181. Chapter 181

She always goes to work when she’s sick.

Always.

And, always, J’onn has to team up with Susan Vasquez to practically escort her out of the building and force her back into her apartment.

When Supergirl joined the team, she’d help.

But still, Alex would resist.

“I’m fine,” she’d insist as she coughed up a lung.

“I got this,” she’d pant as she finished throwing up.

“I don’t need help,” she’d grumble as she wobbled because her bones ached so, so, so much worse than they did that time she crashed through the ceiling of that warehouse and landed flat on her back.

She always goes to work when she’s sick.

Until Maggie Sawyer, that is.

Because Maggie notices in the middle of the night, when Alex develops a chest cough, when she tries to hide it, when she shifts away from Maggie’s body and curls up in a fetal position and rocks herself while her chest burns and her body burns and her muscles ache and her nose runs.

When Alex drifts into a restless sleep, finally, Maggie gets up to raid Alex’s medicine cabinet. Of course she has no cold or flu medicine. Of course she doesn’t. Alex Danvers is above the common cold, the mere flu.

Alex coughs harshly in her sleep, and Maggie sighs affectionately.

She gets dressed – her jeans, her boots, Alex’s sweater, Alex’s jacket, not bothering with a bra – and pads softly out of the apartment, walking quickly in the chill of the late night to the only 24 hour bodega in the area.

She comes back armed with orange juice, crackers, tea, honey, lozenges, cough medicine, and an assortment of terrible DVDs, because sometimes Netflix just won’t cut it.

She laughs to herself when Alex tries to get up for her run in the morning.

“Where you think you’re going, Danvers?” she wants to know, and Alex jumps, because Maggie usually sleeps later than this, usually gets up to make breakfast and coffee only after Alex has left for her run.

“Run,” Alex rasps, and Maggie arches an eyebrow and reaches up to pull Alex back into bed.

“Mmmm, babe,” Alex flirts, and Maggie grins, but she shakes her head.

“Not hitting on you, Danvers. You’re staying in bed today.”

“I’m… staying in bed today but you’re… not hitting on me.”

“Alex, you were coughing the entire night, and you’re sweating bullets even as we speak. And you’re standing weird like you’re nauseous. You have the flu, Danvers. And I’m going to take care of you.”

Alex pffts and Alex shakes her head and Alex takes one look at her girlfriend and knows that resistance is futile.

“But you’ll get sick,” she objects, and Maggie smiles, because of all the objections she expected – objections about work and duty and the weight of the world and failure and perfection – this is the sweetest one to hear.

“I’d rather be sick with you than out in the world and healthy knowing that you’re all alone with no one to feed you and medicate you and hold your hair back when you throw up and hold you and entertain you when you inevitably get cabin fever in addition to your actual fever.“

Alex stares and blinks down tears and lets herself lean back into bed. “I think I love you, Maggie Sawyer.”

“Good. Because I know I love you, Alex Danvers.”