Hope and Destiny

Breakfast of Heroes (MC)

Eliza had gone out of town for the weekend for a convention as a guest speaker, she didn't need it, but Kara had offered to house sit and whether the captain liked it or not, the Kryptonian had drug Sara along as well. It was their first Valentine's Day together and Kara wasn't going to let it slip away. They could both use some time away from —well everything, and everyone.

Besides, if Sara decided she wanted so badly to kill Kara by the end of the weekend, the super had plenty of places to run.

When they got there Thursday night to see Eliza off, Kara briefly considered flying the captain back to the Waverider since it was clear she didn't want to be there, but then Sara found a photo of young Kara and suddenly was invested. Eliza nearly missed her flight because she was playing the stereotypical mother role, that if Alex had bothered to bring home her girlfriend, the mother of the Danvers sisters would have been able to already exercise all of those needs beforehand and an embarrassed Kara wouldn't have been left with a smirking Sara.

In hindsight it was probably payback for dragging the woman away without her express permission or desire, but the super did have a day planned that would make up for it.

At least she hoped.

That's why she was already up, and downstairs in the kitchen making breakfast. To the best of her abilities at least.

The absolute simple things she could manage; like pancakes, bacon, eggs and toast. After that, if it got fancy enough that french was in the title, she was hopeless. And yet today she was determined. Omelettes, bacon, pancakes, 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒉 toast, hash browns —the whole deal.

"Damn it!" she cursed under her breath as the smoke billowed up toward the detector and set it off. Kara grabbed one of the oven mitts that hung above the stove and began wafting away the smoke.

"French toast, ooh la la."

Glancing over her shoulder she saw Sara holding the cookbook that Kara had been using herself, nodding as if she was reading the most interesting thing in the world. Like the Kryptonian, Sara was still dressed in her pajamas aside from a small change.

"Is that my shirt?" Kara asks.

Sara leans on the counter, abandoning the book to fold her hands and shoots an innocent smile in the super's direction with a slightly arched dark brow, "I could have come down in just my lingerie. . ." Kara's cheeks began to heat and she abruptly turned her gaze from the woman, back to the burning french toast, reaching into the pan and pulling it out. "Kara!" She hears, and suddenly feels a hand on her wrist.

Glancing down with furrowed brows, she sees a flustered Sara and realizes what had happened. She thought Kara was going to burn herself, and now Sara was realizing it too. The captain let go of the Kryptonian's wrist as the taller blonde tried to hold in a smirk, "Don't you dare." Sara warns, and it was that, that brought it out. Sara smacked Kara's arm before she ambled off toward the fridge, opening it to pull out a water, doing anything it looked to hide herself from Kara's view.

"Oh come on, Sara. . . It's a little funny." Kara had returned back to her attempt at breakfast, watching the white canary approach from the corner of her eye and lean against the counter space.

"About as funny as your cooking, babe."

"I will have you know," Kara says as she works on the new french toast, "That I make one mean PB and J."

"So does Gideon."

Kara gasps, freezing in mid action of placing the battered, smothered bread on the skillet, "You take that back, Sara Lance."

"Gonna make me, Supes?" the captain counters, a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "It is Valentine's Day. . . what's that without a little 'lover's quarrel', hmm?"

She saw now what Sara was doing, and it was working. It was working and Kara couldn't even get mad about that, because admittedly the Kryptonian had this insatiate craving for the woman ever since she had been given a singular taste. She was sure that Sara knew, and that the captain used it to her advantage sometimes, but Kara never had any real complaints about it. Not when she equally was getting what she wanted out of it— 𝒉𝒆𝒓.

Using her super speed, Kara took care of cutting off the stove ending up standing directly in front of the shorter blonde who blinked once in surprise that the Kryptonian wasn't where she last saw her. Kara's heart was pounding in her ears, or perhaps it was Sara's, either only got a few beats out before the super's hands were capturing the shorter blonde's face. Kara leaned down and though her lips were soft against hers, she was kissing her with a firm need for Sara to understand the lips that were kissing her, craved the captain in the most innocent ways, and craved until they became sinful. That the sinful need filled the super at this very moment, and it was all she hungered for.

Sara's arms almost instantly went to wrap around the Kryptonian's neck, tugging and pulling with no resistance found in bringing the super closer in which Kara's hands fell away, only to find purchase on the curve of the captain's hips.

"I think I'll take my shirt back," Kara says breathlessly against the other's lips and felt the smile as Sara pulled back only slightly, baby blue's dancing seductively — tauntingly between the Kryptonian's eyes and lips.

"That right. . ." Teeth came out to capture Sara's bottom lip as her eyes finally settled on Kara's, looking up through lashes, as a small smirk played out at the corners. "Definitely sounds like a job for Supergirl." The captain winks then drops her arms and slips out of the hold Kara had, parading herself as she walked off, heading from the kitchen and making her escape toward the stairs in the living room.

Kara was left to watch her go, grinning lasciviously, trying to remember what it was to breathe normally. That the pressure she felt below her waistline, that pleasurable tingle had not always been present.

So this wasn't the Valentine's Day she planned, or imagined, and this wasn't the breakfast she'd intended on eating— at least not 𝒆𝒙𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒍𝒚. But there would be no complaints. . .