782. Chapter 782

She’s not supposed to give out her number.

She knows she’s not, she knows it, but hell, she’s not going to the academy to do everything by the book. She’s doing it to rewrite the book.

And anyway, there’s something about this woman.

This woman who’s telling some guy off for catcalling her; telling him off even through slurs and stumbles, even as he drives away in his daddy’s car.

She stumbles right into Maggie’s arms.

“Whoa there,” Maggie says, both catching her and backing up at the same time, because this woman’s clothes are barely there and she’s not trying to be inappropriate. “You alright?”

The woman just tosses back long hair that, under different circumstances, Maggie would love to run her hands through, and scoffs.

“Course I’m alright. Why wouldn’t I be alright? What are you, the alright police?”

“Well, sort of, yeah. Just in training, though.”

The woman backs up and stumbles. Maggie steadies her again.

“Fuck. Like, actual police training?” She leans in, trying to be conspiratorial. Maggie can’t decide if it’s whiskey or tequila on her breath. Probably both.

“Fuck,” the woman says again. “Can you arrest someone for public intoxication while you’re still training? Not,” she emphasizes her point by poking Maggie in the chest. “Not that I’m publicly intoxicated. Just publicly tipsy. And I’ve earned a little tipsy, right? A PhD and almost a second one at twenty-three? That’s good enough for normal people, right? Are you a normal person, Officer…”

“Sawyer. Maggie Sawyer. And no Officer needed. Maggie’s just fine.”

“You’re damn right, she is,” the woman murmurs, more to herself than to Maggie, her eyes sweeping Maggie’s body on just this side of lewdness.

Maggie gulps.

“And your name? Where you heading? Maybe I can help you get there, Dr…?”

“Ha! Doctor. Dr. Danvers, I guess. Doctor, doctor, doctor. Alex. Alex Danvers. Dr. Alex Danvers.”

Maggie watches the surge of bitterness across this woman - Dr. Alex Danvers’ - face and wonders if it’s the same look she wears when she’s drunkenly ranting to M’gann over at that dive bar about this homophobe or that racist.

“Well, Dr. Alex Danvers. Where you heading tonight? I can put you in a car, if you want.”

“Don’t need a car. Just up the block. Right…” Alex squints and tilts her head in concentration and, after much deliberation, points triumphantly. “There!”

“Excellent. Can I walk you home, Dr. Danvers?”

“Ugh. That’s my mother. Call me Alex. Please?”

“Alex.” It feels better than Maggie would care to admit around her tongue.

The drunk woman nearly preens, letting herself collapse sideways into Maggie as they start walking.

Maggie gulps.

Alex notices.

Maggie notices Alex noticing, and immediately hates herself. She tries, desperately, to change the subject from the silent but screaming conversation they just had.

“Tough day, Alex? No judgment, just… I know when I hit a bottle like it stole my lunch money, it’s because the world sucks pretty bad.”

Alex squints up, then down, seeming only at that moment to realize that Maggie’s shorter than her.

“The world does suck pretty bad, doesn’t it, Maggie? Hey, you ever… you ever try so hard to do something, to please someone, like, soooo hard, and nothing you do ever works? Like, never good enough, ever, no matter what? Wait, no, wait, I upset you. No, Maggie, nooo, I’m sorry!”

“Hey, no, nothing to apologize for, Danvers. Sorry. Alex. The last name thing’s an academy hangover. Alex.”

Alex stops in her tracks, and Maggie slips her arm around her waist to keep her from toppling over with the suddenness of her own movement.

“No. Danvers. No Doctor, just Danvers. I like it. When you say it. Things sound prettier when you say them. But I made you upset.” She pouts like she just realized why she’d stopped walking, and god, her eyes are…

Maggie clears her throat and tries to steer them toward Alex’s building again.

“No, I’m fine. Just… I know what you mean. About never feeling good enough. But can I say? Maybe this is presumptuous, but I think you’re good enough. More than that. You seem great.”

“I seem drunk.”

“You seem perfect.”

They’ve reached the building Alex identified as hers, now, and Maggie’s said too much, now.

Alex’s eyes are glassy, now, just staring at Maggie like she’s never quite seen anything like her before.

Maggie clears her throat again. “Well, this is you. Right?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“G’night, Alex.” Maggie gives a half bow - she has no idea where that came from - and makes sure Alex has a firm grip on the door handle to the building before letting go of her body.

Alex promptly stumbles.

Maggie bites her lip.

She wants to rewrite the book, anyway.

“Hey, Alex?” she calls over her shoulder, jogging the few steps back to Alex’s building’s door. “Here.” She takes out her business card - because if she’s going to rewrite the book, dammit, she won’t do it by scribbling her number on the forearms of vulnerable drunk girls - and hands it to her carefully. “If you need anything. Just… if you need anything.”

She walks away before she forgets how.

She phone rings not five minute later.

“Hello?” She doesn’t know the number, but she has a guess, and god, she hopes Alex didn’t hurt herself. She should have walked her to her actual apartment door.

“Kara! Hey, your voicemail message got shorter! I’m sorry, I know it’s laaaate. And I know you’re off doing all the college things, but I miss yooou! And Kara, hey! Hey, hey! Remember how you told me that you’ll love me even if Eliza’s mad that I’m…” There’s a dramatic pause and a whispered word. “… gay? Well, so I met this woman tonight, a cop. Well, in training, but whatever, a cop. And she was cute, Kar, and she walked me home and she didn’t arrest me and she gave me her number, but I think that was more because I was a threat to public decency and also she probably wanted to make sure I didn’t die on my way upstairs or something, but still I have her number. It’s in my hand right now! Maggie Sawyer. I’m gonna call her tomorrow, I think, but I wanted to tell you all about her first. She’s smart and she’s tough and she’s beautiful, Kara. So beautiful, you know? Like… gorgeous, like… like there are so many things I want to do to her right now, aaaand this is the point where you shove your fingers in your ears and start to sing really loudly because you don’t wanna hear about your sister’s sex life so I’m gonna go but I’ll torture you with more later love you byeeeee!”

The phone clicks and Maggie nearly drops her own.

Smart, tough, beautiful. Cute.

So many things Dr. Alex Danvers wants to do to her.

Well, fuck.

Maggie spends the entire rest of the night convincing herself that she’ll never see this woman again. That it was a bad night that Alex probably won’t remember anyway, and that Maggie had just been in the right place at the right time and Alex was clearly out of her mind drunk and no one even halfway sober would think those things about her, anyway, especially not the most gorgeous woman she’d ever laid eyes on…

It’s a story, now, that’s all.

A story about a gorgeous woman who had a bad night, got drunk, needed help getting home, and drunk dialed her kid sister to tell her about a cop she wouldn’t even remember meeting.

It’s just a story.

Except apparently, Maggie and Just A Story go to the same place for coffee the next morning.

It’s earlier than Maggie usually goes, and later, apparently, than Alex usually goes.

Her stomach flips when she sees her.

Her hair looks mussed but perfect, and though she still has traces of last night’s eyeliner along her lids, she’s wearing glasses and balancing her latte with a stack of books and Maggie had resolved from the moment she saw her that she wouldn’t approach her because it would be the height of unprofessionalism, the height of taking advantage, the height of everything gross and manipulative Maggie never wants to be.

But then Dr. Alex Danvers trips, and it’s only slight, but with all those books plus all that coffee, disaster is imminent.

Maggie is across the coffee shop in a second flat, and she grabs Alex’s latte before it can make quick work of her meticulous notes and enormous textbooks. She keeps her head down and hands the coffee back to her with a quick, efficient nod, meaning to just get back in line, get her own coffee, get out of a situation that -

“Wait, no way. Maggie?”

She decides she loves the way this woman says her name as much as she loves the way this woman looks in glasses.

“Hey. Sorry. Didn’t mean to intrude on your morning. Just… no one needs coffee all over their files. I’ve done it before, it’s not pleasant. Um. Happy to see you got home okay. Have a good day.”

She’s speaking on autopilot, and she hates everything about her stupid life.

“No, wait. I mean. Hey. Sorry about last night. Um. Listen. It’s possible I called you. And… I um. I thought I was calling my little sister. Um. If you heard any of that -”

“You were drunk, it’s no big deal. And I should’ve interrupted you anyway, I’m sorry, but I didn’t see a way in and honestly I was a little shocked-”

“No, I’m… I’m crap with asking women out, so you know what, it was probably the best thing that could’ve… um.”

She adjusts her glasses and Maggie has to concentrate not to swoon.

“Would you like to? Have me ask you out? I mean, you’d have no reason to think I’m anything but a mess, obviously, but -”

“I don’t think you’re a mess.”

“Um. How about we do it right this time, then? Can I… can I give you my number? Wait. No. Stupid. You already have my number, I guess.”

If this woman blushes any harder, or adjusts her glasses on more time, Maggie might pass out on the spot from too much gay panic.

“I do. And um. If I called. Would you like that, Alex? Would it… do you want me to call?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.” Her voice is low, now, more confident.

Maggie swears that this woman will be the death of her.

The barista calls Maggie’s name from the front, and both women jump slightly.

“Um. That’s me. I should be. Um. See ya.”

Maggie tries to remember how to breathe with the eyes of a beautiful woman on her. She tries to breathe and burns her tongue on her coffee and takes out her phone, just outside of the glass windows of the shop.

She retrieves Alex’s number from last night, and calls immediately.

Their eyes lock from either side of the glass as Alex sees her phone buzzing and picks up.

“Sawyer,” she answers, her eyes laden with flirtatious promise as she stares out the window at Maggie.

“Danvers,” Maggie smirks, enjoying the effect of her voice on the woman inside the coffee shop, surrounded by books and everything that makes her beautiful.

“You got plans tonight?” she asks, and she revels in watching Alex blush and arch an eyebrow at her.

“With you, I think,” she grins, and runs a hand through her hair.

Maggie has a feeling Alex knows exactly what she’s doing to her.

“Eight o’clock?”

“You know where I live.”

“Perfect.”