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Maggie thought a lot (like, a lot) about what dating Alex might be like in the last few days before screwing up her courage and actually doing something about it.
None of the scenarios she’d lingered over – long lazy Sunday mornings and motorcycle rides through the city and late night take out and sex on the couch – had involved the possibility of waking up to Supergirl sitting on her floor unsuccessfully trying to yank her boots off, swearing in Kryptonese.
“Sorry!” She looks up at Maggie, and she looks young – really young, all of a sudden – windswept hair stuck in her face, brow furrowed, eyes bright, “didn’t mean to wake you! If I pull too hard I rip them in half so – ”
She goes back to tugging at her boots.
“Yeah, Winn’s not gonna be happy if he has to replace another pair,” Alex is stretching on Kara’s couch, and Maggie realises that she’s practically on top of her girlfriend, has to push herself up into a sitting position on arms stiff from a long day not yet really over, blinking, groggy.
Maggie has encountered Supergirl before, of course – long before she met Alex she saw Supergirl just about as much as the rest of National City. She’d be high overhead in the early evening or bathed in pale sunlight at dawn; a ripple past dark cloud and faint starlight in the middle of the night; dashing to or from a crime scene – once just in time to drop a mugger in front of one of Maggie’s patrol cars before taking off.
Then, of course, she’d been around Alex’s cases. And Maggie has encountered Kara Danvers multiple times. But not since her disappearance – not since that moment in the bar, whilst she was giving the younger Danvers info on missing persons cases and studying her quietly over her beer, steadily, inevitably confirming the suspicion that had been inching up her spine for weeks.
She hasn’t yet truly encountered that split-seem where National City’s gallant girl of steel meets Alex Danvers’ goofball kid sister. Because it’s one thing understanding that the two are one and the same – it’s definitely another to consciously encounter them together. Especially on maybe an hour’s worth of sleep out of the last twenty four.
It’s a little jarring, that familiar costume, the cape, the goddamn S on her chest, all those flowing golden locks and the noble jaw line, here in some average hipster city kid’s apartment, close-up, freckled, chewing her lip trying not to tear her boots, while Alex teases her and offers to help.
Maggie gives herself a moment. She’s not used to falling asleep anywhere but home (and more recently, Alex’s place) and this is neither and she’s still fully dressed and she feels a little clammy and gross, the way she always does if she passes out still wearing her bra.
They’re at Kara’s place. Which is also Supergirl’s place. (Duh). She came over to keep Alex company, waiting for her sister’s return from… another planet? Another dimension? Alex was a little garbled on the details. Only that Kara was off doing her heroic duty somewhere Alex couldn’t help her and that Alex was, predictably, a garbage fire of shot nerves and tequila cravings.
Maggie had brought her pizza and beer and rubbed her back until she’d stopped threatening to somehow rip open the fabric of reality in order to retrieve her wayward sibling. (Another dimension, Kara was definitely in another dimension. On another earth, specifically – with some dude called The Flash?). They’d watched a load of trash TV to pass the time, ordered more pizza, cuddled a little and made out a lot – and Maggie must have fallen asleep sometime around 2AM, still wrapped in in Alex. Her clothes smell like her.
“She’s not used to Supergirl hours,” Alex squeezes Maggie’s shoulder and then gets up, scrunching her face.
“I’m working on it,” Maggie manages, and then has to flop back against the sofa cushions because her head is swimming. She came off a twelve hour shift plus two hours of overtime on paperwork straight to Alex’s place then to Kara’s. She’s used to long days, she’s been a cop her entire adult life, but – jeez.
Finally freeing herself from her boots, Kara pops up like a cork, dancing from foot to foot, cape flaring dramatically as she’s grabbing the last pizza slice, babbling something about clones and aliens and a White Canary and – her socks don’t match. One’s pink and stripey, the other’s blue and spotty.
Maggie has no idea why she finds that funny but she kinda does. Supergirl wears ordinary people socks. Supergirl couldn’t even find a pair that matched this morning before rushing out to save the world. Goddamn this is weird.
She must look about as out of it as she feels, though, because Alex’s expression is sympathetic.
“Maggie, do you wanna go to bed?”
“You can sleep in my room!” Kara is doing little spins on the spot, like a kid high on lemonade and birthday cake. Alex grabs her by the shoulders to stop her and begins unclipping her cape, flashing Maggie a long-suffering look.
“She gets like this after big missions go well. Amped up.”
“It’s such a rush!”
“I’ve never met this Flash guy but I’m not always sure he’s the best influence on you.” Alex is sardonic, folding the cape, draping it over the back of the couch next to Maggie, like it’s literally any other item of clothing and not, you know, a superhero cape.
“Oh no Barry’s the best, you’d love him – and Cisco, and Iris, and Caitlin, and – maybe not Oliver, but he grows on you – ”
Maggie’s eyes feel bruised. Her head aches. “Okay, yeah, I – should go to bed.”
She forces herself up from the couch onto kinda embarrassingly unsteady feet. And then Kara has her by the arm with a grip that is unnervingly vice-like – she’s not even holding on that tightly, but the hand around her elbow is so firm and so steady that Maggie knows with immediate certainty that this kid could snap her arm in half should she be so inclined.
“You’re okay,” Kara propels her forward a few steps, with that same unnerving strength – it’s like being handled by a surprisingly domestic grizzly bear, “I won’t keep you up. There’s pyjamas in the top drawer.”
Maggie lets the odd sensation of Kara’s hands on her sink under a deep, aching yawn. “’Kay. Thanks.”
She catches Alex’s smile – full of familiar crinkly eyed tenderness and Maggie thinks damn I want to keep you – before staggering into Kara’s bedroom to find that promised top drawer.
Kara’s – Supergirl’s – pyjamas are all far more shades of pastel than Maggie generally consents to sleep in, but also she so doesn’t care right now. She falls into a pair of powderblue shorts and an oversized pink t-shirt with sleeping puppies on the chest and then clambers into the bed, which smells like lilac washing powder and soap.
Somewhere in the haze that follows, she’s aware of Alex joining her, her girlfriend recognisable even through Maggie’s semi-conscious headfunk, long lean limbs wrapping tucked in around Maggie’s – a leg between her own, an arm draped over her waist – warm breath on the back of her neck where Alex seems to like best to bury her precious nerdy face.
Maggie breathes her presence in, familiar and safe (so familiar, so safe, so soon that if she were more awake she’d be fretting, quietly, about how fast this is happening, about the little anxious edge this lays around the entire relationship because falling so hard so fast is so never, ever a good thing), isn’t sure how long she sleeps for.
But when she opens her eyes there is broad daylight leaking through the curtains, and Alex is a comfortable sprawl against her back and Maggie can smell coffee and hear a radio playing in the kitchen.
“Hi,” Alex mumbles against her neck, and Maggie twists round because she has to look at her, really, right now – has to see the face that sleepy, soft voice is coming out of – Alex is too precious first thing in the morning, Maggie could just eat her right up (…and once or twice she totally has).
“Hey,” she whispers, and Alex smiles, her eyes heavy lidded, her whole body still mostly pressed against Maggie’s, heavy with sleep. “Hey, baby, hey.”
Alex strokes two delicate fingers through the hair in Maggie’s eyes. “Baby.”
“What, you don’t like being called that?” Maggie finds the soft heat of Alex’s ribs under her nightshirt, feels her girlfriend’s breath contract a little at her touch.
Alex only smiles, slow and drowsy. “I never used to.”
And before Maggie can kiss that dumb, dozey face the way she wants to, Kara is coming through the bedroom door with a tray and coffee and a louder blast of music from that radio. “Good morning sleepy heads!”
Her pyjamas have a sleeping koala on the front, her hair stuck up in a bun, her glasses firmly in place – the persona of Kara Danvers: Totally Normal Twenty Something Definitely Born On This Planet is firmly in place. As long as you discount the square of those steely shoulders which Maggie now can’t unsee.
“I made pancakes,” Kara puts the tray on the end of the bed – the tray is indeed stacked with more pancakes than seems reasonable even for three people, “and coffee.”
She is thrusting a mug at Alex, brimming with far too much good cheer for someone who definitely cannot have slept in the last twenty four hours.
“How is she so happy?” Maggie manages, as Alex props herself up on her elbows to take the coffee.
“Told you,” Alex nudges her, gently, “amped.”
“Alex says you like yours black with sugar,” Kara is proffering Maggie another mug – with dancing kittens on it (Maggie is sensing a theme, here).
The coffee smells just good enough to make Maggie sit up and take it, though – and damn Supergirl definitely has access to a decent French roast.
Kara contently tucks herself under the comforter on Alex’s other side, pulls the tray into her lap and begins devouring pancakes like it might actually be her job. “Did you guys sleep okay?”
“Pretty much,” Alex is adjusting the pillows to give her and Maggie something to prop themselves against, “you aiming to put yourself into carb coma then pass out for like twelve hours?”
“Pretty much,” Kara smiles broadly, and if Maggie didn’t know they weren’t related she could have sworn up and down that she and Alex have the same smile, the same dimples, the same twinkly, crinkly look about them when they’re happy. That part of Kara’s disguise, at least, is almost as bulletproof as the girl of steel herself.
She wonders if Kara learned to imitate Alex or vice versa. Perhaps it wasn’t even as conscious as that – they’ve simply wound themselves together like those trees that wrap themselves into arches.
“You want some?” Kara spots Maggie’s gaze, and Maggie shakes her head, sipping her coffee.
“No I – I gotta wake up a little before I eat anything,” she rubs her eyes, “this is good coffee, though.”
“Caffeine doesn’t work on me so might as well get the stuff that tastes good or there’d be no point, right?” Kara waves a hand. She pushes a plate at Alex. “Eat.”
“Thanks, mom.”
“You’re welcome.” Kara pats Alex on the head officiously and Alex snorts, sitting forward so she doesn’t end up with crumbs on the blankets.
Maggie remains propped against the pillows as she watches the Danvers sisters bicker and eat and prod each other and snicker half-understood in-jokes over their plates – the pyjama shirt Alex is wearing is spotted with sleeping baby pandas. A definite theme.
Alex’s hand keeps finding Maggie’s thigh under the blankets, or Kara’s arm. She twitches between touching each of them as if she’s making sure that they’re both definitely still there. Maggie lets her toes brush up against her girlfriend’s calves and sees the fractional edge of Alex’s smile in her direction.
“You like baby animals, huh?” Maggie pats the snoozing puppies on her own shirt and Kara grins.
“Who doesn’t like baby animals?”
“On literally every piece of clothing and crockery that you own,” Alex intones because clearly this is an old and ongoing subject.
“Not every piece of clothing,” Kara rolls her eyes.
“Every piece of clothing between eighth grade and senior year,” Alex prods her – she flashes Maggie a conspiratorial look. “Every piece of clothing and every backpack, and every pencil case, and every poster – ”
“No – some of my posters had NSYNC on them,” Kara frowns and Alex laughs along with Maggie because of course, of course.
Kara narrows her eyes at them both. “I can take these pancakes away just as easily as I brought ‘em in here, you know.”
“Nope,” Alex clutches her plate protectively.
“I gotta shower,” Maggie decides, because she can feel the coffee finally seeping into her veins, caffeine stirring her limbs, finally beginning to clear her head.
“That way,” Kara manages around a mouth full of pancake, points at a door across the room.
Maggie kisses Alex’s cheek before she scrambles out of bed, and she hears Kara giggling and whispering something that sounds like she likes you so much as she closes the bathroom door behind her.
By the time Maggie has showered, towelled herself off and re-emerged feeling almost entirely like a functional non-zombiefied person again, Kara is sound asleep on her sister’s shoulder.
Alex is smoothing her hair, absorbed in carefully easing her glasses off her face, and Maggie feels almost like she’s intruding. These two are their own split-seam, so much a unit, so obviously an entire world unto themselves, a twinned constellation, a universe – it’s a wonder Alex has room for anyone else at all, let alone Maggie. But then Alex is glancing at her, her expression almost an apology, and she lays her sister down with the kind of ease that means she has been doing this all her life, and tucks her under the covers, and climbs out of bed, beckoning Maggie after her, into the living room.
“She’ll be out most of the day,” Alex says, handing Maggie a bundle of her clothes, a little sheepishly, as she closes the bedroom door behind them.
“You two have a routine, huh?” Maggie raises her eyebrows, and Alex shrugs.
“I’m just used to this,” she begins tugging off her sleeping panda pyjamas, and Maggie does not resist the urge to touch the little freckle she likes on Alex’s abdomen, just above her navel – it makes the blood rush to the surface of Alex’s skin and damn Maggie is never getting tired of that.
“Guess I’m intruding some,” she flattens her hand against Alex’s belly, pulling herself close against her girlfriend’s back.
“Are you kidding?” Alex cranes her neck to glance round at her, “this is so much better with you here, you have no idea.”
“Yeah?”
Alex shrugs again, like she’s trying to find the words. “Getting left behind, to wait up, to listen for her coming home and then – to – patch her up, and debrief, and put her clothes away while she winds down, and make sure she eats and make sure she goes to bed and – I love her. But I….”
“Must get a little lonely.” Maggie murmurs, pressing her mouth to Alex’s shoulder and enjoying the resulting sigh, the breath released from Alex sounds like it’s been stuck in her chest since last night.
“Yeah. Yeah, a little.” Alex’s fingers curl around Maggie’s. “It was definitely better with you with me.”
“Okay.” Maggie tries not to think too hard about how good that suddenly makes her feel, the warmth in that sentiment flowering in her lungs. “Okay then.”
The silence lingers a little – Maggie can’t bring herself to break it, wants to stand here and hold onto Alex just as long as Alex wants to let her, thanks.
“We should get dressed,” Alex tells her, after a moment, though she doesn’t move.
“I guess.” Now that she’s actually awake, Maggie is hungry, too. “Your sister ate all the pancakes, didn’t she?”
“Aside from the one I had, yeah.”
“Does she always eat like that?”
“Pretty much,” and Maggie can hear Alex’s smile. “Kryptonian metabolism. One time, she nearly ate a diner out of a month’s worth of waffles in one sitting – I had to stop her before she totally blew her cover.”
Maggie snorts. “Well, I mean, with those glasses on, no one could possibly know, right?”
“Honestly you’d be shocked how many people those fool,” Alex shifts in her grip, craning her neck so that Maggie can kiss her properly. “C’mon. If you still want pancakes, I’ll take you out for breakfast.”
“Kay.” Maggie releases her, just a little reluctantly, and begins to put last night’s clothes back on although – ugh – her shirt smells not so great.
“You can borrow something from Kara if you like,” Alex says – she’s putting on new clothes, because of course she must have stuff stored here for nights like these.
“Does your sister own anything that isn’t pastel or floral prints?”
“…doubtful,” Alex’s smile is quick and knowing, “you just might rock a lavender argyle skater dress, though, you never know.”
Maggie snorts. “You’d like that, huh?”
“You’d be so cute.”
“I don’t think it’d go with my motorcycle boots.”
“Pity.” Alex shrugs on her jeans and Maggie decides to discard her own underwear because – ew – and lets Alex watch her as she tugs up her own pants without them on. Oh, that’s gonna be fun later.
Of course if this whole deal – support system for Supergirl’s support system – is gonna become A Thing, she needs to leave some stuff at Kara’s place now, too, she realises. There’s already half a drawer for her at Alex’s apartment – and a shelf for Alex at hers – bits and pieces that have been left in small enough numbers that they could almost be accidental, except that they’re not, at all – the slow, tentative ways in which they are starting to put their fingerprints all over each other’s lives feels more like something growing, tended and strong, than anything so clumsy as an accident. But now, minimally, she’s gonna need to leave fresh underwear and a toothbrush here, because commando might be fun for a day with Alex’s hungry gaze on her ass the whole time, but it’s not great on a motorcycle in stiff greasy jeans.
“C’mon,” she twines her fingers through Alex’s, “I’m hungry. And I need to buy panties.”
Alex laughs as she lets herself be pulled toward the door.