Work Text:
EBB
“So, what do you say?” she asks, and I blink.
“Wait,” I say, and Fiona’s smile freezes on her face. I rush to answer, stumbling slightly when I say, “No, wait. I’ll do it. Just. Run it by me again, yeah?”
Fiona leans back in her chair, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. “I need you to come home with me,” she says again, with that vowel-crisp drawl. “I need a girlfriend for the hols.”
I squint and kick my other shoe off. She’d cornered me in the room when I’d got back from the Woods. (There’s a herd of half-wild goats there I visit sometimes.) “To scare your folks, right,” I say, because that part is so Fiona it makes sense.
“And to come out,” she adds. I know that—she told me she’s bisexual just a day after I’d told her I’m gay—but it’s still half a shock to hear so casually.
I thought I was the only one at Watford. I thought myself strange, queer in more ways than one. I’m not, and it’s a relief. A weight off, in a way.
"Right, then," I say. It's rushed and I trip over my words, but she smiles all the same. "I'll do it."
"Thank magic," she says on an exhale. "And thank you , Ebb. Lifesaver, you are."
I laugh and pretend my heart isn't squeezing and my lungs aren’t burning.
I've been half in love with her for years now.
It's the sort of steady, familiar love that comes with time and closeness. I know her inside and out, and she knows me. The only one I trust more than her is Nicky, my own blood.
I set my books aside and stand. I'd been trying to study when Fi started her wild talk, though I'm never very successful. Books aren't my thing, really. Never had much luck with the written side of magic.
Fiona's hair falls in curtains around her, still short from when she impulsively cut it over the summer hols. She looks at me, smiling softly, and the warmth in my chest burns.
"Going to see Nicky,” I say and she nods. This will be our first break apart in years, and I'll miss him. I love Fiona—as a best friend, as more—but Nicky is the other half of me.
I pull on a jumper, shove my feet into my boots, and I'm gone, away to meet Nicky.
…
The ride to the Pitches’ is tense.
Fiona and I are in the back of her da's fancy car, and it makes me miss my mum's reliable old two-door. I'm not one for cars, but Nicky loves them—I bet he'd love this.
We’re holding hands, too. Hers is warm and rough, calloused across her palms and fingertips. Fire worker hands, I remember her telling me, and Mistress Pitch has the same.
(I don't think about that.) (It’s odd. I've grown used to her, the great Natasha Pitch, after years of being around Fi, but it'll never be casual, I think. She's kind and strong and she wears magic like a heavy cloak, and I’ll never be more than her sister’s friend. I don’t mind—that's where I’m happy, isn’t it?)
Fiona whispers to me, nothing and everything all rolled up. I listen with half an ear and stare out the window. I’ve never gone this way before, nor been in a car for so long.
The long road up to her house itself is well-kept, with neat grass along the side. There are trees too, tall ones with roots along the stones.
Her da pulls up and stops in front of the house. The Pitches have a load of houses, and about three in England alone. This is their winter house, kept near Watford so the little ‘uns could attend school and still be close. They stay during the winter, now, for Fi and Mistress Pitch both.
I don’t remember the name Fi told me, something posh—they name the houses, she says. To tell them apart. I’ve never needed to name a house—it’s just home. We’ve only the one, really, and there’s just enough room for us.
And my ma’s pregnant again, I remember. The baby won’t be born for months, but I still miss my family.
Fiona must see the pang of it cross my face, because she squeezes my hand and smiles, small and genuine.
Then we’re out, leaving the car and our bags and heading into the house.
FIONA
Father had almost no reaction when I held Ebb’s hand.
It’s disappointing. I thought I’d get some sort of reaction, not just a small breath and a raised eyebrow. I know Mother will be the same—I’d half hoped, but they don’t care about me being queer. I knew they wouldn’t—Mother’s younger brother is gay.
It’s just what I told Ebb. I’ll have to pretend to be disappointed later. (I won’t have to try that hard.) (I am disappointed, just not for why she thinks.)
We’ve been dancing around each other for months now. Nothing has changed—we act the same as we always have.
But I can feel it. The change. She came out, and then I did, and it was different .
Ebb’s strange. She wears hand-knit jumpers and visits wild goats, acts like anyone else even though magic’s pouring off her. It’s half the reason my parents don’t mind my being friends with her. Power is power, and magickal adoption is an acceptable way to gain an heir, even if it’s not preferred. (Not that I’m thinking of that now.) (Nat’s getting married; she can have the Pitch heirs.)
We leave our bags in the car—Marley, our jack-of-all-trades helper, will get them for us later—and head in.
Mother is waiting in the foyer. She’s wearing the clothes she uses to greet guests, red and dripping with jewels.
“Fiona,” she says when I meet her eyes. She smiles, nods slightly. I nod back almost awkwardly—we’ve never been very close. Nat practically raised me.
“Hello, mother,” I say.
“Why don’t you introduce your friend?” she asks, gesturing gracefully. “You bring them home so rarely. She must be something special.”
“She is,” I say and Ebb sucks in a surprised gasp beside me. (She has to have known that. I don’t bring home just anybody.) “Mother, this is my girlfriend, Ebeneza Petty.”
Mother’s brows shoot up for half a second before she recovers herself and looks at Ebb.
Ebb curtsies clumsily and my mother’s expression changes for half a second, towards something like grudging approval.
“Hello, Mrs. Pitch,” Ebb says. I rarely hear her so formal—it’s odd, to say the least. This is the girl who comes back covered in mud and goat hair and laughs and cries like the changing wind (easily, and near constantly.) “Call me Ebb, please.”
“Very well,” my mother says. “Ebb.” She looks at me. “I will leave you two to settle in. Dinner is at seven; do not be late. And Fiona,” she adds, looking pointedly at my trousers, “a dress, please.”
I scowl. I don’t like dresses, and I don’t plan to wear one. She’ll sigh and give me a look, but that will be it. Since Natasha is going so far—engaged, teaching, and set to take over as headmistress next year—they’ve been more lenient with me. Their heir is turning out, and their spare can have some freedom.
I lead Ebb to my room.
She stops in the doorway and looks around. It’s small for a Pitch house—I picked it that way—and the walls are covered with Normal posters. It’s a mess too, clothes and shoes spilling out of the dresser and papers on every inch of the desk.
Our bags are already on my bed. I push them off and sit, motioning for Ebb to follow. She does, laying down beside me.
We lapse into conversation, planning and talking. She tells me she’s sorry my parents had such little reaction.
I don’t tell her I planned it that way.
I talk and laugh with her while I ignore the roiling in my stomach.
If all goes well, we’ll be dating— actually dating—by the time we return.
And if not… (I don’t think about that option.) (It has to go well. I can’t lose her.)
…
Dinner that night is set out and steaming when we get down.
Ebb is in a jumper and slacks, and I’m wearing a band tee and jeans. My mother’s mouth purses but she doesn’t say anything, so I count it as a win.
It’s terribly awkward.
Mother and Father chat, and Marley eats silently at the other end of the table. Ebb and I are sat beside each other, and I tuck my foot around the leg of her chair.
We eat quickly and manage to avoid disaster.
It doesn’t last.
Marley dishes out dessert and sits back down. Mother looks at me and Ebb, politely curious.
“So, girls,” she says, and I know I won’t like what comes next. “How long have you been together?”
“About two months,” I say smoothly. I’ve thought about this—it was part of our planning. Ebb nods beside me. “Halloween.”
We’d dressed up as sort of a last hurrah. I’d put on heavy rockeresque makeup and spelled my hair into a giant blonde mess. Ebb let me give her Normal zombie facepaint—I’d wanted vampire, but she’d vetoed that.
That was the night I realized I’m head-over-heels for her. I’d been leaning in close to apply the paint, and with her breath fluttering across my face and her stubby eyelashes resting against her cheek it all felt like a revelation long overdue. My lungs had stopped and my heart skipped a beat and I’d thought, I’m fucked.
Mother nods and Father sets his spoon down with a soft clang . “Well,” he says. “I’m glad you have someone, Fiona. However blindsided we were by it.”
I look him in the eye, then Mother. Ebb pats my thigh briefly, and that gives me the courage I need to say, “Mother. Father. I’m bisexual.”
Mother sucks in a breath through her nose. She knew, I think, but she hadn’t expected me to say it so blatantly. “Well,” she hums. “If you’re sure.”
“I am,” I tell her. Father looks at his plate.
It’s awkward. I know they’ll come around, but I don’t like this silence.
“I’m gay,” Ebb says suddenly. It breaks the silence, shatters it, and she looks at me and then my parents in turn. “Er, I’m a lesbian. That.”
Mother’s eyes narrow, but I know it’s more from the stuttering than the confession. They don’t care about queerness, but they can’t abide weakness.
Father nods, thanks Ebb and I for telling them, and changes the subject to our grades. I go along with it, but I can’t stop thinking.
Dinner ends soon after, and I drag Ebb to my room.
…
EBB
The days pass quickly here. It’s all a rush of talking and touching. We hold hands whenever we leave her room and sit curled together on the couch.
I didn’t expect her to be like this. I should have guessed.
She tries to hide it, but Fiona’s softer than she lets on. It’s sweet, I think. She’s tougher and stronger than anyone I’ve known—and she and Nicky are always dragging us into trouble (I do, too, but I hide it better). Plus, she’s the only one I’ve known who can look Possibelf in the eye and lie.
Then it’s Christmas Day, and I wake to her leaning over me.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” Fiona says. Her hair falls around us and her eyes are bright, sparkling.
My breath catches and I think she has to have heard it. She lowers herself a small bit, elbows and forearms on either side of my head.
Our noses are almost brushing. She’s smiling, soft and wicked, and I can’t do anything but stare. My heart’s going too fast and skipping every other beat.
We’ve been close before, but not like this. Not like I could just tilt my head, lean up, catch her mouth with mine.
“It’s Christmas,” she says, and her breath fans across my face.
“Yeah,” I whisper back. We’re quiet, hushed, like this is glass held between us.
I wouldn’t mind shattering this glass, I think. I don’t think Fiona would either.
Her eyes flutter almost closed and I shift, reaching just barely...
And the door swings open. Fiona jumps back and I feel the loss of it, stark and sudden.
Marley wanders in, staring around blankly. I sit up, Fiona next to me.
Marley looks at us sitting stiffly and barks a sharp “breakfast!”
I don’t meet her eyes, nor Fiona’s. My heart’s pounding and I’m barely keeping my breathing constant, fighting the urge to just pull her over and damn the rest of it.
I know I’m blushing something fierce. I can feel it heating my face. When I look over, Fiona doesn’t look affected, but I know she can’t blush like I can. Her skin is too dark for it, but she has tells—and right now, she’s running her fingers through the white streak in her hair, as dead a giveaway as anything.
We don’t look at each other. Marley leaves, grumbling something, and we dress in silence.
FIONA
Merlin and Morgana, I almost kissed her.
I would’ve, too. In a heartbeat, without regret.
And then Marley went and ruined it all. I could skin her, I swear it.
I’m not paying attention through the morning. I can’t stop thinking. My mind is racing.
All I can focus on is Ebb next to me, laughing with my parents. We’re sitting so close our thighs press together, and the contact sets me on fire.
I need a cigarette.
…
EBB
It was nothing. Really.
Just us being friends, right? She can be touchy sometimes, and it’s a show for her parents. Maybe she’s like that every Christmas—it’s not like I’ve seen her any other year. She was excited, and I got the wrong idea.
I don’t talk about it and neither does she, so I guess I’m right. It hurts a bit, knowing it was nothing, but I don’t let it spread. I’ll enjoy our time here, enjoy the hours I can spend pretending she’s mine.
I write letters to Nicky every day. They won’t arrive ‘til I’m back—mail in our world can be slow ‘round this time, when all the magic is strained from the holiday spells and the magickal systems have less to work on—but today’s letter I send with a bird. (I wish I could send all my letters with birds, but it’s not a good plan.) (The poor things tire quickly, and there’s more a chance of them getting lost than the mail systems.)
I get his reply the morning of New Year’s Eve. It’s short, written on the back of an essay in his messy script.
Ebb,
I love you, sister, but you are so oblivious sometimes. She likes you. Kiss her. Talk to her. It’ll be fine.
Don’t tell me details. You’re both like my sisters, it would be too weird.
DO IT.
Happy New Year’s with love,
Nicodemus
…
FIONA
Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is all going wrong, and I need to fix it.
It’s New Year’s Eve, and we go back to school in just a few days. And then I’ll have lost my chance—I’m set for Beijing this summer, for an apprenticeship. Ebb doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she certainly isn’t coming with me.
So I need to move now .
I’ll do it tonight.
Mother and Father will retire around ten—they don’t like to stay up later, even on holidays—and Ebb and I will be left to watch fireworks alone. I’ll take her out under the stars and we’ll watch the show, and I’ll kiss her at midnight and tell her everything.
I can only hope she’ll return it. That she loves me as much as I love her.
I go to prepare. I’ve only a few hours left, after all.
EBB
I’m waiting for her when she gets back.
Fiona had gone on a walk—to check on her gardens around the area, she’d said. She’d asked if I wanted to go.
I said no. I have some planning to do.
I’ve decided to just give up on any pretense. Throw caution to the wind, so to say. (Not literally, of course.) (That spell is wicked dangerous, and hard to do anyway.)
I sit in her room, at her messy desk. I have a book open in front of me—I’m not reading it, but it’s there.
I’m thinking.
I’m going to tell her. I’ll tell her, and we’ll...what? Be girlfriends? Enemies? Will she hate me for feeling this way?
This was supposed to be fake, the dating. The feelings.
But it’s all too real for me. It was all too easy, falling into this—I hope it stays this way.
This way, but better. Better, because it’ll be real .
Fiona opens the door, steps in. I turn my head to smile at her, and she smirks back, all full of trouble. I raise a brow, looking at her.
“What’re you all excited about, now?” I ask. She smirks harder, stepping forward and flipping bits of loose hair out of her face.
And it all comes crashing down on me, every bit of longing and affection I’ve had to press down over the last few days. (Weeks. Months.) (Years, almost.)
I stand and cross the room. Fiona’s smirk twists, changing into something smaller, more genuine.
I stop in front of her. We’re close enough that if I leant forward, just a little, it would take no effort at all to kiss her.
I don’t. (Yet.) I have something else to say first.
“Fiona,” I say, and stop. She looks at me, and it’s her turn to raise one brow mock-questioningly.
“Ebb,” she replies, drawling.
“I like you,” I say. Might as well go all out while I’m at it. “As in, romantically. And real—not like all this.” I say, waving a hand around vaguely.
She blinks at me. I wait.
Then she scowls, pushing me backwards. It’s not hard, but I stumble anyway.
“You bitch,” she half-snarls, stepping forward and cupping my face in her hands. I blink at her—I can’t help it. I’m confused, and I don’t know what’s happening. She presses her forehead against mine and all I can see is her, her, her .
“You couldn’t have waited just a few hours?” she says plaintively. “I had it all planned out.”
“What?” I ask. I can’t think of anything right now, just how close she is.
“Under the fireworks,” she says. “I was going to tell you, and kiss you, and ask you to be my girlfriend. And then you went and did this and cocked it all up.”
Oh.
“Oh. Sorry,” I say dumbly.
I look at her, and she looks at me, and we’re silent. After a beat, I say, “Do you want to tell me now?”
She sighs dramatically, and I would almost think it’s no different from any other time, except—
Her hands are still on my face, trembling just slightly. Our heads are still pressed together, and her breath ghosts across my face.
“Ebeneza Petty,” she says, and I scrunch my nose at the use of my full name. She gives me a look, and I give her a look right back.
And then she can’t say anything else because we’re laughing, breathless and half-mad with it.
We collapse onto the floor, shoulder to shoulder, leaning back against her bed. I turn my head and she’s there, looking back at me like every dream I’ve ever had.
We wind down eventually, shoulders still shaking.
“I love you,” Fiona says. It’s genuine and sweet and nothing I thought I’d ever be able to hear.
“I love you too,” I tell her and we sit, grinning like loons. Then she clears her throat, putting on as serious a face she can muster while still beaming.
“Will you be my girlfriend? For real, this time,” she asks, and I nod furiously, turning to face her. It’s not enough, though, and I swing one leg over hers and straddle her lap.
I press my palms to her cheeks like she did to me earlier. Her skin is warm under my hands, and she reaches up and clasps my wrists.
And then she’s staring up at me and I’m looking down at her and it’s like looking into a galaxy. Bright and beautiful—an unknowable home.
“Can I kiss you?” I breathe, and she doesn’t answer. Instead, Fiona lunges up and catches my mouth with hers.
It’s soft and sweet and the best kiss I’ve ever had. (Not that I’ve had many.) (But this is definitely the best.)
FIONA
I’m kissing her.
She’s my girlfriend, and I’m hers, and this is better than anything. (Better than everything .)
…
EBB
It’s gone past dark when Fiona pulls away and sits up.
I lie beside her, watching her backlit profile. She stares out the window.
Then she turns to me and smiles, crooked and toothy. “Come on,” she whispers, standing.
I follow, because I can’t do anything else. I’d think I was spelled if I didn’t know better.
She leads me outside, holding my hand tightly. She stops at a corner of the yard, one without snow.
Fiona grabs a blanket from a basket hid behind a tree. This must be what she was planning. (The plan I ruined.) (I’m not sorry for it, and I don’t think she is either.)
She spreads it out and we sit, piled against and on top of each other. Fiona casts a warming spell over us, and it settles on my skin like licking fire tamed. I run my fingers through her hair and it’s soft as anything.
We sit and talk and kiss, and when the fireworks go up in the distance we watch those too.
It’s better than I dreamed of.
I love this, and I want it forever.
When Fiona looks at me, I think she knows it. I think she wants this for the rest of our lives, too.
And we’ll have it, I swear when she laughs again. I’ll make sure of it.