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everything-withered · 4 years

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Tony in this and Bucky just bluescreens

I would like to solemnly remind you that this is your fault.

---

Basic lab and workshop safety dictates everything from protective googles and clothing, but when Tony can bend the rules, he does.

It's partly because, after the bunker, Extremis was pumped into his veins and he's now, against his will, indestructible, and isn't a hundred percent cool with it. But really, the main cause for his flippant approach to basic safety standards is for the look on Bucky's face when he's expected to be in for a maintenance session.

It's not really necessary. Shuri isn't the type to make anything that would require regular sessions, but well, Tony's not really complaining.

At least now he wasn't.

When Bucky had first arrived, Tony ranted and raved about the weekly checks Bucky's arm needed, loudly and often, but Shuri, who has sat through endlessly boring meetings with dignitaries since she was in diapers, had the stamina for it and the kind of unimpressed expression only royalty could master. Tony never stood a chance.

And Bucky, as a result, wouldn't either.

Because see, Tony isn't upset that he's being forced to make nice with his mother's killer. That's. For therapy. And BARF. And about a dozen other healthier coping mechanisms to deal with. No. Tony's annoyed because Bucky's been flustered and embarrassed and is always really really sorry for being an inconvenience, and Tony doesn't know how to deal with it.

So, he doesn't.

He acts like a little shit because that's his default setting, and turns up his personality to feign as much nonchalance over the whole situation as possible.

At first it's with the fancy suits and the tech and the busy schedule.

Bucky's eyes widen and he flushes again, and he's definitely a little impressed. Just a little.

It's glamorous and flattering until it isn't. Until it rubs wrong and rings of arrogance and breeds resentment because that's what always happens, that's what everyone thinks eventually.

Bucky is not everyone.

In fact, his apologies for the inconvenience he's causing Tony get more earnest, and it makes Tony's skin fit wrong when Bucky starts asking very seriously if Tony's taking care of himself properly what with all of Tony's other commitments.

"Especially with all the work you already do," he'd said, a concern furrow in his brow. "I don't want to put you out, the arm can wait, really. I don't want to be a bother. Have you eaten yet? I can get you something. When was the last time you rested because there's really no rush on the arm, we can reschedule, I don't mind."

And not enough people care to care about Tony when he's got that particular mask on that Tony can't maintain it. Not in the face of Bucky's sincerity and genuine concern.

Tony still thinks it's some kind of ploy though so he turns to Plan B: He gets comfortable.

The suits are exchanged for well-worn jeans and band t-shirts. The only product in his hair is engine grease, and he doesn't bother to hide the gleam in his eye when he gets really caught up in his work.

Tony looks the part of the manic genius, and waits for Bucky's concern to morph into hesitation and then annoyance because Tony doesn't have the time or consideration for the trivial matters of mortals.

Tony doesn't miss the softening in Bucky's expression though Tony can't say why there's an answering ache in his chest for it, so he takes to teasing and making off colour jokes and saying things he'd usually only ever say to the bots and Rhodey.

Bucky, to Tony's surprise, is entertained and amused, and to Tony's horror, very similar in his humour if more charming and polite about it. That Bucky remains persistently thoughtful about Tony's general well-being is particularly awe-inspiring considering how many people in his life have come to just brush his disregard to his health as an eccentricity.

Not that Tony has much time for that thought when he's still caught up on how it shouldn't be so attractive to him that Bucky gets his sarcasm and wit, and how the considering look in Bucky's eyes never seem to falter, only change and evolve with every new side to himself Tony reveals to him.

But all of it, Bucky's interest, Bucky's care, is tugging at something Tony hasn't given himself time or emotions to consider since Pepper, and Tony really does have the worst luck.

When he complains to Shuri -- because she brought Bucky to his doorstep so clearly she is to blame -- the princess gets a look in her eye, and says smugly, "I knew you two would get along."

"What makes you say that?" Tony scoffs to hide the little bubble of hope that's risen in his chest like a hiccup.

"Well," she says, casual as ever, "he hadn't stopped talking about you ever since I introduced him to the internet about a week after the defrost." Then, like an embarrassed younger sister, scoffs, "Fanboys."

And that.

That is an interesting revelation.

A revelation worthy of scientific inquiry.

Something Tony is more than happy to probe at if Bucky is amenable to a collaboration in their shared. Interest.

They don't get a chance, unfortunately.

The Rogues come back, and Rogers is determined to draw battle lines, with Bucky firmly behind his regardless of Bucky's opinion on the matter.

Bucky, for his part, seems resigned to Rogers' attentions and mostly ignores him, though he tenses when Rogers invites himself to Bucky's check-ups.

For the next few weeks, just as when Bucky and he were first starting their appoingments, Tony finds himself donning armour again: suits perfectly tailored and sharp enough to cut on sight.

It has the desired effect of putting off Rogers with the added benefit of distracting Bucky.

Tony doesn't miss the way Bucky watches him after all, like he's a piece of art to be admired, coveted. Bucky, Tony realizes, has always looked at him that way since he came to the Compound.

"I don't know why you're putting up a show in those get ups of yours. This isn't a fashion show," Rogers says one day, finally putting together how Bucky zeroes in on Tony the way he does. Then, purposely bland but challenging all the same, Rogers says, "Isn't there a proper dress code for a lab?" Like Rogers of all people would know; would care enough about Tony's safety to bring it up at all.

Bucky's teeth grind, the hypocrisy evident even to him.

And Tony would be angry too, but Rogers has stopped being worth his anger a long time ago. His pettiness, however, well. That's a different story.

With a smile of too many teeth, Tony says, "You're absolutely right, I don't know what I was thinking."

On the next visit, Tony hears Bucky's intake of breath before he actually sees him.

"Tony," Rogers is protesting, sounding scandalised which is when Tony turns around for the money shot, and oh, it's glorious.

Rogers is red in the face, practically turning puce when he reads want Tony's vest says. He thinks Rogers' brain is going to melt out of his ears from the anger of it all.

Bucky, on the other hand, is experiencing some kind of system reboot because his face goes blank and his eyes go dark, and --

"Problem, darling?" Tony drawls with a faux Brooklyn twang.

"Not a bit," is Bucky's garbled reply before he's urging a little softly, "Could you...uh, turn around again, I wanna.."

"Bucky," Rogers hisses which succeeds far enough in getting Bucky's gaze to clear and his cheeks to pink, and oh, that's adorable, Tony internally cooes.

Aloud, Tony purrs, "Anything for you, Sarge."

Which makes Rogers' head swivel between he and Bucky like he's on the verge of short circuiting, something that may actually happen when Bucky steps forward, sweeps Tony up in his arms and walks off.

"Bucky, why are you --," Rogers is protesting behind them, stopping short of chasing after when Tony flings off his vest. He figures the message on it is explanation enough: because fuck you, that's why.

#winteriron #buckyxtony #submission

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glorious-blackout · 4 years

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Self-Indulgent Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino/Simulation Theory Crossover Part Six

@rock-n-roll-fantasy I should probably warn you that I am definitely back on my angst-junkie bullshit with this one, but I promise there’s more to come after this! 😅 Not sure when I’ll be able to post the next parts but hopefully you enjoy these two in the meantime 😊

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

********************************

There’s something wrong with the Earth.

This isn’t necessarily a surprise. In the week since the quake that never was, the entire world has felt off; tilted on its axis to such a degree that Alex can’t even begin to fix it. The details of the hotel feel muted, the life slowly draining from his surroundings as empty husks are left in the wake of an unseen angel of death. Once pristine white walls look faded and beige beneath flickering lights. The usual buzz of activity emanating throughout scattered hotel rooms has quietened, as though a volume dial has been turned all the way down. Portraits which once hung proudly along the reception walls have tilted, and if Alex studies them closely enough, he can see the colours smudging as the paint melts, removing all nuance in the process. At this point it wouldn’t surprise him to find cracks creeping along the marble columns or dying lilies curling over themselves in neglected pots, although he supposes it’ll only be a matter of time before that sight greets him as well.

It’s not just the hotel itself which has fallen prey to this lack of vitality. The guests have never been particularly fascinating company, but now they appear virtually soulless. Their numbers dwindle with each passing day despite no clear evidence of rockets carrying them towards home, and when scattered patrons do reveal themselves, Alex ends up eavesdropping on the same mundane conversations over and over again. Staff members offer the same monotonous greetings to him regardless of any attempts to lure them into conversation. Even Andrew, who can be quite amenable to a casual conversation over a pint, has little more to offer besides, “How are you enjoying your drink, sir?” when Alex forcibly drags himself to the bar.

On the one occasion where he agrees to play a show, he finds himself gazing at a placid, unmoving crowd who deign to make as little noise as possible. There are no cheers, no attempts to sing along, no murmurs of approval. Alex doesn’t even have the energy to be startled when he notes that several faces in the crowd have been replaced with expressionless masks, as though an artist has erased their features entirely, leaving only a discoloured smudge in their wake.

The world appears to be winding down, crumbling at the seams with no end in sight. And to top it all off, he’s the only person alive who seems to have noticed.

Even his weekly meetings with Murphy have halted without explanation. He’ll sit by the computer for hours on end, waiting for the dreaded ringing to invade his eardrums, but it never does. For the first time in his life, Alex would give anything to face that man and give him a piece of his mind, but God doesn’t appear to be answering his calls right now.

And then there’s Jamie.

“Are you coming down to rehearsals then?”

Alex doesn’t pay him any heed, choosing instead to keep his gaze fixed on the alluring form of Earth above him. He cannot bear to look at Jamie right now; not when doing so will only unveil a lifeless expression marring his friend’s once kind face. He only wishes the man would say something – anything – else. It appears to be lost on Jamie that he’s uttered the same sentence three times in the last fifteen minutes, having said little else since drawing up beside Alex on the balcony. The fact that he never receives an answer doesn’t register with him either. He simply keeps asking, like a children’s toy with only one voice-clip, not realising that every time he asks, he only succeeds in adding a further crack to Alex’s thoroughly abused heart.

Nick and Matt have fared little better. Playing a show with them the other night had been akin to playing with three ghosts who have yet to leave their bodies. All traces of humour and nuance and love have been stripped from them, leaving empty shells where his best friends once stood.

Or rather, where convincing replicas of his friends once stood. Alex can’t pretend to understand how this version of reality works, and he’s still struggling to separate the splintered fragments of Mark’s false memories from his own recollections. The Jamie, Matt and Nick he has been living with are certainly modelled after the people he’s known and loved all his life, but there are enough subtle differences to make him question if they were ever real in the first place. The most glaring marker of all being the fact that when he’d insisted they call him Alex, the only response had been a lack of recognition which had almost broken him.

The only person who has ever referred to him as Alex in all the time he’s been here is Matthew, but even as his mad theories have become more and more plausible, the man himself has remained infuriatingly elusive.

At least Alex knows why he seemed so familiar now. They’d only crossed paths occasionally in the past, exchanging pleasantries and compliments at various awards shows and festivals, but given their similar positions it would be impossible for him not to be familiar with a certain Matthew Bellamy. The man has always been more of a friend-of-a-friend to Alex than a proper acquaintance, but he likes him well enough to believe that Matt’s apparent fondness for him was also genuine. Granted, he doubts he’d ever have pictured the man as a planet-hopping outlaw, but then again, he imagines Matt must have been equally surprised to find him acting as the owner of a four-star establishment on the moon.

A disbelieving giggle erupts from him before he can stop it. He’s been doing that a lot lately. No doubt it’s an unconscious coping mechanism his brain has concocted while processing the impossible situation he’s stumbled into; he supposes his only options at this point are to laugh or sob like a child.

Pointedly ignoring Jamie’s lingering presence, Alex lets the Earth consume his attention once more. She’s as beautiful now as she always has been – her deep shades of greens and blues vibrant against a dense black sky – but that only adds to the sense of wrongness tugging at his heart. He shouldn’t even be capable of standing here, gazing towards home from this angle. Surely without proper protection and oxygen tanks, the air should have been sucked from his lungs and he should be gliding across the ground rather than standing still. Is there a force-field surrounding them, providing them with breathable air and simulated Earth-like gravity? If he concentrates hard enough, will he be able to spot the tell-tale shimmer of a shield embracing his tiny civilisation?

How odd that he’s never questioned such technicalities before.

As for the Earth itself, the more he studies it, the more it looks like someone has merely devised a painting of her against an endless black canvas, basing their work on ancient photographs from age-old Apollo missions. The image is too perfect. Too still and unaffected; a close approximation of how Earth must have appeared millions of years ago, before her surface was warped by humanity’s influence. The more he remembers of his final days on Earth, the less the image before him aligns with the truth. The clouds hovering beneath the atmosphere shouldn’t be a perfect white, they should be blackened by thick smoke. Those vibrant greens should have been burnt away to smouldering brown, as ash falls thick and heavy over once beautiful landscapes. No doubt even the oceans must have turned a grim, murky grey by now, rather than the striking blues he gazes upon now.

Alex gasps as a memory emerges unbidden, hands desperately grasping the balcony railing. These episodes have been coming thick and fast of late, and it takes all of his willpower not to collapse as faint echoes of screams pierce his ears and the foul taste of ash smothers his tastebuds.

He lets the memory carry him away, however, for he knows that stewing in his own ignorance is no longer an option he can indulge in.

The air is thick with acrid smoke as ash gathers on his tongue with every breath. His eyes draw upwards towards a tangerine sky; the sun obscured by thick smog which he can feel clogging his lungs, leaving him lightheaded and weak. Only hours ago the advice had been to stay inside, but the sirens now piercing his eardrums signal a change, and he knows with unexplainable certainty that if he’d stayed behind, he would have been consumed by the flames which lick their way across the landscape without mercy.

He doesn’t recall the events leading up to this moment, try as he might. Can’t recall if he’d been at home, or in the studio, or trapped within the confines of a hotel halfway around the world. The only instinctual memory he retains is that the catastrophe had crept up on them without warning, announcing itself with all the subtlety of an air-raid siren shooting panic into the veins of every human being on Earth. Only it hadn’t been sudden, had it? Not really. Humanity at large had known for years that the world was destined to burn unless something was done to stop it, but the warnings had been largely ignored, right up until the moment the fire was breathing down everyone’s necks.

The crowd surrounding him is desperate and he whimpers as countless bodies shove against him. No doubt he could remain perfectly rigid and yet still find himself pushed forwards by the sheer force of the human wave. The claustrophobia is suffocating, and breathing provides little relief when the air is as poisoned as it is. He can feel his chest heaving and the constant shouts and screams are momentarily drowned out by his pulse pounding a steady rhythm in his ears, and he clings tightly to the hand wrapped securely around his own as he’s guided along the wide street by a steady anchor. He doesn’t need to look to know instinctively whose hand it belongs to. The calming influence as his guide squeezes back and pulls him in closer is unmistakable. He presses himself against the other man’s body as the cacophony is quickly drowned out by gentle reassurances of, “We’re okay Al, just stay close yeah? We’re nearly there, just a little bit further, you’re doing great...”

He must look a state to warrant such a commentary, but he cannot bring himself to care. As he allows himself to narrow his focus entirely onto that soft voice, he can feel his heartrate slowing and his rapid breathing starting to ease. He feels - rather than sees - a worried face turning in his direction, ensuring that he’s still locked in the present rather than lost in the grasp of his panicked mind, and he gives a shaky nod to indicate that he’s okay. The world is burning and there’s no guarantee that safety is as close as his friend insists it is, but he’s not alone and the flames are still far behind him, so for now he’s okay. His hand is caught in another gentle squeeze - it occurs to him that the action might be for the other’s benefit as much as it is his - and they push onwards as best they can through the hulking mass of bodies surrounding them.

There’s a scuffle behind him as someone utters a sharp cry. Perhaps the constant shoving of bodies has finally erupted into a full-blown fight; either that or someone has merely lost their balance and fallen to the ground. Either way it spells the end for him. A desperate hand clings to Alex’s forearm for support and he feels himself being jerked backwards, struggling to maintain his grip on the precious fingers clutching his hand as faceless bodies try to pull him away. Panic seizes his throat, tightening his airway to the point where he cannot so much as scream. As the force of the disorganised crowd pulls him backwards, the people in front keep advancing, still trying to escape the flames and the thick, cloying smog. Concerned brown eyes turn to look at him, having sensed his distress in the crushing grip of his hand, and Alex can only watch those eyes widen with naked fear as their owner is pulled in the opposite direction.

Those pivotal seconds seem endless when replayed in Alex’s mind. The image repeats itself like a broken VHS tape - an unending loop of terror - but it must have taken no time at all for their connection to be severed with surgical precision. He remembers panicked, animalistic screams escaping his throat as he fought and clawed at the terrified masses surrounding him, his hand suddenly grasping nothing but air. He remembers the crowd in front pushing onwards, with one man among their ranks fighting tirelessly to stay behind, screaming Alex’s name over and over to the point where it must surely have torn his throat.

Neither of their efforts work. Their hands never meet again, and Alex can only watch as his salvation is carried off like a life-raft on the ocean, leaving him behind to drown on his sinking ship. And even above the distant sirens and the roar of nearby flames, the frantic, hopeless scream of “Alex!” continues to ring in his ears long after his would-be savior has vanished from sight.

“-ark?”

The crowded street blanketed in a thick, ashen haze vanishes from his mind’s eye and he blinks as Jamie’s voice pulls him back to the present. It takes a moment to fully reorientate himself, even as his eyes settle upon the pleasant mirage of Earth hanging above them. The air still feels unclean and the thick, cloying taste of ash still resides on his tongue. His throat still screams from the frantic cries that had been torn from it and his chest aches with the effort of breathing in filthy smog. His hand feels cold and empty, still grasping nothing but air in the place of warm flesh, and an overpowering sense of loss washes over him like a painful echo. If Jamie notices his distress, he makes no mention of it. His face is as blank and expressionless as it has been since his world became muted, and Alex thinks he would give his right hand in exchange for five minutes of his friend’s smothering concern.

“Where’s Miles?” he croaks out eventually, turning to face Jamie with a damning sense of dread. Part of him suspects that he already knows what the reaction will be and he longs to tear his eyes away in order to spare himself the pain, but he has to look. He needs this final grain of proof.

Jamie barely reacts to the words despite the fact that they’ve come out of nowhere. The only reason Alex even registers the minute furrow of his brow and downwards tug of his lips is because he knows that face better than he knows his own, and even then, the impassive blankness is back within mere seconds.

“Who’s Miles?”

Alex can’t look at him anymore. If he forces himself to look at that emotionless face then he knows his heart will crumble to dust and he’ll never be able to piece it back together. His eyes are drawn skyward and he keeps them there, unblinking, even when the growing sting becomes unbearable. His vision blurs with unshed tears and his chest shudders fitfully with the effort it takes not to break into animalistic sobs, but he forces himself to swallow down his grief before it can consume him. The pain is unbearable. It creeps over his mind like a specter, dragging its scythe wherever it goes without a care for the damage it leaves in its wake. The temptation to laugh as he realises that this has been the reason for his pervading sense of loneliness all along almost overwhelms him. Perhaps that would get a reaction out of the hollow shell that has taken Jamie’s place.

In the end, however, he doesn’t have the energy to make the slightest sound.

Because it’s not just Miles he’s grieving. The Jamie he knows and loves would never have let those two words leave his mouth. He would never stand idly by while Alex falls apart, visibly struggling to piece himself back together despite knowing that his efforts are completely worthless. The Jamie he knows would have pulled him in for a hug and let him sob his heart out without judgement, before gently telling him to tidy himself up so they can go out to thoroughly drown their sorrows. No doubt the Jamie standing beside him now has always been nothing more than a façade; expertly written code and little else. The same applies to Nick and Matt and every other human being he’s interacted with since stepping foot on this godforsaken rock, perhaps with the exception of Matthew. They’d been rather convincing replicas, he’s loath to admit, but that’s all they’ve ever been.

“Doesn’t matter,” he forces out in a choked whisper, in the full knowledge that that couldn’t be further from the truth.

He wonders if his real friends are still out there somewhere. Did they make it to safety while Alex was left behind and imprisoned within this lie? Have they been searching for him all this time, while he allowed his mind to be manipulated to the point where he forgot they existed? Are they mourning for him with the same all-consuming grief he finds himself overwhelmed by now?

Or are they simply ghosts, lost long ago to a world that has become uninhabitable? Perhaps they’re even trapped in the same boat he is; so wrapped up in the blissful ignorance of a beautiful lie that they cannot remember their own names.

“Is it better to exist within a terrible reality or a beautiful lie?”

He recalls Matthew’s burning question with a new sense of clarity. Because it hadn’t been hypothetical had it? Matthew had uncovered their circumstances long before Alex had. In his own infuriating way, Matt had been trying to prepare Alex for the conundrum he would be forced to contend with once the curtain rose. Their entire conversation had been a warning, planting seeds in his head that would eventually result in his world collapsing at the seams.

Had Matt also been crippled by an overwhelming sense of loss prior to stumbling into Alex’s makeshift life? Alex searches his mind for any random details he knows about Matthew Bellamy, but he cannot recall anything with great certainty. Miles had known him much better than Alex had; he vaguely remembers throw-away mentions of a wedding and a new baby, but nothing more concrete than that. For all he knows, Matthew is currently battling his way through an endless, synthetic maze to crawl back to the arms of the people he loves, or at the very least to be reunited with versions of his bandmates who haven’t been programmed to hunt him down and kill him.

“Are you coming down to rehearsals then?” Jamie asks once again, uncaring and toneless, as though trapped in an unending loop.

A huff of laughter escapes Alex’s mouth before he can stop it, and he bows his head as a tear finally slips from the corner of his eye. Rehearsals and playing live was once his only solace amongst the mundane goings-on of his daily life, but now the thought of facing the replicas of his friends and seeing them stripped of all personality is unbearable. Normality is nothing but a distant dream. There is no returning to the life that had been carefully carved out for him here regardless of what Jamie seems to think, and as the details of the hotel slowly fade around him, he doubts there’ll even be a crowd to play for by the time evening rolls around.

Jamie seems utterly unaffected when Alex finally turns to him, a thousand-yard-stare emanating from deep blue eyes as though Alex is a mere phantom standing in his way. A sense of finality takes hold as Alex stares at his friend, memorising the details of his face with a pang of grief, and he offers a small smile which he knows provides little benefit to either of them.

“You go,” he says, in a flat voice he no longer recognises as his own. “I’ll join you in a bit.”

The lie rolls surprisingly easily off his tongue, and despite giving no indication that he intends to follow-through on his promise, Jamie doesn’t question him for an instant. Instead, he simply shrugs before shoving himself away from the barrier and moving in the direction of the hotel. Alex watches his retreating back as he strolls along the cobbled balcony, and it takes all of his willpower not to yell at him to stop. To request a proper farewell, or a hug, or even to run up alongside him and enjoy one last hurrah with the band before everything fades to black.

However, as he watches Jamie vanish behind a set of automatic doors, he knows that running after him would be a mistake. There is no point in embracing the lie anymore. The avatars wearing his friends’ faces like intricate masks no longer have the power to replace the real thing in his heart, and having to reward them with false affection would surely destroy him.

Instead, he bids one final farewell to the Earth above him. For the first time he can remember, the clouds have cleared above the British Isles and he can see the tiny, shrunken form of England resting just above a narrow watery channel. Deep forest greens interspersed with tiny golden pinpricks amongst the well-lit cities are the only details he can make out, but yearning tugs at his heart regardless. He wonders what would happen if he took the initiative and made the trek to the space station now, requesting a ticket for the first flight back to Earth? Would the falsehood adapt around him and expand to include a detailed simulation of his home, from a time when everything was perfect and alive? Or would he simply hit a dead-end and be forever trapped within a tiny radius which encompasses the hotel and casino and little else? He has nothing left to lose by trying, but a nagging suspicion tugging at the back of his mind is enough to inform him what the outcome will be. Whoever designed his current reality didn’t deem Miles of all people to be a necessary addition - no doubt out of intentional cruelty - so the prospect of arriving home and throwing himself into the arms of his mum and dad is surely unthinkable.

It’s impossible to tell how long he spends gazing at the planet above, committing every single detail to memory with a bittersweet smile, but when he finally pulls his eyes away he’s momentarily overcome by a wave of contentment. The yearning for home vanishes and a renewed sense of finality tugs at his heart, only this time he lets himself bask in it. It’s over. The sky above is as much an illusion as everything else within reach, and while he knows he could lose himself staring longingly at the stars like a hopeful child, he finds that he no longer has any desire to do so.

After all, what’s the point in yearning for something that isn’t real?

******************************

Lilting piano notes resound through deserted, crumbling corridors; the echo bouncing off the ballroom walls, causing the delicate glass shards of the chandelier to tremble. All trace of life has vanished, with the exception of the lone musician on his humble stage, playing to a crowd of ghosts.

Alex doesn’t mind. He’d expected to find the hotel empty upon his return – no doubt his mental embrace of that finality had banished all remnants of humanity from its walls – and the uninterrupted stroll to the stage had been an oddly calming one. For the first time in years, a song had popped into his head with little fanfare. There’d been no need to agonise over chords or second-guess lyrics; instead the music had come to him fully formed as though obtained through a dream, and the need to perform it had become his sole objective.

A guitar would have been preferable. He has never felt entirely comfortable on the piano, but the choice seems to have been snatched away from him as all of his stringed instruments have vanished in his absence. Similarly, the lone drumkit and various brass instruments which once rested upon the stage are now missing. Only the piano remains. Each note sounds dissonant beneath his fingers, reverberating through the hall in all directions, and he gets the distinct impression that the instrument hasn’t been turned in years despite it sounding perfect only one week prior. His voice also sounds raw to his ears, but that doesn’t stop him from baring his heart anyway.

It’s a bittersweet song with an emphasis on the sweet, and he latches onto the topics of lost loves and friendships tied up with nostalgia for a golden age that no longer exists. No doubt he would have been proud of this one had he gotten the chance to write and record it on Earth, but at this rate he doubts anyone will hear it besides the ghosts haunting the fractured walls.

That’s okay though. This understated piece of music feels like the only genuine creation he’s produced in all the time he’s lived here, and for that reason alone he’d rather not be singing anything else.

While he refuses to give his surroundings much in the way of scrutiny, it isn’t lost on him that the ballroom is fading away with each passing second. Pristine white walls appear to be melting and cracks trail along the granite columns like lightning bolts stretching to the ceiling. The light from the chandelier is muted, emitting only the faintest golden glow through shards of glass which no longer shimmer, and the deserted dancefloor below has been swallowed whole by drab red carpet. The circular dining tables and bar are cloaked in shadow, their surfaces smothered by a thick layer of dust, and adorning the walls are empty frames where elegant portraits once gazed proudly upon the room.

Only one image remains. A small wooden frame sits on the wall directly within Alex’s eyeline, and though the photograph it displays sends an ache lancing through his heart, he finds it to be a pleasant ache. Captured for eternity is a shot of four young boys, barely out of primary school, with hair cropped short and arms wrapped lazily around each other. One curly-haired lad is looking away from the camera, eyes closed in a mistimed blink, while two others gape at the lens with deliberately widened eyes, baring all of their teeth in exaggerated grins. Only the smallest of the group is smiling in a fashion which can be considered normal, though the crinkling of his large brown eyes implies that he too is mere seconds away from bursting into uncontrollable giggles at his friends’ antics.

Alex can’t remember the photo being taken. The unremarkable brick wall behind them suggests it was taken at his childhood home, but it would not surprise him if the photo itself is yet another falsehood on top of the myriad of illusions he has spent years of his life sleepwalking through. And yet, he cannot bring himself to mind. The photograph may not be real, but the memories of a happy childhood surrounded by friends certainly are, and the sweet nostalgia that warms has heart can never be taken away from him. His real friends may have been lost to him long ago and even the replicas have deserted him now, but so long as he focuses on that image and dedicates this song to them, they can never truly be gone.

A shiver creeps up the back of his neck and he has the distinct impression that a pair of eyes have landed upon him, but he banishes that suspicion before it can take hold. This song is not intended for anyone’s ears but his own. The melody is quickly approaching its coda as he recites the final verse. The piano has grown so soft he barely registers the sound of it, but he carries on with a sense of obligation he doesn’t entirely understand. Perhaps it’s the sense of approaching finality which has made him so determined. His world is fragmenting piece by piece and he cannot comprehend what will happen to him once it fades completely, but he imagines there will be no coming back from it. He should be terrified and desperate, battling with every breath in his lungs to remain solid and whole, but he no longer has the energy to fight. Besides, he has always found contentment in music and performing, even in this godforsaken place. Why fight the inevitable when he can embrace it in peace instead?

The final note sounds abruptly as the last word escapes his lips, but before he can figure out a proper ending, the piano dissolves into atoms beneath his fingertips and the world explodes in a flash of brilliant white, carrying him along with it as his mind goes blank.

#Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino #Simulation Theory #Arctic Monkeys #Muse #my fic #writing

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supergirlimaginesfic-blog · 7 years

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Lena x reader (I could use a little bit of you right now)

Request: Lena x reader : where you're kara's sibling and lena has a crush on you

a/n: this prompt was so fun to mess around with, so thank you for that!!! I feel like there was so much potential for ALL the dumb ideas and I just got so excited. Also, just assume you’re Alex’s biological sibling or something, nothing too deep. You’re a fam and it’s happy, that’s it LOL. I just absolutely love the Danvers sisters dynamic, and how much better is it if you get a little part in it too?

I’m a really big fan of Lena falling for someone who has pretty much the most Mundane daily routine. Like, her entire life is so full of Greatness and Legacy and constant threats of being killed, but really? Imagine being the person who gives Lena that so very desired sense of normalcy, and being the one to balance her life out like that. Imagine her coming home from L-Corp and just being able to be ordinary. I like that a lot, I think Lena deserves that

- - - - -

There are two facts you can rely on in life and it follows as such: 1. you’re about as adorably oblivious as your older sister, Kara. 2. Your other sister, Alex, will stop at absolutely nothing to constantly remind you of that aforementioned fact.

You weren’t the prone to getting hit by errant cars or finding yourself dealing with shady people type of clueless - you would in fact say you are a bit too aware of your surroundings for that, a lot in part having to do with having an alien and also a special forces secret agent in the family. But that’s all technicalities.

You wouldn’t even argue with your annoying big sister, Alex, if she’d ever say you were oblivious when it came to taking a hint and realizing that people were hitting on you - it seemingly took a lot for you to realize that, and that left for a plethora of laughable situations in retrospect whenever the three of you went out together.

For her part, Alex is owning the big shot, totally hot shit role really well and as the oldest sister, you figure she deserves that title. You’re loath to resist reminding her of how equally useless she was in the beginning stages of her relationship with Maggie - you’d get a very dark look in return and a noogie when you’d least expect it, and Alex has a killer headlock.

In the grand scheme of all things romantic, the Danvers siblings are a humble species of their own. It seemed that no one in your family had the time or the energy to spare for dating and delving into the world thereof. You would consider yourself a bit of a serial dater as well, not really convinced by the excitement and thrill which casual dating seemed to bring for a handful of your friends.

You’d had your fair share of love and heartbreak in your plentiful years of living, and by now you’d learned that if something was bound to happen, it would happen, and you’ve resigned to letting love or whatever else find you.

These are the thoughts you’d seemed to have when you were at work, a line cook job at a combined pizza bistro and music lounge you’d kept since high school.

It was a particularly slow lunch service, even for a restaurant at the heart of downtown National City, and this allowed you certain freedoms like connecting your phone to the speakers and letting your invariably questionable music taste blast throughout the kitchen - your coworkers won’t ever stop giving you shit for your immeasurably vast taste in music. You have music for all moods, damn it, and so help you if your playlist reflects your equally unpredictable shifts in mood.

Seeing as you had nothing else to do, and your boss was way too lax about really everything that could involve his business, you open your text messages and finally give yourself the chance to reply to some messages you’d gotten in the morning.

you: “lol work is so dead right now, I love being the normal sibling”

You chuckle to yourself as you reread your text message, totally honest in your self-evaluation. There weren’t many people in your life who would have reason to compare you to your big sisters - at least, not in the way one usually would find themselves when dealing with two other successful older siblings.

Sure, in civilian eyes Alex may be a doctor and Kara might be a journalist at a highly infamous media company, but you were and always will be the baby of the group, and you enjoyed certain liberties because of it.

Who cared if Alex was a special forces agent of a secret government organization, and who cared if Kara was literally Supergirl? You developed a comical nonchalance so early in your childhood to deal with having a new alien sister sprung on you, and you’ve brought your humour as a necessary coping mechanism with you into your adulthood.

When you were much younger, Alex might have been worrying about the very serious social conundrums a teenager could face and was preoccupied with not being too weird in school, but who really had the time for that? You certainly did not have time for Alex’s teenage foolishness - you enforced your weekly routine of visiting the public library to get your stack of books, it was all you asked for after all.

When you got older, you stayed very much a sensible young adult, begging Kara to play with wood and matches and setting things on fire with her eyes whenever Alex had to babysit you two.

And now, in your twenties, you were ever the same, content in your simplicity. Whenever Alex and Kara were worrying about the next threat to security, you waited in tense anticipation for the next big AAA game on your video game console to become available in National City.

You had modest concerns; when would you fix your broken guitar? When would you find the time to read that book you started years ago? You lived a simple life compared to your older sisters, and none of you have said it, but you all know it balanced everyone out.

Lena: “Normal, but not any less wonderful, surely? Though I’m certain Alex and Kara would have some choice words to say about your gloating ;) I’m just about to head off for my designated hour and a half of lunch. Jess is really starting to put her foot down regarding that.”

you: “I am absolutely the greatest Danvers, you are so right. All that genius of yours and I’ve never once doubted it, you should let Alex know this too”

you: “But good for Jess that she is, at least someone is using all that power for good...”

Lena: “Here I was about to ask for your recommendation of a stellar restaurant establishment with the most agreeable staff, one in which I could enjoy my lunch break in peace, but it seems as though you’re busy lecturing someone at the present moment...”

you: “Lecturing a certain someone for their inhumane workaholic tendencies?? it’s a sacrifice I make for the greater good”

you: “Come down and visit me? I’m bored :(”

Lena: “Well, since you asked so nicely. I will be seeing you in twenty minutes.”

You smile to yourself, chuckling at how amenable Lena is with you. For all that you’ve seen of her scary CEO facade, you’ve also seen so much of casual Lena Luthor - someone just as easygoing as you are.

You pity much of the world who are so set in their beliefs that she’s nothing more than the inherent evil that comes with her family name, but you’re also glad you’re one of the very few people who get to see her for who she really is - a wonderful, supremely intelligent, beautiful woman who, you’d eventually come to learn, has the very attractive ability of being able to laugh at herself.

It’s about fifteen minutes or so since you got Lena’s text message when the chit printer hums to life and notifies you of an order. You see that an order has been placed under the name of L. Luthor, and you grin at the paper.

You move to make the pizza and when you’re finished the order, you yell into the direction of the office - you don’t actually know where your boss went off to.

“Thomas, I’m taking my thirty!”

A muffled voice replies back from his office, “Go wild, kid.”

You don’t bother to wait for the morning server, Tarah, to come in to take the food, instead opting to wipe your hand quickly on the rag you’ve stuck in your back pocket before you’re moving into the dining area with the pizza in hand.

You see Lena sitting at a table closest to the wall, the elevated portion of the dining room faces the small music stage cozily. She smiles when she sees you make your way to her and she stands up to meet you.

You put the pizza down on the table and hesitate in front of her.

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” she takes quick note of your reluctance to touch her with your messy work clothes but she takes you in a hug anyway, smiling as you let yourself into her embrace.

“Must be a great day if you don’t care about flour getting all over you,” you smile when you see her fond exasperation.

“Do you really believe I’d come all this way to see your lovely face and not get my hug from you?”

You hum in contemplation. “Why, Miss Luthor, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’ve missed me.”

She smiles, a slight blush colouring her cheeks. “A most bold assumption, but not entirely untrue.”

You both sit down and you lean back into your chair.

“Well, for what it’s worth you didn’t have to order my favourite, you could have just gotten what you wanted,” you say, eyeing the food quizzically.

“Oh, it’s fine, I wouldn’t finish it anyway. If I understand correctly, this is your break too. It’s only fair since you’re using it to spend it with me.”

“Lena, not everything is a business deal. I like spending time with you. I love that you come to visit me whenever I whine about being bored, and I absolutely love this pizza.”

You grab a slice and barely managed to drop it onto your plate, seeming to forget that a hot pizza means it just came out of the oven. You shake out your hand and blow on it to ease the slight burn on your fingers.

Lena smiles softly at your words, her eyes crinkle with amusement at your clumsiness.

“My compliments to the chef,” she says cheekily.

“Thank you,” you reply after a bite of pizza, not caring about the burn you’ll get on the roof of your mouth.

“So, (Y/N), how has your life been lately? Spare no details.”

“In the last few hours since we texted this morning? Nothing particularly exciting, I wasn’t kidding about the utter normalcy on my end.”

“Ah, well, simplicity is desirable isn’t it?” She tilts her head at you in question.

“Oh, yeah, I’m really not complaining. Life’s great as it is. I like where I’m at. I’ve got enough money to do what I want, a job that lets me get away with all the tattoos and piercings I could possibly want, my sisters are awesome, I’m sharing a pizza with Lena Luthor,” you grin as you take note of her raised eyebrow and the smirk she’s giving you.

“You love bugging me, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m not entirely joking.” Suddenly, you remember the conversation you had earlier with your boss.

“Right, I forgot! Thomas said the usual act that plays here, apparently their guitarist is out of commission. So I get to play with them for a few nights, I’ll get my usual wage and some band money on the side for it too!”

“That’s so exciting! I would love to see you play, I know you’ve mentioned often how much you miss playing the guitar. Would you be getting your own fixed at some point then?”

You smile at her enthusiasm. You feel the slight dip in your chest and have no time to ponder the new level of excitement you feel at Lena watching you on stage.

“Uh, yeah- yes! Yes, that would actually be so awesome, I’d love it if you came, if you had the time, of course. I know L-Corp gets really busy sometimes so if it’s really late, you don’t need to worry about-”

“(Y/N),” she interrupts your rambling. She’s pointed out in the past how very much like Kara you are in that aspect, something she’s never failed to mention how adorable it is. “I will make time for you, if you would like me there.”

“You know I would love you there.”

“So, it’s settled. Just give me the time and I’ll be there, front row cheering and all.”

She winks at you and your eyes widen slightly as you feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. You hope she doesn’t notice the sudden gulp you have to take for your suddenly dry throat.

“Uh- also,” you say hoarsely, and you cringe at your failing voice. You clear your throat hastily before you continue.

“Also, tonight, the superfriends are going out for drinks. You should come with, so far it’d just be us, Kara, Alex is bringing Maggie I think, and Winn will be there too. We won’t actually be out too late this time, if that makes a difference for you.”

She tilts her head in question, regarding you in silence. You begin to feel slightly uneasy after a few moments without an answer before she smiles softly at you.

“Would the others be okay with that?”

You stare dumbly at her, blinking several times as if to process whether she was joking or not.

“Of course they would, why wouldn’t they?”

Lena hums in answer and takes a sip of her water. You lean across the table to grab her hand, feeling the softness of it under your slightly calloused hands and you’re pleased when she doesn’t move away.

“Lena, they would be delighted if you were there. If you aren’t comfortable, I totally understand, and we can have a rain check for whenever you’d like-”

“Thank you, (Y/N).” She smiles earnestly at you and flips her hand in yours, intertwining her fingers with yours. “I’d love to join you tonight.”

“Excellent.” Your eyes light up in excitement. “Can’t wait to see how soon you’ll get sick of me with all these plans of ours.”

Her expression shifts in admonition, “I don’t think I could get sick of you.”

“Don’t challenge the gods like that, Luthor.”

She laughs at your dramatics and moves to leave. “I suppose I’ll let you go now, I’m sure your boss is wondering where you’ve gone off to.”

“No way, he really doesn’t care, plus he loves me too much. He’s probably doing important things anyway.” You make an exaggerated gesture of smoking an invisible blunt.

“Oh, of course.” Lena replies in sage understanding. “Alright, darling. It is always such a pleasure to see you. Thank you for this.”

You stand up to hug Lena and you sigh contently at the feel of her in your arms. She pulls away and kisses you on the cheek, gathers her belongings and leaves you reeling at the touch.

You barely manage to wave goodbye to her when she’s walking out the door, and you smile at her newly developed habit. It’s only recently she’d started doing that - kissing you on the cheek - and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it if your reaction is anything to go by.

You finish the last few hours of your shift and wait in anticipation for the night’s activities. Kara comes home just half an hour after you and even without her super speed, the way she rushes into the apartment, drops her belongings at the door, and flops dramatically onto the couch face first all in one motion tells you enough about her day.

“Aliens or asshole people?”

“Being a total jerk is a universal problem, apparently.”

You smile at her evaluation. “Such is the greatest downfall of the galaxy! And as someone who’s been to twelve different planets, you mean that literally.”

She grins at your parroted words - she’d said the same exact thing about chocolate pecan pie being the best dessert ever last Thanksgiving.

“You always were the smarter one.”

You sigh extravagantly and wave your arm in a flourish meant to whack her. “Oh, dear sister, you flatter me so!”

You both laugh at your theatrics and Kara moves to rest her head in your lap. You’ve turned the TV on to something that isn’t the news and she sighs happily; you’d never admit it but your sister always made you so soft whenever she did this, and you loved it when she did.

“Thomas is letting me play for the band at work and he’s paying me double for it.”

“Whoa! Superstar!” She looks up and grins proudly at you.

“Lena said a similar thing.”

“Oh, Lena! I got to interview her today. She looks a lot happier these days.”

“It seems that way. I managed to convince her to sneak out of work today, maybe it’s just getting slower at L-Corp and she can actually breathe again.”

Kara looks up at you again, tilts her head in consideration. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, we got to have a quick conversation during my break. She might drop by for one of the nights I’m playing the gig. And I’ve also invited her to go drinking tonight, is that cool?”

Kara looks at you with a strange smile on her face. “(Y/N), of course it’s cool,” is all she says.

You squint your eyes at her and ignore her strange look. “Sweet, thanks.”

“She’s our friend, in fact we could even say she’s family.”

“Okay, weirdo.”

You smirk at what you know is Kara’s deeply affronted look, you can practically hear the offense her expression is taking and your eyes never leave the TV screen.

You’re about forty minutes into an obscure talk show and Kara is deeply interested in the food making portion of the show when you hear the rattle of a doorknob working.

Alex walks in to the apartment and, like clockwork, Kara yells for your sister like a puppy who’s been waiting for its people to come home, and Alex just slightly cringes at the excessive volume of her welcome.

“Hello, crew,” she announces into the room.

You lift your arm lazily above your head in greeting, letting it fall back down so the impact thumps near Kara’s head. She grunts at the action and you grin at the reaction.

“Lena’s coming with us tonight,” Kara calls to Alex, who’s already rifling through the kitchen for something to eat and surprisingly, doesn’t find anything worth eating in Kara’s fully stocked fridge.

“Oh? That will be fun.”

“(Y/N) invited her. Apparently they had a nice conversation today at lunch.”

“Kara, I’m right here, I could just tell Alex myself.”

“Oh, sorry! Stealing your thunder, go ahead and tell her.”

You squint your eyes in confusion at her, only vaguely suspicious by her exceedingly bizarre behaviour.

“There’s nothing to tell, I don’t know why this is such a story.”

“Are you gonna tell Alex about your new job?” Kara supplies excitedly.

You roll your eyes at Kara but are interrupted by Alex ruffling your hair as she comes around the couch. She sits herself on top of Kara’s legs and drops unceremoniously, grinning mischievously when Kara whines at having to make room.

“So what’s this? What new job?” Alex asks when Kara finally relents.

“It’s not a job, but thank you for your helpful recollection, Kara. The boss is letting me fill in for one of the guitarists since our usual band’s dude is out for a while.”

“That’s so great, (Y/N). That’ll be awesome for you. Are we gonna make a party out of it? Want us to bring the fanfare?”

Before you can say anything, Kara butts in again. “Lena’s already invited. Apparently she’s got first dibs.”

You click your tongue at her and smack her with a pillow. You’re beginning to become aware of the space around you - or lack thereof - when Kara shifts and everybody groans in protest. The couch has always been too full of Danvers siblings, but it’s a well loved couch because of it.

“Lena does not have first dibs of anything, I just happened to tell her first.”

“Right, okay.” Alex smirks at you and Kara is giving her a look. You decide it’s best to ignore them both, dismissing it as their mysterious older sister connection.

Alex persists though. “Anything else you want to share with us? Lena’s doing great these days?”

“No, nothing else that is worth mentioning despite what you two gossip-hounds might think. Why are you both so keen about my life all of a sudden anyway? Why don’t we interrogate Alex for once? Alex, how are you and Maggie?”

“Oh? You wanna know? It’s just the best. Our sex life? You would not believe-”

“Jesus, nevermind!” You backtrack immediately and groan in protest, Kara singing some made-up song to drone out Alex’s voice. Alex talks through the noise easily and Kara keeps singing louder, you grumble and resign to wait valiantly for one of them to give up.

You hear a notification coming from your phone and move to pick it up from the table, not entirely caring whether the movement will shove Kara to the floor or not. You’re a mixture of staring in a daze and a silly smile plastered on your face when you see the message Lena has sent you.

Lena: “Your advice would be much appreciated, is 1 or 2 more suitable?”

Lena: DSC_09281.jpg

Lena: DSC_09282.jpg

You look at the message and your curiosity gets the best of you. You open up the first image and your eyes widen at the picture. Lena’s taken a mirror selfie, her pose showing off a backless black dress that falls just over her mid thigh.

When you open the second attachment, your eyes gravitate where they shouldn’t when you take in Lena’s low-cut white shirt and the tight-fitting black slacks that fit snugly to her legs.

Taking in every detail, you’ve effectively forgotten that you’re supposed to actually give an answer, and you must be quiet a long time because your sisters snap you out of your reverie.

“Hot date?” Alex’s voice cuts into your daze.

“No, I think it’s Lena,” Kara says.

You hear Alex muttering something that sounds suspiciously like same shit but you’re too focused on Lena’s new distraction and how she’s so easily rendered you useless. Somehow, you find the will to text back.

you: “You’re a marvel, Miss Luthor. I must say, I am always a sucker for a black dress but... stay casual. It’s your night out, you can forget the CEO theatrics for one night, right? ;) it could get colder later anyway, who knows what the gang could get up to tonight”

Lena: “Charming and chivalrous, how ever can you say no one has scooped you up yet? I will take your advice. Thank you, darling. See you tonight :)”

“Are you done sexting your girlfriend?” Alex asks cheekily and Kara actually admonishes her this time. Still, it doesn’t stop the blush rushing to your cheeks.

“We are definitely not sexting.”

Alex scoffs incredulously. “You sure as hell could have fooled me.”

You make a pointed effort to ignore Alex’s snickering and Kara’s amused smile.

“If you two are done, we should probably get ready soon.”

“What? It’s only 6, are you that excited?” Alex remarks, a grin still plastered on her face.

“Well, Kara here takes her sweet time getting ready when we’re going out, you know this.”

“Hey!” Kara butts in, “How am I supposed to enjoy the process if I use my super speed all the time?”

“The process of singing your obnoxious 2000s era pop music while we wait for you to hurry up? The kid’s actually right for once, Kara.” Alex retorts.

You drum your hands on Kara’s arm and Alex stands up to free Kara from her captivity on the couch. She slowly slides off of you onto the floor and you nudge her annoyingly with your foot until she starts moving.

With all the bickering and your various degrees of sassy attitudes, the three of you eventually pile out of the apartment at a reasonable hour.

Maggie and Winn are the first ones at the bar and have saved a booth with a small table. You greet your friends who have just ordered their drinks when you get a text from Lena that lets you know she’s on her way.

Still, it was as if nothing could have prepared you for when you glanced around and saw her approaching from the corner of your eye.

You’re probably caught staring for a socially unacceptable amount of time because Alex has lightly punched you in the arm, smirking as she inconspicuously drinks her beer in mock innocence.

You don’t have time to cuss her out when you feel the soft touch of a hand on your back and feel your skin light up suddenly - the entirety of your side that is touching Lena might as well have been on fire.

Lena is greeting the table easily and even high fives Winn, who’s sticking his tongue out at Alex who rolls her eyes at his nerdy tendencies.

“Hello, darling. Long time no see,” she whispers into your ear and waits for you to turn to her.

When you face her, she pauses momentarily before she kisses your cheek in greeting and you feel yourself combust again.

“Hey, Lena.” You’re relieved the music in the bar is loud enough to veil your hoarse voice. Maggie’s eyebrows are raised to her hairline. She gives a knowing look to Alex who’s watching your interaction with a smirk.

Everyone moves to settle into the table again and you can feel her sit close to you. You ponder the idea of accidentally spilling water on yourself to douse the fire that’s currently consuming you from Lena’s closeness.

“Have you all ordered already? The next one’s on my tab.”

“Uh, actually, I went ahead and got your usual for you with our order, if that’s alright. I just presumed, you can get something else if you want, it’d be my fault anyway if-”

“(Y/N),” you can hear her how deliciously your name sounds in that melodiously low voice of hers, “you’re fine. Thank you.”

She smirks at you, places a hand on your forearm that’s resting on the table. You have a suspicion Lena Luthor is going to be the death of you tonight.

The rest of the drinks come to the table and you’re all sorting yourselves out when Alex speaks up.

“So, have you all heard yet? There’s a rockstar in the family.” She announces loudly to the table, and despite the slight embarrassment you feel from her zealous enthusiasm, you know deep down she’s genuinely happy for you.

“What’s this all about?” Maggie turns to look at you.

“The bossman’s letting me play some gigs with the band. I’ll be the filler guitarist for a while at the restaurant.”

“Hey, no way! That is wicked, are we allowed to watch?” Winn asks excitedly, clutching his drink close to him since he’s sitting right beside Kara - she is notorious for her extra level of clumsiness in a close proximity setting, for whatever reason.

“Lena’s already got front row and VIP, backstage too.” Alex remarks, and you know she’s on a mission to push your buttons from the mischief that’s evident in her eyes.

Lena merely smiles at the group, raises her drink, “I’ll cheers to that.”

Everyone whoops and hollers noisily, Kara and Winn banging their hands on the table as Alex takes a swig of her beer, Maggie leaning in to say something to her.

“Remember me when you become famous,” Lena winks at you.

“Of course, we could give the tabloids something to talk about all the time.” Your eyes widen dramatically, and you smile at her laughter.

The better part of the night is spent in an increasingly buzzed haze. The conversation between the group flows steadily and at some point, Kara has convinced Winn to dance with her and you’re nearly in hysterics when you catch his pained expression.

Maggie and Lena are standing near the bar and have fallen into an engaging discussion, apparently regarding some sci-fi TV show called Dark Matter, if you recall correctly.

You feel Alex slip into the seat beside you.

“I’m tired,” is all she says.

“Oh, did you wanna go now? Were you going to leave with Maggie or something? We could-”

“Of watching you and Lena tiptoeing around the large elephant in this room that is so aptly called why are you two not dating yet.”

You stare dumbfounded at her. “Why would I do that?”

Alex gives you a look that very clearly says, are you kidding me?, and she doesn’t need to say anything for you to get it. Despite that, she presses on.

“Okay, you know what, that’s fair, if you’re not into her like that I don’t want to pressure you. I’m just saying if you’re feeling it, you have nothing to lose, in my eyes.”

“I like Lena, and I love spending time with her, and seeing her makes my day all the time. She’s a really great friend and such an incredible person, and I really think I see a lot of her that nobody else gets to see. But I don’t really know if she’d be into that and I don’t want to ruin what we have going on by making her uncomfortable with whatever feelings I think I have-”

“(Y/N), are you serious?”

You look at your sister and realize there’s a telling lack of ulterior motive in her expression. She’s being serious, and that makes you pay attention.

She sighs deeply, dramatically throws an arm over your shoulder when your silence answers for itself.

“I can’t believe it, I think I’ve failed you as a sister. This is such a sad moment in my life.” She brings you in close to her so you can hear her clearly.

“Alright, here are the facts, these are actual things that have occurred and I’m not making them up. These are things that you know, but are also things you don’t actually know if you really do believe Lena wouldn’t be more than okay if you asked her out. She kisses you on the cheek-”

“She does that all the time.”

“With you, yes.”

You have no rebuttal to that.

“She always makes time to see you.”

“She sees Kara too...”

“For work, idiot. Even then Kara has to go to her.”

“What if I just happen to get her whenever she’s free?”

“She’s free all the time for you, kid. That’s the point. She’ll make time for you.”

You can’t seem to argue with that fact. You’re considering Alex’s observations when Kara slides up to your other side, seemingly out of nowhere and already cognizant of the conversation you’re having with Alex.

“You know, Lena asks about you all the time during our interviews.”

You nearly choke on your own breath when you hear her voice close to your ear - you swear she’s some sort of ninja sometimes, and she’s going to scare you to near death one of these days.

“See, Kara wouldn’t lie to you,” Alex nods her exaggeratedly.

“She has this faraway look in her eyes too. She loves hearing about all the things we’d get up to as kids. Oh, like just a few days ago I told her the one time about you and the peanut butter incident when you were eight-”

“Kara!” You interrupt her rambling, the only thing you got from her rambling comment was that she’s brought up the peanut butter incident with Lena, and you’re just a little bit mortified.

Kara continues anyway, and it’s becoming apparent that neither of your sisters can be stopped tonight.

“She always brings you up somehow, it’s so cute,” her nose scrunches in delight. “It’s like you’re constantly on her mind, the way you always manage to get into our conversations.”

Alex adds on to the tail end of Kara’s comment, “just look at the way she acts around you as opposed to when she’s with Maggie or Winn for example. She’s different with you. You talk often and you’ve become some comfortable part of each other’s lives. You’re both pretty much already there, just without the label.”

You’ve been listening carefully to Alex and Kara’s admissions. You consider their words and think back in retrospect, looking for any hints in your interactions with Lena that your sisters could be right - you know deep down that they are, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less apprehensive.

“Just think about it, think about taking the risk that’s pretty much already a win. We’re your big sisters, we know these things,” Alex smirks confidently and pats you roughly on the shoulder, taking her arm away to reach for her drink.

Then, she adds as an afterthought, “But really, no matter how much we bug you, that doesn’t mean we’re out to actually hurt you. I think if I, and even Kara can see that you and Lena getting together doesn’t have to stay some pointless dream, there’s some basis in what we’re telling you. I think you don’t need to worry about Lena’s feelings in this, kiddo.”

Just then, your gaze wanders to Lena and she looks up and catches your eye. She smiles softly at you and focuses her attention back to Maggie.

Alex effectively destroys the last lingering moments of the emotional intimacy that’s been shared in your impromptu sibling bonding, true to her trademark way, “I really can’t believe that you can’t see Lena having the biggest ladycrush on you.”

“Ask her to watch a movie, I think she’d like that,” Kara adds encouragingly.

You decide to take her word on the entire matter just slightly more than you’ll take Alex’s - you know that Kara has had more deep talks with Lena and could probably give you plenty of helpful hints.

You decide then and there you’re going to do something about all your newfound information. You’ve got your intel and pretty much your sisters’ blessings, and you know if you don’t do this now, you’re probably going to wait another few months for the next wave of confidence to inspire you.

Alex is nodding her head approvingly at you and Kara’s got the biggest smile on her face, both thumbs up like a dork in her own supportive way.

Maggie turns to look at you when she sees you walk up to Lena. She winks at you and pats you on the back as she leaves, a sudden wave of who the hell else is in on the woes of my lovelife? overcomes you in that brief moment but you have no time to contemplate it.

“Hey, stranger.” Lena smiles when she sees you taking in her figure.

She’s leaning up against the bar, looking so relaxed and confident. She wore the outfit you suggested earlier and you almost forget why you walked up to her in the first place. No need to worry, however - you got this.

“Alex and Kara said we should make plans,” you blurt out.

Somewhere in your mind, you can hear the imperceptible sound of something that sounds much like a farting noise in response to your utter lack of cool - no doubt indicative of your very obvious inability to form coherent thoughts whenever Lena made you nervous, which was precisely what was occurring at this very moment. Maybe you don’t “got this”.

Lena’s lips twist into an amused smirk, she tilts her head at you in good nature. “What plans did you have in mind?”

“Things we could do together? I guess?” Your voice takes on a high pitch as your sentence trails off, your eyes widen at your rapid decline in behaving in a way that won’t scare Lena off.

“I mean, like- did you want a movie or something? To go to a movie, did you want to go to a movie, and watch one? At my place? Or yours? It’s all up to you, if you’re even interested at all-”

You shut yourself up when Lena comes up close to you, nearly chest to chest as you watch her gaze trail from your eyes to your lips, and then back again. Your hand is clenched into a fist on the bar - you can’t move it now, not when Lena is standing so close and really, nothing but your clothes would be in the way-

“(Y/N),” you can feel the ghost of her breath on your lips. You inhale sharply, but somehow you still feel breathless. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah- yes! Alone? We could do things, like a date? With me?”

The tension between you and Lena is so palpable and in those few moments of silence where it’s just you two staring at each other, you can feel the vague sense of rejection only start to manifest before she speaks up.

“I would love to do things like a date, alone, with you.” She smiles and puts a hand on your other arm, running her hand gently to soothe your obvious nervousness.

You let out a long breath you didn’t realize you were holding, jaw slightly slack with disbelief at what you’ve just accomplished.

“Oh, alright- yeah, that’s- just like that then? That’s it?”

Suddenly, she has an eyebrow raised in a slight challenge. “Is there anything else you wanted?” she asks teasingly.

The expression on your face makes her laugh, and you flush instantly when you catch the implication. You think then, maybe you should just stop talking.

In some small mercy to spare you from your embarrassment, Lena closes what’s left of the distance between you, moves her arms so they rest gently on your shoulders and brings you in easily.

Your hands find their way naturally onto her waist as she presses herself flush against you, and you feel relief at the contact you’ve been craving. She slowly pulls you in and waits to see if you want to move away. When you’re stock still and watching wide-eyed in anticipation, she brings her lips to the corner of your mouth and gives you the softest, just barely there kiss.

Some whispered “holy shit” escapes you in that momentary explosion of sensation, but you’ve lost all inhibitions to care about your pride at this very moment.

Lena laughs at your reaction, biting her lip in fond amusement when she watches your happy grin.

“I think you should know, I’ve found myself to be rather enamoured with you for quite the long while,” she says.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, I might daresay I was even beginning to grow a little impatient with you.”

“What, at me? How-”

“Shall we discuss it all over brunch? I’ve plenty of things to say about you taking your sweet time with me.”

She smiles at your stuttering protests, she’s really got you for a spin. “Would tomorrow be too soon for you?”

“No! No, not at all- brunch tomorrow, that is great, yes. All good on my end.” You’re a bit of a hasty mess right now, but you’ll worry about your lack of composure another day.

For a moment, she looks like she’s going to go back in for a kiss. You think you see her eyes flutter down to your lips, you can just feel the feather-light touch of her lips again and frankly, you crave it.

“I do think we should head back to the others, though.”

You resist every compulsion in your body to groan, and you think the sentiment is shared when Lena laughs softly. “We’ll have all the time in the world to spend with each other, darling. I promise you that.”

For all that you’ve achieved tonight and for the new, exciting turn your relationship with Lena has taken, you still feel like you’re going to burst into flames when she puts her hand on your knee under the table and keeps it there, squeezing in laughter when Maggie makes a sassy remark about Winn, rubbing it gently in the middle of Kara’s long-winded retelling of her superhero adventures.

You figure the Danvers siblings all ended up being right - Alex and Kara had great advice that paid off in the end, and you? You knew Lena Luthor would be the death of you tonight, and you realize you’ll never quite get used to her; her touches that set your skin ablaze, her easy smiles that inspired a newfound strength in you, the light feeling of flying you get whenever you look at her.

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