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“You’re such an asshole,” Lucy mutters, forehead leaning tiredly on her hand. She glares across the car to where Alex sits in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel and another holding a cup of coffee.
“And you’re a sore loser.”
“Only when I lose because people cheat ,” Lucy says.
“It’s only cheating if the rules specifically forbid something, and we didn’t set any rules about stealing eggs from each other’s baskets, so it’s not actually cheating.”
“You sound like a lawyer.”
“See? Sore losers throw insults like that,” Alex says with a smirk. “And hey, I bought you coffee.”
“Asshole,” Lucy grumbles.
“Winner, you mean,” Alex says.
The parking garage under Alex’s building is half-empty, and Alex slots her car neatly into one of the spots near the elevator.
“Does your building just have a ton of hipsters, or are you a secret Green Party environmentalist who keeps a Prius stashed away for personal use?”
“Hardly,” Alex says with a snort. “You know how hard it is to find a building with on-site parking, multiple entrances and exits, proximity to a fast route to the DEO, and a grocery store nearby?”
“So it’s worth living in a building with at least sixteen other tenants who drive hybrids covered in Earth First bumper stickers?”
“The sacrifices we make,” Alex says, shrugging. The elevator opens to the sixth floor and she gestures Lucy out first. “Left.”
She unlocks the door to 604 and waves Lucy through.
“Well,” Lucy says, standing in the living room and turning in a slow circle.
“Well what?” Alex deposits her coffee cup on the kitchen counter. “The crap you need is on the coffee table.” She gestures to the spread of files and documents on the table, leftover from working late the night before, as she toes out of her shoes.
“More like the crap you’re shoving off on me because you cheated ,” Lucy says. “At an Easter egg hunt. And well , this wasn’t what I expected, is all.”
“What?”
“This,” Lucy says, waving her hand around to cover the entire apartment. “Workaholic superagent Alex Danvers has a lovely apartment. It’s decorated!”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Lucy bypasses the files on the coffee table and wanders over to the bookshelves covering one wall, taking in the books stuffed into them, the framed photographs, the records and movies and knicknacks.
“It means,” she says after a moment, picking up a picture of Alex and Kara and staring at it. “That you work ninety hours a week and people who work that much don’t normally have the energy to also have a nice house. But you do. So clearly you’re also an alien.”
“Right,” Alex says with an eyeroll. She yanks the picture out of Lucy’s hands and settles it back in its place. “Shockingly enough, I also own clothes that aren’t tactical gear, too.” She moves back towards the coffee table, socks shuffling over the hardwood, and starts to stack the files for Lucy.
“What,” Lucy drawls out. She looks Alex slowly up and down, scanning her blue jeans and plaid shirt. “Lies and propaganda, Director Danvers.”
“You’re not funny,” Alex says.
“Yes, I am,” Lucy says, winking. She follows Alex, who has the files gathered in her arms and is moving back towards the front door. “Throwing me out already?”
She hooks a finger into the waistband of Alex’s jeans and tugs, stepping closer until she’s pressed against Alex’s back and directing her towards the kitchen table.
“Hey, what--”
Lucy takes the files and lets the flop down onto the table, pushing forward with her hips until Alex is pinned between her and the table.
“There was a bit of an interruption earlier,” Lucy says, her lips brushing against Alex’s ear. Alex is barefoot but Lucy is still wearing her boots, the modest heel giving her a barely-there height advantage, and she curls one hand around Alex’s hip and against her stomach, the other tugging at Alex’s belt buckle. A sharp inhale whistles past Alex’s lips and Lucy smirks and bites down on her ear.
Alex curses and she cranes her head around, reaching back and grabbing at the back of Lucy’s neck so she can kiss her. Lucy spins her around and yanks at her belt, grabbing at her legs until she can hoist her up onto the table and bite at the sharp line of collarbone visible under the loose neckline of her buttondown.
Alex clears her throat weakly, sitting up from where she’s sprawled on her own kitchen table. Lucy stands over her, licking at her fingers and smirking down at her. Half of the buttons on Alex’s shirt are ripped off, and Lucy winks and steps back, pulling her hair back into a ponytail and wandering back around Alex’s apartment, still cleaning her fingers.
“Where’s this from?” She points at a conch shell almost as big as Alex’s head.
“Seriously?” Alex mutters, sliding off the table and pulling her clothes back into place. “You want to-- right now--”
“Well, while you recover,” Lucy says. “I’m up for another round, whenever you’re ready.”
“You’re such an asshole,” Alex says.
“Where’s it from?”
“Kara got it for me,” Alex says, rolling her eyes. “When she first moved here. She also got me this shirt you just ruined, you know.”
“A sacrifice for the greater good,” Lucy says. She crouches down and scans through the records on the lower shelves, and Alex stalks towards her bedroom, balling up her shirt and throwing it in the hamper on her way.
“The surprises just keep coming.”
Alex glares over her shoulder at Lucy, who’s leaning against the doorway to her bedroom and peering into the room, taking in the vibrant colors that cover her neatly-made bed, the framed concert posters on the walls, the smaller bookshelves covered in even more pictures and keepsakes.
“You ruin my clothes and still feel the need to comment on how I keep my house?”
“It’s not a criticism, you know,” Lucy says. “I’m mostly jealous. I haven’t lived anywhere long enough in years to decorate or even collect enough pictures to put in frames.”
“Oh,” Alex says. Her fingers twist in the fabric of the sweatshirt she’s just grabbed. “I didn’t know--”
“Military, Danvers,” Lucy says with a smile. “The longest I lived anywhere since college was when I was in law school, and that didn’t exactly lend itself to an abundance of free time.” She shrugs.
“Right,” Alex mutters. She pulls the sweatshirt on to buy herself a few seconds. “I-- I’m sorry.”
“Well,” Lucy says, her smile shifting. “I can think of one or two ways you can make it up to me. Can I come in?”
“What?” Alex blinks at her. “I mean, yeah, you’re already in my apartment--”
“You know.” Lucy moves to stand in front of her and pulling on the collar of her sweatshirt. “You’re the dumbest genius I’ve ever met, I think.”
Alex glares at her. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Lucy says, rotating so she’s between Alex and the bed and pulling Alex with her as she backs towards it. “That I’m all but asking you to fuck me, and you’re basically oblivious about it.”
Alex grabs at her wrists and pushes them down onto the bed, hovering over her. “Or maybe I just wanted you to ask for once.”
“Aren’t you full of surprises,” Lucy says with a smirk and a roll of her hips. “Fancy apartment full of knicknacks and--”
Alex bites down on the side of her neck. “Shut up, Lane.”