Work Text:
“Who is Chloe? You've mentioned her a couple of times but…” Mags let herself trail off. Are you really asking this right now? At work? Nice job, Head of HR. What are you going to do if Chloe is her ex? And what are you going to do if she isn’t ?! She pushed that thought down. It was better to know now, squash this little crush and get on with their professional relationship… maybe a friendship? Whatever. She just wanted to know where they stood. Might stand? Ugh.
Mags let Sam ramble for a few moments, but she wasn’t getting the information she was looking for. So she pressed a little more.
“Gotcha. And you and she...?” She trailed off again. Come on, Sam, please don’t make me ask explicitly. She held Sam’s eye contact for as long as she could, feeling a tension and a lightness in her chest.
“We… What?”
Okay, yup, she was going to have to ask explicitly. She should have figured. “Were you guys… together?”
Sam’s eyes widened and her bangs fell in front of her face. She mindlessly brushed them aside as she sputtered, “What? No! I mean, not that…”
Not that you wouldn’t have dated her? Not that you haven’t dated other women? Give me something to work with here!
“God, what is it today? Why do people think I've had a thing with all my friends?”
Mags chuckled in spite of herself. “I don’t know, man. The way you talk about them?”
Sam was blushing slightly as she good-naturedly argued back, “I'm allowed to love my friends, aren't I?”
Fuck, why is she so endearing? “Yeah, yeah, of course! You just, you know… give off a queer vibe.”
The bangs fell again. “I do?”
Oh shit. This is deeper water than I thought. Play it cool . “Are you not?”
That was definitely not playing it cool!
Sam’s eyes were still wide. She was sucking her cheeks in, now looking slightly past Mags. “I, um… I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”
Damn it, Mags, you had to push. She started apologizing, but Sam cut her off, beginning to ramble again, this time about her dating history. And it wasn’t that Mags wasn’t paying very close attention to what Sam said, but it was making her heart ache and she didn’t want Sam to feel uncomfortable, so she interrupted.
“Sam, Sam, it's okay. You don't owe me any kind of explanation. I didn't mean to pry.”
Sam’s shoulders lowered a bit and she placed her palms on the counter in front of her. She seemed to be calming herself before she continued. Mags hadn’t known Sam very long, but she felt like she understood her pretty well. She was easy to talk to, though she had a baffling way of oversharing yet revealing very little of herself. Mags could guess that she had lived through some difficult times. The thought of this made Mags feel very protective and she had to remind herself that Sam had not asked for her protection.
Here they were, talking about queerness while standing at the reception desk of the AM: an organization that they both hoped would make life better for people who may feel isolated or rejected because of a core part of their identity. They were working to build a safe place for people who may be shamed by their families, or whose families may want to be supportive but can never fully comprehend their experiences; a place for people who may not have the language to talk about their abilities, or who have never known someone else with abilities. Mags had always drawn similarities between being queer and being atypical. She knew this wasn’t the case for all queer atypicals, but it had been a way for her to make sense of both of them. She wondered about young Sam discovering her ability; she had never pressed for details, but it had sounded like a painful journey. They had commiserated with each other about the way their abilities had been tied up in their anxieties.
Mags was starting to admit to herself that she really liked Sam. She wanted to hear her stories, to comfort her when she was panicking, to laugh with her, to cook her breakfast, to kiss her cheek before they parted ways walking in the building each morning. And the more she ached for these things, the more afraid she became of scaring Sam off before they ever had a chance.
Sam was talking now about how she had only felt attracted to one person before. Mags couldn’t stop herself from asking, “What was different about him?”
Could I be different too? Oh, for crying out loud, Mags, have you really got it that bad? Get a hold of yourself. She’s being vulnerable with you; focus on being a good friend.
“And you haven’t felt that way about girls before?”
“Um, no, I wouldn't say that…”
So she has had crushes on girls? Maybe? Ugh, she’s talking about Mark again.
Sam was describing how Mark made her feel, which sounded to Mags a lot like how Sam acted all the time. She couldn’t help laughing, gently. “No offense, Sam, but you’re rambly and flustered a lot . No wonder people can’t tell the difference.”
Sam flushed bright red. “Hey! Just because I'm that way around you doesn't mean I'm always like that–”
She just said she feels that way around me. She just said I make her feel that way. Right? Which would mean… Mags’ brain went offline for a moment. By the time she worked through it and made sure none of the office supplies were levitating, Sam was desperately trying to change the subject. Shit.
“Sam, wait, what were –” She got distracted by the lobby doors opening. They didn’t have any more appointments today, and all the employees were already in the building. Did Lee have more Order ambassadors coming to assist him? Whoever it was had shit timing. Mags felt her stomach twisting. “Who could that be?”
A man in jeans and a band t-shirt approached the desk. He seemed apprehensive and tired, but his eyes warmed when he saw Sam. It was Mark. Ugh, fuck me.
She could see what Sam meant. There was something Mags couldn’t put her finger on, but Mark was just so… charming. He was very attractive, yet unassuming. He seemed nervous but somehow had a calming energy. Mags looked between him and Sam as they tried to stare at each other but kept breaking eye contact. For fuck’s sake.
“I can start us off. I’m Mags. I’m standing just here.” She felt herself growing grumpy, and she knew it was uncalled for, but she couldn’t help feeling like she’d just blown her only shot with Sam. Well, no, it felt like Mark had just blown her only shot with Sam.
The two of them looked at her like they’d forgotten she was there. They stumbled through introductions and then Sam, true-to-self, started rambling. When it became clear that Sam was starting to spiral, Mark intervened, something Mags had done many times before. But when Sam apologized, Mags felt a flare of protective anger. She subtly put her hand on a nearby stapler to keep it from floating off the desk. “Don’t apologize,” she spat, more harshly than she meant to.
Mark, to his credit, echoed Mags. And then he called Sam cute.
Mags reached her other hand across the desk to catch the keyboard, tamping down a pen with her elbow.
You need to get the fuck out of here.
“Bye,” she said, moving to walk out from behind the desk, not caring anymore if all the items stayed in place. Sam started to reach her hand out toward Mags, but Mags skirted it. “Listen, I can see you guys need some alone time, so… Sam, if you need me, you know where I sit.”
She managed to make it down the hallway to one of the patient practice rooms and keep her telekinesis in check. As soon as she shut the door behind her, she let go, and the foam balls and stuffed animals the clients used for control exercises hurtled around the room.
Later, when talking to the team over the intercom, Mags fibbed. Dr. Bright, someone Mags admired and someone who would certainly never let a crush interfere with her work, asked Sam to bring Mags the release paperwork for some of their Tier 5 patients. Mags panicked and made up a reason to not be at her desk when Sam dropped off the files. She usually prided herself on honesty, but she wasn’t ready to face Sam at the moment and she certainly couldn’t tell them that, so… Dr. Sharpe made an easy excuse. She just hoped none of them saw through it or asked her about it.
She wouldn’t avoid Sam forever. But she needed a minute to nurse her wounds before she could handle anything with just the two of them. She had maybe gotten the answer she was looking for, but she wasn’t sure if that was really what Sam meant or if she was just projecting. And if it was what Sam meant… then what? Mags really didn’t want to make things awkward, especially with Mark back, so she would be content just to enjoy Sam’s company whenever and however she could. But maybe not until tomorrow.