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She knows it’s coming; the heartbreak. But Abigael can’t stop thinking about it.
Because they’re holding hands. Outside the confines of Mel’s bedroom, beyond playful touches around Abigael’s kitchen.
They’re holding hands in public, have been since they stepped into the elevator at the penthouse. Mel hasn’t let go, not yet, not even when the elevator opens up in the lavish lobby of Abigael’s building. Not even when there are people nearby, barely sparing them a glance.
Still connected at the palms, still feeling Mel’s thumb trace her skin. Abigael’s only momentarily not thinking about the fact that Melanie Vera is holding her hand in public as she stresses about whether or not her palm is sweating.
Then Mel squeezes her hand as she gently tugs her to the car and Abigael’s brain snaps back to the fact that- they’re holding hands.
Mel doesn’t let go of her hand in the car either.
But she’s not stupid; she knows the release is coming. She can’t keep this feeling forever.
This feeling of belonging, of being normal. Of being accepted.
Of not being a shameful secret.
She wonders if this time, when Mel pulls her hand back, there will be apology and regret in her eyes like always. A silent request for Abigael to be patient and understanding, a promise that this is not going to last forever.
She hopes that, at least, she’ll get a squeeze of the hand, those are always nice.
The closest thing to a public hug she gets.
She’s the Demon Overlord; she knows her worth, knows she deserves more than- this. Knows that she could have anyone she wanted, all she had to do was strut into a room and choose. They all fall at her feet; ready to worship at her alter. Abigael knows that it would be as simple as picking up the phone and calling any number of her… playthings.
There is a part of her that has too much pride to keep doing this to herself, a part that snarls and snaps its teeth, demanding that she take what she wants and apologize to none.
(A part that, mere hours ago, was trying to murder her.)
(A part she dreads she will lose what little control over it she has.)
(A part that could take away the only thing she has in her life worth having, she thinks as she feigns checking her side mirror; an excuse to look at Mel again in the passenger’s seat.)
(And her rounded belly.)
(Boy, is that a whole other thing to think about…)
She feels it again; the rippling warmth that coats her insides, the protective hum that laces her veins and practically replaces her blood at the thought of losing Mel. At the thought of anything ever happening to her, and now this baby.
Abigael knows, somewhere deeply buried and lost among shadows she doesn’t dare shed light on just yet, that there are more feelings there.
One feeling, in particular that she refuses to even entertain or discuss right now.
(Because she knows she’s all in. In an “I’ll spend the rest of my life naming each individual star for you if you asked it of me” all in kind of way.)
(But she hasn’t the foggiest notion if her feelings are returned. And she may be the Demon Overlord, a Jameson witch and a Caine demon, but she knows that she cannot handle any more rejection. She doesn’t have the strength for it. Not again, not anymore.)
(Not rejection from Melanie Vera.)
Thankfully, Abigael muses to herself, they round the corner and the Vera manor comes into sight. It snaps Abigael back to the reality of them still holding hands, and how that’s about to come to an end. She might as well loosen her hand first.
Mel keeps hold of her hand all the way til they park, right in the driveway.
It sends a thrill down Abigael’s spine; this is the closest to Mel’s sisters they’ve done anything. They might as well defile the breakfast nook right in front of Harry’s full English breakfast.
Abigael rests back against the driver’s seat, head lolling over to tease Mel about exactly that.
“Is this the part where you tell me you’re the full English breakfast?”
Abigael’s smile is the brightest it’s been all day, the most genuine. She relaxes against the seat and adjusts to face Mel better, aiming her flirtiest smirk at Mel.
“My, my. Snarky, aren’t we? Have I rubbed off on you?”
Abigael is met with an eye roll and more snark. She repays Mel’s grumbled reply with a soft but full laugh, eyes glittering with her amusement.
“Not in a while, you haven’t….”
Abigael wishes they could just stay in this bubble forever, bantering and teasing each other. Where the only things on her mind are Mel’s lips, forming around words and stretching into smiles.
“I can do something about that right here, right now, if you’re dissatisfied…”
And Abigael can see the hunger in Mel’s eyes as they drop to her lips.
So Abigael, being the little shit that she is, torturously licks them for Mel’s viewing pleasure, relishing in the way Mel’s eyes snap up to meet hers. Her smirk is predatory, just like her slow advancement on Mel, leaning over the center console slowly to breathe against Mel’s ear, teasing.
“Though we both know you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet… and as much as I’d be thrilled to traumatize your sisters, this would be a rather rude way to tell them about us, don’t you think?”
“Since when do you care if you’re being rude to my sisters or not?”
“Darling, I may be a demon, but I’m also English; I do have manners.”
Instead, her face softens into a little private smile, lifting Mel’s hand still in hers to her lips; Abigael kisses it with a delicacy reserved for acts of worship.
(It makes Mel’s breath stutter and stall and stick to the walls of her throat.)
But she doesn’t get to dwell on it because Abigael’s slipped out of the car and gathered her bags (cheating with her telekinesis a little), opening Mel’s door in moments, hand held out in a gentlewomanly offer of help, but ready to pull back if it’s not needed.
Mel pretends not to see the look of surprise that settles on Abby’s face when she accepts the offer, looking ahead steadfastly as she takes one of the rolling suitcases in one hand and Abby’s hand in the other to keep walking.
“Mel, wait-”
She does, looking calm and at peace – patient and ready to gently quell Abby’s worries. Abigael looks for the rejection in her eyes. Looks a lot.
There isn’t any.
It’s soft, but Mel can hear the hope in Abby’s voice, “are you sure? I can wait. I will wait. There’s a lot going on already.”
“And you’re a part of it. A part of me. They need to know that.”
That deeply buried feeling in Abigael’s blood is threatening to burst right out of her veins.
“Well- alright. But let’s wait til tomorrow morning? I’ve already had an attempt on my life today, I’d like to get some sleep before Macy tries her hand at it too.”
(It has nothing to do with Macy and everything to do with Abigael wanting Mel to sleep on this decision, just in case she changes her mind and wants to wait. She’s sure that if she looks at Mel after they tell her sisters and sees regret- it will be worse than rejection.)
(If Mel sees through it, she doesn’t let on. But she purses her lips when they make it to the front door, looking back at their joined hands. With a soft squeeze, she lets go when Abby loosens her fingers in permission.)
Abigael’s met with hostility, not that she’s surprised. She’s always met with hostility when it comes to the sisters.
Granted, she’ll let this one go; Mel apparently walked out on them without telling them where she’s going or how or who, or really, anything at all. While pregnant. With a baby from the future that might be the key to something huge. A baby that must be protected at all costs.
So for her to come home hours later with Abigael Jameson-Caine of all people is likely not what they had in mind.
Still, it makes not telling them right then easier.
“And she’s brought luggage? I didn’t realize we were running a bed and breakfast now.”
Abigael makes sure to infuse her voice with that breathy, blasé tone that she absolutely knows drives Maggie and Macy mad, “I’d like an egg-whites only omelet with loads of cheese and mushroom for breakfast, and I take my morning tea at exactly 8 in the morning. With milk and precisely two spoons of sugar.”
Maggie looks like she wants to pull Abigael’s hair right out of her scalp.
Abigael relishes in the little vein popping in her temple.
Mel gently elbows her, shooting her a look that Abigael rolls her eyes at but backs off; she’s reminded that it’s probably best not to antagonize either of them if she wants her news with Mel to not end with a vanquishing potion slipped into her morning tea.
Besides, she’s deeply exhausted and aching; scratching at her collarbone and coming up against bandages is a stark reminder of the events of the day.
“Look, Abby’s demon side is trying to kill her again. She’s not safe alone, so she’s gonna stay here til we can figure out a way to control it. We can talk about this later or tomorrow or whatever. But right now, we’re tired and we’re going to sleep. Abby?”
“Wait, hold on. She let her demon side out, of her own volition. How is it our problem that it’s biting her in the ass?”
Abigael is getting cranky and she can’t help but snark back again, “Oh, Macy, I know you’d much rather be the one doing the biting.” She even snaps her teeth at Macy in a feigned bite, sending her a slow kiss right after.
“Abby, quit it. And it’s everyone’s problem if the Demon Overlord keeping the demons in check is dead. It’ll be a bloodbath. Not to mention that it might come after us first and foremost if Abby loses control of it.”
At least that gets everyone to stop arguing.
(Macy keeps glaring though, and Maggie just rolls her eyes and waves a hand around in a “whatever” gesture. Abigael, for her part, keeps standing there and looking smug.)
But they all behave once Mel’s heavy and tired sigh registers, Abigael looking at her in deep concern. She even takes a step closer, and barely keeps herself from reaching out a hand to her.
(It doesn’t go unnoticed, both Maggie and Macy sharing a look.)
So Maggie extends an olive branch and offers to make up the couch for Abigael, who nods as she starts heading there with her bags.
“No need. She’s staying with me.”
It surprises everyone. Abigael most of all.
But Macy’s concerned and won’t stay silent, “Mel, are you sure? If the demon is out of control, and we know it tends to come out when she’s asleep-”
Abigael’s hackles raise at that, spine snapping straight to argue, “I wouldn’t hurt Mel. I won’t let it either.”
So they’re not even being subtle about it anymore, huh?
“And so I’m expected to believe that you can’t stop it from hurting yourself, Oh Self-Absorbed One, but you can keep it from Mel? Right.”
Mel can see smoke faintly wafting off Abby, starting at her fingertips. They’re about to go at each other’s’ throats again when Mel circles Abby’s wrist with her fingers and silently pulls her along up the stairs.
(Macy and Maggie exchange another look at how easily Abby follows; her entire posture seems to relax as she gives Mel all of her attention. She doesn’t even bother to take her bags.)
Abigael can’t sleep.
It’s a lot of things.
The fear that if she closes her eyes, her demon will come back and finish the job this time.
(The fear that she might let it.)
The wonder of being in this room, after walking into it through the front door. Right in front of both Maggie and Macy.
(The wonder of Mel sleeping so soundly beside her, facing her and moving ever so closer as the night wears on.)
But most of all? It’s the rain and the raging storm that started a few hours again.
She slips on her silk robe, not bothering to tie it off or cover the skimpy little night gown she put on for Mel’s pure enjoyment. Abigael makes sure that Mel’s properly tucked in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before phase shifting down to the kitchen for a drink.
She’s standing there, staring into her glass when the lighting lights up the dark kitchen. Instantly, every muscle in Abigael’s body is standing alert and taut, ready for a fight that will not come as an otherworldly roar fills every nook and cranny of the kitchen. Her grip on the glass in her hand tightens when another lightning bolt zigzags across the skyline visible from the kitchen window, and Abigael clenches her jaw, looking away. Her eyes have slipped shut at some point after that, she realizes, and she’s squeezing them closed so hard she’s seeing spots in the darkness of them.
She’s too lost in her own head that she doesn’t hear the footsteps, but she’s (almost) glad to hear Macy’s voice when she speaks up. At least fighting with her will keep her mind off of the storm.
“Is drinking your solution to everything? You might need to talk to someone about that…”
Abigael’s mid-eye roll when she turns, glass of water in view as she speaks, “Oh, and I suppose you care so much you’ll throw me an intervention?”
At least Macy has the decency to look apologetic as she purses her lips, moving to get her own glass of water before perching at the table.
“Can’t sleep?”
“I can see now how you’re the scientist of the family; nothing gets past you, does it?”
“I’m just trying to have a conversation with you, Abby, geez. We should probably try to get along since you’re staying with us a while.”
And Abigael thought she was done with surprises after Mel dragged her to her bedroom. It seems these Charmed Ones are intent on springing them on her today.
Still, she won’t let on. Not yet.
“You expect me to share a bathroom with three women and a whitelighter? Please. I’ll be back at my penthouse by morning.”
“Then why come here at all? With three bags, no less.”
Abigael’s stumped. She can’t exactly say “because Mel asked me to”.
There’s a look in Macy’s eyes that tells her that she doesn’t need to.
It makes Abigael nervous. It makes her want to face the storm again rather than whatever it is Macy has to say next.
There is a silence that stretches between them then, ugly and long. Macy doesn’t break eye contact with Abigael once as she brings her water to her lips.
(Neither does Abigael because nerves or not, she’s not going to let Macy win anything if she can help it. She’s the alpha here and she’ll damn well prove it.)
“So how long has it been?”
Macy’s question is met with a raised brow; Abigael will not cave.
So Macy sighs and does the caving for her, trying again.
“You and Mel. How long have you two been together?”
“I haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about. Inhaled a hallucinogen on your last vanquish, Scientist Barbie? You should get your boy toy to suck it out of you. Might help loosen you up too.”
She’s deflecting, yes, but she’s panicking, okay?
Macy, for her part, smiles faintly even as she rolls her eyes. Clearly, she’s not going to fall into their established antagonizing patterns tonight.
“You know, they’re both such terrible liars. It’s apparently the one thing our mom didn’t teach them. Which is ironic considering how much she lied to them all their lives.”
Abigael knows that if she tries to speak, she’ll dig herself into a deeper hole, so she affects a bored facial expression and stares at Macy, waiting.
“Plus, Mel’s never been one to hide how she feels. Hates being in the closet, in a sense.”
Silence still.
“For god’s sake, Abby, Maggie and I have noticed, okay? You both have the subtlety of a falling anvil. She couldn’t even fake her surprise at your trial confession.”
Abigael might be sweating now. Just a wee bit.
Not because this isn’t exactly what she wants, but because this is not at all what Mel would want.
(The Demon Overlord is so unbelievably whipped.)
But there’s no denying it, really. Macy knows and there’s no way she can convince her otherwise.
“Alright. What now then? Is this where your big sister instincts kick in and you tell me to get out of here, to disappear into the night, and never come back? Perhaps threaten to vanquish me if I’m ever near her again?”
“Don’t think I haven’t considered it, but no. Though I suspect it wouldn’t work anyway, right?”
Abigael only answers with a hum.
“So a while then?”
Another hum.
“Alright. I suppose- it’s our fault she didn’t tell us. Mine, mostly, right?”
Abigael smirks at her, amused, “you literally just admitted to thinking about vanquishing me for being with her. What’d you expect?”
Macy looks down into her glass as a silence coats the space between them, both left to their own thoughts and musings.
Then, a soft voice fills the space between them and Abigael almost has to strain to hear it over the thoughts clanging about in her own head, “I’m sorry, Abby.”
Abigael is convinced she’s having a stroke now because what are these witches doing to her today?
“I know you and I have our issues, and I don’t know if that will ever really go away. And I’m not saying I’m now you’re biggest fan or anything but- I want my sister to be happy. And I never want to cause her any pain. You and I not getting along does that, her having to hide it to keep the peace does that. But us putting in the effort to- not be at each other’s throat all the time will make her happy. So. I’m extending an offer of peace.”
Abigael can’t help but stare at Macy’s hand reaching towards her in the space between them a little like it’s a viper rearing back to strike.
“Okay, I can see that we’re not at the handshake stage yet.”
“Oh, don’t get all soft on me now, Macy Vaughn.”
Abigael smirks softly at the headshake she’s met with. Then she softens.
“Thank you, Macy. I appreciate- that you want to try. Truth is… I’d do anything for her. Even shake your hand.”
This time it’s Abigael that reaches a hand out. Macy doesn’t leave her hanging.
They laps back into silence again, awkward. Neither one of them looks at the other, not even in the general vicinity of each other. Macy chooses to stare out at the raging storm, and it reminds Abigael of why she’s not in bed spooning Mel.
When she next winces at the biggest bolt of lightning yet to scar the surface of the sky, Macy takes notice. Abigael’s surprised to hear a distinct lack of ridicule in Macy’s voice when she speaks to her.
“Not a fan of storms? Is that what’s keeping you up? I can find a soundproofing spell to help with that.”
Abigael smirks dangerously for a moment, “did you know your sister is a screamer in bed?”
Macy looks equal parts confused because where was the segue for that, and equal parts grossed out because show her where she asked.
Abigael, for her part, now just smirks at Macy with teeth. It’s kinda disturbing, Macy thinks.
“I’m just saying. Bold of you to assume I don’t already know how to soundproof Mel’s room.”
So now Macy has to live with the knowledge that at some point, she’s been in the same house as a naked Abigael Jameson-Caine debauching her sister.
But at least Abigael drops it, turning to give her back to the window.
“It isn’t the thunder. Though that’s unpleasant too. It’s actually the lightning.”
Abigael’s tone is light and self-deprecating, but it does nothing to mask the deep hurt, the deep trauma inflicted upon her from a young age.
“I suppose being restrained with shock cuffs as a toddler would leave some lasting effects, huh? I’ve never liked anything to do with electricity.”
“Abby…”
“Please don’t tell me you’re sorry for me and what I endured.”
So Macy shuts up.
“Add to that the fact that I don’t do well in confined spaces; Mel’s room isn’t a crate, but there are still too many walls for my liking, and you get a Demon Overlord that’s… on edge, shall we say.”
“I could set up the couch for you if you’d prefer? At least find you blankets, anyway. The living room’s a little more- uhm, roomy.”
“Words really aren’t your strong suit, are they Science Spice?”
The two share a soft chuckle at that. It helps Abigael relax enough to keep talking.
“It hasn’t been this bad in a while. But I suppose the trial, and seeing my mother again-”
Abigael laughs at Macy’s involuntary and almost automatic response of, “that woman is a wretched bitch.”
“Anyway. The trial triggered- a lot. Between the nightmares and the childhood trauma and memories, and fears I was so sure I was over… not to mention this whole demon trying to kill me thing, likely another thing triggered by the trial, I can’t really sleep.”
The silence stretches long enough that Abigael wonders if she maybe overshared.
“I don’t know if I’m qualified to help with the other stuff, but- I can help with the demon stuff. You help with mine, and I’ll help with yours. We’ll get it under control somehow.”
She doesn’t exactly say the word ‘promise’ anywhere in that sentence, but Abigael thinks she hears it all the same. So she nods slowly and hesitantly back at Macy.
(Abigael doesn’t exactly say the words ‘thank you’ anywhere in that sentence, but Macy thinks she hears them all the same, too.)
They don’t get a chance to say anything more though because Mel’s here, bedraggled and disheveled with the most adorable sleepy crinkle lacing her brows together, “everything alright in here?”
“Dandy. Macymort here was just giving me the usual about my being an evil wretch and how utterly pure of heart she is.”
Mel looks like she’s about to rip into Macy and Abigael chuckles.
“I’m only joking, love. We came down for water and crossed paths, nothing more. Come on, let’s get you back into bed, hm?”
Macy watches Abigael fill a glass of water for Mel too – room temp, just how Mel likes it – and wrap an arm around her shoulder as they turn back towards the stairs. She smiles softly as Mel leans into Abby a little, mumbling a goodnight back to her sleepily. Completely distracted by Abigael already as Abby leans in to whisper something in her ear. Maybe she’s telling her that they don’t need to keep hiding. Not that they are right now anyway.
Macy hopes they won’t be when the sun’s out too.
(She also hears Abby say something about rubbing and Mel’s harshly whispered, “Abby-!” and immediately nopes the hell out of that conversation.)
(Especially because Mel’s response wasn’t even- a protest. Macy makes a mental note to soundproof her own room. And Maggie’s.)
Though she feels her stomach fill with a warm feeling when she spots Abby press a smiling kiss to Mel’s head as they round the corner.
In the morning, when Mel and Abigael finally join the group for breakfast, walking into a serious conversation about Abigael’s demon side and how to best help Abby control it, nobody says anything about the two of them holding hands as they sit at the table.
Maggie sets a cup in front of Abigael; it’s 8 AM.
Tea. With milk and precisely two spoons of sugar.