#v hard writing supercorp meet-messy moments but this was SO fun

[pippytmi]

For the trope mashup, 10. Airport/Travel AU + 56. Awful First Meeting! 😊

10. Airport/Travel AU + 56. Awful First Meeting!

Genre: Rom-Com, what else? (if this fic had a soundtrack, it would be headlined by “Stutter” by Marianas Trench).

Kara has been stuck in the airport for the past four hours. Her flight keeps on flashing as canceled and then not…canceled? If that’s a thing? So she’s been sitting and waiting, her phone is almost dead, and Alex is not helping because she keeps on sending numerous texts ranting about whatever Eliza is bugging her about now.

But as poor as Kara’s Friday night is going, it’s nowhere near as bad as whatever the woman next to her is going through; Lena Luthor is having a day™ and then some. The only reason Kara even knows this woman’s name is because, well, Lena keeps on reiterating it through the plethora of angry phone calls she is making.

“You don’t understand,” Lena is whisper-shouting. “I need to get to Vegas. I—no, do not put me on hold, I swear—”

Eavesdropping on a stranger gets weird eventually, so Kara puts in her headphones, closes her eyes, and imagines the symphony of children crying is music. (She really, really regrets the fact that she didn’t bring a phone charger.)

And then Lena Luthor, who apparently will single-handedly cause the market to crash if she doesn’t show up to this very important business meeting in Vegas, abruptly stands up at the peak of one of her angry calls. She has a purse slung over her wrist, and it is all but flung to the side as she gestures pointlessly to the poor, invisible soul on the other end of the phone.

Unfortunately, Kara opens her eyes at the flurry of movement, and, well. The purse gets her right in the eye.

What happens next is all a blur. Some random kid starts hollering to his mom about a lady killing someone, and honestly, Kara wouldn’t discount death at this point in time because it really, really hurts.

“Do you hear that, Ben? You’ve single-handedly turned me into a murderer. I hope you can sleep at night, you dick,” Lena Luthor snaps into her phone, and then in an instant, her blurry frame is in Kara’s line of sight. “Oh, God. I hope you’re not actually dead.”

“Just my pride,” Kara mumbles, and she tilts her head back before she realizes the blinding airport lights are a million times worse. “What is that made of, steel?”

“It’s Coach,” Lena says, as if that means anything. “Listen, do I need to get my lawyers on the phone, or are you okay?”

And Kara just can’t believe that this lady really thinks she’s going to sue. Or that this lady’s first response after hitting someone is not “are you okay,” but rather “do I need to threaten you with legal action.” And when she tells Lena so, Lena just looks at Kara as if she’s grown two heads. (As if that is somehow not a reasonable train of thought after injuring someone.)

Eventually someone gets Kara an icepack, Lena awkwardly sits back down, and Ben continues to call; Kara hears the insistent buzzing from Lena’s murder bag. But Lena doesn’t answer.

“Um, I’m Kara, by the way,” Kara feels the need to introduce herself. “Since I’ve heard so much about you and Ben, I figure fair is fair.”

“Ben is a sorry excuse of a man,” Lena huffs, as must be her murderous instinct, but she relaxes a bit after. It hits Kara then, that Lena is absurdly pretty, when she’s not trying to kill with words (or Coach bags made out of rocks). They end up striking a general conversation about life, about where they’re flying, about what they do for work. As it turns out, the Vegas thing really is a business meeting. (Honestly, Kara had expected a vacation dressed up as a meeting.)

All flights get canceled, in the end. And as everyone else in the airport starts scrambling to find taxis or cars or buses to get them home at a reasonable hour, Kara squints out of her one good eye and asks if she can buy Lena a drink at the airport Chili’s.

Lena’s brow furrows, and she is just—confused. There’s no other way to plainly put it. “You want to go to Chili’s…with me.”

“Well, I’m not inviting your bag, that’s for sure,” Kara jokes, and Lena bites her bottom lip and says,

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink in your condition.”

“Then, I can buy you an iced tea,” Kara says. “But only if you’re up for it. No pressure, no conditions, nothing. Really.”

Lena smiles, even if it’s hesitant. “Even if I bring my bag?”

“Okay,” Kara amends, “actually, I have one condition…”