j’onn, who’s been watching one too many sitcoms with m’gann, seeing bruce and clark exhibit mannerisms similar to that of on screen couples: ah yes, they are married.

October 6, 2017

Dear Alex,

Wow. I can’t believe we’re getting married this weekend. Six whole years (almost to the day) since you sent me that stilted first email asking if our kids could be pen-pals… Who would have thought it would get us here? I know I was the one who proposed this whole “let’s write each other letters to open on the morning of our wedding day!” thing, but as it turns out this is incredibly stressful. I feel like I need to say exactly the right thing to prove to you how much this moment means to me, even though I know we both know it already. We wouldn’t be getting married if we didn’t. But I’m going to try, okay? So bear with me.

The first time I thought that you were someone I could get along with was when you cared enough to find a good partner for Alessandro. You weren’t a teacher or anything, and you were still pretty new to volunteering with the Boys and Girls Club, so you really didn’t have to know much about the kids, but you took the time to help me find the best matches for my own students simply because I asked if you would. You cared because I cared.

And then it was pretty much confirmed for me that we could be friends when you told me about not necessarily being able to trust people right away. It was something I could relate to as well, and it was nice to see it in the context of a longer letter where you were starting to open up to me because it seemed like I might have crossed the threshold into trustworthy territory (or be getting there). And I hadn’t, well, at that time, I didn’t really feel like someone deserving of trust, but over time you made me believe that I was.

That same letter (and yes, of course I still have them all) was also when I had my first moment of, “Oh, I might kind of have a crush on this girl.” You included that photo of yourself with your motorcycle in a white v-neck streaked with grease, and I was kind of a goner. Of course, you were also avoiding any response to all the hints I had been dropping about being a lesbian, so I wasn’t totally sure about you. You could have been straight or simply cautious. (Obviously we got to those questions later, but at that point I couldn’t tell.) But it didn’t matter because I could already feel myself falling for you, even if I thought it might be doomed from the start.

But it was more than just attraction. You made me feel comfortable enough to open up to you—like it was safe. Not that you didn’t have opinions or probably judgment about some of it, but you weren’t projecting it onto me or trying to call me a terrible person, even though we could both admit I’d made mistakes in the past. And you made me feel like maybe I deserved to be happy at a time in my life when I really, really didn’t feel like it. I know I don’t talk much about my feelings—and I’m trying to work on that—but things weren’t great when I left for Italy. I’d gotten out of such a long relationship that had come to structure and define my life for so many important years, and I felt…adrift. I’d been so certain about the way I wanted my life to go, but then I’d had others question it, and suddenly I was jetting off to a new country with nothing to tie me to the old one—no partner or apartment to return to, no real extended family to consider, no sense of home.

Then you were there. And you could be awkward and charming all at once. And sometimes I couldn’t read you at all. But time and again, even when you left me hanging for weeks, you were there. You were the one person I had who didn’t simply leave. And yeah, part of it was because we took turns fighting for each other and making sure things didn’t fall through. But I think there was something more there too—I think maybe deep down we both knew we were fighting for something profoundly important, something that would change our lives for the better.

I know we’ve had a rocky journey getting to where we are today—not just while we were doing long distance, but while we were settling in to our new life together too. There were the dumb fights about things that should never have mattered that much (I’ll take, “The load of laundry that dirty sports bras go in,” for $200, Alex) and the more important fights that made us reconsider who we were as individuals and who we might become as a couple. There were the weeks you spent so rattled after Kara saved your plane. You pushed me and everyone away, and unlike in Italy when it was about you—about something I could see and understand in the most full way possible—I didn’t know everything that time. I couldn’t understand all the experiences you had gone through that led to that kind of deeply ingrained fear. And so when you pushed, I pushed back, and we nearly pushed each other away. And I know I did the same to you when I found out you were DEO, some shadowy black ops site I’d only heard about as the stuff of nightmares from people I considered my friends, people I had introduced you to and brought into the apartment we shared. I know I said some pretty awful things before I let you explain about J’onn and Kara and the way you were working to change things, even if it couldn’t be all at once. I’m glad you kept showing up until I listened.

And maybe I’m not supposed to talk about those things in a letter you’re going to read right before the wedding, but I think from the start we haven’t really shied away from the parts of each other and our relationship that challenged us. In fact, it’s one of my favorite things about you as a person and us as a couple. We don’t act like things are perfect when they’re not. We don’t smile and lie and pretend to be some magazine-cover couple when we’re in pain. I’ve told you before that I don’t like to think of you as my soulmate because what does that even mean? That some strange force out in the universe decided we were “supposed to” be together and stuck us here with no choice? That sounds a whole lot less significant than being here and choosing to be by your side. I might not have chosen to fall in love with you, but dammit, I choose to stay in love with you, to fight to make this thing we have work. And lord knows it’s not always easy. We’ve fought and fucked up and pushed and pushed until we were teetering right at the edge of something. But we’ve always found our way back to each other. We’ve worked hard to become better partners—not because someone out there said it was preordained, but because we wanted to be better for each other, because we wanted to learn how to be the kind of person the other one needed. And I think that’s how we’ve made it this far—nearly six whole years. And the ups and downs along the way? I wouldn’t trade them for anything because they’ve made us stronger and better. Knowing that we’ve survived the worst of the downs has made me more sure about saying yes to this next step with you than any number of romcom moments ever could have.

Of course, none of this is to act like there haven’t been wonderful moments that sometimes felt like they were plucked out of one of those cheesy romcoms. There was the five-year anniversary trip back to Italy. The first year spent trying to teach you how to cook Italian food in that tiny-ass kitchen of mine. The weekends we’ve spent in Midvale over the years, watching you getting along better and better with your mom each time. There was the morning you tried to teach me to surf. (To reiterate: I still don’t blame you for the concussion—I’m the one that veered into another surfer face-first.) The long motorcycle rides out into the dessert. The mornings we called in sick to work and the long nights we spent in bed, watching as the sun set and the stars came out, all the way until the sun started creeping back up over the horizon once more. There were the meteor showers and the solar and lunar eclipses that we spent watching from the balcony of the first apartment we called our own. God, there were the should-have-been apocalypses, and they were always terrifying, but they felt just a little better when I had you at my side. Because with you everything has always felt a little more doable.

I know in our line of work, nothing is ever stable in a long-term way. We never know what tomorrow will bring, and in the mornings, we leave not sure we’ll come back alive. But I do know that as long as we’re still here, I want to be fighting at your side. Ride or die, Danvers. Always. I know that for the rest of forever, I want to be your partner. I want to know that at the end of the night, I’m coming home to you. Because I love you, Alex. Forever.

So many of the cards I’ve gotten keep acting like marriage is some big new step. They talk about it changing everything (or make terrible sexist jokes about it being the worst thing to ever happen—luckily I’ve only gotten two of those, and they were from people we didn’t invite to the ceremony anyway). And yeah, it is a new step. But I like to think it’s one we’ve been working toward every day we’ve spent together. Because at the end of the day, what is it? A commitment to be together through thick and thin, sickness and health (or did we change those vows to terrible injury and healing bruises?), good and bad? Maybe I’ve never vowed those things while wearing fancy clothes and standing in front of family and friends, but I’ve been committed to all of it for ages. I’ve always known that no matter what happened, you were the person I was coming home to because, well, you are my home. No matter what life throws at us, I know we have that. And, Alex? That’s all I’ve ever needed. You are all I’ve ever needed.

I love you, and I cannot wait to call you my wife, double-doctor Alex Danvers.

Forever yours, Maggie

---

October 6, 2017

Dear Maggie,

We’ve been through hell and back so many times. Alien attacks, family drama, injuries that we didn’t think we could come back from, fights that woke up the entire neighborhood at 3 in the morning (not that those were the only times we bothered them overnight), night terrors, the deaths of loved ones, panic attacks, that time that I thought I could pull off bangs, and all the other tragedies—small and large—that we’ve encountered on our way to this moment.

We’ve been through so much—good and bad—and we’re still here.

We don’t always get it right and we’re certainly not perfect, but Maggie? No matter what we’re dealing with, there is no other person I rather have on my side. You’re the person who brings out the best in me. You helped me find all the parts of myself that are worthy of love when I didn’t know how to look for them. You’re the person who calls me on my bullshit, builds me up when I need to be strong, and challenges me to fight for all that could be instead of just defending what already is.

More than that, you’re the person I want to build my life with. You’re the person I want to pick out china patterns with, arrange and re-arrange furniture with, watch and re-watch cheesy sitcoms with, and curl up with every night that I am lucky enough to have you in my life. You’re the person I want to grow old with. As much as there’s no one else I rather have on my six when we’re heading into a firefight, there’s also no one else I’d rather have beside me when I sip my tea in the morning.

So, when I say I love you, I mean that I, Alex Danvers, with every fiber of my being, love every part of you—the good, the bad, the parts that you’re still working on, and the quirks that make you who are.  

I feel like I’ve been working towards writing this letter for years. Every note, every text, every post-it has just been practice for this. And all of those drafts, every single one of them—even the grocery lists—were an attempt to capture in some form or another just how much I love you. And I do. I love you so much.

Okay so like…holy shit. Today (at least the today when you’re reading this letter) is the day, right? We’re doing this. And I have never been more excited.

You’re my ride or die.

Love, The VERY soon-to-be Mrs. Dr. Dr. Special Agent Alex Danvers-Sawyer

Thanks to everyone who stuck with us for this 100-day long ride! If you enjoyed the fic and want to donate to our Ko-Fi account, we’d very much appreciate it! As it turns out, moving halfway across the country is crazy expensive...