Chapter 11
Alex had gone quiet when the plane landed in Nebraska, her eyes wide but smiling as she watched Maggie come home; as she watched Maggie develop a swagger that was at once the same and vastly different than the one she had in National City; as she watched her greet everyone in the airport by name, watched her slap one of the security guards on the back and send her love to his kids; as she watched her swerve into the only airport coffee shop still open this time of night to pull the teenage employee into a hug; as she watched her haul their luggage out of baggage claim and elaborately handshake the sole staffer in the place, a Santa hat skewed on his head, before he pulled a small ring of keys out of his pocket and tossed them into her hands, saying “Your pops dropped it off earlier, it’s in your usual space in the lot. And this must be your girl?”
Alex blinked a couple times and stepped up to the man, his green eyes studying her face with a keenness that made her gulp.
“Alex Danvers,” she told him, offering her hand. He took it and had a surprisingly light grasp considering the intensity of his stare.
“Tom Benson,” he returned, a smile taking over his entire face at the firmness of Alex’s grasp. “It’s Doctor Danvers, right? Mags won’t shut up about how geniusy her girlfriend is. Or how hot – or, what is it you said, absolutely gorgeous, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on – and I gotta say, the woman has a point.”
“Shut up, Tommy,” Maggie said, but she looked utterly pleased as Alex squirmed with a burning red face. “Tom and I were the only out kids in our high school; kinda bonds you, even when the other person’s an ass.” She shoved her shoulder into his and he just laughed.
“You realize you’re a third my size, don’t you, Sawyer? Although,” he turned to Alex again, still grasping her hand with his, “some of the guys decided to beat the gay outta me when we were I was a junior and this one was just a wee sophomore. She was suspended for a week for the sheer amount of damage she did to the quarterback’s pretty face.” He pulled Alex closer to him. “She just barely avoided getting slammed with criminal charges, but don’t tell her other cop friends, okay?”
Alex laughed. “Somehow I don’t think they’d be in the least surprised.”
“You know she’s never brought anyone home before – ”
“Tommy – ”
“I’m just sayin. I expect a full report on how meeting the family goes, right?”
Maggie rolled her eyes and started tugging Alex away. “Thanks for the keys, Tommy,” she singsonged.
“Good to meet you,” Alex called over her shoulder, a cockeyed grin on her face.
“Good to meet you too, Dr. Alex Danvers,” he waved, laughing to himself and shaking his head.
“Thought you said you were an outcast here,” Alex wondered aloud, and Maggie nodded quietly, thoughtfully.
“Airport tends to be where everyone who wants to leave but can’t quite make the jump wind up working.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “And anyway, except for Tommy, none of those folks were white.” She glanced sidelong at Alex and swallowed. “It makes a difference.”
Alex mirrored Maggie’s quiet nod and brought her hand to her lips, kissing each knuckle as they walked. Maggie grinned shyly.
“You planning on doing that when we get home?”
“Am I allowed to?”
Maggie stopped walking. “Babygirl, you’re allowed to do whatever you want, whenever you want. Blue Springs might not be National City – and god knows National City has its problems, too – but you be you, always, understand me?”
Three words – three terrifying, unfamiliar words that she had never even been tempted to say to anyone else before, not like this – rose to Alex’s throat from deep, deep in her core. She took a breath and she almost opened her mouth, but she didn’t. She just nodded, and Maggie gave her a twisted half smile before bending suddenly to dig in her bag.
“Here,” she said, producing a long coat, scarf, and black beanie that she’d somehow crammed into her suitcase. “Much colder here than what you’re used to.” She grinned as Alex reluctantly tugged on the winter gear. “My west coast girl.”
Alex tried to glare – really, she did – but being called Maggie’s anything girl made her too weak in the knees to process any response other than trying to remain standing.
When she’d shrugged on her own coat, Maggie took Alex’s hand again and tugged her out to the parking lot. Alex shivered and Maggie blew forcefully into the air, relishing the way her breath appeared in white clouds in front of her.
“Ha ha!” she laughed triumphantly and yanked Alex into a jog through an obstacle course of ice patches, weaving a chaotic path to a navy blue pickup truck with a dented bumper and an aqua green lightening bolt painted on one side.
She tossed her bags into the back of the truck before turning to Alex and pointing an accusatory finger at her, a habit she must have picked up from spending so much time together, much like Alex was starting to develop a head tilt.
“Do not comment on the lightening bolt. Not to me, not to anyone in my family. Just… just don’t do it.”
Alex grinned and ran her fingers over the paint marks: Maggie beamed like she was watching Alex meet her first child, and it occurred to Alex that she probably was.
“You’re not even gonna give me a hint?” Alex imitated Maggie, tossing her bag lightly up into the back of the truck, her hands then free to pull Maggie toward her by the hips. “You fly me hundreds of miles to come home with you for the holidays, all so I don’t get to find out every single tiny detail about your…” She glanced back at the lightening bolt. “perhaps questionable painting decisions and other such childhood passions?”
“Oh, you wanna learn about my passions, do you, Danvers?” She leaned up on her tip toes to put her lips by Alex’s ear. “I thought I showed you pretty well last night.”
Alex bit down a moan and stammered to find words.
Maggie pulled back suddenly with a shit-eating grin and Alex nearly whined out loud at the sudden loss of contact. Maggie hopped into the front seat of the car and leaned over to open the passenger door for Alex.
“C’mon, Danvers! I promised my mom I’d get you there in time to let her fatten you up.”
Alex stood for a moment, still frozen with Maggie’s lingering breath and heady words coursing through her veins, before reminding herself that she is a DEO agent and defends the earth for a living and she could do something as menial as recovering from being turned on and compose herself enough to meet her first girlfriend’s entire family on Christmas Eve.
“Alex,” Maggie spoke again, softer now, reaching her hand out the window that she’d cranked down manually. “They’re gonna love you, babe. C’mon, looks like it’s gonna start snowing, and I wanna get you home before the roads get gross.”
Alex nodded at the warmth in Maggie’s voice, at the touch of her hand, at the assurance in her eyes, and climbed up into the passenger’s seat.
Maggie drove with one hand on the wheel and one hand holding Alex’s. She kept a fairly consistent running narration of the places they passed on the road, the places she’d show her in the coming few days: her old high school; the football stadium where she’d made out with girls underneath the bleachers; the state college where the only other people in town who went to college would go to; the one place to get coffee that had internet that she and Tommy practically lived at in high school; the field where she’d run sprints every morning
The information overload kept Alex focused (as Maggie had intended); it kept Alex grounded and it kept Alex excited to be learning more about the woman holding her hand, about the woman who was bringing her home to her family; it kept Alex from entering a state of complete and utter panic at the fact that this woman was bringing her home to her family.
Maggie squeezed Alex’s hand before letting it go to turn into a long, dusty road that led, she declared, “Home.”
Alex gulped and Maggie glanced at her. “I got you, babe. You’re perfect, okay? Just be you.”
Alex nodded because she didn’t quite trust her voice, and Maggie seemed to understand. Truth be told, Maggie was terrified herself; truth be told, her insides were shaking so hard it was a wonder she could keep her hands steady on the wheel. Truth be told, she would rather be storming a building full of hostile aliens than bringing a woman home to her family.
No, she reminded herself strongly, refocusing on the thought that had centered her the entire time. Alex Danvers is exactly the woman I want to meet my family.
So her smile was genuine, and so was her nervous excitement, as two of the family’s dogs came streaming off the porch, barking up a storm, to run alongside the pickup. She rolled down her window, despite the chill, and called out to them excitedly. Alex almost forgot to be nervous as she watched Maggie park outside an old wooden garage and all but leap down, straight onto her knees, letting the pups all but tackle her as she ran her hands all over their chins, their ears, their backs, their faces.
The next few hours, they both experienced in an utter blur.
Alex, approaching the dogs with as much caution as she might approach an alien, crouching down and waiting with her hand slightly extended until they decided that, covered in Maggie’s scent as she was, she must be worthy of their affection.
Maggie, hands buried deep in her pockets after thoroughly and completely smothering her parents with full bodied hugs and kisses, shuffling on her feet as she introduced “My girlfriend, Dr. Alex Danvers.”
Maggie, beaming when Alex went to shake her mother’s hand, telling her what an honor it was to meet her and what a wonderful daughter she has, and her mother pulled her in for a hug instead.
Maggie, laughing as Alex was bombarded with questions by her younger cousins, as she answered each of their rapid fire (“So what does an FBI agent do?” “How old are you, anyway?” “A doctor of what exactly?” “So you’re a doctor and an agent? Do you like one more than the other?” “So could you like, shoot someone and then sew them back up?” “Have you ever shot someone?” “Has Mags told you about the telescope she built me? You wanna see it later?”) queries with a smirk and the sharp-tongued skill of a DEO agent posing as an FBI agent.
Alex, melting when Maggie dropped to her knees in front of her youngest niece, still wobbling when she walked, scooping her up and making her shriek with laughter with kisses all over her belly.
Alex, gasping slightly for air as two of Maggie’s younger cousins decided that if she really was an FBI agent, she should be able to handle a sneak attack piggy back ride, recovering quickly as she reached both arms behind her, secured both girls, and – after receiving permission in the form of love-struck raised eyebrows from Maggie – tearing through the sitting room, much to the delight of the girls and much to the bemusement of Maggie’s uncle, chiding them to “Leave the poor girl alone, she only just got here.”
Alex, offering to help Maggie’s mother with the cooking before she even got the chance to be asked, and being subsequently dragged into the kitchen alongside a mock-protesting Maggie, rapidly adjusting to the flurry of tasks being sent her way and promptly impressing the hell out of Maggie’s aunts and mother by being such an utterly speedy whiz with a knife.
Maggie, running her fingers down Alex’s spine as Alex set the table with Maggie’s nephews, rising to her tip toes to whisper, “you’re perfect” in Alex’s ear before coming back down to press open-mouthed kisses on her neck, eliciting an abundance of oooohs and ewwwws and other such shrieks from her pre-teen nephews.
Maggie, barely eating as she watched her family force second and third helpings onto Alex’s plate; barely eating as she watched Alex make her mother laugh and her uncles lean forward to ask questions about the inner workings of the FBI; barely eating as she stared across the table at her father, solemn and silent, trying desperately to control her heart rate as she bit her tongue back so she wouldn’t demand to know what his problem was this time; barely eating as she held Alex’s hand right there on the table for everyone to see, because dammit if everyone else could bring home people they barely knew, let alone loved, she could hold the hand of the woman she… well, she hadn’t quite gotten around to telling her yet, but watching Alex charm the adults and entertain the kids, she knew she had to soon.
The Sawyer household had a tradition: clearing the table and doing the dishes would wait until everyone had the chance to sit, to rest, to drink wine, to nap, to laugh, to relax away the food coma.
Maggie scrambled to the recliner she claimed no one else was ever allowed to sit on, and squeezed over so Alex could sit, too, one leg draped between Maggie’s, Maggie’s head on Alex’s chest.
“This okay?” they asked each other at the same time, and they both chuckled, leaning back to watch the younger cousins and nieces and nephews – who somehow, no matter how much food they’d shoveled down, still had the energy to run amok – jump over each other and rile each other up.
Maggie let her eyes close, let her heart rate simmer down, let her body relax in a way she never had with her arms around a woman in Blue Springs, as Alex played absently with her hair, pressing kisses to the top of her head, to her temples, every few minutes.
One of Maggie’s uncles got a fire going in the fireplace, and Maggie huddled closer into Alex.
They must have fallen asleep like that, limbs entangled and Sawyer children crawling over them, because the next thing either of them knew, one of Maggie’s uncles was slapping her knee lightly. “Clean up time, girls.”
Maggie muttered something incomprehensible and Alex laughed lightly as they disentangled slowly. Alex, quicker to a state of alertness than Maggie, collected a stack of dirty plates from the table and started bringing them to the kitchen.
She stopped at the door at the sharp, frustrated voice of Maggie’s father.
“ – the arrogance of the girl. We let her be who she says she is, fine. We let her be around the young ones and we even let her bring a woman home for a high holiday, fine. We let her do as she pleases, and it spoils her, thinking she can be all over the girl like that. Kissing and touching and all that, in my house, in front of all the children. Did she forget where she’s from, the way all the boys used to try to beat on her and that Thomas boy? She is who she is, I accept that, but to be so public about it, I – ”
He turned his head in frustration, then, and his eyes locked with Alex’s wide ones.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Sawyer. Mrs. Sawyer. I just – I wanted to put these dishes in the sink – ”
“Don’t worry, Alexandra – that is what Alex is short for, yes? – you were only trying to help.” She said this last part with a pointed look at her husband, crossing the kitchen to take the stack of plates from Alex and depositing them in the sink.
Alex swallowed and an awkward silence let the off-key Christmas carols mixed with Mario Kart-related yelping and protests to cleaning up from the next room settle heavily between them.
If Alex were anyone else, she probably would have flashed a small smile and retreated back out of the kitchen without another word.
But Alex Danvers wasn’t one to retreat.
“Mr. Sawyer,” she said softly, both hands dug into her pockets, “I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help but overhear – ”
“Anyone could have,” Maggie’s mom interjected sympathetically.
“And sir, I… I’m sure you know that Maggie… Maggie’s smart, and she’s tough, and from the way you love your family so fiercely, I can… I can see that she gets that from you. From both of you.”
She swallowed before pressing on, not noticing the kitchen door swinging slightly open, not noticing her girlfriend, frozen and silent and tensed at the threshold.
“Maggie can take care of herself, but I… you’re scared for her. And I get that. But I… if there was ever a moment where she couldn’t protect herself…”
Her mind flashed to Maggie getting shot; to Maggie getting kidnapped; to Maggie getting tasered unconscious; but she said nothing about those times, knowing what a big role secrets necessarily played in her own life and unsure which things Maggie chose to share with her parents.
“If she ever couldn’t protect herself, I swear to you, I would be there, I would… She makes me so, so happy – happier than I ever even knew was possible – and I think I make her happy, too. I hope I do, because that’s the only thing I want: to make her happy. And I respect it if you don’t want me touching her so much in front of you, but I just… I care about… I… I love your daughter, Mr. Sawyer, I would do anything for her, I… Sir, I would die for her, and in our line of work, that really does mean something. I love her, and I just… I just thought you should know that.”
Silence screamed in Alex’s ears as she looked down at the floor tiles that Maggie played jacks on as a kid, as she took a deep, open-lipped breath to steady herself, to give her the courage to look back into the face of the man that, according to Maggie, wasn’t exactly known for his open-mindedness.
She was so focused on maintaining her composure, on not letting her hands shake or her knees tremble, that she didn’t notice Maggie’s mother cast a small smile in the direction of her daughter’s hiding place, didn’t notice Maggie’s bowed head half-hidden by the doorway behind her, jaw open, heart racing, body processing. She didn’t notice the door tremble slightly as the shoulder Maggie was holding it open with – stack of plates held half-forgotten in rigid hands – shook with the overwhelming sensation of floating, of flying, of crashing, of exploding.
“It seems,” Maggie’s father said slowly when Alex looked back up to meet his eyes, “that our Margaret has a taste for women as outspoken as she is.”
Not knowing whether to take that comment as a good sign, Alex glanced at Maggie’s mom, who was shaking her head but beaming at her husband.
“She’ll be looking for you, no doubt,” he continued. “She’ll want to recruit you for the annual snowball fight she never fails to rile the cousins into.”
Alex nodded, a good enough soldier to know when she was being dismissed.
“And Dr. Danvers – Alex – ”
She turned back around just before she could notice Maggie slipping out of the doorway, tip toeing to pawn the dishes off onto a passing uncle.
“My daughter has a tendency to love people better than they love her. Don’t you let her run away from you if she starts to be frightened that you’re too good to be true.”
Alex’s heart broke and soared at the same time.
“Yes, sir. I won’t.”
“Good then. Now go beat her at a round of snowball fighting. The girl always wins and needs to be taken down a peg.”
Alex grinned, nodded, and swallowed tears, nearly knocking over one of Maggie’s uncles, his arms stacked with dishes, as she left the kitchen.
Her father was right: Maggie did recruit Alex in a whirlwind snowball fight. And he was right about something else: she was used to winning.
“You may be a cop, Sawyer, but DEO tactical strategies make NCPD plans look like a game of checkers,” she’d taunted into Maggie’s ear as she grabbed her from behind while her youngest cousins pelted her with snowballs.
“Checkers is a great game, Danvers,” Maggie teased back, and flipped Alex over onto her back in the snow, straddling her with a triumphant grin. “You should try it sometimes.”
It took two hours, a bloody lip from a dirty snowball, three make out sessions behind a snow embankment, and Alex rallying every single cousin Maggie had against her: and the game was still deemed a draw.
Still holding their sides in pain from the final laughing fit that brought everyone to their knees, Maggie, Alex, and the cousins trouped back onto the porch, banging out their snowy boots and shivering out of their frozen, dripping outwear before stumbling into the warmth of the house, all chuckling to themselves, shoving each other lightly, and mumbling good naturedly about cheated and got her right in the legs and we’ll see who’s laughing tomorrow.
Maggie’s parents doled out hot chocolate for everyone, and though Maggie’s father avoided her eyes, her mother touched her hand warmly as she passed her a mug, and Alex thought she saw the ghost of a smile on her father’s lips.
The fireplace was roaring and everyone tossed all the throw pillows and comforters on the rug in front of the hearth. The children, newly scrubbed and towel dried and in feety pajamas, eagerly traded in their previous forts of snow for the fort of blankets with their new favorite couple.
Alex swallowed, unused to so much affectionate physical contact, but found that as long as her body was flush against Maggie’s, as long as she had a view from the massive windows of the snow falling outside, as long as she heard the slow sound of the children’s breathing and sipping of hot chocolate, as long as she heard their grumblings about not being tired and the objection of both Maggie and their parents and older siblings that Santa wouldn’t come as long as they were awake, all that unfamiliar contact felt fine. More than fine, it felt… good. It felt warm. It felt right. It felt… like home.
In pairs and in trios, roughly divided by age, the cousins, nieces, and nephews were slowly carried away to bed by their parents, all eyeing each other and nudging each other the entire time at the way Margaret seems so relaxed around her and I’ve never seen her look this peaceful and Well they can’t seem to keep their hands off of each other can they? and Or their mouths, apparently and Oh, hush, you’re just jealous, look how precious they are together and I think they’re falling asleep, let’s leave them be.
When the only sound left in the sitting room was the crackling of the fire, the tolling of church bells in the distance as Christmas Eve slipped into Christmas day, the slight patter of snow falling gently on the windows, Maggie shifted closer to Alex, kissing her jawline and looking up at her blearily.
“Alex.”
“Mmm.”
She swallowed and she told herself she was brave. “I heard what you said to my dad.”
Alex blinked, the sleep disappearing from her eyes. “You… you did.”
Maggie nodded into Alex’s shoulder. “No one’s ever…” Her eyes flooded with the ghosts of girls who swore she was delusional for thinking they would ever be interested in her, girls who spent hours kissing her and then telling their friends loudly what a freak she was, women who used her for everything she had and women who left her for her devotion to her work and women who called her ableist slurs.
But another time was the time to reopen those wounds, to bare them to Alex so she could kiss them, clean them, restitch them, help them heal properly.
Now, those things weren’t important. Now, only one thing was.
“I love you, too, Alex Danvers.”
Alex’s chest wracked in a single sob and they kissed, and they kissed, and they kissed, as snow fell and fire crackled and Christmas blossomed in a house full of family, full of sleeping children, full of dreams and full of winter’s night quiet.
They fell asleep with the blankets askew and their bodies wrapped up in each other and their lips still touching each other’s softly.
When they woke in the morning to the sound of children and adults alike giggling and shrieking and whispering in delight, to the sound pattering feet scampering to the Christmas tree, they were fully covered in blankets, tucked in as neither of them had been in years.
Maggie knew no one else in her family who always made sure her feet stayed warm at night, who always made sure to wrap an extra blanket around her lower body to fend off her tendency to kick: no one did this, no one knew to do this… other than her father.
And sure enough, when she woke in Alex’s arms, an extra blanket was wrapped around her legs, and her father’s Christmas morning hug was especially warm, for both her and for her girlfriend.