Work Text:
Being a witch isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. At least, that’s the only thing Hilda can think as she carefully draws the beginnings of a protection spell onto yet another pendant for what might as well be the hundredth time that day. It’s delicate work, and she isn’t one to shy away from admitting she’s good at it, but today she just can’t seem to focus. Anticipation hums throughout her body, stirring butterflies in her stomach and clouding her senses with worry.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket, breaking her concentration, and she drops her pen onto the table in defeat.
Her stomach drops when she looks at the name of the caller. Claude’s infuriating, knowing voice teasing her from across the city is something she really doesn’t need at the moment, but she knows she’ll feel guilty later if she ignores him.
“Hey, Claude.”
“Somebody has a date tonight,” Claude sings, and she doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s flaunting his trademark smug grin.
“I already told you, it’s not a date. Marianne and I are just hanging out at my place.” Frowning, she stands and walks over to the fridge.
“Yeah, but you wish it was, right?” He continues smoothly before she has the chance to scold him. “So have you told her you’re a witch yet?”
“No, I haven’t told her. Honestly, Claude, if I told every cute girl I met I was a witch, I’d have a mob waving torches at my door by now.” She balances her phone between her ear and shoulder and opens the fridge, rummaging around for something to drink.
“Then I hope you cleaned up a little. Last time I was over there, there wasn’t a single flat surface clear of potions or enchanted hair clips.”
She grabs a bottle of tea and slams the fridge shut, collapsing back onto her chair with a sigh. Eyeing the cluttered tabletop with disdain, she shoves aside the pendant and a pile of pens to set down her drink. “Yeah, yeah, I’m working on it. Don’t complain unless you’re going to come over here and clean it yourself. And of course I’ll be careful, she won’t suspect a thing.”
“So is she finding out before or after the wedding?”
“Claude!” Hilda flushes, listening to him burst into laughter. “Stop that. I haven’t even told her how I feel yet, so don’t go getting my hopes up for nothing.”
“Aww, have some faith in yourself. Do you think you’re going to confess tonight?”
Hilda groans. “ No . Maybe. I don’t know. Stop pressuring me!”
“Well, I’m looking forward to the full report on what happens later. I have to go now, but I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Only if you stop with the stupid jokes. I’ll see you later, Claude.”
She hangs up and nearly chokes on her tea when she sees the time. Marianne is coming at two, and it’s already a quarter past one. The state of her apartment hasn’t changed much since Claude had seen it. If she’s being honest, it may have gotten a little worse, and there was no time to call someone to help. She’d have to fix the place up on her own. The thought that made her stomach flip, but she’d do it for Marianne.
She stands, surveying her kitchen. Piles of craft supplies and potion ingredients alike are crammed into every corner and stacked precariously on the countertops. First and foremost, she has to take care of anything vaguely magical she’d left lying around the house. If Marianne finds out she’s a witch, it would do nothing but hurt the chances of her ever saying yes to a date, if it didn’t kill them completely.
Jasmine, the tiny black cat she’d adopted about a month ago from Marianne’s animal shelter, ambles into the kitchen and meows at Hilda.
“We’ve got a lot of work to do. I don’t suppose you’ll be willing to help?”
Jasmine stares blankly at her.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t say yes either. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… let’s get to work.”
*
When a soft knock sounds from the front of her apartment, Hilda nearly jumps out of her skin and drops her broom. She smooths her skirt, then her ponytail, resenting the fact that she never got to change. Putting the broom back into the kitchen, she flits over to the door and takes a deep breath before opening it.
“Marianne! Wow, you look gorgeous!”
She can’t help it — it’s the first thing she thinks, and it completely swamps her mind. Marianne’s blue hair is arranged into a delicate updo, all plaits and elegant tucks, and her gentle smile awakens the butterflies in Hilda’s stomach.
“Thank you,” she says, her cheeks pink. Hilda ushers her inside, glancing around to double-check that she hadn’t left anything strange lying around while cleaning. “You look lovely as well.”
Hilda laughs, but it’s high and strangled and she fears she actually might faint on the spot. “Oh, you’re too sweet. You can have a seat at the table over there. I’m going to grab a drink, do you want anything? I have tea, water, — um, that’s kind of it.”
Marianne sits, folding her hands on her lap and crossing her ankles, and it’s so cute and dainty that Hilda has to stick her head in the fridge to hide her huge smile.
“Um, tea sounds nice, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all.” Hilda grabs two bottles and slides into the seat across from Marianne, holding one of the drinks out to her. “Hope you like peach tea, it’s all I’ve got at the moment.”
Marianne nods, her fingers brushing Hilda’s as she closes them around the bottle. Hilda cracks open her own bottle and takes a swig, if only to have something to do besides stare at Marianne. That damn phone call with Claude had frayed her nerves to threads, and she made a mental note to chew him out the next time they spoke. As if she needed that kind of teasing when she was already tripping over herself around Marianne.
Something about Marianne scatters the universal truths Hilda thought she knew like wind to a card tower. Usually, she’d balk at the thought of cleaning up on her own for someone. A lot of the time, she invites people over to do the cleaning. But Marianne makes Hilda want to jump up and retrieve all the peach tea she could ever want if it meant she was the cause of that beautiful smile.
“Hello, Jasmine.”
She looks up, following Marianne’s gaze down to her cat. Jasmine wanders over to Marianne and rubs against her leg, and Hilda tries not to sulk. Leave it to her cat to be better at attracting girls than she was.
“What do you have in your mouth?”
Marianne leans down to take something from Jasmine. Hilda leans over the table, wondering what the cat had gotten into now, and her heart drops when she sees what’s in Marianne’s hands.
“Oh, that’s nothing!” Hilda cups her hands and stretches over the table, motioning eagerly for Marianne to give her the necklace. “Can I see it?”
“Of course.” Marianne drops it in her hands, her eyes wide with concern. “I’m sorry I touched it, I was just worried that Jasmine got into something she shouldn’t have.”
“It’s okay.” The necklace’s stone pendant pulses with warm, blue light from the many enchantments she’d placed on it. Trust her sassy cat to grab something weird and witchy instead of one of the many, many toys Hilda has bought for her. “Remember how I mentioned I make and sell accessories? This is one of them. I’m branching out into jewelry and stuff.”
Marianne’s eyes light up. “That’s amazing. I can’t imagine how you managed to get a light inside.”
“Trade secret!” Hilda jams it into her pocket and wipes her sweaty palms on her skirt.
“You really make things like that, all on your own? You’re very talented.”
Hilda feels herself smile and jumps to her feet. “Want to see more? I think I have the perfect hair clip for you to try on.”
She takes Marianne’s arm and steers her towards her bedroom. With a silent prayer that she successfully hid all her magic ingredients, Hilda opens the door.
“I’ve got a bunch of stuff in here. You can sit on my bed, even though it’s a little messy right now.”
She turns to her vanity and starts to look through her hair accessory drawer. Though she didn’t actually have a specific accessory for Marianne to try on in mind when she suggested it, she isn’t about to pass up the chance to see how her crafts look on Marianne, who is already unfairly adorable.
“What’s this?”
Hilda turns and smothers a surprised squeal. Light glints off the clear tube Marianne holds up, the shimmering liquid inside sparkling like a pile of diamonds and glowing bright purple. Hilda can’t read what she’d scrawled on the crude tape label from here, but she vividly remembers scribbling down the words a couple of nights ago: Protection + Confidence Spell .
Hilda flies across the room, snatches the bottle, and shoves it into her makeup drawer in the span of a few seconds, struggling to keep her breathing even.
“P-Perfume. I’m dabbling in perfume.”
Marianne’s eyes are wide, and her forehead wrinkles endearingly. “Are you feeling okay?”
Hilda waves off her concern and turns to dig in her makeup drawer. “I’m totally fine. I just remembered, I have something I think will suit you. I started making lip gloss a while ago, and there’s this one that you need to try.”
It’s a stupidly desperate attempt to distract Marianne, but it was the first thing Hilda thought to say. She grabs a handful of tubes, intending to grab a random pink one when a specific gloss catches her eye.
It’s one she’s never tried herself, a rather recent creation, but among her more subdued experiments when compared to some of her other magic-inspired glosses. It’s a sweet, classic shade of pink, labeled “Strawberry Sunshine.” Hilda snorts. Not her most creative product name, but she can’t deny how much it reminds her of Marianne and the light she brings to a room.
“This one would look really good on you.” She tosses it to Marianne, who jerks back in surprise and fumbles the bottle. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry! I don’t know why I did that.”
“It’s okay. I was just a little surprised, that’s all. I’m happy it didn’t break.” Marianne picks up the tube and gazes at it, her smile fading.
Hilda lingers by the vanity, picking at her shirt sleeve and trying to keep her expression even. She watches Marianne unscrew the cap and stare at the brush, holding her breath, and waits.
Marianne lowers the lip gloss with a sigh. “Hilda, I don’t think I can do this. I’m… not too great at this kind of thing.”
Hilda nearly trips over herself dragging the vanity’s chair over to Marianne so she can sit in front of her. “Here, I’ll do it. And don’t worry about your skills too much, you don’t even need it to look pretty in the first place.”
She sweeps Marianne’s bangs out of her face and tilts her chin up with the tips of her fingers, breath catching as Marianne blinks up at her. Hilda has never been close enough to tell that her eyes are a wonderfully warm shade of grey-brown, and they’re blissfully soft as she gazes at Hilda.
“Um, here we go,” Hilda murmurs as she pulls her hands away to pick up the lip gloss.
She unscrews the cap and leans forward, taking what she hopes is a subtle steadying breath before bringing the brush to Marianne’s slightly parted lips. It glides over her bottom lip, leaving a sparkling trail in its wake that Hilda can’t look away from.
“Wow, strawberry really does suit you.” Hilda giggles, beaming when Marianne’s lips quirk up into a small smile. “Hold on now, I’ve still got to do your other lip.”
As carefully as she can manage, Hilda spreads a thin layer over her top lip. Though the gloss’s shine can’t match the lovely sparkle in her eyes, it does nothing to quell Hilda’s growing urge to cup Marianne’s face in her hands and find out exactly what her lip gloss tastes like.
She clears her throat, her cheeks burning, and caps the gloss. “I was right, this color is perfect for you. Not that you weren’t perfect before— I mean, you’re lovely. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
Marianne breaks into soft laughter, and Hilda can’t remember how to breathe. It’s the first time she’s seen Marianne smile this hard, this openly, and it’s absolutely mesmerizing.
“Oh, Hilda. You make me so happy,” she says between gasps.
Hilda thinks her heart might burst from adoration. Doubts be damned. She would be an idiot if she let a girl like Marianne slip away from her, especially when she was right here , warm and real.
“Marianne,” Hilda says, pride swelling in her chest when her voice is as even as she means it to be. She takes Marianne’s hands in hers and looks steadily into her eyes. “Can I kiss you?”
Marianne’s lips part in a small ‘o.’ She breaks into a smile again and squeezes Hilda’s hands, her voice breathless when she responds. “Yes.”
Hilda leans in and, as gently as she is able, presses her lips to Marianne’s. Her fingers curl against Marianne’s neck and she has to restrain her urge to beam, warmth blossoming in her chest. It’s sweet and wonderful and so much better than she ever imagined, because she’s really kissing Marianne.
She’s really kissing Marianne.
Marianne pulls away after a few moments, her face flushed beautifully, brilliantly pink. “Um, does this mean…” She fiddles with her bangs, looking shyly at Hilda. “Maybe you’d like to go on a date sometime?”
“Yes! A billion times yes!” Hilda jumps up and nearly stumbles over something on the carpet. She looks down to see a round potion bottle lying there, labeled “Charisma Booster.” Well, she won’t be needing that any time soon. She sweeps it under the bed with her foot and clears her throat, looking back up at Marianne. Hilda owes it to her to come clean, and she might as well do it when she’s at such a high point.
“But, ah, there’s something I should probably tell you first.”