Disclaimed. I do not own Wizards of Waverly Place. I don't make any money with this story.

Louder than sirens (louder than bells)

In the beginning, it's just to make sure he's really there. She came so close to losing him forever. She thinks that if only she can hold him close enough and find the right words to say (I am so glad you're here, I need you, I missed you, I was so scared), that maybe this thingwill disappear, this feeling in her chest, this need to touch him, always. Just to feel him there.

She thinks maybe they need to talk about it, but it's her, and Alex doesn't do the talking about her feelings thing (except when she does), and what's there to talk about, anyway? So she doesn't, but the feeling remains, that itching feeling under her skin that makes her sit closer, hold tighter, breathe in more deeply.

It's the day after, after everything happened. They're doing boring family stuff, and Alex is doing her best not to complain.

She loves them, loves her parents' embarrassing honeymoon-ness, loves Max's grossness and his randomness, loves Justin's -

She walks next to him, always, listens to him ramble about sights and things – as if she cares. She sits next to him at dinner, steals his favorite food from his plate, just 'cause she can.

It's a magic-free vacation now, and he's reading under the covers with a flashlight, comics or schoolbooks, Alex isn't sure. She throws pillows at him and makes fun of his pajamas until he tackles her to her bed and starts tickling her. When she gives up, breathless, he hovers a moment, face super close, and she can feel his breath on her face. His eyes are dark in the half-light, the room full of shadows, the only source of light the flashlight forgotten on Justin's bed.

Then Max burps, and Justin lets her go.

"Okay, I'll go to sleep. You too, Max," he calls over to the other bed. "It's past twelve, and we'll climb that mountain tomorrow."

The feeling stays with her as time goes on, the need to touch him as often as possible. She knows he feels it too.

They sit next to each other on the flight home. Alex rests her head on Justin's shoulder and falls asleep. When she opens her eyes an hour later, his head rests on top of hers, and he's put a blanket over both their laps. His hands are under the blanket; his left one lies on her knee.
She closes her eyes again.

Back to New York and Waverly Place, back to wizard training and school. Things are weird at home, if only because nothing is really different. Alex ignores homework and chills on the couch, mindlessly watching reality TV and flipping through a magazine. Justin comes home and lectures her, then sits beside her. They squabble; he wins and changes the program to something science-y, maybe volcanoes. She cuddles close, and he puts an arm around her. Sometimes they fall asleep like this.

(Maybe it's a little bit different.)

They hug a lot more than before. The pattern stays the same, though. Alex screws up, Justin fixes it, they hug. Only the mishaps are smaller now. She messes up a potion. She makes something explode. She makes the TV disappear. They're not world-shattering events, nothing traumatic. (Whatever, she needs comfort. Imagine life without a TV. Scary.)

Their hugs last longer than before. Alex is never quite ready to let go. Neither is Justin, it seems. Sometimes they hug for five minutes. She inhales his scent, feeling his breath on her neck and in her hair. Sometimes someone comes in, and they let go immediately. Act as if nothing's wrong. (Nothing is. It's embarrassing, is all. Alex Russo doesn't do hugs. Except when she does.)

It's Christmas morning, and she's up early. It's time for her annual Christmas-prank. On the best day of the year, stealing Justin's favorite things just doesn't cut it.

She casts go-through-mow-through on the wall between their bedrooms, effectively surpassing both the security charms at his door and his anti-teleportation charm. The plan is to wake him with a conjured-up bucket of ice water.

Only, he is already awake, waiting for her.

"Alex, Alex. You've become predictable."

"Oh, really?" Time to improvise. She jumps him and starts attacking his ticklish spots she's known all her life.

Alex ends up on top this time. Staring down on him in the blue-gray light of the early morning hours, she remembers that other moment on vacation.

For a moment, they just stare at each other, breathing rapidly. Then she lets go of the hands she'd pinned over his head, but she doesn't get up. Instead, she tucks her head under his chin, lying down on top of him.

After a minute, Justin turns them over so they end up lying on their sides, face to face on the covers. Alex is just wearing her pajamas, and they lie close enough that she knows he can feel the pressure of her breasts against his chest.

What's happening?she thinks.

Nothing happens. They lie there for what seems like an eternity just looking at each other and breathing in each other's scent.

Nobody moves.

After what feels like hours, their mother calls them for breakfast.

"Waffles," Alex says.

"And presents."

"Right."

Justin gets up before her, extending a hand to help her up. She takes it and doesn't let go. They go downstairs, still hand in hand. Nobody seems to notice. Their mother just wonders how it comes Alex hasn't raided the presents yet.

"Overslept," she mumbles. It's the first time she's lied to her parents about this...thing. (Whatever it is. Apparently something to lie about.)

Justin says nothing. She doesn't know what she expected him to say, maybe, "She was in my room trying to prank me." But he doesn't. That's almost a lie, for him. Which means Justin thinks this thing (whatever it is) is something to lie about too.

They unwrap presents. Justin gives her a book about famous painters. As if she's going to read that. She hugs him anyway. Their father frowns but doesn't say anything. Alex gives Justin a little toy robot. He laughs weakly, then hugs her tightly. Their mother elbows Max. "You didn't charm them, did you?"

They sit next to each other at breakfast, their legs continually touching under the table. The waffles taste really good.

After breakfast, when their parents head down to the sub shop to tend to the holiday rush, Justin goes to take a shower, and Max goes up to his room to do...whatever it is he does, Alex plops down on the couch to watch Christmas specials in her PJ's.

When Justin comes back, freshly showered and fully clothed, he hesitates a moment on the last stair.

Alex doesn't turn, but she can feel him there; her neck tingles. After a minute, he gets a blanket and sits down beside her, spreading it over both of them. Then Justin takes her hand under the blanket.

Alex knows where this is going. Maybe she's known for a while. And she should really be more upset, but she's cozy and warm and her stomach is full of waffles. And butterflies. Can't forget about those.

She squeezes Justin's hand without looking at him.

Uncle Kelbo drops by, and there are magical presents and explosions. Max somehow fills the living room with frogs, and Alex finally decides to take a shower.

After dinner, she and Justin somehow end up under a mistletoe. He looks at her with his you planned this! expression. She looks back, shocked and unsure, and she can watch him realizing it's not her fault. He blushes, and she thinks, Adorable.

Then he kisses her cheek. The family claps and laughs. Alex is tingling all over. Justin doesn't look at her, and she quickly goes to sit down somewhere, uncharacteristically quiet. She doesn't think, she can't. Her head feels like it's full of cotton. She doesn't know what to do. Something is going to happen. Sometime soon. She doesn't know what and when, and she doesn't know how to stop it. Doesn't know if she wants to.

At some point that evening, she manages to slip away. She goes to the lair because it soothes her. There is magic in the air here. Enveloped by the remnants of century-old wizard powers, it's always been easier to find solutions to her problems. Nothing seems impossible if she just sits here long enough and thinks.

She's not sure she'd call the thinga problem, per se, but thinking can't hurt.

She ends up recalling her flying lessons, what it felt like to sit next to Justin on the carpet, far above everything else. It felt great, unlike anything she'd experienced before. Had the thingbeen there back then, too? She can't tell for sure.

Suddenly, someone touches her shoulder. Justin. Of course.

"Hey. Are you okay?" he asks quietly.

"Yes. I'm just. Thinking."

"About what?" He sounds like he knows but hopes she'll play along. What are they playing? She's tired of it. She doesn't understand the rules. Maybe he doesn't either.

"What are we doing?" she asks.

He just looks at her, a little lost, a little hopeful, a little longing. Maybe more than a little.

"What do you think?" he whispers.

"I don't know."

He sighs.

"I'm not scared, though," she says quickly, before he can move, can leave, can change his mind. She takes his hand, pulls it in her lap where she holds it with both of hers.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." It's only half a lie. She's nervous, she's unsure, but she isn't scared. This is Justin. What is there to be scared of, except losing him? And this doesn't feel like losing him. It feels, maybe, like the opposite of losing him.

Unconsciously, she's been leaning her head against his shoulder again, his hand still clasped in hers. Now she tilts her head up, looks at him. Challenging. Justin uses his other hand to move a strand of hair out of her face. His thumb strokes her skin.

"Are you scared?" she asks.

"No." His face is close now, so close, and then he is kissing her, both of his hands in her hair. She uses both of her now unoccupied ones to take hold of his shoulders, and before she knows what she's doing, she's in his lap, arms wrapped around him, kissing frantically. Nothing has ever felt like this, electric, like her skin is on fire but in a good way, the best way.

It's a long while until they stop, and then she still stays where she is. He puts his forehead against hers and looks at her, and they're so close they are breathing the same air. She can feel, taste, smell every one of his breaths.

She knows he wants to talk about this but doesn't find the words. She knows there isn't anything to say. They know what this is. They don't know what to do about it, or with it, or how it will affect things. What will come. They both know they don't know.

"Everything will be fine," Alex says. It's Justin's line, usually, but he wasn't going to say it.

His hands on her shoulders tighten, and he pulls her impossibly closer, kisses her again, until she's breathless.

"Everything will be fine," she repeats.

She doesn't know, of course. But right now, it feels like it will be.