WIP poll update and Ficwip 'Fall'
almost there…also thanks to @lifemodeldecoy for the Ficwip tag which helped narrow down what part of this one to post
this one did get the most votes in the poll, which is fun! ….in which the need to hold hands for safety is not always just for safety…an eventual 4+1 fic idea.
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Kara finds her 40 minutes later by the windows, cornered by board members, that smile on her face that means I'm drowning but politely. She waits until she sees Lena’s fingers tighten on her champagne flute — Baccaract crystal, 300 dollars per glass that would take exactly 30.2 punds of pressure to shatter. She knows because she’s calculated it three times already tonight.
Kara appears at her shoulder. Not suddenly. She never arrives suddenly anymore. Always a cleared throat, footsteps deliberately heavy, the rustle of her dress. Warnings. Permissions.
"There you are," she says, like this is something they still do. "You promised me a dance."
She raises an eyebrow, a small smirk. "I did, didn't I?" Turns back to the gentlmen in front of her, "If you'll excuse us."
Her hand drifs toward Lena's elbow, barely touching. Then once they are far enough away, offered between them. "Lena—"
But before she can decide to take it or not, the lights cut out. Not dimmed. Not flickered. Just gone.
Glass shatters somewhere. Multiple somewheres. Someone's elbow catches Lena's ribs, pitches her sideways. Kara hears her sharp intake of breath, the scrape of her palm against air.
Kara's arm wraps around her waist, hand tightening around Lena's. There's nothing careful in it.
The emergency lights come on and wash the room in a transparent red that makes Lena's pulse visible through her skin.
She pulls her through the crowd, keeps her pressed against her back until they find a set of heavy doors at the back.
Lena's eyes pinch shut at the sudden intrustion of fluorescent lights as they make it to the service cooridor. The concrete bitting into her bare feet. Her heels lost somehwere behind them.
Kara turns quickly, pulls hard. Lena feels the bones in her wrist move benearth her fingers. Her shoulder burns from the angle, from keeping up. She tastes copper. Has been biting her tongue since Kara's hand first closed around hers.
Another turn. A set of narrow stairs. Kara takes them three at once until Lena stumbles again, almost falls again, her knee hitting something metal. The sound sharp enough that Kara finally stops.
Lena's legs shake. Adrenaline. Proximity.
"Sorry. I'm sorry, I—" Kara almost drops her hand.
"Don't apologize. Just—" Lena squeezes, once, hard.
