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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years ago

Text

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @sassy-sara @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85 @watermelonlover-123 @xiaomailab

Warning for panic attack near the end of the scene (after Lucas reads the messages).

~^~

Tuesday, 18:47

Songs: nilu - Are You With Me; Michael Schulte - Falling Apart

“No, no, wait, why is it doing that?” Jens whines from the screen, delicately brushing his thumb under Lucas’s eye to wipe away the dark smudge. “Why the fuck does eyeliner drip?”

“It’s liquid, man, what do you expect?”

Lucas skips ahead as Jens groans in the background and the camera moves to Sander. He plays it again when Moyo does a close up of his own face, the eyeliner now perfectly neat, and making the blue of his eyes stark. The on-screen version of him laughs at Moyo’s dramatic sounds of awe, and then there’s a close up of Jens. His tongue sticks out at the corner of his lips, brow just slightly furrowed, intensely concentrated as he paints on a light layer of lipstick. His eyes flick to the camera, and he falters just slightly, lips twitching. He manages to hold onto his focus for another few seconds before his lips crack in a smile and then into laughter, and he quickly draws his hand away from Lucas.

“Give me peace, asshole,” he says, leaving the camera shaking as he shoves Moyo back and another laugh rings out.

Robbe has sent him the completed vlog, that they haven’t posted yet. Lucas is currently watching it for the fourth time, with the volume raised to be heard over the bartering of rain against his window. By now he’s able to fast-forward to the specific shots of Jens that he likes most. He has Instagram open in the background, where his chat with Jens still remains quiet.

He rubs his hands over his face as Moyo zooms in on Jens puckering his lips, initially indicating for Lucas to do the same and ending up blowing a kiss to the camera. Talking to him yesterday hadn’t helped as Lucas had hoped it would. The few moments of contact had helped ease some of his worry, but the gaping hole in the chest that Jens usually takes up has only grown. He had hoped he would get the chance to convince Jens to come home to him, and then the connection cut out and Lucas had to hang up on Robbe before falling into a panicked state of despair.

Sander curses from the screen and then rapidly apologises as Robbe moans a complaint. “Isn’t this almost over?”

Lucas wonders the same thing as the shot cuts back to Jens and shows him leaning back with hands raised, a grin on his face as he announces he’s done. Lucas pauses on the image, chest tightening and jaw clenching.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he quickly shuts his laptop before his father peeks his head in. “Can I come in for a second?”

Lucas nods, setting his laptop aside as Hugo walks in and hovers by the bed as he holds an object out to Lucas.

His phone.

Lucas examines the spotless screen with wide eyes before shooting his eyes up to his father’s, which are crinkled at the corners with his smile. He waggles the object at Lucas, and Lucas takes it carefully, running his fingers around the edges. He holds in the power button and after a few seconds, it lights up.

“The guy in the shop charged it a little so he could make sure it’s working, but you’ll probably need to charge it yourself now,” Hugo says. “It look alright?”

It’s still in his old, worn, blue case, and when it finally comes to life, his favourite image of him and Kes appears on the lock-screen. He hovers his thumb over it as it shakes in his hand. Slowly, he nods. “Yeah, it’s perfect. I didn’t even know you’d taken it.”

“Well, you need your phone. Even I can’t contact you without it. Consider it an additional late birthday present, huh? Better than those old albums I got you.”

Lucas shakes his head. “The albums are good. And the art supplies are expensive, I know that. You didn’t have to…”

“Shush,” Hugo waves a hand at him. “I don’t expect you to pay for things like that yourself. No matter how many jokes I make about you being an adult now.”

Lucas smiles slightly, though his eyes are misty as he turns his phone over on his palm. “Thank you.”

His father smiles back at him, then seems to hesitate again. “I also wanted to talk to you about this weekend. I organised a trip for the youth center. A few days away, where they can all hang out and do stuff together, can really help them out at this time of year. It just means you’ll be left here on your own.”

This would usually come as a relief. Now it makes anxiety churn in Lucas’s chest, and he has to quickly bite down on his lip. Otherwise he’ll do something ridiculous, like beg his father to stay. He’s overreacting. He’ll be fine for a couple of days on his own. “So, you’ll be going on Friday?”

“Yeah. The girls are taking them on the bus and I’ll drive down to meet them in the evening.”

“Where are you going?”

“It’s some kind of adventure center. One of the kids themselves suggested it. We’re staying at a motel nearby.”

Lucas nods slowly. “Then you’ll be back on Sunday?”

“Yeah.” Hugo seems only mildly confused by the questioning, at Lucas’s unusual show of interest. “Should be back in the afternoon. So you’ll be alright? You can call me now if you need me.”

Lucas hums.

“If you want to, you can invite one of your friends over to keep you company. Maybe Jens.”

He says it cheerfully, proud of himself for remembering the name Lucas had let slip weeks ago. He seems oblivious to the pain it causes Lucas, so Lucas tries for a smile. “Yeah, maybe.”

Hugo sets a hand on his shoulder and gives a squeeze. “Okay. Give your mom a call too when you can, alright? She keeps bugging me about you.”

“Have you been talking to her?”

“Ah, now, Luc, I still talk to your mother. Is that a new hoodie?”

Lucas blinks and looks down at himself, not understanding, until he sees the red. He’d forgotten he was even wearing Jens’s hoodie. It doesn’t smell like him anymore, aside from the faintest trace if Lucas moves in just the right way. He simply shakes his head as he looks back up at his dad.

Hugo purses his lips, nodding slightly as he shrugs. “Suits you. Alright, everything else okay with you?”

It takes a moment for Lucas to gain enough composure to smile and nod, and his father squeezes his shoulder once more before leaving him alone again.

Lucas takes a moment to breathe, then moves to his desk to find his charger, phone still clutched in his hand. He finds it hidden under a stack of papers and moves back to his bed, plugging the charger into the wall. He has to sit close to the edge so the lead will reach, but he manages, and soon he’s facing a flood of missed notifications.

Jens is right at the top.

It’s only after taking another long moment to breathe that Lucas is able to open the messages. There are a whole string from the weekend he’d left, easily two dozen, and guilt churns in his stomach once more as he reads through Jens’s concern. There’s even a selfie of him and Moyo from that Saturday, with both of them pouting at the camera, eyes slightly red. Obviously high. Lucas’s chest tightens further. He scrolls further down, through Jens’s more insistent questioning, where the frustration begins to truly slip in.

Then he makes it to the end, where he has a message from Sunday morning, sent just minutes before he had messaged Jens from Kes’s phone.

I’m getting really freaked out and I didn’t even think that was something that happens to me, but I really miss you Luc and I’m worried. please just message me. I love you

He reads it, then reads it again, over and over until the words blur and a single mantra runs through his mind.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Lucas internalises the words, letting them fill up his chest until he can’t breathe.

Jens loves him. Lucas had no idea. Jens loves him and Lucas had left him. Jens loves him and Lucas had hurt him. Jens loves him and he’s being punished for it. Jens loves him and he isn’t here.

Lucas loves Jens, and he can’t breathe.

Air finally comes out in gasps, then heaves. The world around him has blurred. He’s being flung on the floor, dropped like a ragdoll, frozen in place, and then the slap. Over and over in an endless reel. Hands are shoving him, two pairs at once. His favourite brown eyes are unfamiliar, cold and distant, unreachable. He’s running away and running away and running away.

He’s staying and making it worse.

Jens has done nothing but love him, and Lucas has done nothing but hurt him. It’s his fault. His fault that Jens is in this position in the first place. His fault that Jens felt the need to try so hard and endanger himself. His fault that Jens is hurt. His fault that Jens is gone. His fault that Jens doesn’t know.

Lucas loves him, and Jens doesn’t know, and he can’t breathe.

He tucks his head between his knees and tries his usual method. He has to drop his phone to tangle his hands in his hair as he counts in for four, holds for four, breathes out for four. Except he can’t manage it. His breaths are short stutters, insufficient, and his ring catches in his curls and he sobs.

When he feels like he is going to suffocate, he drags himself to his feet. He stops once he gets there, having to stave off the urge to curl down into himself. His hands grapple at air, curled into claws at his sides as choked sounds continue to spill from his throat. It takes him three tries to repeatedly force himself into enough motion to open his door. From there he’s overcome with urgency, and he speeds down the hall, into the kitchen where his father is sat with a newspaper at the table.

“Dad,” he croaks.

Hugo looks up, brows raised. His expression falls instantly into concern as he stands from the chair and rounds the table. “Lucas? Hey, buddy, what’s wrong?”

Lucas lets out another sob. “I can’t—“

He cuts himself off as his knees give out. His father catches him as he sinks towards the floor, drawing him into his arms and providing a sturdy support. Lucas relinquishes all his weight and lets the man hold him up, kneeling on the floor alongside him.

“Hey, Luc. It’s okay, you’re okay,” he soothes, gently rocking him back and forth, hand petting through his hair in a gesture Lucas hasn’t experienced since he was a child half his current size.

“Can you help?” Lucas pleads. “Please, can you help, can you help me?” He feels his father nod, feels a kiss pressed to the crown of his head, and he lets out a shaky breath.

Hugo holds him and guides him through it, regulating his own breaths until Lucas’s heartbeat feels just manageable. “I’ve got you, buddy. I’ll do whatever you need. Do you hear me? I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip #i just really love hugo #so sorry i didn’t add the warning before #i’d forgotten what actually happens in this scene!

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algandarsplaguepositive · 5 years ago

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I’m hoping today goes better than yesterday.

I worked late the night before (the 3rd) until 1:30 in the morning, not that I’m not used to working late but it was in one of the suburbs so it took me about an hour and a half to get home afterwards and I knew I had to get up early the next day because dad wanted to go out on the boat.

I had originally made plans with Hunter to go to the zoo (but in hindsight, it’s probably better we didn’t go because it would have been a literal and figurative zoo given the holiday), but I asked him if he wanted to go on the boat instead so he was like “Sure” because he likes going on the boat.

Since he’s halfway between my house and the boat, we made plans to meet up at the boat but my dad didn’t tell me that he planned on picking up his girlfriend first and going in between her new house and her old house. I suggested we pick Hunter up on the way to her new house because it was on the way but dad made some excuse about not wanting to get off the highway (it would have only taken about 5 minutes). Long story short, I ended up having to drive back and forth between his girlfriend’s new house to Hunter’s house, Hunter’s house to her old house, and her old house to the boat when it could have just been made a lot simpler if we had just taken a few minutes to stop and pick Hunter up. I dropped my dad and sister off so they could ride with dad’s girlfriend while I took dad’s car to pick Hunter up. Thankfully, Hunter was patient and didn’t seem too fussed. I was more strung out than he was.

Once we got to the boat, I was already cranky from wasting all the time we had from making all these unnecessary detours and the blazing heat was just further testing my temper. Dad kept having me do everything without bothering to delegate anything to his girlfriend or my sister. Once we got moving and the wind cooled me down, I calmed down. Felt even better when the rain came and made things even cooler.

We got back to the dock and Hunter asked what our plans were for food. He and I were both getting pretty hungry. Dad had been waffling around all day, not being able to decide what he wanted to do and changing plans last minute so many times and so he didn’t even know where he wanted to go to eat. Every suggestion people offered he would turn down or just say “I don’t know”. He talked about there being a bunch of places near the mall to eat and suggested Hunter and I bring back food. I was already annoyed as hell being the sole person designated to do every little thing for this outing that HE planned so Hunter and I eventually got fed up and left to go get food (driving my dad’s car while dad, his girlfriend, and my sister were left with the girlfriend’s car). We ended up going to Denny’s and I talked to Hunter about some pretty painful shit I’ve been internalising for a long time now which didn’t leave a good feeling to reopen that wound but I had only talked about this to one other person (mom) and I’m trying to get more comfortable talking about shit that’s really hurting me with more people. And like I said, it hurts to talk about it but sometimes that’s the only thing that will help you get better.

Sister called me while we were in sitting in the Denny’s parking lot to say that they finally decided to go to this one seafood place across the river and that we could meet up with them if we wanted. Hunter and I didn’t want to meet up with them and kinda just wanted to drive around and talk but the car was low on gas and I wasn’t able to put my money into a car that isn’t mine and that I rarely ever get to drive anyway.

Hunter and I decided we had no choice so we drove to the seafood restaurant parking lot and sat and talked while Brenda called again to say that the seafood place stopped serving food already and they were trying to find a place that was still open which they eventually did but Hunter and I opted to stay in the seafood parking lot and not try to keep playing tag with my dad who couldn’t seem to decide what he wanted to do all day. After a while, I drove to a gas station and put $5 worth of gas in the car (but it was still low) then we drove to the restaurant they were at. Hunter stayed in the car, saying that he wanted to go home. I went into the restaurant to see if they were almost done. Dad said he was going to put gas in his car once we got to the boat but he never did and I wasn’t sure if I would make it back to Hunter’s house on what gas I had. Sister asked if I had dropped Hunter off already and I told her no, he’s still in the car, I don’t think I have enough gas to get him home. Dad then gave me this grin and was like “well, there’s a gas station nearby C:” (referring to the gas station I just put gas in) and that was the final straw. I did all this running around for him because he couldn’t make up his fucking mind and now he has the gall to tell me to fill up the gas tank in HIS car with MY money. I didn’t say anything to him and I just left the restaurant quiet and filled with rage.

I drove Hunter home (luckily was able to make it). I wanted to hang out with him more and maybe spend the night but then I got a text from my sister saying that dad was mad at me for ghosting them, saying that I should lie and say that Hunter has to work tomorrow and that’s why I had to take him back right away. I appreciate my sister was attempting to cover my ass at least a little bit by giving me a heads up and suggesting what I say but frankly, I was too pissed off at my dad for acting like a dumbass all day, making me do everything for him, being flaky as hell, and then having the FUCKING NERVE to be angry at ME because I got tired of his shit and left until he could make up his mind.

I left to head back to his girlfriend’s new house where my sister told me to meet them and put $30 more of gas in his car putting it at about 3/4 of a tank in hopes that he’d have some remorse. I was so angry that I gripped both receipts from both times I had put gas in as I was driving but when I got to the house and mentioned needing to put gas in the car, I told him “Don’t bother, I put gas in it.” and he didn’t even say “thanks”. He offered to give me directions out of the area but I already had the GPS on my phone up and told him I don’t need his help, knowing that his ass was drunk and he would just fall asleep on the ride (which he did).

He did wish me a quick happy birthday after midnight when we finally got back home but I was too pissed off. He wants to take me to breakfast tomorrow but I’m really not sure if I’m ready to face him after all the bullshit he dragged me through. I don’t expect to get that $35 back for the gas. I’m not expecting anything from him and I don’t want to accept any favours.

He’s leaving for a week later on today for a fishing trip to Canada so after breakfast, I intend to go visit Hunter again and spend more time with him without having to worry about any last-minute changes or detours or indecisiveness from my dad. Then I’m going to go visit my mom for a couple days, hopefully. I just hope that piece of shit van doesn’t break down again and need a tow.

#the life behind the pharaoh beard

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sapphicscholar · 7 years ago

Note

your fics are helping me get through the shittiest breakup right now, so thank you. I know you probably have a million prompts but would you be interested in writing a story where maggie is having a really dark day and feeling really depressed/worthless within herself (either because of internalised homophobia, past trauma etc) and alex takes care of her? maybe even some soft tearful smut later?

Hey, I hope you’re doing alright! I’m sorry it’s taken me a little while to get to this prompt (I didn’t want to do a shitty job when my focus was so divided with work and applications). Sending all the best thoughts your way! It’s now posted to AO3.

Author notes:

CW on homophobia, abusive families, anxiety/depression, etc.

A/N: Now that we’re in the thick of the holiday season, I’ve gotten a few asks for chosen family and hurt/comfort. I know it can be really hard dealing with family (or making the perfectly legitimate choice not to but seeing posts on social media that make it seem like everyone else has a loving, supportive biological family). No matter what choice you make (and I know sometimes there really isn’t a choice, depending on the situation), I’m sending you all the best thoughts. I hope you’re able to make time for yourself, even if it just means finding a quiet room to be alone for a little bit, maybe some wifi to catch up on gay af fanfic or cute puppy gifs, which I’ll try to post in spades over the break when I have time to be on my phone or computer. There are links to resources here as well.

A/N 2: Regarding a few lines in this fic: Obviously not all religion is inherently homophobic, nor do I think anyone smart and scientific (e.g. Alex) must necessarily be an atheist. But I think for so many of us who were raised Catholic (fun foreshadowing here for the nerd notes at the end today), religion was something that shaped our upbringing in an often profound way and was then thrown back in our faces when we came out. Are there Catholics who don’t follow the Church on its teachings about LGBTQ issues? Of course. But, for instance, the fact that my family happened to be supportive of LGBTQ rights in a general way didn’t mean that I wasn’t terrified of coming out to them; it didn’t exempt me from years of internalized shame after hearing priests and religion teachers teaching that homosexuality was an intrinsic disorder of the soul; and it certainly didn’t save me from the humiliation of having to write that gay sexuality was a sin on a test to get an A, of knowing that I put the jobs of my family members who worked for the Church at risk just by being out, of being forced back into the closet to serve as a teacher at a Catholic high school. And even with all of that, I had it easy (and I certainly had it much easier than my fiancée), which I say not to guilt anyone who is still religious, but to explain the perspective from which I’m writing in advance.

Resources:National Domestic Abuse Hotline (online and phone options): http://www.thehotline.org/

US and International Hotlines for a variety of causes: https://sapphicscholarwrites.tumblr.com/post/167199297270/dont-ever-hesitate-reblog-this-tumblr-rule

Self-Harm Resources:http://myresourcemasterlist.tumblr.com/selfharmhttp://self-care-club.tumblr.com/post/139740925552/giant-self-help-masterposthttp://chooserecovery.tumblr.com/post/64162912692/ultimate-self-injury-recovery-masterpost

Suicide-specific resources:https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/https://themighty.com/suicide-prevention-resources/(For ones that link outside of the US):https://sapphicscholarwrites.tumblr.com/post/164643935260/selfharm-surviver-holybadbitch98https://sapphicscholarwrites.tumblr.com/post/164329606770/uie-fuwaprince-us-helplines-depression

Chapter Text:

“Are you and Maggie doing anything for Christmas?” Kara asked, popping another handful of popcorn into her mouth as she nudged Alex, who had started to nod off during the last episode of The Walking Dead.

“Hmm?”

“Christmas—what are you doing?”

“Oh,” Alex sighed, pulling herself up and rubbing at her eyes. “I don’t know. I mean…I know Maggie used to celebrate it with her family, but obviously that hasn’t been the case in years.”

“Right, right.”

“And it’s not like she goes to church at all these days.”

“I mean…you’re not exactly religious, but we still do Hanukkah with Eliza.”

Alex shook her head. “It’s different, I think. I was never religious; it was always more about…I don’t know, being with family and having something in common. I thought mom might be disappointed in me for being gay, but I never thought her reasoning would be that God said it was bad or anything like that.”

“Right,” Kara conceded. “But it might still be nice to celebrate together—you know, build new traditions.”

“I kinda fucked up with that whole thing on Valentine’s Day,” Alex sighed. Sure, they’d talked eventually and found a way to celebrate, to reclaim memories that had hurt Maggie for so many years. But Alex didn’t want to try to surprise Maggie this time and risk dredging up buried trauma once more. “I don’t know. I’ll talk to her.”

Closing her eyes, Maggie blinked back hot tears that threatened to fall. She focused on her breathing: Breathe in—1, 2, 3, 4, 5—hold—1, 2, 3—exhale—1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. She fumbled to take off her watch, finding her pulse and focusing on its too fast beat, waiting for it to slow in time with her deep breathing. She ignored the clock, ignored the reminders of how soon Alex would be home, how weak she would look sitting at the kitchen counter and crying over a piece of paper—a stupid Hallmark greeting card with some trite bullshit scrawled across it in fake cursive.

Of course, the card itself hadn’t set her off. It was the hand-written note inside. The sight of the same handwriting that had adorned the rare note in her lunchbox in kindergarten was what had left her eyes stinging, not the vague platitudes about having a very merry Christmas and an even happier New Year. As she read, she was overcome with surges of anger and sorrow and a guilt that she had never quite been able to shake, no matter how much “pride” she claimed.

She tried to seize on the anger—the rage and frustration that she’d used as motivation to succeed: to do well enough in school to get herself out of that small Nebraska town; to do well enough in college to keep her scholarship; to do well enough in the academy to guarantee her a job, even as a non-straight, non-white woman. And there was plenty of it. Anger at her father’s suggestion that her family had always been there for her, as though they hadn’t left her alone at her aunt’s house with barely enough clothing for the week. Rage at this idea that she had been the one to wrong the family simply by living her life honestly and authentically, that she had ruined something otherwise perfect by being herself. Frustration at the phrase, “your friend,” as though her father hadn’t stormed out of their bridal shower precisely because Alex was so much more than just a friend, as though he hadn’t forced her out of her home and family as a mere child because her feelings for Eliza exceeded the bounds of friendship.

But then there was the photo of all of the cousins and nieces and nephews she’d never met. There were sentences about just how much older everyone had gotten, the sickness and bad times they’d been through without her there, the deaths she’d never known about, let alone mourned. Because she’d already done that—mourning the loss of a family that still existed—but not for her. Not with her.

It still got to her, still struck her with a guilt that felt like it could wrench her open, could undo everything she’d worked for, could tear down every inch of progress and confidence and sense of self she’d fought to build for herself.

Maybe he was right. Maybe they were all right. Maybe she was selfish—selfish for putting herself and her desires above her family, the people who had raised her, who had sacrificed their lives to try to make hers better.

And there was another voice—much quieter, harder to hear, harder to believe—that seemed to call back, to tell her that she was worth it, that her life wasn’t worth sacrificing on the altar of bigoted beliefs, no matter who else worshiped there. She thought the voice sounded an awful lot like Alex’s, and its echoes, the voices of her new family: M’gann and J’onn and James and Kara and Eliza and Winn and everyone else who had come together to prove to her that she had people in her corner even when she felt most alone and least worthy of love.

But they were just that: voices. And in the face of the letter, its words right there, her fingers able to trace over them, feel the indents where her father had pressed down just a little harder, those marks and proof of a family that existed in reality—a family she could barely even think of as family anymore—those voices advocating for her faded to the background, drowned out in a chorus of self-loathing so overpowering she could barely manage to stagger toward the bed, her deep breathing long forgotten.

—

Alex found her there nearly an hour later. Her body was rigid, trembling every so often but otherwise catatonic. She looked as pale as Alex had ever seen her, and there were tear tracks streaked across her cheeks, her eyes puffy and rubbed raw from the harsh swipe of her shirt sleeves. Her fingers were clenched into fists, and her short nails were leaving deep moon-shaped imprints in her palms.

“Maggie!” Alex called out, rushing forward. She’d seen her like this once before—just once—and it had terrified her as much then as it did now. Remembering her DEO training, she forced herself to stay calm, to detach herself from the situation and let her medical instincts take over.

“Hey, Maggie, it’s me, Alex,” she said, her voice low and even as she knelt down on the ground next to her, pulling out the bottle of water she carried with her in her bag and putting it beside Maggie on the bedside table. “You okay if I sit here?”

Maggie managed to get herself to nod.

“Great. And if that changes, I can move, okay? I’m going to stay with you, but I can be a little farther away, or I can get closer if you want.” She paused to let Maggie process. “Do you think you can breathe with me?”

“It’s not helping,” Maggie forced out, her teeth chattering shut.

“Maybe if we do it together, it’ll help a little, okay?” Alex murmured. “Can I put a blanket on you?” Seeing the nod of assent, Alex pulled out the fluffiest blanket they had—the one with no tags, no rough patches or odd seams, the one that Maggie had wrapped around her after everything with her dad and Cadmus—and carefully draped it over Maggie, taking care not to tuck it under her, lest she feel trapped. Feeling how cold Maggie was to the touch, she slipped over to the edge of the room and turned up the thermostat before making her way back over to the bed.

She knelt next to Maggie, helping her to slow her breathing, holding her hand once she told her it was okay to touch, checking her pulse and smiling broadly as it came down to close to normal levels, telling Maggie just how proud she was when she was able to unclench her muscles and relax slightly into the mattress. Once the worst of it seemed to be over, she got Maggie to drink water and stretch out her stiff muscles.

“What do you say to a hot bath together? It’ll warm you up, and we can light the nice candles.”

“Even the cookie one?”

“Definitely the cookie one,” Alex agreed, smiling at the signs of Maggie returning. A few moments later, she came back into the bedroom, having lit the candles and begun filling the bath. “You good to walk?”

“Yeah,” Maggie nodded, standing up and rolling her neck to work out the cricks that had developed in it. She still let Alex take her by the hand and walk her to the bathroom, cracked a joke or two when Alex asked to help take off her clothes, grinned when Alex pulled out the extra fluffy towels they had picked up a few weekends ago and set them on the radiator to warm while they were in the bath.

For a while they relaxed in silence, Maggie sitting between Alex’s legs, her head resting on Alex’s shoulders while Alex ran her fingers through Maggie’s hair.

“My dad wrote,” Maggie said, her voice quiet.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“What? No, Maggie, never. You’re—god, you’re one of the best people I know.”

“That’s not true. You know Supergirl.”

“Yeah, well Supergirl never gives me the last slice of pizza, and you always offer to share.”

Maggie snorted, shaking her head against Alex’s shoulder. “That’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean? Because honestly, Maggie, you are one of the most caring people I know. I—you’ve made me better. And not just by helping me to come out,” she clarified, anticipating Maggie’s objection that anyone could’ve done that with enough perseverance or bluntness. “You’ve made me rethink some of those things I assumed I knew. You helped me to see aliens who weren’t just like my sister as people who needed protection, not just prosecution or imprisonment. You showed me possibilities for a life I never thought I’d have.”

“But you didn’t say anything about my family. People have died, Alex—people I loved, people who loved me. They died, and I didn’t know.”

“There’s a difference between choosing not to know and never having been told.”

“Is there? Phones exist. Hell, mail exists. I never tried reaching out.”

“You did nothing wrong!” Alex tried to bite back her anger, knowing that wasn’t what Maggie needed. “Look, I get where you’re coming from. But self-preservation, knowing to take care of yourself—that matters too. You had no way of knowing how they would react if you tried to reach out. They had already hurt you, Maggie.”

“Still. They’re family.”

“And so am I, but if I hurt you—god, Maggie, if I hurt you that way, I wouldn’t want you to feel like you owed me anything. You don’t owe anyone your forgiveness.” Trying to find words, Alex let out a sigh of frustration. “You did try, Maggie. Think about it that way. You tried—you invited your dad to our bridal shower, in part because I wasn’t thinking quite clearly. I thought…I could only think in terms of my own relationship with my mother. And we went through some rough, rough periods, but it was different. I didn’t see that clearly then. But you gave him a chance he didn’t deserve—a chance you were good and pure and kind enough to give him—and he threw it away.”

“He came.”

“Yes, and he left.”

“I know,” Maggie huffed. “And I thought that would be it! And if it was…well, maybe this would all be easier, you know? God, I just—he said no! He doesn’t want me the way I am. So why won’t he stop acting like it’s my fault?”

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted, her voice barely a whisper as she wrapped her arms around Maggie. “I really don’t. And I don’t—I don’t have the perfect advice to offer. I’m happy to call him and yell at him, or get a restraining order, or burn the letter, or ignore it entirely and hold you, or kiss you until you can’t think about anything else. I mean, whatever you want, you know? I’m here for you, and I’ll support you no matter what you choose.”

“Even if I choose vegan ice cream and a whole night of Rizzoli and Isles?” Maggie teased, opting to ignore the tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

“Even both of those terrible choices.”

“You love Rizzles just as much as I do.”

“You’re a cop! How do you deal with all the procedural violations?”

“I watch for the hot ladies with delightful romantic chemistry on my screen and put up with the rest.”

“Yeah, yeah. They don’t even get to make out, though.”

“Neither do half of the actual gay couples on television!”

“Fine,” Alex whined, though she kissed Maggie’s cheek anyway, which led Maggie to turn around, finding Alex’s lips with her own and letting herself be held, letting herself be cared for.

Eventually they got out of the tub, the water having grown lukewarm. Wrapped up in a fuzzy towel, Maggie nudged Alex with her shoulder. “You think it’s okay that I don’t try to reach out to him for Christmas?”

“I think that’s your decision, and you are allowed to celebrate however you want.”

“I mean…I want to celebrate by going sledding and destroying you in a snowball fight.”

“Whatever you want within reason,” Alex clarified, laughing at Maggie’s pout. “And maybe, just maybe, we can think about traveling somewhere cold for a vacation. Don’t see why we’d want to, though,” she added, winking at her fiancée.

“So cheesy movies and as much junk food as Kara can bring over? And maybe when she leaves you and I can find our own way to celebrate…”

“I think that sounds perfect.”

#ask me #anon #prompt fill #fanfic #cw homophobia #cw family abuse #cw depression #angst #hurt/comfort #sanvers #supergirl #maggie sawyer #alex danvers #kara danvers #holidays #maggie-centric #ao3feed

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