127. Chapter 127

Alex wakes up first. She’s long since programmed her body to get up for her morning surf, and since she moved from Midvale, her morning run. So she wakes up first, no need for an alarm, and for a moment she’s startled, because there’s a beautiful girl entangled in her arms, looking more peaceful than Alex has ever seen her, certainly more peaceful than she’s been since the massacre.

There’s a small smile on Maggie’s face as she sleeps, and Alex wonders if she’s dreaming. Wonders if she’s dreaming of her.

And god, last night, last night, last night.

She starts to shake, she starts to quicken her breath, because god they hadn’t even had sex but Alex had never been that turned on, never been that into anything, anyone. Just kissing, just touching, just exploring, just cuddling, just… being.

God.

And Maggie’s still here. Still here. Still here.

Alex can’t remember any time she actually wanted someone to stay. And she can’t remember any time when someone did, because her body wasn’t of any use in the morning.

She sighs and she smiles and she presses her index finger to her eyes to stem the flow of tears and she slowly, slowly, slowly, disentangles from Maggie’s sleeping form, because she needs to shower, she needs to take it all in, she needs to convince herself that this is real. And somehow, feeling Maggie’s breath on her neck makes it feel less real, not more, because how can this ecstasy possibly be real?

Maggie panics when she wakes.

Panics because it never works out well for her when she wakes up somewhere unfamiliar. Ever.

Panics because it might have worked out well, this time, but the bed next to her is empty. The bed next to her is lonely.

Her heart sinks and her throat tightens, but she hears the shower running. She hears the shower running, and – other than the incredible sounds Alex had made last night – she’s never heard anything sweeter. Because Alex didn’t run. Alex is just showering.

She sighs and she stretches and she lets herself remember, because god, they didn’t even have sex and her body had never known that kind of fire before. She’d said they were holding back for Alex, to not rush things for Alex, but god, she needed the slowness too, because if this was what making out, what touching, was like?

She doesn’t know how she’s going to handle everything. But she smiles broadly, because she looks forward to figuring it out with this woman.

She sighs again and as she stretches her fingers out, she stumbles on her bra on the edge of the bed. She hums with the memory of Alex’s trembling lips, Alex’s perfect, swollen lips, and she slips her bra on, looking around vaguely for her shirt but not bothering to look too hard, because she has no idea where she flung it.

She pads over to Alex’s second drawer, takes a guess, and she’s right: shirts. She grins at the first one she sees, because she had no idea Alex owned anything so orange. And slips it over her head and relishes the way it falls all the way down her body. She hugs herself for a moment, because her shirt smells like Alex – she smells like Alex – and she can’t think of a more perfect morning.

She rummages in the kitchen for mugs, for sugar, for coffee, and in each cabinet, she finds more things to love about Alex Danvers: the neat order, the classic designs, meshed with a small collection of mugs that were clearly gifts from Kara, not shoved in the back and out of the way of Alex’s soft aesthetic, but interspersed with it, just like she interweaves her kid sister into her life.

Maggie has always been weak in the knees for a woman who’s all about family.

Her heart races when she hears the shower stop, when she hears Alex padding around the bathroom, because this? This is what happiness feels like, this is what peace feels like, and she knows how beautiful the feeling will look on Alex, and she’s terrified – she’s terrified, because what if this is the only happy morning they get? – but Alex?

Alex might just be the one who’s worth the risks.