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Mel’s conflicted.
She wants to check on Abigael, desperately so after the way they had left things when Abby came to see her after her coma.
(Snuck into her room in the shadows, and left as smoke on the wind. No trace for Mel’s sisters to track.)
(Like a dirty secret Mel’s ashamed of, Abby would say. Not that she needed her to verbalize it; she could see it all – in the tired lines of Abigael’s face, her loosened jaw that would normally be taut with tension and a fire. In the rejected plead in her soft eyes so few people were allowed to see.)
All Mel wants is to be able to curl Abby into her lap and press kisses to her hair, murmur against her skin that she’s not going anywhere, that she’s here and she wants Abigael. Wholly so, with all of her demons.
She wants to sear it into Abigael’s skin with gentle fingers that just because she comes from wretched monsters that tried their hardest to shatter Abigael and squash any shred of good in her doesn’t mean she isn’t worthy. Of friendship, of companionship, of respect.
Of love, and of Mel.
And Mel’s not blind or stupid, or even forgetful. She’s got- smitten goggles on, sure, but she’s not about to ignore all the animosity and bad blood between them and Abigael.
(The woman’s first ever day meeting Mel and her sisters was going to end in bloodshed – Macy’s blood to be exact. Mel can’t simply forget or ignore that, and neither can Abigael.)
(Lord knows Macy certainly hasn’t.)
Which is why Mel’s conflicted.
Not about her feelings for one Abigael Jameson-Caine, Demon Overlord with dangerous habits and a heart that’s been crudely stitched back together over and over.
No, certainly no conflict about those.
Telling her sisters, however…
She so desperately wants them all to get along because Abby deserves better than how they’ve been treating her, but she knows she can’t force it.
Still, she knows there is hope, especially after that cursed trial.
(Mel also knows that her sisters aren’t saints either; dosing Abigael with truth serum and forcibly extracting her feelings and thoughts out of her without her consent is a huge issue that will definitely need to be addressed.)
But they’ve begrudgingly been trying to be less hostile towards Abby. Meeting Abigael’s witch with a capital B mother had filled in a lot of blanks and opened their eyes to the fact that Abigael was- a victim. All her life, she’d had to fight and scrape and strive to survive.
Mel knew she needed to get Macy and Maggie to embrace Abigael before she could bring up the fact that somewhere along the way, Abigael and Mel had fallen for each other.
But how long would that take? And would Abby even wait that long anymore?
Not to mention this new complication in Mel’s life, she thought to herself as she looked down at her protruding belly…
Things that morning with Abigael a few days ago had been so tense before she’d disappeared on Mel that Mel was struggling to remember if Abby had even noticed or not. And now she needed to go and find out.
If she ever managed to get past Maggie and her incessant questioning about what she knew of the baby and its other parent anyway.
Truth is, Mel hadn’t the foggiest notion (the term brings a faint smile to her lips; Abby’s vernacular rubbing off on her already) and she’s not too sure she wants to know just yet either.
Right now though, she’s had to resort to sneaking out from under their noses by pretending to need to pee again and making a beeline for the door with only one destination in mind; Abigael’s penthouse.
She’s a bundle of nerves in the elevator; she has no idea what to expect, how would Abigael handle this? What would a negative reaction mean for them? What would a positive one mean?
(Hell, is there a “them” at all to be affected? She thinks to herself, unable to shake that one fear the longer the seconds seem to tick by on her climb up the building.)
She’s jolted out of her thoughts though when the elevator opens up and she’s greeted with the penthouse.
Rather, with the wrecked state of the place.
The place has been trashed; mirrors and windows broken and glass everywhere, furniture upturned and in pieces about the living room, a few scorch marks marring the walls, and – Mel’s stomach turns at the sight – blood droplets splattered here and there.
With her heart in her throat and a hand protectively on her belly, she holds her other hand out in preparation to freeze anything that might attack them.
Her voice surprises her with how measured and under control it is when she calls out for Abigael.
It isn’t nearly as composed when she’s met with silence that provokes a louder, somewhat more frantic call of Abby’s name.
There’s noise coming from the second floor that startles Mel, and she whirls around with her hand raised and ready for a fight.
(In the back of her mind, she knows she should call out for Harry to get her out of here, but she knows she won’t. She won’t leave Abigael at the mercy of whatever the hell happened here.)
She hears stumbling and glass crunching, hears a weak hiss of pain and recognizes it far sooner than the face that staggers out of the bedroom towards the second floor’s railing.
Her heart skips a beat at the sight; Abigael. Alive, but- barely so?
She looks pale- paler than usual; she’s almost glowing with a sickly sheen of sweat. Her loose grey shirt is spotted with what Mel assumes is sweat, studiously ignoring the few patches of blood staining the shirt.
(And the rough bandage work on her collarbone that’s a darkening maroon.)
Her face looks gaunt; the dark circles under her eyes so purple and prominent they look almost like bruises. Her eyes look weak, haunted and a little disoriented.
Mel’s seen that look on her face before; she knows what’s happened here, what attacked Abigael so viciously.
Abigael had.
Abigael leans against the railing, tired and weak but her eyes snap to focus on Mel, voice hoarse but firm; protective.
“Mel, leave here before it’s back. I don’t want to hurt you. Either of you.”
Alright, so she’s noticed. Or is at least handling it pretty well right now, all things considered.
“Abby, you’re hurt. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Mel, please. I’m not- in much control of it right now.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving you to handle this alone.”
“Melanie-”
“No, Abigael.”
She boldly climbs the stairs towards Abby, the Overlord trying to keep the distance between them as Mel gets closer, but she’s too weak, stumbling over a chair on its side. She barely catches herself from falling onto her ass, wincing, and Mel realizes that the earlier pained hiss came from Abigael stepping on glass barefoot.
So Mel steadies her and helps her to sit, staying close when Abigael’s hands weakly stay anchored to Mel’s waist. She steps in closer between Abigael’s legs as they make space for her, Abby’s fingers frail when they scrunch on her waist, Abigael’s weary head pressing to the side of her growing bump.
(Mel’s heart flutters at the gesture, thinking about the tender moment this would be if their circumstances were different.)
Abigael’s grip tightening around Mel, the hitch in her throat, the reverent way she whispers Mel’s name into her shirt anchor Mel back in the here and now.
Her back’s killing her, and her feet aren’t that far behind, but she stays there – hands in Abigael’s hair and gently scratching – until Abigael’s shoulders loosen enough that they’re not practically at the same level as her ears.
“Where’s your first-aid kit, baby?”
And, wow, okay, they’re at pet names now?
Abby seems to share in her surprise when she looks up at Mel from her seated spot, her lips parted a little but no snarky comment comes forth. Croaking instead, “in the bathroom under the sink. Assuming it hasn’t gotten rid of it to prevent me from fixing myself up again…”
Mel doesn’t dwell on that thought. But she bends down enough to press a soft kiss to Abigael’s forehead before heading towards the master bedroom’s bathroom.
(Her back twinges a little when she retrieves the kit from under the sink and she makes a mental note to have Abby give her a back rub after they’ve dealt with- all this.)
She finds a chair and drags it to sit at Abby’s feet, raising a brow at her to lift her bleeding foot onto Mel’s lap so she can clean and bandage her wound. When Abigael looks like she’ll resist still, Mel’s brow arches higher and Abigael faintly smiles, exhausted but complying, but Mel’s internally happy to note that it at least reaches her eyes.
The contentment and joy Abigael feels in Mel’s presence really brings out the hazel of her eyes.
Mel hums softly as she cleans the wound and bandages it, touch gentling when Abby tenses at the sting. She waits til she’s done completely before asking.
“What happened, Abby? I thought it wasn’t-”
“Trying to kill me anymore? I thought so too.”
Mel waits for Abigael to gather her thoughts then, scooting her chair closer to take a closer look at the gashes – claw marks, she realizes – along Abigael’s collar. She can’t help the pained look that crosses her face at the sight; she knows Abigael is probably in a lot of pain from these. Her heart hurts a little more at the tough act Abigael’s putting on to not seem weak, vulnerable. She thought they’d be past the need for that by now…
She hadn’t realized her finger was so very gently tracing a line parallel to the gashes along Abby’s unmarred skin until she feels Abigael press a lingering kiss to her cheek, murmuring softly that it looks worse than it feels. She hadn’t even realized how close they were sitting.
“Besides, don’t women find scars attractive?” Abigael smirks at her, a bit of her usual spark slowly seeping back into her tone and face, and Mel smiles faintly at the evidence of it.
Mel knows what’s happening here; Abigael is putting on a brave face, trying to make Mel feel okay despite her own pain.
Abigael is still trying to earn her favor, afraid to lose her.
So Mel brushes the backs of her fingers along Abigael’s jawline, smiles softly at her before telling her to take off her shirt.
“Why, Melanie Vera, I didn’t realize scars would be that attractive to you,” Abby smirks lewdly as she slowly peels her shirt off, masking the pain the motion of her shoulders moving elicits in her collar.
All she gets from Mel is an eye roll in return.
They spend the next few moments in silence as Mel cleans and dresses the claw marks, and Abby grits her teeth against it all.
But Mel can’t stand the silence any longer.
“You said it hadn’t happened in a while. Not since we-”
Mel gently glares at Abigael when she tries to shrug her shoulder, softening at the immediate flashes of pain she sees in Abby’s eyes at the motion.
It sounds defeated, resigned to her fate, when Abigael speaks, “must have been the Tomb. And the trial likely didn’t help; seeing her.”
Mel feels her heart clench at the reminder. Nothing about that trial was fair. It was just- cruel. Abigael had been laid bare and raw, vulnerable against her will.
The memories of Francesca Jameson would make Mel’s blood seethe and boil. She can’t imagine what it must have done to Abigael at the time.
But here she is now, sitting among the aftermath of it.
“I’m so sorry, Abby…”
“Don’t be, darling. It was necessary. I would have been stuck in that hellscape for eternity otherwise. With her.”
(The word “darling” should not provoke such a visceral reaction from Mel, and yet. She’s sure Abigael can hear her heart rattling against her ribcage, begging for Abigael to take it into her own.)
Mel finishes bandaging Abby in silence, letting Abigael process her thoughts further. Waiting on her to sort them into coherent sentences she’s willing to share.
She’s trying to be blasé about it when she speaks next, but Mel can hear the still unresolved hurt underlying Abigael’s words, “I can’t imagine almost losing you to that coma helped either.”
“Baby-”
Okay, so they’re definitely settling into that, huh?
“No, let me finish. You want me to be honest, don’t you?”
Mel’s “of course” barely slips out before Abigael continues.
(Probably before she loses her bravery.)
“My two sides have been at war with each other all my life, and that fire’s always been stoked by my delightful parents. And you know what they say to me? They’re not fighting over who is stronger, who needs to be in charge; they fight to see who can convince me I’m not good enough the most. Not witch enough, not demon enough. Certainly not human enough. All they do is remind me in my every waking moment that I will never be worthy. Not of love and friendship, certainly not of you. Not even worthy to be alive anymore either, if my demon side has anything to say about that.
So. Not being there, not even being asked to help because- your sisters still don’t trust me? That was like pouring petrol on the already blazing inferno inside.”
Mel looks away in shame, distraught. Her eyes are full of tears she wills to stay in place when Abigael gently lifts her face back towards her own, her smile so delicate it breaks Mel’s heart.
How is there so much love in that gaze, even now?
“I’m not telling you this to hurt you, my love…”
(Mel wonders if the use of those two words in that order, in that combination is intentional. If Abigael means it. Means it that Mel is- that to her.)
(She desperately hopes so.)
Then Abigael’s voice hitches, her eyes softer, vulnerable.
“But I need help, Mel… I don’t know how much longer I can do this, if I’ll survive this again…”
Scared.
And just like that, in the face of Abigael’s ragged breath – caused by fear and not any of their more… pleasurable… activities – Mel’s conflict vanishes.
She’s loyal to her sisters; she knows if anything ever happened to them, she’d die.
But.
She’ll lose Abigael if she doesn’t do something either.
And that’s a reality she won’t allow either.
“Pack a bag. Two, or even three. Everything you need. We’re not staying here.”
“Mel…?”
“I’m not leaving you, Abigael. Not here, to face your demons alone.”
“Mel, where am I gonna go then- surely you’re not taking me back to your house… Maggie and Macy-”
“- will deal. I’m not going to lose you to yourself, Abigael. Your demon side is going to get spanked six ways to Sunday before it tries to hurt you again.”
That works to lighten Abigael’s mood, smirking faintly.
“You know it would probably be into spanking…”
Mel blushes as she mutters that Abigael much prefers to be the one dishing it out.
The space around them fills with Abigael’s soft laughter, genuine and content. Mel’s face feels like it’ll split from the smile that sound brings to her face.
When Abigael’s slender fingers cradle Mel’s jaw with their very tips, the faintest little pull coaxing Mel’s face closer, and their lips pressing together in what can only be described as “sweetly”, Mel swears she tastes sunshine and hope on Abigael’s tongue.
Mel’s eyes remain closed a moment longer to bask in the feeling when Abby pulls away…
“So. Should we discuss the elephant in the room now?”
… And promptly snap open so she can see where Abby is and land a soft backhand against her arm in outrage.
“Are you calling me fat?!”
Abigael’s laugh rings around them again, and Mel kinda forgets what her outrage was about just now.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling. But I will call you beautiful.”
She’s met with narrowed eyes and a soft head shake, nodding her towards the bedroom to pack a bag already, and a reminder to watch where she’s stepping.
Mel waits patiently as Abigael packs, smiling to herself as she listens to Abby putter about and mutter to herself as she determines what she’ll need and for how long.
She’s checking her phone and rolling her eyes at Maggie’s series of texts dramatically telling her she’s rude for sneaking out like she did, and where the hell is she anyway, and Macy’s single text letting her know Maggie’s ranting has devolved into an online shopping spree they most definitely cannot afford so please just tell her where you are.
Abigael’s cleared throat pulls Mel’s gaze away from texting Maggie to chill and she’s going to be home soon, eyes first taking in the two suitcases and one duffle bag Abigael’s packed before she sees- the wee Ursula plush. She glances up at Abigael and sees the pink flooding her cheeks as she avoids making eye contact with Mel as she speaks.
“Ursula’s always been my favorite witch,” she shrugs a little when she finally makes eye contact, her smile small and genuine, if a little embarrassed, “until now, anyway.” When Mel continues to sit in silence, looking between the Ursula plush and Abby, she gets nervous, rambling.
(Very unlike the powerful Demon Overlord she is, she notes to herself.)
“Bouncy’s a chatterbox; she told Jordy and he let it slip to me before I managed to come see you after your coma- is this not alright…? It’s silly and out of line, isn’t it; I’ll just take it back and we’ll pretend it never happened-”
Mel’s in her space in moments, hand on Abby’s on the plush, bringing it into her own hands.
“You absolutely will not. I love it. So will the baby.”
It takes another moment, Abigael reading Mel’s face for any signs of discomfort, releasing a slow breath when she sees none, bringing the back of Mel’s hand in hers up to her lips for a soft kiss.
They don’t speak further, Abigael using her telekinesis to move her bags towards the elevator, hand firmly in Mel’s hand that isn’t clutching Ursula to herself.
The elevator closes as Mel rolls her eyes because Abigael just can’t help herself,
“So, does this mean I can be Daddy now?”