82. Chapter 82

She’s not quite drunk but she’s flirting with getting plastered.

She’s not quite depressed but she’s flirting with letting herself collapse on the bathroom floor and not dragging herself up until M’gann takes her by the hands and calls her a cab.

She’s not quite in love with Alex Danvers, but when she strolls into the bar, laughing over her shoulder at something that IT guy said, she’s flirting with punching the poor guy out and taking his place at Alex’s side.

“Sawyer!” Alex calls, and she’s not quite off her game, but she does flirt with choking on her beer.

And when Alex waves Winn off and makes her way to Maggie’s isolated table in the back, she’s not quite convinced that Alex is actually straight because Alex is leaning in and Alex is blushing and damnit, Alex Danvers is flirting with her.

The night draws on and Alex draws closer and Alex’s eyes are stone cold sober and Alex is breathing in Maggie’s ear and Alex’s fingers are flirting with Maggie’s belt loops and Alex is whispering “wanna get out of here?” and Maggie is confused but Maggie isn’t complaining and Maggie is fumbling for cash to toss onto the table and Maggie is driving her home and Maggie is trying to remember how to breathe and Maggie is fucking her against her barely-closed front door and Maggie is getting flipped over and Maggie is gasping and Alex is asking for what she wants and Maggie is nodding and Alex is taking it and Maggie is forgetting about her ex, forgetting about her cold words and brutal accusations, because Alex Danvers is asking with her eyes if she can fuck her the split second before she does and this can’t be happening but it is and god she knows it can’t last because it never does but she knows already that she won’t ask Alex to stay because Alex’s eyes are already frosting in denial, in secrecy, in fear, in repulsion, probably, because who wouldn’t be repulsed by a woman who’s hard-headed, obsessed with work, insensitive, constantly accused of having mental health issues that she swears she’s trying to work out but no one seems to stick around long enough to find out.

And Alex certainly isn’t, because Alex is slipping back into her clothes and Alex is pressing a too-chaste kiss to Maggie’s swollen lips and Alex is smoothing her own hair back down and Alex is slipping her phone into her back pocket and Alex is saying something about having to get back to work but um, thanks for an amazing time, and Maggie’s heart is breaking and Maggie just nods wordlessly because of course and Maggie breaks when the front door snaps shut behind Alex and she doesn’t bother whispering the plea to stay with me that she wants to because why the hell would she, so she screams into her pillow and she slams her fists into her mattress and she refuses to sob and she throws her phone across the room and she thinks about warm hands and soft lips and the way Alex had whimpered her name like a prayer when she was cumming and she rocks herself and she cries.

She stops only when she hears her phone buzzing, a few minutes later, insistently, insistently, and she’s vaguely impressed that the damn thing isn’t broken.

Angry feet kick aside sweat-stained sheets and shaking hands reach for her phone and she cries more, more, because the text is long and the text is rambling and the text is perfect and the text is so, so Alex.

Maggie, I’m sorry I left like that. I’m sorry I didn’t… I should have, I don’t know, romanced you or something. I should have given you more than I did, because you deserve more than I have. I’m not sure of much right now, but I am sure of one thing, and that’s my feelings for this… amazing woman. You. I’m sorry I ran. I’d never felt anything like… Can I take you to dinner tonight? But I’d understand if you never want to see me again. But I’d… I’d love to do much more than see you again. - A