
Lena turned back to the window. “Is that understood, Jess?”
Jess swallowed. “Yes, Miss Luthor.”
But her hands were already cold. Her mind wouldn’t stop spiraling.
She started mentally drafting the email to security, fingers twitching with the effort to act normal. But another part of her, the slightly nosey, deeply confused part, was flipping through years of memories, stitching together a very different version of reality.
She hesitated. Usually she’d ask if Lena needed anything else, but the silence in the room felt dangerous. Lena looked like she might shatter if someone breathed too hard. Jess wanted to say something, anything, maybe even So… did you and Kara break up? But that would’ve been insane. Suicidal, even.
“You’re dismissed.”
Jess nodded. “Alright, Miss Luthor.” and slipped out, shutting the door behind her as quietly as she could.
Back at her desk, Jess stared at the glowing screen in front of her. The email she was about to send felt surreal. Like being told to ban sunlight from the windows.
Kara Danvers: banned from L-Corp.
Lena and Kara were supposed to be constants. Staples of the L-Corp ecosystem. Jess had honestly thought they might outlive the company itself. But now?
Her fingers froze halfway through the entry.
She remembered the late nights. The flowers that always showed up in Kara's office. The way Lena laughed when Kara was in the room, like the sound had been waiting for her.
God. Had they been dating? Like actually dating? And no one noticed?
It felt like discovering your favorite book had a secret chapter written in invisible ink.
Before she could spiral further into the rabbit hole of accidental queer historical analysis, her intercom buzzed.
“Jess,” Lena’s voice crackled through “Can you come in for a moment?”
Jess stood so fast her chair nearly toppled over. “On my way, Miss Luthor.”
Inside, Lena hadn’t moved much from earlier. But now she had a glass of something amber in her hand. Not enough to be a warning sign, just enough to hint at it.
Jess waited for instructions. Except… none came. Lena turned after a long silence, and when she did, her mask had slipped a fraction.
“She lied to me,” Lena said quietly.
Jess opened her mouth, then closed it again. This… wasn’t in the assistant handbook.
“I’m sorry,” she offered, incapable of more.
Lena exhaled, slow and tired. “You know what’s ridiculous? I had an entire speech about honesty. I was going to make it very logical, calm. I even practiced it.”
Jess's mouth went dry. This is definitely not my job, she thought, but nodded anyway, as if she had any right to be standing here for this.
“But when I saw her, it just—” Lena broke off, shaking her head like she was shaking something loose. “It didn’t matter. I couldn’t say any of it. I just—slammed the door.” A dry, humorless huff of laughter escaped her. “Real mature.”
Jess’s brain short-circuited. Had Lena Luthor just… opened up to her? Like, actual human emotions kind of opened up?
“Do you want me to…” she began, then trailed off, because she had no idea how that sentence was going to end.
“No,” Lena said, with a wave of her hand. “You’ve done enough. Thank you, Jess.”
Jess gave a professional nod and fled.
Back at her desk, she clutched her mug like it was a flotation device. Her mind screamed: Okay so definitely dating. Or almost dating. Or in love with each other and refusing to admit it, which is basically the same thing except more exhausting.
This was no longer just a Kara-and-Lena problem. This was a national crisis. And she was in the middle of it.
How had she become the reluctant keeper of Lena Luthor’s heartbreak?
She wasn’t just taking notes for work anymore. She was… documenting. Witnessing. Cataloguing the slow unraveling of something she didn’t fully understand but was definitely too close to ignore. The more she thought about it: the late nights, the private lunches, the suspiciously domestic little rituals… the more obvious it all became.
The relationship between Lena Luthor and Kara Danvers wasn’t just significant. It was foundational. Jess had always thought they were some kind of weird workplace gravitational constant.
And now?
Now Lena was heartbreak in heels, Kara looked like she'd been hollowed out from the inside, and Jess was left trying to make sense of the cosmic fallout.
That’s when she started her list — the mental one she couldn’t stop building:
Definitely Dating, Right?? Evidence:
So many dinner plans
Knew each other's coffee order by heart
Baked bribes (plural)
Kara spoke at Lena’s tech conference like it was a wedding toast
Hugs lasted way too long
Lena laughs different when Kara’s in the room
And Kara. The way she’d looked today, like the ache was living right under her skin. Like she’d lost something irreplaceable and was still trying not to show it.
That’s what did it. That’s when Jess decided. She was going to fix this.
She didn’t mean to get this involved. Really.
But there’s only so much dramatic silence, longing stares, and closed office doors a person can take before something in them just… snaps.
So, fine. Maybe she started keeping a little list. Maybe there were steps. Maybe she was going to do everything she could to fix it.
Sue her.
But Operation Get-Kara-And-Lena-Back-Together was officially a go.
Step one: intel gathering. She cornered Kara’s sister in the CatCo lobby with a muffin and her most innocent smile.
“Totally unrelated,” She began.
"To what? We weren't even talking…”
“If you had to guess who broke the other’s heart, which way would you bet?”
Alex blinked, visibly weighing the odds that this was a trap.
Jess leaned in. “Think of me as Switzerland. Just with better taste in boots.”
Alex’s opinions turned out to be too cryptic to log. Jess crossed her off the source list. But maybe Sam would know something. She was Lena’s best friend, after all.
The call was innocuous enough. Something about the L Corp subsidiary Sam was overseeing. And then, halfway through pretending to care about quarterly projections, Jess dropped the question:
“Oh, by the way,” she said, casually, “totally random, but has Lena mentioned anything about, I don’t know, a catastrophic romantic implosion recently? Like, hypothetically?”
There was a pause. Then a sigh.
“Jesus. Did they actually break up?”
Jess sat up straighter. “So you knew something was going on.”
Sam made a noise like she was pinching the bridge of her nose. “Jess. Everyone knew. Esmé made them a macaroni art collage titled ‘My Aunts in Love.’”
Jess slammed her laptop shut. “Why does no one tell me anything?!”
“I assumed you knew. You’re literally their handler.”
She dug up an old photo from the office holiday party — Lena looking terrifying (and gorgeous) in a black velvet dress, Kara leaning into her side with a candy cane between her teeth and stars in her eyes. Jess casually slipped it onto Lena’s desk, tucked between two budget reports.
The photo was mysteriously missing the next day.
It wasn’t her fault, she told herself. While knowing, in fact, it was entirely her fault.
The flowers were already scheduled — same as always, every other week. Sure, she could’ve canceled the order. But Lena had been so busy lately. Too busy to notice something small and stupid like…
...flowers.
Jess didn’t see Kara cry. But according to CatCo’s assistant, Kara had torn her office apart trying to find the card.
There wasn’t one this time.
And yeah — she cried when she couldn’t find it.
Step Three: recruitment.
Or, as she would later call it, the day she accidentally gained a co-conspirator.
"I'm in," Alex said, cornering her by the elevator before Jess had even had a chance to swipe her badge.
Jess blinked. “What?”
“Whatever strategy, sabotage, divine intervention you’ve got going to get those two back together — I’m in. I can't take it anymore. Kara’s been moping around like a kicked puppy for weeks. So... what’s the next step?”
Jess stared at her, half-awake, “Is this… a dream? Am I hallucinating this because of sleep deprivation and romantic rage?”
Alex crossed her arms. “Jess.”
“Oh my God, this is real,” Jess whispered. Then louder: “Okay. Okay, yeah. Welcome to Operation Emotional Whiplash.”
Step Four: use their love for Esmé.
Jess had considered it, briefly. But she figured Alex would never go for it. Surely she wouldn’t let her baby daughter get involved in a scheme to emotionally manipulate two full-grown adults. Right?
Wrong.
When Esmé marched into the office with a crayon drawing titled “Happy Again” and a very specific request that both Kara and Lena be present for the unveiling, Jess realized this wasn’t a solo mission anymore.
This was a movement.
“They both cried,” Esmé reported afterward, entirely unfazed. “Can I have a cookie now?”
Jess gave her three. For bravery.
It was on step five, however, that things got out of hand.
Step Five: go big or—oh my God, am I losing my mind?
It started with a theme. That’s how you knew things had spiraled out of control.
Jess had been brainstorming ways to "accidentally" lure Kara and Lena into the same room without risking another emotional detonation. Something light. Fun. Distracting.
“Maybe… a party?” she said one day, mostly to herself.
But then Alex — sleep-deprived, emotionally unstable, and drunk on too much sisterly guilt — looked up from her phone and said, “What about a carnival?”
That should’ve been the end of it. A throwaway idea. But instead Jess said, “Oh my God. Yes. I know a guy with a popcorn machine.”
One week later, L-Corp's private rooftop was transformed. There was a cotton candy station. String lights and streamers in shimmering SuperCorp color palettes. Esmé had made a sign that said “Lena & Kara’s Fun Time, Attendance Mandatory” with glitter stickers.
No one stopped her.
Alex somehow acquired a miniature ferris wheel. “Don’t ask,” she said, tossing receipts onto Jess’s desk that made her gag audibly.
“Why did you buy a hundred plush space frogs?” Jess asked.
“For atmosphere,” Alex said, visibly unhinged.
It got to the point where Sam had to get involved. Since they were kind of, you know, spending a lot of company money on this.
It was around hour nine of hand-painting the “Super Ring Toss” sign that Jess realized she might have gone too far.
Like, way too far.
There was paint on her sleeves, glitter in her hair, and the faint sound of an air pump inflating a moon bounce in the background. She was pretty sure she’d pulled something carrying a popcorn cart up so many flights of stairs because somebody (her, it was her) forgot to rent the freight elevator.
“This is insane,” she muttered to no one, dropping her paintbrush. “This is absolutely unhinged. I’m Lena's assistant, not their fairy godmother. Or their therapist. Or their… weird matchmaking friend with a craft addiction.”
She looked around at the carnival chaos blooming around her.
Lena was her boss. Technically. No, definitely. And Kara was—well, Kara was supposed to be banned from the building.
And here Jess was. Making a rigged carnival game with her bare hands to force them into the same romantic airspace.
She sat down, right in the middle of the glittery mess. “What am I doing?”
There was a soft rustling beside her. Esmé plopped down cross-legged, holding a container of heart-shaped stickers. She silently peeled one off and stuck it to Jess’s arm.
“You’re doing amazing,” she said solemnly.
Jess blinked. “Thanks.”
The sticker read #1 Boss Cupid. When did Esmé have time to do that?
And then, before she knew, before she had time to second guess this further— the guests arrived. CatCo employees. L-Corp staff. Sam came in from Metropolis. Brainy and Nia showed up in matching outfits.
Lena arrived in red. Kara showed up wearing blue. Jess nearly screamed. She didn’t. She swallowed it. Barely.
Soon Esmé was holding up a camera yelling, “Say cheese or I’m telling everyone about that time you fell asleep while babysitting!!” And they actually stood together. For a photo. Neither of them burst into flames.
Jess hid behind the popcorn machine and gripped the counter like it was keeping her tethered to the earth. Alex sidled up beside her, holding a snow cone.
“They’re talking,” Alex said quietly. “Like, actual words. No tragic silences.”
Jess exhaled so hard it came out like a sob. “Oh my god. Do you think it’s working?”
“If it doesn’t, we burn the whole city down and start over.”
“Valid.”
Across the crowd, Kara laughed at something Lena said. Lena didn’t look away. Her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile but failing.
Jess stared at them, heart pounding. “I might actually cry.”
“Don’t,” Alex warned. “It'll make this weird.”
Jess’s eyes flicked around the party. “I’m pretty sure this is already weird.”
As more guests arrived, Jess busied herself with last-minute carnival tasks, but her gaze kept returning to Kara and Lena. They were standing close, laughing, as if their recent conflict had never happened. For the first time since her crazy scheme began, a flicker of hope ignited within her. Maybe, just maybe, her ridiculous plan might actually work.
And then, it happened. Near the balloon animals.
Jess was restocking napkins—because apparently no one else at this fake carnival cared about organization—when she felt a hand catch hers, light and sure.
She turned.
Kara stood there, soft-eyed and shining under the string lights. She didn’t say anything at first, just held Jess’s paint-smudged hand for a second longer than necessary. Then, in the quietest voice, just loud enough to hear over the cotton candy machine, she murmured, “Thank you.”
Jess blinked. “For what?”
Kara's smile was small, knowing, and just a little sad.
Jess tried to shrug. “I mean, technically, this was all Alex’s—”
But Kara had already moved on, slipping back into the crowd, the moment barely a breath.
Jess stared after her, heart hammering. She felt it. That glowing warmth in her chest. Like she’d done something good. Like maybe, just maybe, it had mattered.
And she nearly got away with it. She was this close to slipping out the side exit with her dignity semi-intact when—
“Jess.”
The voice stopped her like a trap snapping shut. She froze, turned slowly—and yep. Lena.
Hands on her hips. Red lipstick slightly smudged. Dangerous glint in her eyes. Standing between Jess and every possible escape route.
“Hi,” Jess said, way too brightly. “Did you enjoy the festivities?”
Lena raised a brow. “You mean the unsolicited rooftop carnival that hijacked my company’s schedule and budget for the week?”
“I would classify it as an interdepartmental morale-boosting social activation event,” Jess offered. “Helps build synergy.”
“Synergy,” Lena repeated flatly.
“Between divisions,” Jess nodded, backing toward the door, “especially with Kara as the head of CatCo—technically—”
“Right,” Lena cut in. “We’ll talk about it. Tomorrow.”
Jess gave her most professional, definitely-not-panicking smile. “Tomorrow? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Step Six: get fired... possibly?
Jess came in early. Earlier than usual. Earlier than anyone ever should.
She wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety, the fear of Lena Luthor’s wrath, or the fact that she hadn’t actually slept thanks to the glitter still embedded in her pillowcase. Probably all three. Definitely the glitter.
She sat at her desk like it was a confession booth. Hands folded. Phone off. Soul bared.
At 8:01 AM, Lena’s door opened.
“Jess,” Lena said. Flat. Sharp. And, oh god, wearing her all-black power suit—the firing suit.
Jess stood immediately. “Morning! You look—powerful.”
“Come in.”
Jess followed her into the office like she was walking into a guillotine.
Lena didn’t sit. She turned, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “I was set on firing you yesterday.”
Jess flinched hard. Oh this is gonna be bad.
“But,” Lena continued, pacing slowly behind her desk, “some people came to your rescue.”
Jess blinked. “...People?”
“Alex,” Lena said with a sigh, “told me it was her idea too. Which I kind of believed. Esmé cried, saying it was to make us happy. And Sam—well. Sam called me a ‘romantic coward’ and said I should be thanking you for having more spine than Kara and I combined.”
“Oh, wow.”
Lena fixed her with a look. “Apparently, they are big fans of your meddling work.”
Jess tried not to squirm. “I... appreciate their support?”
“But that doesn’t mean I’m not furious.”
Here it comes, Jess thought. The scathing takedown. The monologue. The legal action.
Lena stepped closer, voice quiet but sharp. “Do you understand how insane it is to throw an unauthorized carnival on a corporate rooftop? How many liability waivers did I have to sign this morning?”
“Alex said we didn't need permits,” Jess offered weakly. “She is the one working for the government, so I—”
“You forged a fake event memo, Jess.”
Jess coughed. “Barely. I always write them anyway. I just… made you sign it.”
“You spent company money on a miniature ferris wheel and a hundred space frogs.”
“For atmosphere,” Jess mumbled.
“And,” Lena continued, eyebrows climbing higher, “you had Esmé write a glitter-covered sign that said ‘Attendance Mandatory by me and Kara. Which was not at all subtle.’”
“Trust me, she came up with that. I just—didn't stop her.”
Lena sighed. Rubbed her temple. Finally, finally sat behind her desk, looking way more tired than Jess had expected.
“I’m your boss,” she said after a long pause. “This—whatever that was—it crossed a lot of lines.”
Jess nodded, swallowing. “I know.”
“You orchestrated an entire operation behind my back. You used a child. Esmé now thinks she's Cupid. With stickers.”
“Her moms were okay with that.”
Lena stared at her.
Jess straightened. “Look, I know I should apologize. And I do. I’m sorry. I got too involved. I shouldn’t have. But—” She hesitated. “You seemed miserable. Kara was definitely miserable. And Esmé kept drawing pictures of the two of you holding hands in front of a rainbow. And I just—”
“You just what?”
Jess’s voice softened. “I just wanted you to be happy.”
The silence stretched. Lena leaned back in her chair, studying her.
“Why?” she said eventually. Quiet.
Jess froze. That wasn’t the question she’d expected. She could’ve handled being yelled at. But ‘why?’ That was… dangerous. That was soft. And Jess had no armor for it today.
“I—” she started, but stopped.
Why?
Because she’d seen Lena break a picture frame of both of them. Because she’d watched Kara nearly cry her heart out in front of a stranger. Because the two of them had been walking around like broken halves of something whole, and it hurt to look at. That’s why.
But Jess didn’t say any of that. Couldn't. Instead, she offered, “Because! You're the CEO. If you're happy, the employees are happy.”
Lena blinked. Her expression didn’t change, but something in her posture shifted—just slightly. Her arms uncrossed. Her shoulders dropped.
“Look, Miss Luthor, I'm sorry. I know it’s not my place, and I crossed the line, and I accept whatever comes next. But someone had to do something. And I wasn't alone on it, because everyone else saw how much you two weren't fine. I'm sorry but—I’d do it again.”
There was a long pause. Lena stared at her. And then, with an exhausted sigh, Lena reached into a drawer and pulled out a folder.
Jess braced for termination papers.
Instead, Lena muttered, “We’re moving your office.”
Jess blinked. “Wait—what?”
“You’re being promoted,” Lena said, eyebrow raising. “Effective immediately. You’re now Head of Cross-Departmental Relations.”
“Is… that a real thing?”
“It is now.”
Jess blinked again. “You’re not firing me?”
Lena exhaled slowly, then looked up at her, gaze even. “I probably should. But apparently you’ve wormed your way into everyone’s hearts. Including Kara’s. And Esmé’s. And Sam’s. And even Alex's, somehow. So you’re staying.”
Jess let out a half-hysterical breath. “Okay. Okay. Cool. Promoted!’
“But next time you plan a romantic ambush on my property,” Lena added, “you run it by me. Or I will call security.”
Jess grinned. “Deal.”
She stood, legs slightly wobbly from adrenaline, and backed toward the door.
“Jess?” Lena said just before she reached it.
She turned. “Yeah?”
“…Thank you,” Lena said, quiet. Sincere.
Her heart did something weird in her chest. She nodded once—quickly—afraid she would say something dumb like You’re welcome, Boss, please name your first child after me.
Jess’s heart thudded so hard she was worried Lena might actually hear it. She turned to go—already halfway out the door when—
“Wait,” she said, almost without meaning to. She turned back, voice unsteady. “Did it… work?”
Lena paused. Her expression didn’t change right away. Still cool. Still unreadable. But something in her eyes shifted—softer, maybe. A little lighter.
She looked at her desk. Then back at Jess.
“We talked,” she said, a smile threatening to appear. “Last night.”
Jess held her breath.
Lena gave the smallest nod, like she was still getting used to the idea of opening up to her assistant. “We’re giving each other another chance.”
Jess actually swayed on the spot. Lena didn’t comment on it, which was kind.
So she bit back the thousand squeaky sounds building in her throat and just said, very seriously, “Okay. Okay. That’s… good. That’s very good. I mean, for you. Good for you.”
She bolted.
Lena didn’t stop her. But she was definitely smiling when the door closed.
Step Seven: reunite National City’s most dramatic power couple.
Step Eight: never admit how happy that made her. Not out loud, anyway.
