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Norma Bates leans back down on her bed after hearing the last of Alex’s retreating footsteps, but she can’t relax. She’s just gotten married this morning for heaven's sake, and of all people, to the sheriff who almost had – and then did – arrested her. That, coupled with the fact that apparently the whole town apparently knows about her and Alex’s union, makes Norma nervous.
The whole thing is a fraud, she’s told herself countless times today. Not only do you have to be careful that nobody finds out, but you have to remember that it’s just an arrangement for Norman’s sake. And not even a permanent one at that.
But as she clicks off her lamp and reclines her head onto her pillow, too tired to properly change out of her clothes, she can’t help but think how nice it’d be if it was. If she could win at love for just this once.
It feels surreal that she’s on her third marriage before the age of 50. It feels odd to be conscious of the unaccustomed weight on her left ring finger, but as Norma runs her thumb across the circular stone, she realizes it’s impossible to convince even the most stubborn part of her gut that she doesn’t feel anything towards Alex.
Sure, the man has done more for her than anyone else she can name, has been around the motel for months, and is irresistibly handsome as well, but those aren’t the reasons he’s forever on her mind. It’s the the way he goes the extra mile to make sure she not only is safe, but also feels safe; the way he looks at her when he thinks she’s not looking; and the way he’s slowly opened himself up to her – such a difference from when they first met – that causes her heart to flutter and demand her recognition that yes, she loves him.
And the way he’d cupped her face and initiated their first kiss makes her think maybe he feels the same way. Oh god, that kiss.
Norma shuts her eyes and her toes curl at the vivid memory, and suddenly she can’t stand it.
She needs to be near him.
She blames her next move on the alcohol still lingering in her system, clouding her judgement and causing her to stumble down the hallway towards Dylan’s old room, but she knows she truly wants this.
Cracking the room’s door open, she sticks her head inside and can barely make out the lump under the blankets in the corner of the room, but it’s Alex alright. His breathing sounds heavy, so she guesses he’s asleep, though how is beyond Norma’s comprehension. And she almost feels bad for disturbing him, almost retreats back to her bedroom in silence, but then,
“Norma?”
“Alex? Are you...are you awake?”
“Well, I’m talking to you, aren’t I? Is everything okay?”
Norma fidgets in the doorway, starting to doubt her decision, and it dawns on her that she’s actually not sure what her next move is. All she knows is that she’s uncertain on what exactly this marriage is, and while she’s doesn’t have 20/20 vision on where it will go, she knows everything might be okay if she doesn’t have to be alone...at least for tonight.
She wonders if the pale moonlight from the window allows him to see her tapping a thoughtful finger on the wood frame. “I...um-”
Good god, Norma. Why is it so hard to talk all of a sudden? He’s your husband for goodness sake.
“Will you sleep with me tonight?” she ends up blurting out. “I mean, not like that- I mean...maybe at some point; I didn’t mean never-”
Embarrassed, Norma abruptly stops herself, blushes, and turns to leave, reprimanding herself for being so awkward and mad that she’s ruined the wording of such a simple request. But then creak of bedsprings makes her glance back, and Alex is striding towards her, more casually dressed than she’s ever seen him in his pajama pants and black shirt, and when he puts a hand on the small of her back and says, “C’mon, Norma, let’s go to bed,” she can’t believe the amount of butterflies flapping wildly in her stomach.
She climbs under the covers and hears Alex slip onto the other side of the bed, but his absence of desire to come into contact with her leaves her still feeling lonely, as if the distance between him and her is a mile and not just a foot and a half.
Internally, she knows that he recognizes her state of tipsiness and is trying to be respectful. She knows she should be grateful that he’s nothing like Sam who would take advantage of her whenever the opportunity presented itself. But all she wants is physical touch - any kind of touch - with the man she’s starting to think her heart might be safe in the hands of.
It looks like she’ll have to take the initiative, so Norma scootches closer to Alex, closing the gap between them, and after a split second of contemplation, grabs his hand.
She can feel the surprise radiating off him. Call it a consequence of her impulsive action, call her knowledge of it heightened instincts that come with being a mother, but her heart is hammering against her ribcage in anticipation of how he’ll react.
Then he’s moving his hand, and for a minute she thinks he’s pulling away, but he’s only readjusting the position of their palms so he can intertwine his large fingers between her smaller, daintier ones.
And when he begins to rub the pad of his thumb along the top of one of her knuckles, Norma has to turn her head away and use her free hand to cover her mouth to silence a sudden, unsolicited cry of emotion, for she can’t name a time she’s felt so safe with just a single and simple touch.
Somehow in her fuzzy state she thinks briefly of Sam, Zach, and George, how they were all incredibly selfish with her body when they were in bed with her, and how she thought she’d found security in their presence. But now, here in this moment, she’s realizing what was missing then had been the feeling - the knowledge - that her love was reciprocated.
She’s been able to see it in Alex’s smile and hear it in his voice when he calms her down, and up until now she’s just thought he’d been being nice – or at most caring enough about her to let her become acquainted with a side of him not many had the privilege of seeing.
But she gets it now: he loves her.
Another whimper of overwhelming emotion rocks through her, and this time she’s accidentally not so quiet.
The rubbing stops.
“Norma? What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she replies, but it’s too quick of a response to be convincing.
And then it’s Alex’s turn to move closer - now their sides are firmly pressed together - and he murmurs, “Well, I’m here if there is.”
Norma gives up on her nonchalant act, and before the doubting, dark place in her mind can tell her to stop, she turns on her side towards Alex and places her head on nape of his shoulder.
Are they cuddling? She’s not sure if this exactly constitutes as cuddling, but she’s grateful for his warmth nonetheless. Soon the description becomes definite when she feels his arm slip under her, encircle her waist, and gently hold her close, as if he wants this just as much as she does.
⭑ ⭑ ⭑
Norma wakes up feeling beyond refreshed. She’s confused on why she doesn’t have even the tiniest of headaches from last night’s alcohol, and by the hint of dawn’s light that she can make out, it occurs to her that it’s very early in the morning.
I must’ve slept really well, she thinks before realizing that she’s still snuggled into Alex’s side, now even more than before, with half her body draped over him and one leg between his legs. She starts, feeling slightly awkward at the surprise position, and a then a chuckle sounds from below.
“Sleep well, Mrs. Romero?”
“I told you...I’m keeping my name,” Norma tries to protest, but his husky morning voice distracts her, and if she’s honest, “Norma Romero” has a nice ring to it.
And then she feels an unfamiliar sensation on her head, and it takes her a minute to realize he’s planted several quick yet soft and firm kisses right by her hairline. The butterflies are back.
“Yeah, I slept fine. You? Do you have to leave for work soon? If so, don’t let me stop you-”
Another chuckle, followed by, “No, no. Not for a little while.” Then, “You’re perfect right where you are, Norma.”
And at those words, Norma smiles and lays her head back down to where it had moved its residency in the night from Alex’s shoulder to the top of his chest. She closes her eyes, concentrates on the lub-dub of her husband’s heart, and the last thing she thinks as she drifts off to sleep once more is Actually, we’re perfect right where we are. Thank you. I love you.