Work Text:
Florence Zimmermann stood in the living room of Jonathan’s house, her hand on the man’s shoulder as she watched him write a letter. “You going to be alright Weird Beard? I know this is a lot for you to handle right now,” she gently squeezed his shoulder and Jonathan’s hand shot up to her own in response.
He nodded with the confidence he lacked so, his hand pausing in the writing of the letter. “Of course, ya grandma,” Jonathan smiled up at the woman that towered over him even when he wasn’t sitting. Florence rolled her beautiful brown eyes at the name as Johnathan continued, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
The woman laughed. “Well, your baby sister and her husband just died two weeks ago, and now their ten year old son is coming to live with you, most likely permanently. And do you want me to mention the clock?” Florence asked, raising an eyebrow and taking a seat next to him. The desk they now both sat at was made of dark, polished wood and had an assortment of nicknacks scattered on its surface and in its many drawers. Florence pushed aside some papers and a plate of cookies that she had made earlier so that she could rest her arms on the desk, leaning in to read what her friend had written so far.
Dear Lewis,
Enclosed, please find one bus ticket and two silver dollars for your trip to Michigan. I'm really sorry about the loss of your
Florence reached for Jonathan’s hand and squeezed it again. “It’s a good start,” she nodded when she finished reading, smiling at his adorably worried face. “I love it Jonathan,” The witch leaned forward just a bit more and kissed the worklock on his cheek, blushing when she pulled away.
“You sure Hag Face?”
“Why would I lie to you?”
Jonathan’s worry vanished as he looked into her face. He noticed that her silvery hair was down and curling slightly at her shoulders, while it was normally up in a tight bun. The smile on the witches face made Jonathan shiver involuntary, suddenly wanting to kiss away the smugness that was laced through Florence’s features. “You wouldn’t.”
“Exactly,” the purple-dressed woman that sat next to him replied in almost a whisper, as if not wanting to disturb the moment. “Now,” she turned away from him to tap one, long finger to the paper in front of them. “I think we can finish this, don’t you?”
Jonathan sighed deeply, slumping into the desk like a petulant child. “Do I have too, Florence?” He whined, looking up at her tall figure.
The older woman rolled her eyes again and nodded exasperatedly. “Yes Jonathan, you do.”
So, with decidedly less enthusiasm as when he first started, and with the help of a certain purple clad witch, Jonathan finished the letter just before midnight.
Exhausted, the two friends ate the last of the cookies and sat on the couch together, keeping warm by wrapping themselves in blankets. The old house was drafty, making there to be no excuse to
not
be cuddled together by the light of the fireplace. Yawning, Florence rested her head on Jonathan’s shoulder, and was surprised at how it fit so well in the crook of his neck. She smiled contentedly and closed her eyes, almost on the edge of sleep. Jonathan noticed and smiled softly down at her. “Tired, Florence?” He asked gently.
She nodded slowly in her sleepy state, brown eyes closed as she sighed into his neck. Her loose silver hair was tickling the side Jonathan’s face, causing him to brush it away, which resulted in the small man combing Florence’s hair with his fingers. “What are you going to do when he gets here Jonathan?” The witch inquired, curious as always. Her words blended together like honey and yogurt, making the witch sound slightly drunk. But to Jonathan, it was adorable. Mostly because he knew that Florence was never, ever drunk. And even on the very rare occasions that she might be, the woman never slurred her words.
Jonathan thought for a moment, his fingers getting tangled in the silver waves of his friend’s hair. “I don’t know Florence. He needs to go to school and such, so I’ll probably get him into that. Teach him poker so we can all play together,” his voice sounded excited, but it was hard to hear under the calmness of him trying to help lull her to sleep. Florence nodded against his neck, turning her body slightly so that she fit more flushly against him, her eyelashes brushing the exposed skin as her warm breath lapped at the flesh just under his ear. “And hopefully teach him magic.” Jonathan told her this because he truly was excited at the prospect of having a nephew that he could teach the magic of magic too. “Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” He asked, his voice soft but betraying his true feelings.Florence nodded ever so slightly again as she turned so that her pink, full lips were brushing her best friend’s flesh and rested her head on his shoulder. “Goodnight Jonathan,” the witch mumbled against his neck, snuggling herself closer to him, if that were even possible.
The warlock chuckled slightly at her as he continued to run his fingers through her hair. “Goodnight Florence.”
As she fell asleep in his arms and the day came to a close, Jonathan Barnavelt leaned in and kissed Florence Zimmermann lightly on the head. It was the ghost of a real kiss, his lips only barely brushing Florence’s flesh, but he didn’t care. He just let her sleep and leaned in to enjoy it before his young nephew came and possibly ruined their fun.