pretty girl badass

anonymous asked:

Hey! I know this is queer girls but I was wondering if you or someone else could write a fan fiction where Alex is non-binary/genderfluid (slightly on the masc side taking low dose T) and they fall in love with Maggie. I'm not trying to take way from what you do but it would be nice to find representation in something for enby people. Like they (Alex or just an enby person in life) still get the girl and have a queer relationship.

This piece by an amazing Anon is more brilliant than anything I could ever do, but hey, I figure, even more positive rep can’t hurt? <3 <3 <3 http://queergirlwriting.tumblr.com/post/158177950334/promised-word-vomit-featuring-nbalex-its-not

Also, random note: I replay their first bar scene together in this, and since Alex is already out (in accordance with the wonderful prompt), I figured I’d take some other liberties and have Maggie not be dating anyone when they meet. Artistic license, okay? Okay.

It was a relief when they chopped their hair off.

Sure, it was because J’onn – well, Hank at the time (Alex wasn’t the only one who’d gone through some identity clarifications in the last couple of years) – strongly recommended it because their training wouldn’t necessarily work too well with long hair.

But it was a relief nonetheless, even if they wouldn’t acknowledge it as such at the time.

Even if they wouldn’t let themselves acknowledge why the mirror made them feel like they were crawling out of their skin, like they had to drink into a stupor nearly every night to force it down, to forget, to erase.

To want girls?

Bad enough.

To want girls and maybe not quite even be one?

Worse.

But it hadn’t been bad, and it hadn’t been worse. Not really.

It had actually been… good.

Because J’onn had smiled his “of course I knew, I’m psychic” smile and pulled them in for a hug, and Winn had asked if it was still okay if he called them “dude” or if it made them uncomfortable, and James had hugged them and kissed their temple, and Kara?

Kara had wept because she thought it was her fault it had taken Alex so long to realize and be okay with such important things. But she swallowed it quickly enough, because it was about Alex right now, and she wanted to hear everything.

And now? On the extra low dose of T that they got from the local clinic – they didn’t want to change their body that much, just a little bit, just enough – and with everyone at the DEO using the proper pronouns for Agent Danvers and J’onn, Kara, James, and Winn all threatening to destroy anyone who intentionally didn’t, Alex had never felt more alive.

And then some cocky NCPD detective showed up at their crime scene, and they knew they were screwed.

Because coming out to family had been one thing.

Dating? Now? Or like… ever?

No no no.

T or no T, supportive family or no supportive family, Alex Danvers was not exactly good at the flirting thing. At the being good with people thing.

Except the strangest thing was that Maggie Sawyer didn’t seem to think so. Because Maggie Sawyer trusted them enough to take them to the alien bar.

To touch them when they reached for their gun.

Alex couldn’t remember when the last time was that they were touched by someone who wasn’t family, and the touch wasn’t violent.

“How do you think she learned English? She’s my ex,” Maggie was saying, and Alex’s eyes were wide, because god, god, god, the cute girl with the dimples and that voice and those eyes and that hair is queer, she’s queer, she’s queer.

But their stomach dropped almost as quickly as their heart rose.

Because she’s probably exclusively into girls.

God dammit.

“I don’t exclusively date aliens, though,” Maggie was saying, and a lump rose in Alex’s throat. “Or women, not exactly,” she continued, her eyes sharp and her voice a little low and her gaze locked both tentatively and headily on Alex’s face.

“Not exactly,” Alex repeated questioningly, never more aware of their T-lowered voice than they were right now.

“I mean you’re pretty cute, wouldn’t say no to a person like you,” Maggie had said, and Alex had promptly spilled their drink.

And Maggie hadn’t rolled her eyes or pointed and laughed. She’d shot up from her seat and she’d picked up the bottle and she’d grabbed the towel off of Darla’s passing shoulder and she’d patted down Alex’s hands, their lap, their chest. Her fingers brushed their collared shirt, the tight nylon of the binder underneath, and Maggie’s breath hitched and her eyes locked with Alex’s.

“Hi,” she gulped, and Alex just stared, because their brain had stopped working.

Girl, pretty girl, smart girl, badass girl, close to me and not disgusted and looks a little turned on by just… who I am, by being close to me, what do I do what do I do what do I –

“Sorry there, Danvers, I didn’t mean to get all up in your space,” Maggie said as she backed up. “Darla, can you get them another beer please?”

She said nothing about how or why it had spilled, just offered Alex a soft grin and pressed the towel into their hands and padded back to her seat across the table.

“So this is where you get all your intel,” Alex tried to steer the conversation back into terrain they knew, terrain they were confident in, terrain they could excel in.

Maggie tilted her head and squinted for a moment, like she was trying to figure out if Alex was flustered or just disinterested.

Alex wasn’t quite sure what conclusion Maggie came to, but her reply was light, banter-y. Maybe even a little flirty.

“Well, when our labs are about as effective as Easy-Bake ovens, we make do with what we’ve got”, Maggie scoffed and nodded her thanks as Darla set down another beer.

“Thanks,” Alex offered Darla, a crooked grin on their face. “And hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to be a jerk out there. I just get protective of my crime scenes.”

“Please Danvers, it was my crime scene.”

“Wanna bet?” Alex asked, smiling, because now they were sure Maggie was flirting, because those eyes, that smile, couldn’t mean anything else.

Alex felt like they were flying as they stood and grabbed both of their beers in one hand and offered Maggie their other, nodding toward the pool table.

“You say this is where your informants go? No better place to gather intel than at the pool table, right?”

Maggie squinted up at them and licked her lips and accepted their hand. Electricity crackled and Alex’s heart soared.

“A fed who knows how to play. Better every minute, Danvers.”

And Alex had never seen a more perfect smile, or felt more perfect in their life.