They're Saying:

You interrupted something. Rude. Ko-Fi

There was something decidedly… insistent about Lena’s footsteps. Kara knew it was her, of course, when she picked up Lena heading towards her apartment. Not just her heart rate but her breathing and mumbling to herself and the way she walked, her footfalls painting a picture of how she was walking, and she was mad.

Kara expected a complaint when she opened the door. Lena would sometimes launch without preamble into a rant about this investor or that senator or some such executive at this or that company and just rant adorably, balling her little fists. Kara would never tell her, because she’d feel patronized, but Lena genuinely was cute when she was angry.

Well, annoyed. When she was really angry, throwing a fit angry, fed up with the world angry, she was something else entirely. Kara would move heaven and earth, quite literally, to address whatever bothered her. When she was sad it was even worse and Kara just wanted to bundle her up in her invulnerable arms and shelter her from everything forever.

Lena walked into the apartment, not looking at Kara, and clearly fuming. She dropped the order she’d picked up on the way into the kitchen island and stared at it, then finally glared at Kara. There was no mistaking the subject of her anger.

Kara fidgeted nervously. She shifted on her feet, feeling a pressure of Lena’s gaze that forced her own away.

“Lena? Is something wrong?” She swallowed, hard. “Bad day?”

“Something is wrong,” Lena said, very softly, in the icy tone she reserved for the fools she did not suffer gladly. “Take off your glasses.”

“What?”

“Take off your glasses, Kara.”

“But I can’t see…”

Lena stepped forward and put her hand on the takeout order in its plastic bag. Kara had ordered it and Lena had agreed to pick it up, far from be first time they’d done that. Lena often ordered for them and Kara brought it when Lena was hosting.

Right now Lena was trembling, head tilted forward like she meant to charge, eyes locked on Kara.

“Glasses. Off.”

Kara hesitated briefly.

“Okay,” she muttered, screaming at herself not to do this, pleading for some kind of distraction.

All she wanted to do tonight was curl up with Lena on the couch and watch a movie and focus very very hard on not giving away how badly she wanted to make out with her.

Kara slowly took the earpieces in her hands and slipped them off, setting the too-heavy frames on the table with a soft clunk. The word rushed in, sounds more vibrant and distracting, colors almost unpleasantly sharp.

Lena was staring at her. Her nostrils flared and her fists clenched. She took her hand from the food bag and took another step forward, then another, finally picking up the glasses in her own hand, feeling them. She raised them as if to put them on and stared through them.

“For someone who says she’s blind without them, these glasses don’t have a very strong prescription, do they.”

Possibilities raced through Kara’s mind. Things she could say, things she might do. She’d squeaked out of this before, somehow evaded Lena’s staggering intellect. She had seen curiosity darken her brows, maybe even brief moments of suspicion.

This was different. Heavier. More serious.

“What gave me away?”

“Everything, really. All the pieces were there this whole time, but I just refused to put them together on my own. It took a flat out slap in the face to make me choose to see it.”

Kara’s chest felt like it was caving in. Everything was going wrong. Her chin quivered and the tears began welling hot behind her eyes.

Lena looked at her flatly. “The guy at the take out place asked me why I was picking up Supergirl’s order. I asked him what the hell he was talking about and he told me Supergirl comes on all the time. Then he showed me a selfie.”

Kara licked her lips.

“It has to be a mistake.”

“They have your number on their speed dial as Supergirl, Kara. You let their delivery kid take a selfie in your suit. They wouldn’t let me pay for it. The old lady that owns the place said ‘Supergirls girlfriend, no charge!’ and started laughing.”

Kara stared at her.

“Lena…”

“You better have a good fucking explanation for why your favorite restaurant knows who you really are and not your supposed best friend.”

The tension in their air was palpable, electric. Kara could feel it like the gathering energy in the air before a storm, ready to burst forth with energy and life or mindless destruction. She folded her arms around herself and looked down.

“You do know me,” Kara finally said. “You do know who I really am. You’re the only person who does.”

Lena’s extension was fixed, intense, edging between a scowl and a pout, and Kara realized with a start that she was holding back tears of her own.

“You’re the only person that knows me as me. You know me without Supergirl, but without all the fake stuff I do so people won’t realize I’m Supergirl. I don’t have to pretend to be clumsy with you. You’re not always looking at me like I’m super strong or super fast. I can just be me when I’m with you.”

“You’ve lied to me so many times,” Lena said, after drawing in a deep breath. “Running away from our lunches, telling me wild stories about where you disappear to at work, and I just bought every bit of it. You must think I’m an easy mark.”

“No, never.”

“I’ve always had it in the back of my head. I always thought there was something there, something between us that kept you from really, truly being yourself with me. The way your touches are always so whisper-light and you’re always stealing glances at me. Like you were afraid with every word or movement that you’d give something away.”

“Lena,” Kara began.

“I knew you were hiding something. I had hoped it was something else.”

Kara licked her lips. She quickened her perception, a little trick of will that took her out of sync with the humans around her, processing the world at her natural speed, which made her peers seem almost frozen in place by comparison.

She took this drawn out instant to really look at Lena, truly take her in, savor what she was seeing because it might be the end. She was suddenly heavily, painfully aware that this might be the last time she ever looked on Lena in person.

Great father Rao, she was so beautiful. Not hot or pretty or even gorgeous or sexy, beautiful. She was dressed for the autumn chill in a pea coat and turtleneck and black leggings and her hair was down, letting itself soften into her natural waves. She was without makeup, and Kara suddenly realized that she only ever saw Lena without makeup when she meant to be alone with Kara. When she was her most pure, most true self.

Kara slowed herself again and as she did the world sped up, and she drank in the soft sadness in Lena’s blue-green eyes and all of those things she’d pushed deep down came bubbling to the surface: imagined sighs and the feeling of that lustrous inky hair slipping through her fingers, her name whispered on pillowy lips.

Human thoughts. Alien thoughts. Desires no Kryptonian should even apprehend, much less indulge. The very idea of the non-procreative act was shameful, and to develop these emotional entanglement…

Kara had once mourned her failure, for she had been charged with preserving the ways of her people. Her first command had been to keep Kal Kryptonian.

A task she had failed even within herself.

“You hoped it was something else?”

Lena looked at her so sadly and so sweetly and swallowed.

“Yeah,” she said in a thick voice, “I kinda did.”

Kara smiled in spite of herself. When she sighed, it was as if the weight of a world slid off her shoulders.

“Can’t a girl have two secrets?”

Lena’s eyes widened.

“One day a long time ago, very very far away, a young Kara looked over her shoulder and watched the shockwave shatter the crust of her planet as its core exploded. She lost everything. Her world, her family, her culture, so many things. Tastes. Colors. Places. All gone.”

Lena wrapped her arms around herself, averting her gaze.

“I knew I’d lose you eventually. I just wanted to keep you as long as I could.”

Lena reached up and rubbed at her eyelids with her fingers.

“Do you remember when your mom’s goons threw you off the balcony?”

“Yes,” said Lena.

“Do you remember how I held you when I caught you?”

“I do.”

“I wish I hadn’t lied. I wish I’d never put you down.”

Lena said nothing and did not look up. Kara could hear her heart racing, practically feel the tension in her limbs across the room.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I lied. I’ve always known I could never keep you, I just didn’t want to make it end.”

Lena looked up with tear-wet eyes.

Then she lunged across the room, crossing the gap between them in long strides. Kara Danvers -Kara Zoe-El, Supergirl- was caught almost completely off guard. It wasn’t until Lena was practically charging into her arms, leaping into her, that she remembered to cushion the impact, catch her gently and make sure she didn’t slam herself into an unyielding wall of Kara.

She was so surprised, so shocked into helpless acceptance, that she didn’t offer the slightest residence when Lena reached, grabbed her neck in a firm hold, and pulled her into a kiss. Kara’s stomach did a backflip and she was helpless, undone despite all her strength. For a moment both their eyes opened and they looked at each other in a wordless exchange and Kara began kissing her back in earnest. Lena’s sharp breaths and soft moans instantly kindled a hot need inside her, thrumming like a plucked guitar string, and she effortlessly lifted Lena onto the kitchen counter.

“Holy shit, you’re strong,” Lena breathed.

“Of course I am,” she whispered into Lena’s kiss. “I’m Supergirl.”

And at long last, Kara found something she wanted to taste more than potstickers.

Screaming and crying in the middle of a parking lot, thanks for that

Hello, requesting "sleeping in" thank you 🙏

Hello. I’m here, months later. Here’s something.

Buck sleeps in. Eddie’s not sure if that’s a surprise or not. He's long had the somewhat infuriating habit of not plugging his phone in overnight on his days off — theoretically to discourage scrolling on it all night and wasting the battery, but half the time it results in him sheepishly charging it up from fully dead on a page about deep sea ethernet cables or something around noon the next day. So, yeah, his phone is an expensive brick on the nightstand, alarm not even an option, and it's not like they haven't had an extremely eventful last couple of days, almost 24 hours of which Buck had spent in a car headed one way or another. Eddie understands the exhaustion. But, well- he's awake. He kind of feels like his limbs are vibrating with the feeling of- relief, or terror, or joy, or- the feeling of being home. Home, here. Los Angeles, South Bedford, the home he — and Chris — had spent years building, a home of course neither of them could leave behind for long. He lays here, in his own bed, Buck snoring next to him and Chris down the hall, and he wonders why he ever thought he’d belong anywhere else.

Buck shuffles a little and Eddie thinks for a moment maybe- but he just snorts a little and keeps dreaming. Eddie tries to tamp down on the kind of sleepover giddiness bubbling up in his chest — wake up wake up wake up — and takes the opportunity to watch his best friend. His- whatever. Whatever they are now that Eddie knows what kissing him is like, quickly and quietly in his parent’s backyard, now that Eddie has stumbled his way through a question — “Why are you- why did you- all of this- do you- do you-“ — and Buck had frowned a little, not in an unhappy way but in his serious way, and had heard the real thing Eddie had wanted to know, and said “Eddie- of course I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Eddie whispers now, because he hadn’t the other night. He thinks Buck knows, though. He hopes he does. He’ll figure out how to say it to him when he’s awake, he’ll make sure he can never forget it.

His best friend. Whatever else they are or will be, Eddie thinks this first thing will always be true. They’ll always know each other and like each other and want to hang out. With the dubious wisdom of time and age Eddie can admit the few times they’ve fought have mostly been because something had been frustrating one of those wants. Someone should make fun of him for this, probably. Maybe Chris will, Eddie thinks, smiling at the idea that they’re in a place where they can harmlessly tease each other again. “You can’t see Buck for like three days and you go crazy,” he’ll laugh. “I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic teenager here.”

He idly wonders if he really can somehow figure out how to never go more than three days without seeing Buck ever again, and then stifles his own laughter — you’re right, imaginary Chris — because the man is still sleeping — still! — and despite his internal complaining he doesn’t actually want to disturb the guy. He looks so peaceful, passed out hard and melted into his pillow. His pillow, in Eddie’s bed. In Buck’s bed? Who is legally attached to what leases where is a little up in the air at the moment. Maybe it could be their bed. Maybe it's not too soon to say Don’t look for someplace else to live. Just stay here with me, with us. Maybe he just doesn’t care if other people think he’s moving too fast. He doesn’t even think he is, really. The will was years ago. He’s thought more about this relationship, worked harder on it and for longer, than any other in his life. Seven years is long enough to know.

Stay with me, he thinks at Buck, looking at his curls that are flattened in some places and sticking out weird in others. Tonight and every other night we get. He thinks Buck will say yes. He’s pretty certain Buck will say yes. He moved in so Eddie could leave, he’s pretty certain Buck will stay for him, too.

“Do you have a secret kid somewhere I can do something financially irresponsible for to prove my devotion to you?” Eddie asks in a whisper. Buck snorts again, but doesn’t otherwise stir. “Okay. Well, I’ll figure something else out.”

Buck’s eyelashes are pale against his cheek. His skin is rougher than when they first met, older, aging. His birthmark isn't visible, pressed into the pillow, because Buck is turned towards Eddie in his sleep. He’s all stubbly — it had itched against his face, Eddie remembers — and Eddie will kind of miss it when he has to shave before work tomorrow. He can grow it back, though, and Eddie will be around to see it in this new life where they never spend more than three days apart. Two days, maybe. 48 hours in a row and they have to say sorry, gotta go, my-

Husband? My husband is waiting for me? Bobby will probably have a harder time arguing for them to stay on the same shift if they get married, and that will make the whole never-apart-for-long thing harder. So, not yet. Not yet. But Eddie watches Buck’s chest rise and fall and thinks: someday.

He gets so caught up in that thought, the two of them in suits and nice food and pretty lights and dancing and making promises, that he doesn’t register for a moment the blue eyes blinking back at him.

“Oh,” he says, sounding stupidly surprised.

“Hi,” Buck says, the word tripping out on a little huff of laughter. Eddie wants to- to taste it. He stays where he is.

“Good morning.”

Buck smiles, so big it seems to take him a moment to catch his breath. “Morning.” He yawns, stretching out like a cat for all his puppy-like tendencies. “Time is it?”

Eddie doesn’t actually know, having better things to look at than an alarm clock or phone screen, so he rolls slightly to check. “9:15.” When he rolls back Buck is right there, slinging an arm over Eddie all casual like they’ve done this a million times instead of never before, but Eddie thinks he’s right, it doesn’t feel new at all. He grabs a handful of Buck’s shirt and just holds on, feeling his body heat.

“Slept in,” Buck says, and he doesn't seem surprised or not surprised about it either. He leans forward and kisses Eddie’s cheek, quick, quiet. They have time for- for something else, now. Something longer. There’s no rush. But first, Eddie has to make sure, he has to make it clear, he has to ask:

“Will you sleep in tomorrow? Here? And- and every other day, if you want. Forever, Buck, if you want.”

Buck smiles, again so wide it takes a moment for him to speak. “We still gotta get up on work days, Eddie.”

Eddie laughs. It makes his body lean forward under Buck’s arm, closer to him. Their knees bump together. “Well- okay. I can compromise on that. I’m very reasonable. Every other day.”

“Every other day,” Buck agrees, easily, and leans in again for something else, something longer.

Love the insinuation that Satan is a promotion from sad bisexual

Buck got promoted from sad bisexual to satan to Jesus in 10 seconds

My sibling, crashing in my living room. Me watching Criminal Minds in the Dining room.

Me: If the TV bothers you let me know and I'll just turn it off

My sibling: No, don't. Listening to Criminal Minds while I sleep is peaceful

Me: Ha, yeah it's just a reminder of childhood

He'd be right, Edmundo.

Buck: 11-year-old me would think the current me is insane.

Eddie: He'd be right.

Eddie: 11-year-old me would call the current me a slur.

(x)

Person of authority, texting: Are you available for a call?

Me: Yes

Person of Authority: *DOESN'T CALL*

Me: *dying noises*

Me coded

Eddie Diaz FaceTiming Buck from El Paso like:

Olderbf!Gegory House

Moodboard Masterlist

God is a woman and her name is Katie McGrath

S1E13 x S5E02 (insp.)