Chapter Text
‘ Satan, can she just shut up ?’
It’s the first thing that crosses Charlie’s mind as she stares into the middle distance, zoning in and out during Vaggie’s announcement.
Not that it’s entirely her own fault for spacing, the second the words “Heaven” and “Leaving” crossed Vaggie’s lips, Charlie’s brain had simply upped and walked right into her daydreams.
The unhealthy coping mechanism isn’t new, the nasty little thought on the other hand.
Now that’s enough to make her blink back into awareness, startled by her own desires for Vaggie to just stop talking.
“Charlie?” Vaggie’s voice prods at her in a sort of gentle way, like a mother telling their child about their divorce.
Charlie responds in kind with an eloquent, “buh,” it feels like an accurate enough representation of the shitstorm going on in her head.
Of course Vaggie immediately understands, hurrying to sit at Charlie’s side on their–
…On Charlie’s bed.
The princess sends a quick ‘ thank you ’ to her grandpa on high that this conversation was happening in private.
Warm fingertips slide along her arm and Vaggie sounds so desperately sad as she says, “I’m sorry hun, I know this isn’t ideal but… but just think about all the good I can do for us up there!”
‘ Funny ,’ that spiteful little voice says, ‘weren’t you completely against going to Heaven and said you hated it there? ’
These words are quickly swallowed down before they can make it out of Charlie’s mouth. Instead she focuses on her own hands, how her index nail gently curves into the groove of her thumb nail.
Eventually she speaks, “you didn’t even ask me though. I know you don’t have to have my permission but…, I thought we were a team?”
The voice that comes out sounds weird, alien in its timidity so much so that for a second Charlie doesn’t think the words came from herself.
The hand squeezes, a gentle pressure of reassurance. At least it’s supposed to be, it feels too hot and too much for Charlie and she shakes it off quickly.
A noise of quiet hurt and confusion pipes out of Vaggie, it makes the princesses stomach churn.
Whatever luck had come from grandpa evaporates quickly as Vaggie does the one thing Charlie knows she can’t deal with right now.
Vaggie stands back up, and starts to argue.
“I’m doing it for us! I thought you’d be happy!” Her voice is quickly climbing in pitch and temper, sending a ripple of anxiety under Charlie’s skin.
Before she can talk herself down, the blonde shoots up, ignoring the way her hair is curling in anger. “I didn’t ask you to! We could’ve figured it out another way! God Vaggie why are you such a martyr ?!”
Warning bells start shrieking in Charlie’s head halfway through her words but she can’t stop herself. Is forced to watch the trainwreck happen at full speed when Vaggie flinches and her face crumples at the word.
‘ Shit, shit, shit .’
“I mean, I’m sorry I just mean it’s not fair.” Charlie is actively watching as she digs her own grave, see’s all the telltale signs that Vaggie is about to clam up and shut the whole conversation down.
In a last ditch effort to do some kind of damage control, Charlie blurts out, “how are we supposed to stay together if you’re so far away….”
At some point Vaggie’s wings had slowly begun to unfurl, fluffing more and more with her agitation before they finally slump, as if giving up.
“I guess we just won’t,” Vaggie’s reply comes swiftly, naturally, as if she’s rehearsed this a thousand times over.
‘ She has ,’ Charlie realizes, a sort of mute horror rising, ‘ she practiced this whole thing beforehand .’
It would be just like Vaggie, to make a plan of attack for such an important topic and then barrel right into the conversation.
Almost like she expected Charlie to react happily, to praise her for sacrificing everything for Charlie’s dream.
With a quick glance at the bed, Charlie spots one of the plushies that Vaggie had gotten for her a few years back.
He’s a little guy, a rendition of the mothman with wide googling eyes and a quirky three shaped smile.
She snatches him up and all but baseball pitches him at Vaggie’s head. He makes contact, smashing into Vaggie’s face with such force that the angel has no choice but to squawk and stumble back a foot.
As mothman falls to the ground, Vaggie levels Charlie with an incredulous stare.
“Did you just… did you just hit me? With mothman?” It sounds so stupid coming from Vaggie’s mouth, so abstract that Charlie picks up another plush and throws that one too.
This time Vaggie is prepared, deftly catching the stuffed lion and holding him like he’s a small furry bomb.
Something twists across her features and suddenly the lion, aptly named Leo, comes sailing back and knocks Charlie upside the head.
It doesn’t hurt, but somehow still knocks the window out of Charlie and her voice is ripe with indignation as she shrills, “you bitch!”
More things begin to fly as they separate across the room, each one picking their prospective side to defend.
Charlie scrambles under her desk, grappling for something only to launch a squishy stress ball.
She feels very smug to hear an- “ow fuck!” before a TV remote flies overhead and hits the wall behind her.
This goes on for what feels like hours, all manner of things zooming around the room until it looks like a warzone and it’s clear that Niffty will have a heart attack when she sees it.
Charlie is just about to pop up and sling a rubik's cube when Vaggie shouts, “we aren’t good for each other Charlie!”
Every muscle locks up, like liquid ice has been poured into each little nook and cranky in Charlie’s body. “What?” she breathes, tries to breathe, letting the cube tumble out of her death grip and onto the ground.
When Charlie stands back up, Vaggie is standing in the aftermath of their hurricane, arms crushed to her chest in a kind of guarded hug.
That single voluminous eye doesn’t make it her way, instead trained on the ground as Vaggie repeats herself.
“We aren’t good.”
A dangerous wobble tumbles across Charlie’s bottom lip, she wants to shout that Vaggie’s wrong. That Vaggie’s just giving up on them and running away like a coward.
But the thing is–
Charlie knows she’s right.
She hasn’t been able to sleep properly since Adam revealed Vaggie’s angelic secret. Always flexing away from her lover’s touch with strained smiles or forced laughter.
Even before that, Charlie had felt it coming, their personalities were like air and fire. Vaggie never really liked to listen to Charlie’s ideas, and when she did it was usually to give straight up criticism without a hint of help or advice.
Vaggie was bad at feelings, intent on burying everything unless it had anger to fuel it. She didn’t even truly believe the hotel would work until Emily sent word about Sir Pentious. She distrusted every single one of their patrons, their sponsors, even Charlie’s own dad to an extent. Even after everything they’d been through, there was still that underlying layer of it. Like Vaggie was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Charlie knows she’s right but that doesn’t mean she has to like it.
As quick as it came, the ice bleeds back out of Charlie’s bones and she plops into her desk chair, casting tired eyes over her scattered notebooks and glitter gel pens.
“I know,” Charlie reaches out, picking at an older page from a notebook, the frills still on the side from where she’d ripped it out and never cleaned it up.
Staring back is a list of names when she was brainstorming for the hotel, Happy Hotel proudly sitting at the top, surrounded in stars and hearts.
It felt like so long ago, like it was fifty years and not three. Charlie can recall the interview with Katie Killjoy, the shame and regret on Vaggie’s face from between the camera’s and crew.
“I think, maybe you should go stay in another room until you leave,” Charlie says and with tender care, puts the page in the top drawer of her desk.
“I can have Niffty take all your stuff over, just pick a room,” with a little thought, Charlie adds, “maybe on a different floor.”
A thousand thoughts seem to roam behind Vaggie’s face but she settles on a nod, turning on her heel to retreat as fast as she can.
Before she hits the doorframe, Vaggie calls back “Charlie?”
Hearing her name makes Charlie want to scream, she bites her tongue instead and waits.
Vaggie takes this as a positive sign and continues, “I’ll miss you.”
Then she’s gone and as soon as the door clicks, Charlie leans over and throws up all over her hair, her favorite slippers and the plush red carpet.
From above, she can hear Razzle finally leave his hiding spot, letting out distressed noises and the flutter of his tiny wings as he zips off.
Charlie wants to stop him, wants to convince him that everything is okay and to not let anyone see this side of her.
But her body is on autopilot, drawing her up on marionette strings and stumbles her along to the bathroom for a shower.
Charlie stays in there until the boiling hot water chases the chill from her soul, until the water runs frigid and she’s curled up on the tiles, lulling off as icy pellets bounce off the ceramic and onto her feet. She’s almost there, her brain slugging along as it fuzzes her vision and draws sleep up her body, nagging tired eyes to seal closed.
The last thing she hears is a faint noise from a small girl’s voice and the echoing of static that seems to wrap her up and finally sends her to sleep.