780. Chapter 780

They’re sporting their Fall Out Boy snapback, because, well… because of course they are.

And they’re yelling.

Loudly.

“Too high, too high, bring me down, Little Danvers!” they’re shouting, and Kara’s laughing, and they can’t help it: they’re laughing, too.

Because Kara’s pout is huge whenever she wants to fly Maggie around when they come home to the Danvers’ house for the holidays, and Maggie has absolutely no resistance to those eyes. They say yes, Kara can fly them, yes, she can even skim their toes over the water, but no, no, nope, too high now.

So Kara brings them down, laughing but obedient, and her exhilaration infects Maggie like a hot chocolate on a snowy Nebraska morning.

“Did you have fun until you freaked out and called uncle?” Kara teases, but she’s gentle and she’s setting Maggie down softly, so Maggie laughs, too.

They take off their snapback and run their hand through their newly cut hair - they like it long, but this new shortness is something they never would have been allowed to do, and being able to explore while living part at college and part with their girlfriend’s family has been… magnificent.

“Yeah, still shaking, you know? But yeah. It was awesome.”

They look up to see Alex running out of the house, coming toward them with a broad smile and two massive wraps of tinfoil suspiciously shaped like sandwiches.

“Mom sent me out with these when she saw you two were flying again,” she announces proudly, presenting the massivest sandwich ever to massive in all the galaxies to Kara and a merely humanly massive sandwich to Maggie.

“Aw, thanks, sweetie,” Maggie grins and kisses their girlfriend as Kara moans with delight and digs in. Alex has to remind her not to swallow the entire thing in one gulp.

Maggie, leaning against Alex as they all stare out at the ocean, is eating their sandwich at a mostly-human pace; which is why Alex is alarmed and confused when they start to choke.

They wave both Alex and Kara away when they try to help, turning away from both of them and trying to take long, steadying breaths.

It only seems to make it worse.

Comprehension dawns on Alex first.

“Babe, did you sleep in your binder last night?” she asks when Maggie’s breathing begins to stabilize and their chewing begins again.

At her question, though, their chewing slows and freezes. Kara finds some seagulls to occupy herself with and, taking her sandwich, pads away sensitively.

“No? Why’d I do that? Not stupid,” Maggie mutters around a mouth full of sandwich. Alex tilts her head - a habit she’s picked up from Maggie - and waits for them to splutter themself out.

Sure enough, it only takes a moment for Maggie to redden, take a gigantic swallow, and glare slightly. “Yeah, I did,” they admit, like a five year old caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Makes sense,” Alex shrugs. Now that Maggie’s demonstrated willingness to talk about it, Alex has no intention of treating it like some big crime. She knows they know the risks. She knows they knew they shouldn’t, healthwise. No need to remind them and make them feel terrible. They’re prone, Alex knows, to feeling terrible about themself. Alex refuses to make that worse.

“Any way I can interest you in a binder-free massage when we’re done eating? Back only, if you want.”

Maggie watches Alex stare out at the ocean, and they follow her gaze. They both wind up watching Kara chasing seagulls, imitating their calls.

“They didn’t have birds on Krypton,” Alex leans over after a while, whispering conspiratorially, like this isn’t something Maggie’s known for ages.

“You’re not mad?” they need to know, because this is still new.

Someone to love them. Someone to care when they’re in pain because they’re in pain; someone who’s not going to blame them for it or yell at them for it or tell them that that’s just what they get when they’re trying to be something they’re not.

They know that Alex would never, ever say or even think that they’re trying to be anything other than who they are.

“Of course not,” Alex turns to face Maggie fully. “Never.” She shrugs after a moment. “A little worried. I like you best when you’re breathing, I mean, but not mad, no,” she teases gently, so gently.

So gently that when it brings tears to Maggie’s eyes, it’s because they feel protected and seen and so, so loved.

“Just felt like I needed it on, you know? Just, one of those days.”

Alex nods. “I know. I can dig up one of Dad’s old sweatshirts if that’ll help at all. Big.”

Maggie squints, and it has nothing to do with the sun.

“That’d be awesome,” they whisper.

Alex helps.

When they finish their sandwiches and troop back to the house, leaving Kara living her best life amongst the seagulls.

Alex helps, when they get up to Alex’s room and she slips into the storage closet that’s basically a memorial of Jeremiah’s old things to bring back a sweater.

She helps, getting down on her knees and kissing up Maggie’s legs, tongue flirtatious, distracting, reverent, as she helps Maggie take off their pants. Easier to shimmy out of their binder, finally, that way.

She helps when she gets up off her knees and slips their binder off their shoulders, one arm and many, many kisses at a time. She kisses their mouth and their neck and every bit of newly exposed skin. She gasps when Maggie’s grip tightens slightly in her hair, and she slides their binder down their body like she’s taking her warrior out of their armor.

“You’re so handsome,” she murmurs as she helps Maggie replace their binder with Jeremiah’s sweater, quick as can be. Because Maggie likes to be called a lot of things, but this is the one they need to be reminded of right now.

“You too, Danvers,” Maggie can’t help but smile, even as their hands shake.

Alex blushes and pretends to curtsy and promptly trips over herself.

It’s that unselfconscious laughter, more than anything - even more than the stretches Alex does with them, the almost reverent way she touches them, watches them - that brings Maggie back to their body and back to unrivaled joy.

Safe and contented and enough.

More than enough.