Chapter Text
“Sorry, but we’re not chillin in the library today..?’ Poussey asks the taller woman as she is ushered from said room and back down the hall. Her confusion immediately ebbs when Alex drapes her arm around her shoulder.
“I told you I had something you might appreciate so shut it and come with me, Mighty Mouse,” Alex quips affectionately into her ear.
If Alex ever chooses to acknowledge her own actions, she’d notice that she can’t help but have some form of physical contact with the shorter woman nowadays; which is why their current position has her left arm around P, the hand fiddling with the neck of Poussey’s sweatshirt, while her right pointer finger has come down to rest on P’s mouth, effectively shushing her.
“Besides, we need a break from that shit library - I’m starting to directly associate you with the smell of old paper and teeny, tiny wooden chairs.”
She can feel P’s lips forming a smile under her finger and she grins to herself.
Alex doesn’t actually hate the library but she really wants to share something with P and respects the sanctity of their special place too much to bring it there. P knows well enough that she’s kidding but hasn’t the faintest clue as to what the hell is happening (she’d go anywhere with this woman though).
Any inmate or guard passing them might assume, at a glance, that Alex is either drunk or on something as she is nearly manic, scurrying up the corridor with Poussey in tow. She feels light, giddy, and admittedly stupid even.
Poussey can sense the excitement radiating from her and it’s addictive. She doesn’t protest when she has to walk twice as fast as she normally would to keep pace with Alex. She muses that her favorite pet name for the taller woman – Legs - has never been more on the nose than right now.
Funny enough, Alex is neither high nor drunk – nor has she been within the last ten months. With the exception of a celebratory swig or two with Poussey during black history month, she hasn’t had much of a desire to even bother with substances of any kind. Which is probably why they both had nearly forgotten what had caused their paths to cross initially.
Sure, it hasn’t been all rainbows and glitter to get to where they are now.
Alex had just about hit her rock bottom the day she had come to Poussey in the library. And, yeah, the other girl knew what the score was but stuck it out with her anyway - offering her a shoulder instead of enabling her further.
After the two weeks of extremely barbed comments (surprisingly, nothing was directed at Poussey) and physical sickness had past, Alex’s needs had also changed dramatically - evolved really.
Gone was the gray ghost of herself, and the decaying shell it had resided in as well (Poussey swears she is much less of a “scary ass goth” than she had been when they originally began talking).
Obviously, they were still very much incarcerated but that first, awkward incident felt like a lifetime ago. Somehow, Alex was finally able to shake off most of the self-loathing that had manifested after things went south with Piper. Poussey, for her part, had also cut back on the excessive drinking and eventually forgave Brook.
They had unwittingly managed to help each other out of their respective dark corners - perhaps that is another reason why there has always been such a powerful sense of rightness between them.
There is now a constant stream of rainbows - Poussey stays current with her LGBTQIA++++ news (Alex sometimes needs newer preferences and orientations explained to her multiple times). There isn’t any glitter in their lives, per se, but salt is shiny and Alex brings more than enough for two.
P has also become acquainted with Alex’s sweet side and how her gratitude and appreciation pour out of her in the form of delightfully entertaining short stories, weird favors, and the odd gift or two. Poussey considers the other woman’s honesty and empathy to be their own gifts (as unbelievably cheesy as that sounds) but she also doubts they are currently speed walking towards a big old box of empathy.
At last, they get where they’re going. They stop walking and are now staring at Alex’s unmade bed.
Needless to say, P’s curiosity is beyond piqued. What the hell’s more intense than ‘piqued’?
Poussey can feel some of her residual awkwardness bubbling at the surface, she shifts from foot to foot and can’t hold the other woman’s gaze for more than a second. Alex is clearly tickled but she offers no explanation for why they are there or what they are going to be doing.
She takes the remaining two steps and sits on her bed; she scoots her back against the stone partition and then pushes her glasses up off of her face. She’s looking expectantly at Poussey as she gently pats the space beside her on the cot, “Come on over, my little coco puff. I swear I won’t bite...” Unless that’s what you’re into...
Poussey is having a hard time reading the expression on Alex’s face but she doubts she has anything to worry about. She throws caution to the wind and sits. Shit, I should’ve stretched...
Alex herself is having a hard time not saying “awww” out loud at the return of the ‘baby deer in the headlights’ expression. It’s gotta be illegal – somewhere – for someone to look this fuckin cute
“Alright, Vause, what’s the deal?” P can’t stand it any longer. She doesn’t know what to expect but is now starting to worry that the anticipation will kill her before the reveal happens.
Alex eventually decides to cut her shit (and take a break from staring), for the most part.
“Ok, ok! Close your eyes...” she practically purrs at Poussey.
P still has enough presence of mind to hesitate – still in prison, always be aware of surroundings – before Alex’s tone reduces her brain to rice pudding. She doesn’t even care; she trusts her enough to shake the awkward paranoia, for now.
It is dark, and a smidge too quiet, when she feels something placed in her hands, which were resting in her lap when her eyes closed. She tentatively gives it poke, making sure it isn't moving or alive. She picks up what is now sitting her lap. “Hm...?”
Cardboard..? Did this bitch just hand me a box of tampons...?
It is definitely a box of some kind - not very big or heavy either. P is about to give it a good shake and figure this out when she feels long, soft fingers lowering her own hands.
“Open your eyes, darling,” Alex’s playful eye-roll is evident in her tone.
For her part, she had managed to quietly watch P up to this point. That is until she was vaguely reminded of a video that she had seen a few years back: a cute little baby raccoon with a discerning palate, primly sat upon an open garbage can, trying to pick the best bits out without falling into the can. She had to stop P (and herself) before she let that go too long.
She had watched that video on a loop for 2 hours. That was some very good weed
Her ridiculous train of thought is derailed by a series of happy shrieks.
“Whaaaaa? Yooo!! The hell?! Girrrrl! Are you a time traveler??”
Poussey pops off the cot with the box tightly gripped in both hands, eyes as wide as they can possibly go.
“I am 90% sure these don’t exist anymore!” she holds up the box like Alex hadn’t been the one to just hand it to her.
Alex’s face actually hurts from how tight she’s clenching her jaw. She’s been patiently waiting for this excitable puppy to relax so she can laugh without missing a single, unadulterated second of joy.
“Where'd you get these?? How old are these??” Poussey stops to breathe for a second then fires off a few more questions - “You got other flavors?! Can we eat these?? Why you been holding out, Legs?!"
‘Holyy shit,‘ Alex thought to herself. She knew P would be pleasantly surprised by the “gift” based on their conversation a few weeks prior but... this was way better than that baby raccoon video, she could watch this on repeat for days.
She had never been more grateful to have good friends in Canada than she was in this very moment.
After a brief interlude, Alex is able to stop laughing, catch her damn breath, and finally answer this adorable creature:
“Yeah, cutie. Let’s eat some dunkaroos.”