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they like each other, and they know they like each other. that much has been established with the long looks, the cheeky smiles, the shy glances, the soft touches. that much has been established with you called me out for liking you and i had the guts to admit, yes, it's true, with we should kiss the girls we wanna kiss, and i really just, i...i wanna kiss you.
so yeah, they have feelings for each other, and they hang out often, and they've kissed, three times to be exact, but alex thought that maybe...things were supposed to start moving forward faster than this—this being three weeks of acknowledging there's feelings but not actually doing anything about them.
and alex would do something; she so would, but the only problem is that she doesn't know where to go from here—what's next on the checklist, who makes the first move to find out whether or not they're dating now, to find out if they're more than just friends now.
it's been three weeks since they kissed; three weeks since maggie's phone went off in the middle of their last kiss. three weeks since maggie said she had to leave—pizza, kisses, and all—because of an emergency down at the police station, promising alex that she'll text later and then never actually sending that promised text. three weeks since either of them have had the pulsing adrenaline to be brave enough to take that next step past a kiss, past the not-so-easy i like you admittance.
every time they've done something courageous to move their relationship in the forward direction, it was always after something that caused an adrenaline rush. after alex came out to kara and it went well, she kissed maggie at the bar. after maggie almost met death, she kissed alex and admitted her feelings. cause and effect. if those things didn't happen first to kickstart the other things, there wouldn't even be other things.
anyhow, it's three weeks after their third kiss. their current 'mode of involvement' is moving at a snail's pace. they're not dating, they're not in a relationship, they're not just friends, so...what are they?
alex is in limbo, and when she feels unsure and helpless, she gets nervous, and when she's nervous, she rambles.
a lot.
maggie's a great sport about it, however, eyes practically twinkling with interest—which has to be false interest, because what is she even saying?—as alex twirls spaghetti around her fork and wonders, "why do we as humans equate different foods to specific times of day? i mean, who said waffles are a breakfast food? because it can be heated in a toaster, suddenly it's not fancy or intricate enough to be considered at dinner-status? all foods should be allowed to be eaten at any time of the day and in any location. like, why isn't caviar a cookout food? why can't oatmeal be a Thanksgiving food? why isn't soup a picnic food? picnics are like those things that don't exist, you know. i mean, who has picnics? they're so rare and quirky. they're made by like, someone who actually prepared. this is why food shouldn't have a time of day. it would suck if you can't have your favorite food at a particular location just because it's not customary. french fries at a campfire? it just doesn't work, yet it could—"
"do you know what i think works?"
alex is in the middle of shaking her head when maggie plants a kiss right on her lips, for the first time in three weeks.
and she learns that day that she never wants to go longer than three weeks ever again without those soft lips against her own.
//
1 week later
they kiss now. like it's just a thing they do upon seeing each other and it's a thing they do again when they say goodbye.
that's as casual as it gets in public; the other times they kiss, they're alone on the couch, and maggie likes to burrow into her while they're watching the news, close just to be close, touching just to touch, but then on the commercial, maggie will stretch as an excuse to shift sideways, and the next thing alex knows, their gazes are locked and they're practically reading each other's minds as they go in for a kiss.
but they don't just kiss. they make out. they french like there's no tomorrow, and it's like looking into a crystal ball, because all of this—it's how alex imagines she would have acted as a teenager had she just known, but now at almost thirty, she's reliving those stages of her life for the first time, letting her hormones breathe and run free and—
—but then the commercial is over, and maggie gives her a cute peck on the lips before shifting away with a sigh, while alex is in literal pain as she's left horny and turned on, still learning how to regulate and control her urges.
after a minute or so, maggie turns to her and says, "you're kinda stiff, babe. are you alright?" and because alex can't admit to the woman she likes that she's practically throbbing down below, she does what she does best.
she rambles.
"training day at the DEO killed my muscles today. i thought training was going to be tomorrow but the director likes to catch us off guard and see who's stayed in the best shape. but i wasn't too winded, probably because i laid off those awesome sub sandwiches down on Mulberry Street. they also sell pizza and bagels. kara introduced me to the shop. there are so many hidden gems in national city."
"you're the only hidden gem i need," maggie says, and it's just so sweet that it completely disarms alex, throws off her ramble, and shuts her up completely.
now that her mouth's not moving a mile a minute, maggie makes good use of alex's lips. she doesn't sate the throbbing down below, not yet, but it's definitely better than no contact at all.
//
1 week later
they're hanging out at a human bar, playing darts in the back with james and winn. darts is more maggie's game than pool ever will be. she wins with ease, barely even aiming, it seems, as she lets the dart fly, and bam, another bullseye.
drinks are flowing, the atmosphere is breezy, spirits are high. alex has never had this much fun with a person and connected this deeply with another individual before maggie. it's only been two months since they've met, and alex has already told maggie that she's an amazing woman, and maggie has already admitted to alex that she can't imagine life without her.
they're in deep and they don't even know it; at least alex doesn't think so, until maggie asks alex to come home with her, and alex isn't that naive when it comes to relationships. maggie's been all over her tonight, the most open and flirtatious she's ever been in public and around their friends. so when she whispers the words, "do you want to come back to mine?" with those twinkly eyes, those outrageous dimples, that magnificent smile, alex flushes from head to toe, and before she can stop herself, "oh my god, i love this song. my dad used to play it every sunday morning, and kara and i would wake to the sound of the radio and the smell of bacon. my mom always burnt the bacon, but my dad was like a bacon pro or something. if he wasn't a scientist, i bet he would've made an amazing chef."
"i bet he would've," maggie agrees, reaching out a hand, and alex's nerves begin to spike again, but instead of asking to come back to her place, maggie asks, "do you wanna dance with me, danvers?"
alex breathes and takes her hand. "yeah, mags, i do."
//
1 week later
the adrenaline rush—that burst of courageous energy fueled by sheer impulse to push their relationship forward—happens on February 12, 2017, two days before Valentine's Day.
there's a high speed car chase, and maggie's at DEO headquarters getting patched up once again when Hank informs them of a rogue alien on the lamb, authorities on hot pursuit as it enters their area of influence. alex had advised maggie to stay behind, concerned about her freshly popped-in shoulder, but if there's one thing that will always make maggie sawyer maggie sawyer, it's her willingness to go into anything guns blazing.
long story short: it's the fasted, most action-packed car chase alex has ever been in. by the time it's all over and done with, she feels close to invincible, like she can do anything and be anything and accomplish anything. the engine in her car has stopped, but the engine inside of her is still revving, and maggie must feel the same way, because suddenly they're heading straight from the station to alex's apartment, straight up the stairs, and then straight into alex's bedroom. a lot of straight for all the gay that occurs throughout the night, in much the same way as the car chase: fast and action-packed, so much so that alex doesn't even get a chance to be nervous and ramble her way around the situation.
no, the rambles don't come until the next morning when alex wakes up to fingers combing through her hair and tired but adoring eyes smiling down at her. it all sinks in, only now that it's morning and daylight, that she and maggie had sex. like, they actually had sex, together. with each other.
maggie murmurs a lazy good morning, and alex could say good morning back and then cuddle into maggie like any normal person would, but instead she yawns and admits, "i've never had a morning after moment like this before. i knew they existed because they're in all the movies and television shows and books. but i've always felt discontent or uneasy the morning after doing something like this, but with you, mags—i don't feel that way."
"how do you feel?"
alex thinks and then, "like a Catena Zapata Argentino bottle of wine, served in a tall, crystal stem glass."
"i have no idea what that means, but unfortunately it's a little early for wine, babe," maggie laughs, rolling out of bed and then out of the room, "so how about a cup of joe?"
"different foods shouldn't be defined by—"
"—by the specific time of day, i know!" maggie calls from the kitchen, and alex has to smile.
she just has to.
//
1 week later
ever since they've shared the same bed, the same feelings, the same sensations, the same touches, maggie's been more open and in touch with expressing her emotions.
alex has come to discover that maggie is like an avocado. she's soft on the outside; she'll tell you about her parents, her sexuality, her background in criminal justice. but those are just the facts. and the facts are easy because they don't change. feelings, however, change everyday, and once alex gets past the soft part of the avocado, past all the easy facts, is when she's faced with the hard shell entrapping all of maggie's emotions.
before, the information was controlled, filtered, but now maggie's feelings just come out in random spurts, and alex falls even harder with every new thing maggie reveals about herself and how she feels.
as a matter of fact, she's so open and honest that when another woman approaches and flirts with alex—and alex continues to amicably chat with the woman, completely aware of what's going on—maggie doesn't think twice before calmly pulling alex aside and angry-whispering, "that girl must not know you're here with me. if she even tries to flirt with you again..."
alex wants to be amused; she wants to be turned on by maggie's show of jealousy and dominance—and maybe she kinda is—but there's just one problem, and it's that while alex may technically be there with maggie in the physical sense, how much are they actually with each other in the together sense?
the question niggles and nags at her to no end, until the crowded lesbian bar feels like it's closing in on her. it's already past midnight and they're way too tipsy for this kind of conversation, but alex asks anyway because liquid courage, right?
"why aren't we girlfriends?"
maggie gives her that smile, the one where she squints her eyes, tilts her head sideways, and just stares for a moment, thinking, calculating. she's a detective, after all, and so she detects. "are you really asking me this right now?" she chuckles, an uncomfortably dry laugh, but alex wonders if maggie's laughing because she thinks the timing is funny or because she thinks the question is funny.
alex doesn't think the question is funny at all. maybe a little untimely, but it's a serious question, and she's expecting a serious answer. "yes, maggie, i am," and she sticks to her guns, refusing to allow maggie to stir the conversation away from what they've been tiptoeing around for weeks now.
"alex, i'm not in the right mindset for this," she says, her voice suddenly sober and void of all humor. maggie takes another sip of her drink. "we can talk about it later, okay?"
"but will there ever be a later?"
maggie looks so close to rolling her eyes, but she doesn't—and thank god she doesn't, because that would be the straw that breaks the camel's back. the alcohol is slowly turning alex's euphoria into resentment now that her hopes of a relationship have been repeatedly discouraged, and that is never a good feeling to have circulating in the pit of your stomach.
"yeah, but later isn't now, so can we just drop it?" maggie pleads, and so alex drops it. she drops it so hard that she refuses to pick it back up. she drops it because it hurts to think about. she drops it because maggie asks her too, and she doesn't ask maggie to pick it back up either, because it's maggie's job to remember that, not alex's.
and so by the end of the night, it's all left dropped.
and later never comes.
//
1 week later
it remains dropped, for another week, until they're out at this underground alien karaoke bar that kara and lena invited them to.
she's only sipped on water tonight because she has an early morning, and it literally goes right through her. alex is exiting the bathroom when she finds maggie alone by the stage, and so she heads over, just to be near, just to be close, just to reflect on the night's events in companionable silence, but silence is not what alex receives when maggie asks, "is being my girlfriend something you want?" it's so far out of the blue that it's practically orange; alex could've sworn they ended this topic of conversation a week ago on maggie's dramatic plea that they talk about it when her nonexistent later comes around.
it's been a long and confusing two weeks, and suddenly alex is no longer in the mood to talk about anything, especially something maggie could only pretend to want because alex wants it, and so there's really no other way to answer maggie's last ditch effort at redemption with anything other than sarcasm.
"you're actually thinking of something i want for once?" alex mutters, rolling her eyes perhaps a bit too hard. "wow, it must be my lucky day."
//
1 week later
she doesn't hear from maggie for a whole week. alex refuses to text her first because that's giving in, and maggie never texts her either, so they remain in a stalemate for a good six days until maggie proves herself weak and powerless (or perhaps stronger and more willful than most people) when she's the first to break the silence and text an i miss u to her phone.
alex's heart has never thumped so hard, so heavily, so fast—not like it is right now as she's suddenly overcome with the realization that maggie actually thinks of her, and often enough to actually miss her and then type out the words and send it to her.
perhaps alex is the weak and powerless one; she doesn't even wait a full minute before texting back: I miss you too :(
almost as soon as she sends the message, the read receipt pops up and then she's receiving a call with this gorgeous face smiling back at her from her phone's lock screen.
"how much do you miss me?" maggie answers with.
alex twirls her hair around her finger. "enough..."
"enough to what?" maggie asks, with this sly undertone, and alex knows what she's getting at, but instead, she takes the conversation in a whole other direction.
"enough to answer your call without an apology."
there's a short pause. alex holds her breath, and then maggie says, "i'm sorry."
alex doesn't even think maggie knows what for, but she takes it anyway.
//
1 week later
weeks ago, she and maggie clicked, and they still do, of course. alex is head over heels, but how can she continue to click with someone who literally has no idea what she wants out of their unlabeled relationship? alex has tried to broach the subject, at least four times already, but maggie either doesn't take the bait because she doesn't see it, or even worse, she does see it, clear as day, but she doesn't take it because she doesn't want to take it.
"i just feel like she doesn't listen to me," alex mumbles through a bite of toast, and kara nods in understanding, pushing her glasses up when they fall a little too low on the bridge of her nose. "it's those eyes, i swear it is. she always looks so engaged, but i bet everything she nods in agreement to just goes in one ear and out the other."
kara considers this with a pout. "are you starting not to like her anymore?"
"crazy enough, i probably like her even more than i did before i learned she has a bit of an intuition problem," alex sighs, releasing a sorrowful excuse for a laugh. "she just can't read between the lines, and while it's super frustrating to me how she can be such a great detective, it's also the most adorable thing when she has no idea what i'm getting at as i try to hint at seeing the sunset with her by complimenting the sky, but all she does is look up and go, looks like rain. i just wanna be sexy-subtle, you know."
"maybe you need to be less subtle and more blunt," kara advises, "to the point."
"i agree."
they both turn. maggie's head is in the fridge, scoping out her breakfast. she's in alex's DEO crewneck and booty shorts, and alex's whole entire face pales when her eyes land on that booty because it's the only part of maggie that she can see that's not hidden behind the refrigerator door.
"how long..." alex murmurs, her heart in her throat, "have you been standing there?"
"long enough to hear that you want to be subtly sexy," maggie teases, slinking over to alex and dusting away some crumbs on alex's chin with her thumb, "which you already kinda are, so i'd say mission accomplished."
"and that's all you heard?" kara broaches.
"guys," maggie groans, plucking alex's toast out of her hand to take a bite, "you know i don't tune into the world until after breakfast."
or if ever at all.
//
1 week later
maggie's been distant this past week, and alex begins to silently panic, disturbed at the thought that maggie perhaps did hear what she and kara said—that it hurt her feelings or made her angry, because it's been a whole five days and maggie hasn't called her, not once, and all of her text messages have been one word responses with no emojis or exclamation marks or...or anything maggie-like.
she knows maggie's busy. she knows maggie isn't super in tune with her feelings. she knows maggie never really listens to anyone besides maggie, and now suddenly alex catches herself doing something she swore she would never do; she compares notes with maggie's ex, who, according to maggie herself, called her insensitive, a workaholic, hard-headed—not to mention a borderline sociopath. those words were probably said in the heat of an intense argument, but alex can't exactly see how any of the traits mentioned came from out of left field. they hurt maggie, at the time, and alex knows more than anyone that nothing hurts more than the truth.
another day and a half goes by, and alex is exiting the DEO sparring room after an intense workout when her phone vibrates in her gym bag. she reaches inside and scrambles around until she finds her phone, and it's a text from maggie that reads: busy tomorrow???
tomorrow is sunday, her off day, and maggie knows this—she's supposed to, at least—so alex texts back: Am i ever?
after her shower, she checks her phone again. two messages from maggie, sent back to back. one reads: sassy. while the other: tomorrow is gonna be an us day so make sure you're free ;)
alex doesn't even know what us means anymore.
//
sunday morning arrives in less than fourteen hours. 10am on the dot and there's a knock on her door. it's maggie, of course, and alex is surprised she's not in a t-shirt and sweatpants when she swings the door open to reveal a fresh-faced maggie sawyer holding a tray of coffee.
"get dressed, danvers."
"maggie," she drawls, hands on her hips, because she thought they were going to spend the day inside watching movies, which she'd much rather do after such a long week, but instead, she's curious: "where are we going?"
"you'll see when we get there," maggie promises, handing over a cup of coffee, and it's alex's favorite—she can tell by the aroma—before even putting the cup to her lips. "now off."
maggie shoos alex into her bedroom with a soft swat to the ass, but she barely makes it to her closet before calling out, "at least tell me what kind of clothes to wear," when she realizes that she has no idea where maggie's taking her today.
"cute casual!" maggie calls back from inside the living area.
she's not even sure what that means, so she copies maggie's attire, throwing on a pair of soft jeans and a warm sweater. it's nothing glamorous or different, but maggie looks her up and down, and says, "looking good, danvers" with an intentionally exaggerated wink right before they head out, and alex has a feeling that this day is going to be quite a...day.
//
it starts with the ancient volkswagen parked on the side of the street. "why are you driving your cousin's car?"
"sometimes we have to downgrade aesthetically to upgrade personally," maggie says, pulling the creaky door open on alex's side, and with her question swiftly evaded, they hit the road, driving through this cute little neighborhood by a lake, and then after about ten minutes, the car comes to a stop near a huge patch of green.
maggie gets out first, and alex follows after a beat, still confused as to what they're doing here, but then the trunk pops open—an actual hand-woven basket is pulled out, and alex doesn't think she's ever experienced this feeling before. she's a teenager again, feeling these feelings for the first time as maggie pulls a blanket out of the trunk next.
"mags," she breathes, delighted, "how did you know?"
maggie smiles and tilts her head. "how did i know what?"
"that i've always wanted to go on a picnic."
her smile only grows into this crooked grin and, "you once said," is her only explanation.
alex's desire for a picnic was always subconscious, one of those lovey dovey things that she never thought she'd have because of her inability to really feel for the guys she once dated, but now that she thinks about it, thinks long and hard, it all comes back to her: picnics are like those things that don't exist, you know. i mean, who has picnics? they're so rare and quirky. they're made by like, someone who actually prepared.
intuition is a skill, and alex thought maggie had absolutely none of it, but once they're settled on their blanket near the lake and maggie starts unpacking their lunch, alex comes to learn that perhaps she's been giving maggie way too little credit when she pulls out two subs from Hungry's, and again, alex asks, "how did you know?"
and maggie answers, "you once said."
but i wasn't too winded, probably because i laid off those awesome sub sandwiches down on Mulberry Street.
alex takes a bite out of her sandwich, and it's like sex in meal form. she moans at the taste, but her euphoric sounds are cut short when music starts flowing out of maggie's phone speakers, but not just any music.
maggie peeks up at her. "you once said," is how she responds to alex's unasked question.
oh my god, i love this song. my dad used to play it every sunday morning, and kara and i would wake to the sound of the radio and the smell of bacon.
two crystal stem glasses and then her favorite red wine appears on the blanket, and as maggie pours, alex looks at her, questioning, but maggie just shrugs with this knowing smile as if to say you once said.
how do you feel?
like a Catena Zapata Argentino bottle of wine, served in a tall, crystal stem glass.
it started with a volkswagen, but it ends with the sunset. once the sun has gone down—and maggie hasn't uttered a word about birds flying south, or the clouds forming artwork in the sky, or it looking like rain—there's no doubt in alex's mind that perhaps this is why maggie didn't want to date her in the first place. it's her first real relationship, and she's almost thirty, and she doesn't know what to do, how to act, what to say, or how and when to say it. but most importantly, she doesn't know how to tell when maggie's listening, and apparently she's been listening the entire time.
"hey, babe, what's up?" maggie says, eyes soft and worried. "why are you crying?"
the ridiculous part is that she doesn't even know why. "i never thought you heard me," alex admits, sniffling her tears away.
maggie does that dimpled smile-head tilt thing she always does, and whispers, "i hear everything you say, alex." she catches alex's eyes and then her jittery hands to hold them still, "especially when you're rambling. i pick out every little word and i store it and i save it for later, for important moments when i want to say something honest and real, and so that's what i did. i saved it...all for this moment."
alex's palms sweat as maggie turns her hand over and laces their fingers together. "maggie?"
"remember when i told you i was scared? scared that you came out for me because damn, that's kind of a lot of pressure. i might not act like it, but sometimes i'm still scared, alex," she admits, dragging her gaze away from the lake and then finally up at alex. "i've wanted to be with you from the moment you rushed into the bar that night and pulled me into that kiss, but i had just gotten out of a relationship, one that really hurt me, and i needed time. i'm sorry if i might have made you feel like i wasn't giving you the attention you deserved—"
"no, mags, i'm sorry."
maggie pauses, perplexed. "for what?"
"for...being a teenager," she whispers, embarrassed, but maggie still looks confused, and so alex continues, "this is all so new to me, maggie, and i thought that—well, never mind what i thought. or what i think. what we feel is what matters, right?"
"right..."
"and i feel a lot, for you, all of the time," alex laughs, that feeling of euphoria hitting her again, "and unfortunately those feelings cause me to overthink and overanalyze sometimes because it's just all so new and fresh to me, but out of everyone else in the world, i'm glad that you're the one i get to experience this new feeling with."
the smile that stretches across maggie's lips is like witnessing magic occur. her eyes sparkle, her cheeks redden, and it's basically everything that alex has been slowly falling in love with.
maggie scoots closer across the blanket so that their knees are touching. she holds their tangled fingers in between their bodies, close and tight. "we've been seeing each other for some weeks now, alex, and i just, i'm usually better at this, i swear, but you—it's hard to be suave with you," she chuckles, rolling her eyes at herself, "the last time i asked, it didn't really come out correctly, so this time i'm going to do it right—babe, i want you to be my girlfriend. do you want me to be yours?"
she's never had this teenage-ish pronouncement before and perhaps that's what makes it all the more better. the last person who asked her something along these lines was ricky lawson in high school. it was asked just as plainly, just as simple and to the point, but somehow, maggie asking the question does an abundance of wonders.
"yeah, i want you to be mine," alex whispers, happy and shy, and then that's that. maggie kisses her, full on the lips, and then they lay back in each other's arms and gaze up at the stars above.
there's no rambling. no nerves. no fears.
there's just them.