Work Text:
Alex Danvers must clarify - she isn’t drinking because she’s falling back into the mindset of her “gap year”. She isn’t. Of course, not. Ridiculous. She tells herself over and over as she chugs from the bottle, sitting on her bathroom floor with her hair soaking wet. It feels a lot like that though, despite how much she tells herself it isn’t. She feels small, helpless… Like everything is falling apart. And so she drinks, similarly to her “gap year”. Except this time, she’s waist deep in denial. Practically drowning in it. (Is that why her hair is wet? She can’t even remember.)
She isn’t drinking because of Maggie, because of how Maggie makes her feel. She isn’t. She isn’t. She doesn’t care that Maggie is probably sucking the face of some super model. That doesn’t bother her. The thought doesn’t form a ball of iron hot anger in the pit of her chest. She isn’t chugging from the bottle because Maggie almost got hurt and the feeling that filled her were so overwhelming she desperately wants to numb them. The thought is ludicrous. Absolutely so. (She’s drowning… She remembers how she got her hair wet - she was walking in the rain to Noonan’s. She never entered. Instead, she stood perfectly still with her fingers wrapped around the doorknob as she saw the figure of Maggie and another woman flirting… Touching…. Looking at each other…. And so she stood there, in the rain, feeling something snap within her. She left wordlessly, forgetting all about her hunger. A liquid dinner would have to do.)
She isn’t drinking, because she’s conflicted. She wants to tell Kara all about this, but what even is this? What is there even to say? Should she say she’s…? She takes another long sip. She can’t even think it. If she can’t even internally say the word, how can she be expected to tell her sister? How can she even be sure?
If she tells Kara she’s....gay (She grimaces at the word, takes another sip, and feels the cold, bathroom tiles against her face.) then what next? Would she be thrown into the world of dating? Would Kara make her sign up for several dating sites? Would she be required to go to Pride? Would she be required to tell the world?
(She could bi or pan…?)
And what if it turns out, she isn’t...gay? What then? Does she later come out as straight? She shakes her head. No. No. She wouldn’t be feeling these feelings if she was straight. If she was straight, she would be able to look at Maggie, look at her touching another woman, and be happy for her friend. (Unless she was homophobic. Oh God, was she homophobic? Or was she just homo?) She isn’t drinking because she’s conflicted. Certainly not. It doesn’t bother her at all that she feels as if she can’t go to anyone. Because if she goes to Kara, she’ll have to be sure. Right now, she is not sure. So, right now, she has to be alone and figure it out herself.
Alone. By herself.
She isn’t drinking, because she misses her dad. It’s not like his face covered in thick pulsing bruises and welts and gashes haunts her nights. It’s not like she awakes to nightmares of a kryptonite sword ripping through his stomach with the hilt of the blade is in her hands. It’s not like she desperately wants to see him, because she could always talk to him. He would know what to say to make her feel better. He would know what to say to make things right, to make things make sense… He always said right words. Eliza was the opposite. How would she react? She would get angry. She might disown her. She might realize she never loved Alex, but she loved a version of her that wasn’t real. Alex isn’t drinking, because she misses her dad. She isn’t.
Part of her wants to crawl into bed and sleep it all off. Another part of her wants to call Maggie, ask how her date went, and ask for help… (Because she’s drowning on land. Her bloodstream is filled with alcohol, she’s laying on her bathroom floor, and her hair is wet.) She might call Kara. The idea makes her feel better, but then she pictures her little sister’s face - warped with distrust and anger. Kara wouldn’t understand why Alex would call so late at night, drunk off her ass. She would be concerned, ask questions, ask if colledge-years Alex was leaking through. (She wasn’t. She wasn’t. She wasn’t.)
She’s straight. (She isn’t. She’s in denial. She’s lying.)
She’s okay. (She isn’t. She’s in denial. She’s lying.)
She’s alright being alone. (She isn’t. She’s in denial. She’s lying.)
She isn’t drinking, because she’s scared. She’s never scared. She’s Alex Danvers. She doesn’t need protection, because she does the protecting. (But what if she does? What if she needs protecting? What if she can’t do it herself? If she needs help, would she be able to admit it? She knows she needs it. She’s lying on the bathroom tile floor, needing help, but she won’t dare press the Call button. She doesn’t want to be a burden.)
Eventually, someone knocks on her door. She doesn’t know who it is and she doesn’t want to answer. (She wants to drown on the tile floor in alcohol and tears, confusion and pain, questions and burdens…) But then she hears someone - “Danvers, I know you’re in there. Let me in?”
It takes a lot to get up off the floor. It’s practically a miracle, really. And she doesn’t really remember how she does it. She just knows Maggie Sawyer’s beautiful voice is calling her forward, making her move against her will, putting her under a spell… (She’s straight. She’s straight. She’s straight. But what if she’s not? What if she’s…? What if she’s not?)
She opens the door, and she’s overwhelmed in emotions again because Maggie Sawyer is standing in her doorway with water beads in her hair, dark shirt soaked, and eyes dark and filled with unreadable emotions - and she looks absolutely amazing. (Alex has a feeling Maggie could show up in rags and she would say the same thing.)
“Alex, you look horrible,”
“Thanks,” Her words are slurring. She’s much drunker than she had figured.
Maggie shifts her weight from foot to foot. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,”
“Alex, you’re drinking yourself to death. You are not fine,”
Alex narrows her eyes. “Why…” She’s much drunker than she thought. “Why are you here?”
Maggie opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens again, but no words came out. She closes her eyes. “I saw you. Outside Noonan’s. I saw you,” When she opens her eyes, she expects a change in Alex’s demeanor, but Alex remains perfectly still - Well, as still as she can get.
“I was going to eat. I noticed you. No big deal,”
“Danvers,” Maggie starts, but she shakes her head. “Let’s get you in bed,”
Maggie advances forward, but Alex stumbles backward. “I don’t need you to baby me,”
“I’m not babying you,” Maggie sighs. “I’m just taking care of you,”
“I didn’t know you cared, Mags,”
Maggie’s face softens immediately. “Alex, of course, I care,”
Hearing her first name fall out of Maggie’s lips was a transcendent experience. It was soft yet screamed of love. It made all her anger, all her hostility, all her urge to fight Maggie melt away.
Maggie led her to the bedroom, guiding her to avoid the other woman falling on her face.
“Let’s get you into some pajamas,”
Alex nods meekly. She strips off her shirt without a second thought and falls into her bed in just her tanktop and jeans. She’s brought a glass of water a few minutes later by a very hesitant Maggie. She drinks it, but she’s so exhausted by the time her body hits the mattress, that it’s all a blur.
---
She wakes up in the middle of the night breathing hard with a nightmare still in her mind. She was a captive in an alien’s grasp. (She's okay. She's okay. She's okay.) She was chained and tortured. (She's okay. She's okay. She's okay.) She watched Kara be killed before her eyes. Supergirl - bloodied and beaten - fallen at her feet, reach for a hand that Alex couldn’t give. (Kara is okay. Kara is okay. Kara is okay.)
Suddenly, there are hands on her. Soft hands. Holding her still, pushing hair out of her eyes, running up and down her cheek. She tries to fight them initially, but they’re calming her down.
“Maggie,” she croaks. Tears run down her cheeks, but they’re wiped away as quickly as they fall.
“Yeah, Danvers. It’s me. You’re okay,” (She is okay. She is okay. She is okay. Because Maggie is here with her, holding her, keeping her safe…)
“Okay,”
Maggie sits beside her for a few moments, wiping tears away, running her fingers through Alex’s hair. It’s intimate. Grossly so, but Alex allows it, because it’s different with Maggie. (Everything is different with Maggie.)
“You alright?” Maggie’s voice is so soft in the darkness.
“A nightmare. I’m okay now,”
Maggie’s figure moves in the darkness. “Okay, I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll be on the couch if you need me,” Maggie’s hand reaches the doorknob at the same time, Alex extends her arm forward.
“Mags,” Her voice is soft too in the darkness. It’s vulnerable and weak, but she’s alright with it because Maggie is here. (Everything is different with Maggie.) “Would you… If you want… Would you stay with me?”
Maggie doesn’t say anything. And Alex screams internally. She shouldn’t have said that. She misread the signals. She misread everything. She’s about to completely destroy her relationship with Maggie. Normally, she wouldn’t care, but it's Maggie. (Everything is different with Maggie.)
The other woman takes a step forward. “Of course, Danvers,”
Relief floods her chest.
Maggie is warm and soft. She sleeps on the left side of the bed, and she caresses Alex’s head, welcoming her back to sleep. She smells like coffee and vanilla. Maggie is entirely too intoxicating. (Alex could drown in her smell, in her touch… in her existence.)
Alex falls back to sleep.
---
When she awakes, she’s alone.
Her queen bed, designed for her comfort, suddenly isn’t comfortable anymore, because it’s missing Maggie.
She runs her fingers where Maggie’s shape one took place. The bed is still warm.
When she exits her room, she’s comforted by the smell of breakfast. Home cooked breakfast. Delicious breakfast. She hasn't had home cooked breakfast since she moved out of her mom’s.
But the smell of breakfast is in her apartment. And it's warm and wonderful and as comforting as a hug. And with her hangover, she could definitely use some greasy bacon and lots of coffee.
Maggie is in her apartment wearing a Stanford shirt that's a little baggy on her and flannel pajama pants. “I hope you don't mind,” the detective says, not bothering to look up from the eggs she's cooking. “But I borrowed some clothes. Oh, I also took the liberty of cooking us some breakfast,”
“Okay,” Alex winces at the sound of her voice. It's not at all the Agent Danvers voice - powerful and assertive. It's something else. Something no one ever hears but Maggie heard it.
She looks up. “You alright?”
“Yeah, I just…” (She wants to touch her hair, see if it's still wet. It isn't.) “I…”
“It's okay. You don't have to talk about it,”
Alex smiles gratefully. She plays with her fingers for a few moments before she finds out what to say. “You didn't have to do all this… You didn't have to - “
“I wasn't lying, Alex, when I said I cared,” Maggie’s eyes are filled with affection.
“Hm, and what ever happened to that hot date?” It's an attempt at a joke, but the words are too bitter to be interpreted as humor. (Alex was never the jealous type. Everything is different with Maggie, because Maggie is different.)
“Like I said, Danvers, I care about about you,” The statement oozed with sincerity, but it must have been too sincere, because Maggie cleared her throat and cracked a small smile. “Besides, she wasn’t my type,”
Alex wants to ask what exactly is Maggie’s type, but judging by that look, she figures (she hopes) it’s her.
“Maggie,”
The other woman’s attention has put placed back on the eggs. “Hm?”
“I…” She steadies herself. This is it. This is it. “I… I have to go,”
Maggie eyes her strangely. Those were not the words that Alex intended to get out, but this whole scene is too intimate, too close, and Alex needs to escape it.
“Work,” Alex lies easily. “I’m so sorry,” She grabs the keys to her motorcycle and watches Maggie carefully. “Thank you so much for your help last night and for making all this. I’m sorry,” She winces at her words. She isn’t saying the right words. The words that make sense. The words that heal wounds. She’s saying the wrong words - jumbling, messy words that are doing more harm than good.
“Stay as long as you like,” she says as if that’ll make things better. She opens the door and she’s about to leave, but she hesitates. This is it. This is it. “Maggie?”
“Yeah, Danvers?” the other woman looks up - disappointment evident.
“I’m…” She cringes. Why can’t she speak? Why can’t she say anything more than wrong words? “I’m sorry,” She shut the door and takes off.
---
Alex would have gone to a bar had her phone not start vibrating. Her headache was awful, but once the aspirin kicked in the pain subdued yet the second it started vibrating, everything in her body froze. (It was like her joints filled with sand - everything went stiff. Her heart stopped beating and the world went still.) She took it out slowly as if the slower she did it, the better chance it would be that it wouldn’t be her.
It was Kara.
Relief and disappointment hit her at the same time. She shakes her head, turns away from the bar, and heads to Kara’s without picking up the phone.
---
Kara answers her door after the first knock - perks of having superspeed.
“Alex! You’re - “ Her voice drops in its chipper tone instantly after taking her sister in.
Alex was wearing the jeans from last night, a damp shirt from the rain, and a leather jacket. (Except the jacket is feeling strangely small. She can see the flesh of her wrists. Had it shrunk in the rain of last night?)
“You look....” Like death. Alex expects her sister to be honest. She looks awful. Her hair is all over the place - not brushed at all. Her skin is pale and glistening with sweat. Her eyes are bloodshot from crying, but Kara places a fake smile. “You look good. Come in,”
“What’s up?”
“I… I didn’t want to be alone,” It’s the truth. It’s the first time she’s said the truth in a while. Her sister’s face warps with sympathy and she leads her older sister to the couch. Alex lets her.
“You want to talk?” It’s an invitation. Not a demand. Alex is grateful for this.
“Kara,”
Kara’s blue eyes widen. “Yes?”
“I think I’m… I think I’m gay,” she closes her eyes tight to stop the tears, but they’re already flowing. Before she can even think, arms are wrapped around her, comforting her in their embrace - the perks of superspeed, Alex muses.
Kara doesn’t say anything at first. She just holds her sister as she falls apart in her alien hands.
“Alex, I love you. And you being gay does nothing to change that,” Kara whispers in her ear once the sobs had quieted. “I’d love you if you were straight, if you were bisexual, if you were not cisgender. I’d love you no matter what, because I love you,”
“Really?” Alex says. She’s embarrassed by the crying, but she couldn’t help it. She blinks the tears away. “You don’t mind?”
“No. Not at all,” Kara assures her. Her grips tightens on Alex and the agent wants to calmly remind her alien sister that she is, in fact, human and her brittle bones cannot handle her super strength hugs, but Alex allows herself to be smothered in Kara’s embrace. “I’m so glad, Alex, that you told me,” She squeals in the most Kara Danvers-like fashion. “This is great news! Now, you’re a step closer to finding that special someone!”
Alex is silent for a moment before she murmurs, “I think I already have,”
Kara throws her sister back. “Oh my gosh! Who?”
This is strange - talking to her sister about girls, but Alex welcomes the change. She mops up the rest of her fallen tears before letting a small smile spread across her lips. “Detective Maggie Sawyer,” But her happiness is short lived as she continues, “Who I left in my apartment after she took care of me, comforted me after a nightmare, and was making breakfast before I dashed out…”
“You also stole her jacket,” her sister adds helpfully.
Alex looks down and frowns. She knew there was something off. “I stole her jacket,” she repeats dully. “I ditched her in my apartment after I was drunken mess the whole night and stole her jacket,”
There’s a long pause before Kara smirked, “Well, you certainly know how to show a woman a good time,”
“Shut up,”
“You should return the jacket,”
“She hates me now,”
“Oh, don’t be a dummy!” Kara sighs, exasperated. “She likes you! She took care of you and consoled you. She wouldn’t have put up with a drunken Alex if she didn’t. Trust me. You’re kinda a handful,”
Alex mutters an apology.
“Just return the jacket, Alex,” Kara advises with more insistence than before. She places a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “May I offer a pickup line?”
“No,” Alex deadpans, but Kara doesn’t seem to hear or care, because she continues.
“Say ‘Your jacket isn’t the only thing I stole, I also stole...your heart’,” Kara looks at her sister expectantly for feedback. Her lips curved in a goofy smile and eyes bright with humor.
Alex shakes her head. “That’s horrible. No way in Hell are those words coming out of my mouth,”
“Fine,” she exhales loudly, but her feigned disappointment doesn’t last long as her smile returns. “You want a ride over?”
“No,” the older Danvers decides. Having Kara nearby at the exchange would be hugely uncomfortable, because no doubt Kara would be commentating and inputting her opinion the entire time… Besides, arriving in the arms of Supergirl may be a tad weird. Alex pushes the thoughts away. “I have my motorcycle. I’ll just… Where is she?”
Kara closes her eyes and opens them after a minute. “Police station,” Thank Rao for her super hearing, Alex figures. “Good luck!”
“Thanks,” She stops as she reaches the doorway. “And, Kara?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you too,”
Kara grins. “You better!”
---
The police station is loud and noisy. There are detective chugging coffee, suspect shouting, victims crying… Among all the chaos, Alex found her - Detective Maggie Sawyer, jacket-less behind her desk.
She approaches her slowly. It takes everything in her power not to run the other way. Then, Maggie looks up and their eyes meet, and Alex knows she’d sell her soul for this woman. She’d die for this woman. She’d live for this woman.
“Hi,” Her voice cracks. She flinches.
“Hey,”
“So… I… I stole your jacket,”
Maggie frowns. “Sorry?”
“I stole your jacket. When I was leaving this morning, I stole your jacket,” She removes it carefully and hands it over to Maggie. “I’m sorry. I - “
“You left so quickly, you didn’t notice you took the wrong one. Yeah. Figured,”
Alex winces. “I’m sorry. I just…” She tries to come up with an excuse, but they all fall flat. “I really like you,”
Maggie’s whole demeanor changes. Her icy eyes melt. Her stance is more inviting, and Alex can see a smile slowly forming on her face. She’s brilliant. Stunning. Amazing. (Alex could list several adjective to describe Maggie’s beauty. Staring at her in this moment, she can come up with hundreds.)
“I really like you, and that scares me,” Alex admits. “Because I went all of yesterday wanting to do….” Her sentence trails off.
Maggie pouts. “Wanting to do - ?” But before she can finish her sentence, Alex’s lips are crashing into her’s.
But Maggie pulls apart, pressing her palms to Alex’s shoulder. Both of them breathing heavy.
For a second, Alex can feel disappointment pumping through her bloodstream. Maybe she misread everything. Maybe Maggie secretly hated her.
But then Maggie laughs. “I’m so glad you did that, but…” She motions to her fellow detectives who are watching with gaping mouths. (Alex feels the need to yell at them for staring, but she looks into Maggie’s eyes and knows everything is going to be alright.)
“How about we continue this tonight?” Maggie proposes. “Noonan’s? At nine?”
“It’s a date,”
(Alex is drowning, but Maggie is there to save her. And no matter what, Alex will save Maggie. Because they are swimming in this dark ocean together. And Alex will never be alone again.)