Work Text:
Not Getting Credit (beams like there's sunlight in her lips)
3
Amity sighs as she glances up at the wall once more; maybe this time it’ll be different, she hopes foolishly.
It’s not.
JOIN NOW! The board says, a cartoon smiley face covering most of its space. The thing’s been taunting her for the better part of three days, and she’s about four seconds from tearing it down, schoolyard reputation be damned.
Why is there nothing interesting to do?
Not for the first time, she wishes she would just let herself play Grudgby again. She knows she’d be let back on the team - would probably be reinstated as the captain, even. Boscha would be upset, but she’d get over it eventually. And Amity misses the game so much. But she hates the person she becomes on the court; an arrogant show-off, willing to do anything to get the win, and nowadays even looking at her old varsity jacket gives her nothing but more guilt. It still hangs in her closet. She doubts she’ll ever get rid of it.
Honestly, she really doesn’t have enough free time to even be looking to add something onto her schedule right now, but-
But she needs a new extracurricular to replace Grudgby, or she’s actually going to go insane.
Between the most packed schedule at Hexside that she’s allowed, Lilith Clawthorne’s extra apprentice classes, homework for all of those, and being her parents’ test dummy for their bi-weekly tech reveals, she scarcely has three hours a week to herself. Books don’t work - she can’t bring herself to read anything else after spending all day staring at textbooks, and even her precious Azura books have gone unread for a longer time than usual. She needs something.
Grudgby had been good for that - it’d been a distraction, as much as it was bad for her as a whole. She’d loved the sport - she still loves it - but it hadn't worked out. She’d messed it up. She’d hurt people, and she hurts people enough on her normal days already.
Her friends are no help at all. When asked, all Skara can suggest is Grudgby again, which makes the rest of the conversation very awkward, with Boscha glaring daggers at her the entire time. Amity doesn’t want to play Grudgby anymore, but neither of them can seem to get that through their thick skulls.
Still, they’re the only friends she has, so she still seeks them out at lunchtime, sitting at their usual table.
“Where were you before class?” Boscha asks, narrowing her eyes. She’s always so confrontational. Amity sighs.
“Looking at the activities board,” she says honestly, too tired to come up with a believable lie. Maybe her friends will have actual suggestions this time.
(She doubts it.)
“Are you still searching for an extracurricular?” Skara asks sympathetically. Amity nods, avoiding meeting her eyes in favor of finishing up her lunch. “I know you said you don’t want to, but why don’t you just rejoin the Grudgby team? The girls miss having you as our captain!”
Sigh. She doesn’t mean anything by it; it’s Skara, for Emperor’s sake, but it’s clearly the wrong thing to say, judging by the way Boscha tenses beside her. Amity hopes that if she stays quiet and ignores the proposal, Boscha will drop the subject. She’s wrong.
Apparently feeling particularly crabby today, Boscha studies her fingernails and says, in a voice too casual to actually be so, “Why don’t you join the botany club, Amity?”
“Wait, what?” Skara probably doesn’t even recognize the barb that’s hidden there; probably doesn’t remember her childhood well enough, but Amity sure does. Without another word, without even looking in Boscha’s direction, she takes her mercifully empty plate and leaves, the picture of calm etiquette. She’ll spend the rest of the lunch period in the library.
Boscha knows damn well why not.
---
So maybe she gets a little desperate. It’s fine. She’s fine.
She just needs an extracurricular.
Amity gives up on finding anything at Hexside. Nothing is interesting, or everything is full, and she’s not joining the damn botany club, no matter how much they’re looking for new members. She’s not a sadist.
The library typically has a board of bounties up in the entry-area. With any luck, there’ll be a couple posters she can look at for doing something after school.
But her luck seems to have dried up years ago, because there’s absolutely nothing. Still, Amity looks, but all she sees is countless bounties (she sees that the The Owl Lady’s has gone up another ten-thousand snails) and some sort of ‘be my friend’ listing. No, thank you.
Someone clears their throat behind her. Amity whirls around; there’s a cloaked demon standing there, looking down at her with piercing yellow eyes. “Can I help you?” She asks. She’s never seen him before, but he looks like the quiet-type, anyways. Then he opens his mouth.
“My name’s Malphas,” he says, scratching the inside of his ear. “And I'm the head librarian. You’re a Blight, yeah?”
Amity twitches. Straightens her back and says, “Amity Blight, yes.”
“Thought so. The hair gives it away,” he says, looking proud of himself. Amity supposes that’s a good thing; that her roots haven’t yet grown out in a noticeable way. “Anyways, what’ve you been lookin’ at? Most of this stuff isn’t kiddie business, y’know?”
“I’m not looking for a bounty,” Amity replies stiffly, “I’m looking for - I don't know - a club or something, anything.”
A beat. “..Anything?” Malphas cocks his head. “What about a job?”
Never let it be said Amity Blight is anything but skeptical. “What do you mean?” She asks, fixing her posture.
“Well, right now, we’re actually looking for a volunteer for a specific activity,” Malphas says, surveying her. “Which could eventually lead to a job, if you’re interested in that sort of thing.”
Amity raises her eyebrows. “Really? That’d be great. What would I be doing?” That almost sounds too good to be true.
He strokes his chin, beginning to lead her down a passageway. Wherever they’re heading, it’s… suspiciously loud, full of high-pitched laughter and squeals. “How would you say you are with children, Blight?”
So she ends up with a part-time volunteer job at the library reading to children. It’s… not the worst. Actually, it’s pretty fun, and the kids seem to like her, and she understands how fun it is to read at that age. Stories are something she knows, more than anything, and though these kids are a bit too young for Azura, Amity has many other favorites she’s sure they’ll love.
And if she happens to find a secret room in the library on only her second day, a room that’s just begging to be turned into a twelve-year old witch’s book hideout, well, then sometimes things just work out.
---
2
Amity sets out from Blight Manor with a purpose; a determined stride in her step. It’s about midmorning, her parents have been out of town on a business trip for the past few days, and she is on a mission. Her siblings had even been less annoying already, and had let her go without too much questioning.
She would be in a good mood, if she wasn’t absolutely petrified.
This is perhaps the most nerve-wracking thing she’s ever done. Pull yourself together, she thinks angrily, you’ve already defied your parents and confessed to Luz. this can’t possibly be any worse. And then, ohh Titan, what am I thinking? Of course it can! And it will be! Still, she gets as far as the Parks’ front door before freezing, which, in hindsight, is a lot farther than she’d expected of herself. Good job, Amity.
Except.. she can’t seem to actually bring herself to knock.
“Okay,” she says, because she might as well just talk to herself, why not, “and so you reach out-” she does so - “Aaaand you just- just knock on the door.”
Her hand stills. She doesn’t knock on the door.
Amity huffs a breath through her nose, frustrated. “Okay,” she says again, taking a couple deep breaths. She readied herself. “And you- knock on the door.”
Surprising perhaps the entire universe, she actually does it this time; managing two sharp raps against the wood and ohhhhh this is even worse. She knocks, and then fights the urge to immediately dart back into the woods and ding-dong-ditch whoever was about to come to the door. Maybe she shouldn’t stop there, either; maybe she should just vanish into the wilderness and never speak to anyone ever again. That’d be easier than this.
Sadly enough, someone actually answers the door. Amity curls her hands into fists.
Willow’s Papa is polite - he always was - but even he can’t fully hold back his flabbergasted expression when he opens the door and sees who it is. Amity thinks he probably would have expected to see the Emperor himself knocking on the door before her. “Can I… help you?” He asks finally, darting a quick glance into the house.
Amity swallows. “Um. I’m looking for Willow?” If possible, his eyes only open wider, and she winces. “I-If she’s not home, I can come back later. Sorry. I- I’ll come back later. Yeah. That's a good idea.” She’s panicking and she knows it, and shame coils hotly in her shoulder blades, but she doesn’t care, she just wants to get out of here now and-
“Amity?”
She freezes. Willow’s Papa sucks in a sharp breath.
Willow nudges her way past him, a quiet curiosity shining in her gaze. “What are you doing here?”
Good question, Amity thinks, um, panicking? Making an ass out of myself? Disrupting your lovely home-life? She says smoothly, “Uh. Here to see you. If that’s okay.” The last words come out of her in a rush; now there’s concern building up in those green eyes, concern she doesn’t deserve, and she swallows harder.
“Uh,” Willow says, and she’s just as awkward, but that only makes Amity feel even worse; Titan, she’s ruining everything, she never should have come, and she would very much like it if she went like an Abomination and melted into a puddle of goo right now. Please.
Disappointing all three witches, she doesn’t melt. But she does stand there like a useless bat, with only slightly less flapping.
Finally Willow seems to have worked through her own mental hurdles, and she steps aside, patting her Papa out of the way. “Sure,” she says, kinder than Amity’s ever deserved. “C’mon in.”
“Flower-” says Willow’s Papa, but he cuts himself off, casting another worried glance at Amity. That she deserves. “Are you sure-”
“Yeah, Papa.” Willow smiles. It’s a bit strained, but Willow’s always been too understanding for the world to handle. “Everything’s okay.” She turns to Amity, and with only a slightly awkward wave of her hand, says, “well, you know where my room is, right? Unless you forgot or something.”
Amity feels the ever-familiar stupidity start to well up in her throat; she bites it down and says nothing (the most intelligent decision she’s yet made today), instead just gives Willow a nod and follows her down the hallway. She does remember where her old friend’s room is, and she doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.
Willow shuts the door behind them when they enter, and for a moment, Amity’s overwhelmed with memories. She’d spent so much of her childhood here, once upon a time. Both of them had preferred Willow’s house over Amity’s for playdates, and Titan-
Willow’s room is the same. It’s like seven years haven’t passed since Amity was last here. The thought makes her chest ache.
“So,” Willow says, fidgeting with her hands. “Did...you have something to tell me, or..?”
“I - sure did,” Amity stammers. She takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, fixes her gaze squarely on the (still familiar) ceiling, and then says, “I want to apologize.”
A beat. Willow might be gearing up to say something, but if she gets a chance to talk then Amity’s going to lose her nerve, so she powers on, “I never apologized before, not really, and that’s my fault - everything’s my fault, actually, so - and I was so cruel to you, and now we’re in the same place a lot of the time because of Luz so I really can’t avoid you - not that I want to - it’s just. Awkward.”
She tenses, but nothing happens, which is almost worse. There’s only silence. Fearing the worst, Amity finally meets Willow’s gaze.
“...Did Luz put you up to this?” Willow asks, suddenly looking very tired. “I told her not to meddle, and-”
“What? No.” Amity says, blinking. “Luz doesn’t even know I’m here. This is all me. And I know I’m messing it up, just-” she exhales, frustrated with herself. “Just be quiet for two seconds and let me think!”
Willow shuts her mouth. And maybe Amity shouldn’t be yelling at her right now, but desperate times...
“I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven,” Amity says after a moment, and they’re some of the truest words that have ever left her mouth. “I know I don’t deserve Luz, and I know I don’t deserve the second chance she’s given me. But I’m - I’m trying to become the person she thinks I am. I want to be the kind of witch someone can befriend,” Amity continues, now determined not to break eye contact. “The kind of witch who can fix what she’s broken. That’s why I’m here. I’m sorry.”
There’s another long silence. Willow never looks away either; just blinks at her slowly, taking her in. Then she says, quietly, “Thank you.”
Acceptance. Not necessarily forgiveness - that’s fine. Acceptance is already more than Amity thinks she deserves.
The tension billows out of Amity’s shoulders so fast she nearly topples over. “I’m sorry,” she says again, because Willow deserves more than just one apology. “I’m trying to be better now. And.. I’d very much like it if we could be friends again, one day.”
Immediately Amity regrets that last bit. She should’ve left it at sorry - this is asking too much now-
“Did I ever tell you that I really like what you’ve done with your hair?” Willow asks suddenly. Amity blinks at the compliment; Willow shrugs with a small smile. “I never liked the green very much. It made you look too much like your mother.”
“That... was the point,” Amity admits quietly, clutching at the bottom of her shirt. “I like it too. The purple, I mean. I think it suits me better.”
Willow’s face softens. “It makes you look…. warmer,” she says, and it shouldn’t make sense but it does.
“Thank you,” Amity says, and means it.
---
1
“What,” Amity pants, struggling to get her breath back. “The hell am I doing right now.”
It’s a fair question. Considering she shouldn’t be here. Considering here is the Conformatorium. Considering that she has no backup, no idea how she’s actually going to pull this off, and no selfless love for the person she’s doing this entire endeavor for.
The grate is surprisingly easy to pry open. Amity spends about three seconds wondering if the Emperor’s Coven has enough funding and where all their taxes go, and then remembers she doesn’t care anymore.
She has to remember that a lot.
Landing with a slight thud, Amity dusts herself off, glancing cautiously into the tunnels nearby her.
No Coven Guards coming to arrest her. Not yet, at least.
Careful not to rush, she reaches into her pouch and pulls out a potion Eda had made her. Amity had told her that she needed it to find an earring she’d lost, but the real reason was that she has no idea how to navigate the inside of the Conformatorium, and she can’t afford to wander. She pulls a piece of cloth out from where she’d tucked it into her sleeve and pours the potion - a sickly pink color - onto it.
Eda better be as good at potion-making as she says she is, Amity thinks, getting twitchy as the seconds go by and nothing happens.
Until eventually it turns into a glowing trail that only she can see, leading through one of the tunnels and disappearing around a corner. Thank the Emperor, she thinks on pure instinct, and then, wait, no. Too short on time to ponder new god-like beings to swear on, she picks up her staff, leaves the empty potion bottle on the ground, and begins to follow it.
There’s so many close calls. Coven guards are constantly turning corners so quickly she barely has two seconds to hide - at some point, there are actual booby traps that she has to use her staff to fly over. They must have buffed their security after Luz and Eda broke in.
Well, they didn’t buff it enough.
It takes her a little longer than she’d like, but she eventually makes it to the level where they hold the prisoners. Thank the Titan(?), all but one of the cells are empty. When she finally lays her eyes on the correct chamber, the person inside of it is snoring, and her first instinct tells her to turn around and go back home. No one would ever know - ignorance is bliss, and Amity wouldn’t have to deal with whatever bullshit is about to be pulled.
But for better or worse, she’s an honorable witch now, and honorable witches don’t leave people in jail cells. Not even if they’re the absolute worst.
“Hey!” Amity strides forward; knocks on one of the bars of the cell. It makes a loud clanging sound, and the witch inside finally wakes up, jerking to his feet with a mumble that sounds suspiciously close to You’ll never take me alive! She pinches the bridge of her nose, already beginning to feel a headache. “Wake up, numbskull. I’m here to rescue you.”
Finally realizing exactly who his savior is, Hunter’s quick retort dies on his tongue. “ Baby Blight?”
Amity’s scowl deepens. “Call me that again, and I’m leaving you here to rot.” Before he can say anything else, however, she commands her newly-summoned abomination to rip the door off its hinges. It does so easily, and she feels a tinge of pride at her improvement. Had it been a month ago, she doubts she would’ve been able to pull that off.
He doesn’t move, because he’s an idiot. “Why are you here,” he says, and then has the audacity to wrinkle his nose at her.
“Does that really matter?” She demands. “I’m here, for better or worse, and I can always just leave if you want!” She can hear the sounds of metal boots approaching - three of them, she thinks. Not enough to stop her.
The Guards come barrelling into the room, but her abomination is ready for them. She commands it to wrap around their feet all at once and run them into the wall. One manages to dodge her initial attack, but the abomination only slithers under their strike and wraps around their head instead.
“For the record,” Amity begins, casually sweeping up all three Guards and depositing them neatly into Hunter’s former cell. They’re knocked out cold, so even though there’s not exactly a door anymore, they should be staying put for a little while, and his new roommates ensure that Hunter finally steps out, glaring at her. “I still don’t trust you. But you being in the Conformatorium is worrying Luz so much she’s practically getting sick. That’s the only reason I’m here.”
She tosses his weird tech-y staff at him. Still sluggish, he barely manages to catch it. “Am I still sleeping?” He runs his hand through his hair, checking the back of his neck as if he’s looking for a possible head injury. “Because this is like dream weird.”
Rolling her eyes, she smacks him upside the head. Lightly. “You’re not dreaming. Now hurry up and come on - I don’t want to have to fight every single coven guard if I don’t have to.” Giving her a deeply injured look - which she ignores - Hunter follows her.
Out in the tunnels, four more Coven Guards are waiting for them, spears raised.
“Why didn’t you bring backup, Blight?” Hunter shouts, and even from across the room, Amity can feel his scowl on her back.
She takes out the first attacking Guard with a second Abomination, which promptly dissolves into goo and goes to wrap up the other Guard who had been trying to creep up behind her. “I didn’t want Luz to get hurt!” She calls back, and the only response is an annoyed grunt.
Besides, she’s not stupid. She’d left a letter back in her room, which, unless she’s back within 24 hours, is enchanted to go and tell Luz where she is. She wouldn’t have just walked into the Boiling Isles’ most secure prison without some sort of backup plan.
...She just really hopes it doesn’t go that way.
It’s only once she’s dispatched the third Guard does she realize that the one Hunter is going against is Warden Wrath, which, oops. Hunter’s not a bad fighter (she’s loath to admit), but he has just spent the past while in a prison cell, and Warden Wrath is tricky enough when you’re at your best.
But he’s not very good at fighting more than one enemy at once.
Before the Warden even clocks where she is, Amity’s split her abomination into two smaller ones; they fly forward to wrap around his ankles just as Hunter ducks away from what would’ve been a particularly nasty blow to the head.
Then, in one fluid motion, she throws him into the wall. Hard.
Warden Wrath hits the stone with a slightly-worse-than-meant crack, and Amity winces. She’ll have to apologize to Braxas for that one.
But she can’t worry about that right now. There are more guards coming; she can hear the clack-clack-clack of their standard-issue boots, and they’re coming fast. “Come on,” she says to Hunter, who’s frozen, staring at Wrath’s slumped figure.
“Titan,” he mutters, giving her a wary glance. “You’re kinda scary, Blight.”
A spark of pride. “Good.”
Amity remembers the way she came, and also remembers the same hiding spots she’d used on the way in. They don’t come face-to-face with any more Guards, even though the entire Conformatorium definitely knows they’re here somewhere.
She checks the grate before they climb - it’s safe. Most Guards probably don’t even know about it; a stupid flaw in their system. She climbs first, then helps pull Hunter up with her.
Silently, Amity and Hunter make their way to safety - the forest surrounding the Conformatorium is too big for the Coven Guards to search, and even if they try, they’re not going to find two witchlings crouching under this random, low-hanging tree. The sun is beginning to rise. Hunter watches it with an unreadable expression, and she realizes he probably hasn’t even seen the sun in days.
Amity lets him bask for a few minutes.
“I don’t care where you go after this,” she says finally, once the sun’s fully up and she’s sure the Guards will have stopped searching the immediate area. “Just please show your face at the owl house at some point so Luz knows you’re not dead. You owe me that much.”
He sticks out his tongue at her, because he’s an overgrown child. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
“Your palisman is there, so you’ll have to go back at some point anyway. He’s missed you.” She doesn’t know why she added that last part, but Hunter’s face softens at the mention of the cardinal, and she does understand that. She hasn’t had Ghost for long, but if anything ever happened to them, Amity would be devastated.
“I missed him, too,” he admits, scratching the back of his head. “...Thanks, Blight.” He doesn’t look at her, and she isn’t offended. It’d be more awkward if he did.
Instead, she just sighs, finally letting herself sag into a slight sitting position. Titan, she’s tired. “Don’t mention it,” she says finally, “just.. shoo. Live your life.” Preferably away from me, she thinks of adding, but doesn’t.
“Yeah,” he says, looking back up at the sky. “I will.”
Amity sits under the tree for another twenty minutes after he leaves. Somewhat because it’s to make doubly sure she isn’t seen, and also somewhat because she’s exhausted, and it’s a long trek to the Blight Manor.
With a groan, Amity pulls herself to her feet.
She’s going to sleep for two days straight.
---
+1!
Amity doesn’t laugh enough.
That’s all Luz can think for a minute, brain rebooting, dazzled and caught off guard. Sure, this was the outcome she’d been going for, ever since Amity had gotten to the owl house an hour ago, looking more stressed than usual. Luz had immediately taken it upon herself to make her feel better. And laughter is always the best medicine; Luz knows how cute Amity finds her when she's purposefully being silly, but-
She hadn't expected it to actually work.
Because Amity’s laughing, and she's laughing hard.
And it isn’t because of Luz’s genius and hilarious jokes, or because of her exaggerated, hilarious movements as she told them. No. Amity’s laughing for one reason and one reason only: because Luz had tripped and fallen over her own feet, and then had landed squarely on her face.
That’s when she decides: Amity doesn’t laugh enough. And when she does laugh, it’s with a heartbreaking air of surprise, like she isn’t used to it at all. Because she’s not, and that’s the saddest thing Luz has ever thought.
Still, though. This is a matter of principle.
“Wh- it’s that?!” Luz yelps, offended. “I go through that entire performance as you barely crack a smile, but that gets you to laugh?” She can't even pretend to be mad, though; her grin’s too wide, her heart’s beating too fast. Her face feels hot, which is annoying. She shouldn't be this flustered over hearing her girlfriend laugh, but she is.
Amity looks at her with that fond expression that always makes Luz’s stomach squirm (in a good way) and says, rather petulantly, “it was funny.”
“I am funny, yes,” Luz says, struggling to keep the forced pout from sliding right off her face. “Glad you agree. But come on.” She climbs sheepishly to her feet, sending them a glare for betraying her. “You think me getting hurt is funny. I see how it is.”
“Oh, please.” Amity rolls her eyes, leaning further into the couch. Luz’s mouth dries up abruptly - how is she allowed to be so pretty???? “It’s not like you don’t do much more dangerous things than falling over every day. I think you’ll be fine.”
Luz blinks. “You have a point.” She sits down next to her; cracks her back in a move that always makes Amity wrinkle her nose. Luz opens her mouth to say something equally annoying; turns to meet her girlfriend’s gaze, and-
Mistakes have been made. The words die on her tongue.
And neither of them move.
Maybe it’s cheesy, but sometimes Luz just likes to look at her. She’s so beautiful - Luz has known that since she first met her - but she feels like she can only now begin to appreciate it. For example - Amity actually has freckles! Who knew! Luz certainly didn’t, not until she’d gotten a lot closer with her. They’re faint, but they’re there; popping up under her eyes and across her nose. And those eyes. Luz would be happy to stare into gold for the first of her life.
Somehow, Amity seems content to just watch Luz back, and Luz may not understand exactly what she sees in her, but hey, she isn’t about to complain about the prettiest witch she’s ever seen thinking there’s something special in Luz’s eyes. (Even if she’s probably wrong but that’s a thought for another day okAY-)
A little late, she realizes she should absolutely be saying this out loud.
“You’re so pretty,” Luz murmurs, mildly starstruck.
It’s always worth it for Amity’s reactions. Her serene expression crumbles as red spreads through her cheeks until it reaches her ears; it’s cute, the way she turns her head, trying to hide the extent of her fluster.
“Luuuuuuz,” she whines half-heartedly, golden eyes darting from the floor to Luz’s gaze and then back again.
Luz just grins at her. “What?” She asks, raising one eyebrow. “It's true, isn't it?”
The world doesn't often tell her girlfriend how awesome she is. How beautiful she is. How smart, how talented, and how wonderful a witch she’s grown up to be. In fact, the world (ahem; her parents) instead tells her the direct opposite, tells her that she's not good enough, that she needs to work harder, that oh, the twins could do this already, why can't you keep up with them, and worse. Luz knows.
So she tries to make up for it. The world may not tell Amity her worth, but Luz will.
Too late, she realizes how close she’s been leaning in. Amity’s looking at her again, and her eyes are right there, gorgeous pools of amber and gold, warmer and brighter than any light glyph Luz could ever cast. Her breath catches in her throat; she knows she’s staring, but she can’t bring herself to care. Her fingers itch to touch her, and so she does, reaching up with one hand to cradle Amity’s face.
Amity sinks into her touch with the smallest of sighs, her breath tickling the bridge of Luz’s nose, and then there's no force in any realm that could have stopped her from leaning in even closer.
It’s not quite their first kiss (though this type of affection shared between them is still somewhat new), but Luz doesn’t think she’ll ever get over the rush. And she doesn't really want to. She loves the way she feels about Amity, even if it is sometimes a little scary. And isn’t that just the definition of love, in the end? To have someone you never stop caring about, that even the most mundane and repeated of actions are made forever exciting?
Not that kissing is anything like mundane. Titan’s tits, no. In fact, Luz is of the opinion that kissing is the very opposite of mundane.
Finally they pull back, but they don’t go very far. For a moment, they just look at each other, and Luz decides she’s never going to move her hand, because Amity’s still leaning into it. She's obviously like, legally stuck here forever now, and she's never been more content to just sit still.
“You’re so warm,” Amity murmurs. Her gaze is soft as she meets Luz’s, and for perhaps the thousandth time today, Luz wonders how she’d ever been so lucky that Amity likes her. How in any realm does Luz make Amity nervous? And not even just a little. So much so that Amity gets flustered around her, and her face turns red. Her hands shake and sometimes Luz can feel how her heart hammers and she wants to do the same silly, sappy things that Luz wants to do! How indeed.
“Is that a human thing, or..?”
Luz shrugs helplessly, too wrapped up in the moment to really care about the actual answer (though it is a question worth exploring). “You’re pretty cold yourself,” she teases gently, tracing the edges of Amity’s face adoringly. She actually feels heat spread under her fingertips as Amity’s cheeks flush, and that just cracks her grin ever wider. “Not really helping your point, hermosa.”
Amity grumbles in the way she does whenever she thinks Luz is being annoying and cute at the same time. “You're so mean to me,” she says accusingly, finally pulling away from Luz’s touch. Laughing, Luz lets her.
“I'm not mean.”
“You so are! You're always teasing me!”
“Aweee, come on, admit that you like it!” Luz decides she’d much rather be touching her again, so she cannonballs forward, knocking Amity’s arm out of the way. Somehow she manages to squeeze herself in between the couch and her girlfriend, and then she scoots herself further up, so that Amity’s head now comes to her neck.
It’s as fast as striking a match; Luz wraps her arm around Amity’s shoulder, and all the fight melts out of her, sinking her into Luz’s embrace like it’s the only thing in the world. She probably doesn’t even notice it, but Luz does.
Luz has only recently realized how much it does for Amity, the consistent touches. She never thought she’d encounter the term touch-starved anywhere outside the fanfics she reads, but here she is. Sure, she hadn’t had very many friends growing up, and as far she knows, she’s her parents’ only child, but she’s certainly never been starved for affection, not like Amity has. Luz had had her mom, who’s always hugging or embracing her, and then later Eda and King; Gus and Willow. It’s always come naturally for her, and so she hadn’t understood - hadn’t realized that there was an alternative to the affection she regularly receives.
So it’d taken her a little time to understand - understand why whenever they watch a movie on the couch, Amity always ends up tucking her head into Luz’s shoulder. Or how she’s always looking at Luz’s hands, always aware of her movements. Or how she visibly preens whenever Eda gives her a pat on the head.
And- Luz had said it as a joke, but Amity is legitimately always cold to the touch. It’s concerning.
“Well- maybe,” Amity mumbles half-heartedly, turning herself so she’s in a more comfortable position. Luz doesn’t even remember what she’d said last. But it sounds like she’s won, so HA.
Worrisomely quickly, Amity’s eyelids begin to droop. Luz’s heart aches for her when she gets like this; she doesn't even want to know what her girlfriend’s been doing all day. She knows Odalia had been at the Manor for work today, and she knows Amity gets even more overworked than usual whenever her mother’s home. The sun’s barely setting, and she’s exhausted. They hadn’t even had school today, but Luz bets Amity had been up early anyway.
“Want to listen to Azura?” Luz murmurs against a lilac head. “I'll read you your favorite chapter…”
A curious defiance settles in the curve of Amity’s jaw. “You don’t know which chapter that is,” she says without opening her eyes.
Yes I do, Luz thinks, disgustingly soft. Even if you didn't tell me it was. I could just tell by the way you read it, that one time.
Aloud, she says, “Well, how about I make a guess? We have your favorite book here, at least.” Because she knows The Good Witch Azura 3: Hecate’s Choice is Amity’s favorite for a fact. It’s the one she’d specifically brought downstairs when Amity had messaged her that she was on her way, only about a half-hour ago. Luz hadn’t expected she’d be reading Amity to sleep, but this is a happy surprise.
Just like laughing, Amity definitely needs to sleep more.
Stretching to reach it without dislodging Amity, Luz picks up the book and flips to her girlfriend’s favorite chapter.
And she reads. She reads even when she knows Amity isn’t hearing her anymore, and she reads until it almost gets too dark to see the pages anymore.
At some point, Eda and King get home, and are mercilessly quiet as they move through the owl house on their way to their respective beds. Eda gives her a wink that makes Luz’s face heat up, but she says nothing, only ruffling Luz’s hair once to say goodnight. King makes an offended face at the sight of Luz’s lap already being taken, but they all know he’s just going to go curl up next to Eda instead.
Luz loves them all so much; it makes her heart ache.
Amity stays fast asleep on her shoulder, and Luz doesn't think she's ever been more comfortable in her life.
Fin