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Astra In-Ze treasures the trigger finger of Alex Danvers like some treasure precious pearls. She kisses the skin there, with both the symbolism and absence of a ring.
Alex likes to pretend her relationship with her coach is a normal one. That there isn't an undercurrent of something more. Something that may or may not be wrong.
The shooting range echos with the force of her weapon, and the harder force of Astra's voice.
"Start again," she demands.
Alex chews the inside of her cheek, reloading her mag intently.
She remembers how they got here. Here, in the shooting range. Here, in the Olympics.
2011 saw many things. The crashing of Fort Rozz. The retrials, reimprisonment, and amnesties given to its occupants. Astra alone in the Danvers' guest bedroom, thrashing against the sensory overload of her new powers.
She thrashed harder against the news that Krypton was truly gone. She waged war against that fact. Unsurprisingly, she lost.
2012 saw the London Olympics.
Astra was still a specture in the Danver's family home, and Alex the daughter-that-doesn't-visit-often-enough. Kara was the daughter that visited too much, in mom's lighthearted words.
The US took home the most medals. Fifteen year old Katie Ledecky surprised everyone with her gold. Japan dominated women's wrestling.
Mom, Kara, Astra and her all sat before the TV in the living room. Mom and Kara chatting up a storm.
Astra sat off to the side, knees to her chest, standoffish and completely fascinated by the spectacle before her.
"Would they let me do this?" Astra asked Kara, who quickly had to swallow a jawful of pizza.
"No," she answered, "Not the human Olympics. They're currently forming a Xeno-Olympic committee, and we should see the first games in like. 2020? I think,"
Astra nodded, then returned her eerily focused gaze to the screen.
"These are their best warriors?" her fingeres rapped anxiously against her ankle.
"Athletes, primarily. But yes. This is the best of the best for humans," Kara had smiled.
Alex couldn't have helped but notice the glint in Astra's eyes as she formed her mouth around her final question, "Could I train them?"
The sound of the next round, muffled through her PPE, brings Alex back to the present.
She can feel Astra's eyes on her as she pulls the trigger on her next target. The bullseye jolts backward off its pedestal in a thin veil of smoke. The gun is steady in her hands.
"Again," Astra commands.
Alex wastes no time in compliance. Her aim lasered in to fantastic numbers, wonderous scores. It's not enough. Harder, faster. More.
"This is shovuh, love," Astra yells, "This is me pouring love into you. This will make you worth it, make your body worth it,"
All the targets lay defeated and bare their bullet holes proudly. Alex lowers her weapon at last.
Astra examines the shooting range with her vision that can zoom into the very atoms of the target to count how many stretch between the center and her shot.
"Fantastic," Astra smiles, "Again,"
--
Ulaanbaatar rises like a ribcage out of the plains as they begin their descent toward the airstrip. Alex watches the city grow beneath her like a pop up book.
Astra is pointedly asleep beside her. Jaw slack, velvet and silk eyemask on. Alex only spares a few seconds to follow the curve of her neckline, before returning to her ebook. (Which, of course, is a kickass sci-fi novel featuring a young human woman looking to prove herself).
Astra insisted on flying the normal way because this "isn't the Xeno-Olympics yet" and "your currency means nothing to me". Kara got the rest of the family here days ago.
Together they step off their Turkish Airline plane and onto the receiving platform of Chinggis Khan International airport. The sky has a unique smell, something different. Something all the way across the world, a far cry from National City.
A certified mob of photographers stands corralled into a general area, held together by security guards and a dream.
The flashbulbs whir. Lights darting in and out of existence with a twirl.
Alex doesn't think about doing it, but she stands before Astra as a sort of human shield. She can only imagine how annoying the sound has to be to a Kryptonian if its this annoying to her.
If Astra notices this protectiveness, she doesn't try to stop it. If anything, she makes a move to hide behind Alex.
Astra's bag bumps against a step, and the slight variation throws off whatever internal calculations she has to do to not snap her bag's handle in half.
The tiny pieces of plastic go flying, and she swears under her breath in what must be two languages.
"Let me get the bags," Alex tries to offer.
Astra looks at her like she's deranged, "Absolutely not,"
She then palms the entire suitcase like a football and continues walking toward their escort vehicle.
Fucking supers. Alex rolls her eyes.
The drive to the village runs equal parts through the city and through the planes. Both expansive and vast, both imposing in their seemingly infinite size.
"Nervousness is for cadets," Astra reassures, "You are no cadet,"
"It's my first Olympics," Alex replies, with a small slap to her knees.
Astra shakes her head disapprovingly, "But no where near your first time aiming your weapon. You will prove as exceptional as always,"
Alex takes the compliment with a dismissive chuckle and a refusal to consider its implications.
They've arrived, anyway.
The Olympic village is the entire world folded in on itself over and over again, until it is rendered the size of a resort.
Every language on Earth (and a few from elsewhere) is being spoken around her as she successfully distracts Astra from the bags long enough to grab them, the newly broken one slug over her shoulder.
They are all super sped away from her and presumably flown into Alex's room. She frowns starkly at Astra's gloating face when she returns two seconds later.
"You will not win these mind games, Danvers," she chides.
Alex elbows her, "Courtsey isn't a mind game,"
"Wrong," she points.
Their banter stops short at the sour reaction of the Olympians and associates flurring around the entrance room. It seems not everyone is exactly excited to have a Kryptonian upstage Humanity's fastest runners so causally.
Breaking the sound barrier is cool when you're doing it to save a school bus, but not when you're dropping off luggage.
Astra clears her throat and visibly pretends not to notice. They are both aware, though. Which, let's just say, puts a strain on things.
"You go mingle with your competitors, I will make myself scarse," she says.
As Astra makes a move to walk away, Alex swiftly grabs her wrist as tight as she would if restraining an combatant.
"Please," Alex says, all too fast, "Stay,"
Something primordial and complex flashes across Astra's face. That look lingers, thn vanishes as she nods in response.
"Of course,"
--
The shooting event occurs on the first day of the Olympics. As she competes, not a single medal has been given out yet.
Whoever wins this will be the first. The mere thought of it sends Alex's blood thrumming high.
The competitors of the women's 10m rifle are a fun group, she got to know them a bit beforehand. The friendliness of the competition has been a predicted blessing. The camaraderie is a sight to behold.
So are the shots made during the qualifying rounds.
Du Lai seems like the woman to beat, with a highest shot of 106. There's no way she won't dominate the qualifying rounds aim like that.
Astra looks upon the competitors with the same examining eye of a drill sergeant looking for some poor trainee to just murder in broad daylight. Her arms crossed stiffly and securely, chin held high.
Alex lingers in that sight, soaking it in, until the exact moment she is called to the stage.
She reminds herself that nervousness is for cadets. Alex has fought off world ending events, rescued hundreds of lives, stopped terrorists of human and alien origin dead in their tracks.
She's got this, Alex reminds herself as she fiddles with the trigger. She's got this.
Alex fires. One shot, two. Her four qualifying shots ring aloud like bells. Precision, accuracy, the product of thousands of hours of training. (And, practical experience).
When it's all said and done, Alex breaths a sigh of relief. She's come in sixth, which means she qualifies for the actual, medal winning round.
Astra accepts her into the fold the moment Alex crosses the threshold from the limelight to the sidelines. Her face split into a proud smile.
"Marvelous. Should've had a steadier hand, but simply marvelous," she says, all too fast.
"Yeah," Alex smiles, too jumped up on energy to say much else.
Then they wait. The other women take their turns, vying for the gold. One near miraculous show of athletics after the other.
Alex is sure to pat each of them on the back, screaming their names as they prove their worth before the globe.
By Alex's turn, the very last, the number to beat is 207. That thought fights for dominance in the thunderdome of Alex's skull.
The sound of a species consumes all of Alex's senses as she stands on the sidelines, too full of nerves to sit or even to pace. Sure, maybe Alex has done objectively scarier things, but not with thing level of audience.
Astra stands beside her unabashed by the spectacle of it all, chin high and eyes focused. She has plenty of experience standing before much mightier crowds, with much higher stakes.
The lead plugs sitting snuggly in her ears tell a different story. One of debilitating levels of immense power.
One that still won't crack that self assurance that keeps Astra upright.
Like a leech, Alex borrows some of it. Adds that bravery to her own. Unmovable merging with indomitable to create something so damn close to invincible.
Just standing next to Astra fills Alex with a sense of security and inspiration unrivaled in our time. She soaks the feeling in deeply.
Someone with a clipboard waves Alex up, and a sliver of said fear returns. Alex swallows hard.
With the voices of every applicable country shouting in praise behind her, Alex makes a move toward the stage.
Then, Astra gently traces her fingers over Alex's wrist with the dainty softness of antique dealer.
Her face is serious, lined with a smile that is daunting in its exuberance.
"Stop the show here," she says, lips entirely too close to Alex's ear.
Alex is jolted awake. Resurrected while completely alive, never dead but still reborn. She can't help but smile back.
"Of course," she replies.
Then, she steps into the spotlight. The Olympic firing range accepting her footsteps upon its hallowed floors.
As she is assigned her weapon and dawns her PPE, she is sure there is a team of announcers recapping her history for the folks at home.
Alexandra Danvers, twenty seven, Team USA, C.I.A agent turned Olympic marksman. Is accused of having an inappropriate relationship with her alien coach, who is another controversy entirely.
They may not be actually saying that last part aloud, but the tabloids certainly are. (Why is she letting herself think of this? It's time to focus!)
Alex squares her shoulders, adjusting her grip on her rifle.
It's go time.
This one bullet means nothing, she reminds herself. All it does is add to the pile beneath it, laying in history. Her gun is her flesh, and Alex has complete control over her body.
She is a weapon. This weapon is her, not an extension, not an object, this gun in her hands is Alex Danvers.
Alex is a woman made of deep longing, a force that cracks mountains, and a hundred thousand bulletshells.
She will not be stopped. She will not bend. She will be propelled forward at gunpower-fast speeds. She is and will remain dangerous.
Alex fires.
First shot. Second shot. She blasts through her twenty bullets like a woman on a warpath. Total, narrow focus on the exact center of her target.
When it's done, she exhales a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Unconsciously, she turns her head toward Astra for confirmation that what just happened was correct.
208.0. Alex scored 208.0.
She just won the first gold medal of the entire event. Edging out the victory, breaking a record while she's at it.
Everything erupts into chaos as the world spins into a Team USA themed harespin. Alex can hardly get one thought in front of the other, one second to line up with the next. How her feet move from one location to another is beyond her. She's being hugged, and hugging back. She's absorbed by love so swiftly it gives her whiplash.
She stands on this podium as the first of the event. Alex's head is full of reverberating gunshots and the slamming together of thousands of hands. Of Astra's hands.
When she bites down on her shiny gold medal, Alex finally understands the tangible taste of victory.
--
The clink of her dorm room door closing is the loudest thing Alex has ever heard. Maybe. Her heartbeat thrumming in her ears is about to take the lead.
The moment she is through the threshold, Astra grabs Alex's forearms with a grin too wide to bare.
"You beautiful, wonderful woman! You did it!" she cheers.
"I did it," Alex breathlessly replies.
The two women of vastly different origins meet eyes, and both seem to marvel at the cosmic coincident that is both their species evolving visual sensory organs similar in both function and form.
They both seem to marvel at the other in tandem, synchronized in an emotion sitting on the tips of their tongues.
Before she can stop herself, Alex blurts out, "Can I kiss you?"
The beat of silence that follows twists her stomach into nothingness. It's ballistic gel, thick and cool. It's terrifying.
"Alex-" Astra responds quickl, closing her eyes
"Sorry, sorry. I don't know why I said that-" she stammers.
Astra roughly grabs her jaw and forces their lips together in a whirlwind. A marvelous merging of power, flesh, and a yearning years in the making.
Alex is swift to return the favor, pushing hard into the kiss with needy hands. She revels in the invulnerable stiffness of Astra's skin, all muscle and very little give. She tests her grip strength as she pulls Astra deeper in. Ever deeper.
It seems the emotion on the tip of her tongue, at the barely careening apex of all her day to day activities, is love.
Alex is in love with Astra. Total, ruinous love. The kind that levels cities.
The kind that dances toward the bed with an odd mix of brute force and precious tenderness.
Alex yawns into Astra's mouth, swallowing that immense strength whole. Her nails dig into the back of Astra's scalp uselessly, unable to cause even the simplest of scratches.
"You are the greatest person I could ever hope to meet," Astra flatters in between downright messy kisses.
"Astra," Alex gasps, sucking in hot breath, "You're everything,"
She grips even harder to the roots of Astra's hair, to no effect, grasping possesively at all that will fit into her fists.
"And you're mine," Alex all but sings.
Astra cracks the most sinister grin and replies, "And I own you,"
Their lips crash back together in an explosion of hardly repressed adoration that is only not going to be annoying to the neighbors because this is what Olympic village rooms are designed to do. Goodness knows they're taking advantage of that.
The next day marches onward, where the afterglow of the early morning is alight with something Alex has never quite experienced before. Something so delicate, yet wholly unbreakable.
Something as invulnerable as the soft stretch of Astra's back, pressed against Alex's bare chest. She finds herself wrapping her arms tighter around the other woman before consciousness fully returns to her.
"Hey," she mumbles into the back of Astra's head.
Beyond sight, Astra smiles, "Hey,"
"I never want to get out of this bed," Alex complains, hugging Astra like a stuffed bear.
Astra laughs softly, "Then we won't,"
The pattern of the blinds on the wall shifts ever so slightly before they speak again. They clutch this comfort tight, refusing to let even the smallest grain of this moment slip from them.
Something beautiful happened here. Not some silly prize, but a real one. Perfect and true.
Alex never wants to let Astra go. She refuses to, bares her teeth against the mere thought of it.
"Alex?" she whispers.
She makes a small noise of recognition, adjusting the way her chin rests in the curls of Astra's hair.
"I was prevented from saving my world at every turn. Everything I could've done and did do was for nought," she begins.
Alex's heart shatters at those words. How could Astra, a domineering general in every way, come up short? How could anyone survive the tragedy that was Krypton?
Astra's voice doesn't waver, "So let me save you, Alex. Let me save you from the slightest ache in your heart and most mintue annoyance. Let me decorate all your days in light,"
Alex's heart does another funny thing, for a brand new reason.
"Of course, Astra," she clutches this woman as hard as she can, "As long as you let me do the same,"
--
Seeing as Alex was the first medalist, the rest of her days were spent hiding hickies and bruises from the press and getting irresponsibly drunk.
High above the stage where the various track and field games are being played, Alex and Kara sit in a private lounge eating far too much ice cream.
No one is allowed to comment on the way Alex is wearing sunglasses indoors and is nursing her first martini of the day. She just won a medal, shut up.
"Alex, my dearest sister," Kara begins, "My only sister,"
She swallows her ice cream, eyeing her sister warily.
"My best friend. Of whom I have-. I have trusted my life to and, will continue to do so until I have no more life," she continues.
Alex drawls out her "Yes?"
"Ok-. There is no good way to phrase this, are you and Astra a-" she makes a broad gesture with her hand, "-a thing?"
Alex sinks her spoon as far into the ice cream as it can go, cringing with a force to crush bone. This is never a good thing for your sister to ask.
Hey! Are you dating my aunt? Sure, she and Astra are not related nor are they even the same species. But still. Still! These words are awkward out of Kara's mouth.
"We haven't made anything officially, uh, official," Alex replies slowly.
Which! Isn't a lie! Her and Astra haven't sat down and discussed whether they're officially dating in human terms. They've been busying themselves with more athletically inclined activities.
Kara makes that face she makes when everything clicks together, like how she does when a story idea is finally working alongside her keyboard.
"It is weird-" she tries to say.
Kara moves to silence her with her finger.
Alex continues for a split moment, "I know it is. Kara, we shouldn't do this to you-"
"No! It is weird, but that's just for me. There is nothing preventing you two from being in love! You have my blessing! Honest," Kara interrupts.
Alex sinks into the plastic seat unfettered by the ice cream dripping from her palm and staining her sisters jeans.
"Even if it makes you my aunt," she then adds.
At that, Alex can't help but bark out a mopey laugh.
"Gross! You're really going to let me be your sister-aunt?" she asks.
"I'm," she extends the word, "Not letting you do anything! You are an adult, I have no power here,"
Kara shoves a chunk of those little cheesecake bites into her mouth and chews at superspeed so she can continue talking. (Gross).
"But I reserve the right to make fun of you two. As your weird sister-niece,"
Alex mocks vomiting with her entire body, and Kara giggles. Worst sister-niece ever.
Before Kara can open her mouth to make another joke, Alex flings a sprinkle at her face with all the accuracy of an Olympic gold medalist.