Chapter Text
At this point, Mel’s used to waking up alone in bed.
If she’s lucky, Abigael will be somewhere in the room; reading, getting dressed, putting on her makeup armor for the day – it could be anything that keeps her in the room with immediate access to Mel as soon as she wakes up.
(All while humming something absurdly nerdy like the Xena or Buffy theme songs.)
The past couple of days, though, Mel wakes up to an empty room.
Abigael never makes it up to bed with her, not even to pretend to try to sleep anymore. Nor is she there to greet Mel with a morning kiss.
Instead, like today, she walks into the kitchen after shuffling through her morning routine sluggishly. Harry is already working on breakfast while her sisters sit with their morning coffees…
… Staring out the backdoor as Abigael paces angrily in the yard.
She’s on the phone again, and gesturing in agitation as she speaks.
“She’s speaking in tongues again.”
Mel sighs, ignoring Maggie and going about getting her own breakfast. Abigael has been on edge lately; something is going on with her that she will not share just yet, but it’s got her rattled. Mel thinks back to when it started, and grimly traces it back to that day Abby went to brunch with her sister. It crosses her mind then that she remembers Abby looked tense but dropped it as soon as she saw Mel.
She doesn’t get to dwell on it because Maggie’s got more commentary for her, “is she- smoking?”
“Maggie, don’t be ridiculous. You know she’d never let a cigarette touch those lips-”
“No, Mel, she’s literally smoking. Do demons spontaneously combust or something?”
When Mel turns to investigate, sure enough, Abigael’s got tendrils of smoke lifting off her shoulders as she keeps arguing into her phone. It doesn’t seem like she even notices.
Mel notices, though, how her sisters – namely Macy – tense up and move to get between the backyard door and Mel, protective.
“Do you think Spike’s about to pop out again?”
This gives everyone pause as they stare at Maggie.
“Did you- name Abby’s demon side?”
“It seems a little rude to keep calling it that when we know they’re kinda two separate beings! That thing’s got nothing to do with Abby, I figured we should start calling it something else. Plus, it makes it less scary.”
Mel’s actually… rather touched at the sentiment. She thinks Abby will act gruff and huffy about it when she finds out but secretly she’ll melt into a wee demon-witch puddle.
Then they see Abby’s fingers flicker with fire and are snapped back to the reality of the situation.
Macy takes a step forward to do something about it when Mel sighs, a little forcefully and a little in agitation, grabbing Macy’s arm and pulling her back.
“I’ve got it.”
She doesn’t wait for them to say anything, marching over to the door and right past it, shutting it firmly behind her and leaning against it.
She’s gonna wait for Abby to notice her instead of startling her. That’s probably the safest option for everyone’s health right now. Right?
She takes the moment to listen to Abby speak; it’s some demon language that Abby slips into for her Demon Overlord things, and… it’s kinda really hot. The sounds are low and raspy, and Abby’s natural Sussex accent slips into it on occasion, and it- just does things to and for Mel, okay? It’s enough of an effect to make Mel forget that Abby’s been using it more and more lately as her agitation and tension grows. Something must be really wrong to rattle Abigael Jameson-Caine – she who is made up of nonchalance and whiskey – quite like this.
She must make her presence known somehow without realizing (because otherwise, it would mean that Abby is just that in tune to Mel’s presence, and that kinda freaks her out a little but she’ll unpack that later) because Abby turns seemingly on the spot and notice Mel.
Instantly, she switches back to English as she grits out through her teeth for whoever is calling her to, “find out,” never taking her eyes off Mel as she seems to assess her for hurt or discomfort.
Mel notes that she’s been doing that a lot lately too, since her brunch with Waverly.
Before she can ask, Abby’s smiling that soft smile at her, eyes drinking her in like she’s the first sip of water after days of wandering the desert. Her hands are held out before her as she gracefully walks closer, and Mel’s own hands immediately reach back.
Like their very cells are reaching out for each other. Magnetic.
“Good morning, darling. I’m sorry I wasn’t there; I had this blasted call to attend to- never mind that, how’d you sleep? Do you need anything? I know Harold fancies himself a chef, but honestly if I never eat another full English it’ll be too soon. Say the word and I’ll run out and get us whatever you’d like.”
Mel melts, as she always does when Abby’s softer side comes out, leaning in to kiss her instead of speaking words. Then she chuckles as she pulls back and has to wave off some of the smoke lingering against Abby. Abigael, for her part, frowns as she notices and shakes the stuff off.
“Must’ve been some call to get you so worked up. Is everything alright?”
“Oh, you know. Demons running amok, needing discipline. That sorta boring administrative thing.”
When Abby’s arm slips around Mel’s shoulders to pull her in against herself and walk back into the house, Mel leans in with her whole weight.
Safe and secure, because Abigael can take it.
“You know, I don’t know if you remember this or not, but my sisters and I are the Charmed Ones. Dealing with unruly demons is kinda our thing. Maybe we can help?”
Abigael, for her part, smirks in amusement.
“Unruly demons, eh?”
“Tamed you, didn’t I?”
“Okay! So glad you can join us for breakfast, Abigael, please do not assault us with those images so early in the morning.”
Abigael simply rolls her eyes at Macy, raising her brow when Maggie mutters something about, “rather deal with Spike…”
“Who’s Spike?”
Before Mel can gesture at Maggie to keep her mouth shut, Maggie’s off and explaining, “Your demon side. We’ve named it Spike. You know, on account of all the spikes and stuff.”
The silence in the kitchen is deafening as everyone stares at everyone else. Maggie seems to realize that perhaps this little nickname should have been kept between her and her sisters.
“I’m sorry, it sort of sounded to me like you’ve named me Spike. Like I’m some pet puppy you’ve recently acquired.”
Mel pinches the bridge of her nose as Maggie keeps digging herself into a hole.
“No, not you. Just your demon side.”
“Spike.”
“Yes.”
“Melanie, my darling, I hope you weren’t too awfully attached to Bouncy. I’m afraid I, Spike, am gonna have to kill her.”
Mel’s grip tightens on her hip and that’s the only thing standing between Maggie and a fireball.
“Not you, Abby! Look- you and your demon side aren’t exactly the same thing. So. I named it- her? Him? Do demons have the same gender identity ideas like we do? Anyway, the point is, you and Spike aren’t one and the same, so I thought it’d be nice to have a way to separate you two. ‘Abby’s demon side’ is just such a mouthful.”
When silence reigns in the kitchen again, it’s for a different reason. The sisters are tense, waiting to see how Abby will react. While Abigael herself is- speechless.
(That might be even scarier than dealing with Spike, Maggie thinks.)
It takes a minute but eventually Abigael speaks, “Oh.”
(Unfortunately, she isn’t quite as articulate as she usually would be.)
“Um. Alright then, I suppose. That makes sense. Sort of.”
Softer still, “Thank you, Maggie.”
Then it’s silent again as Maggie purses her lips and nods, everyone looking everywhere except at each other. Eventually, Harry’s English nature wins out and he awkwardly clears his throat to break the silence, announcing that breakfast is ready.
Abigael still doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes as she helps Mel get comfortable, not even snarking at the full English set in front of her, despite her whining about it just minutes ago.
It worries Mel a little, covering Abby’s hand on the table with hers. The squeeze she gives is what gets Abigael’s attention, eyes silently asking her if everything’s alright. Abigael simply smiles faintly and nods.
(Her hand lands on Mel’s thigh afterwards and gives a soft squeeze. But there is nothing else; no trying to feel Mel up, no rubbing, nothing suggestive that’ll upset Mel’s sisters. Nothing.)
(It’s meant to ground Abigael, Mel thinks. To ease her mind and anchor her in what is no doubt a raging storm brewing inside her. Maggie separating the demon from Abby, seeing two different entities, is something Abigael never in her wildest imagination would have thought possible. Needless to say, she’s unable to process her emotions quite yet.)
Macy seems like she might understand, clearing her throat and asking Mel’s question again, “you phone calls seem to get more intense every day. Can we help with anything?”
Normally, Abigael would lash out or say something snarky back right about now. Especially to Macy. But they all know she’s exhausted; they’re all aware she’s not sleeping very well, if at all, and she’s been keeping busy at all hours of the day and night. If she’s not running errands for Mel, she’s building nursery furniture. If she’s not helping them deal with their latest magical issues, she’s dealing with her demonic kingdom. The few times they’ve caught her asleep (or rather, passed out) on the couch don’t last because those naps are clearly littered with unrest and nightmares.
So nobody’s really surprised when she merely sighs then shakes her head instead of starting some argument.
“It isn’t anything for you lot to worry about. I’m handling it. But- thank you for the offer.”
Mel beams at them as they try to put in the effort and get along, while Abigael, Macy, and Maggie avoid looking at each other.
(Okay, so Mel knows these interactions are like pulling teeth for all parties, but she’s happy to see them anyway.)
Then, Abigael’s voice is lowered, soft, only for Mel as she squeezes her thigh for attention.
“But. There is something you could do for me, Mel.”
Abigael is looking hopeful if a little apprehensive, and Mel makes sure to give her all of her attention, setting her fork down and taking Abby’s hand instead.
(Abigael dutifully ignores the sisters pretending to be busy with something else while they completely eavesdrop. She rolls her eyes internally though.)
So she smiles nervously and presses on, “well, I was thinking that, perhaps, if you’re up for it, that we could… go out tonight. To dinner. On a date. An actual one now that it’s all out in the open.”
(Maggie, ever the dork, can’t contain her squeal as well as she thinks. Abigael rolls her eyes so hard.)
“You know, if it’s alright with the peanut gallery here,” she glares over at Mel’s sisters; Maggie looks like she’s trying to drown herself in her coffee, while Macy’s head snaps away from them so fast a piece of toasts telekinetically flies across the table to slap Harry in the face.
Mel blushes as she laughs at Harry, softening when she meets Abby’s eyes. She sees the strain there and needs to settle that storm.
“I’d love to.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Brilliant.”
They’re leaning in to kiss when Mel’s belly gets in the way and she realizes something.
“Wait. Maybe we could- stay in?”
She hates that she sees the excited light in Abby’s eyes dim, but her- her Abby smiles faintly nonetheless and nods.
“Of course, darling, whatever you’d like. I’m happy to spend time with you, no matter the place.”
At least Macy, Maggie, and Harry have the decency to vacate the kitchen and give them a moment, the trio muttering some weak excuse about the weather as they head out to the backyard to finish breakfast.
“Abby, it’s not- whatever you’re thinking.”
Abigael just hums, waiting.
“I know what kind of dates you enjoy, what kind of activities or places or what have you. And I’m not- currently suited for that. Hell, I’m not even sure I’d be suited to it when I’m not pregnant either…”
“What the bloody hell does that mean…?”
“It means, you like to live your life a certain way. A rather- luxurious way… I’m not really sure I’d fit into that right now.”
“You’re joking.”
Abigael kicks herself for not seeing it sooner; the insecurity. The hints of inferiority.
(Especially when she’s so personally familiar with those feelings. Feelings she never thought she’d cause in Mel.)
She brings both of Mel’s hands to her lips, reverently pressing kisses to each knuckle.
“Melanie, you have to understand that I… I’d love nothing more than to take you to some absurdly overpriced steakhouse and whirl you around the dancefloor of the most exclusive club in town, showing you off and snarling at anyone that might even think to get close. I’d love to watch you come down the stairs, dressed in your sexiest suit with suspenders, maybe with that silk tie I bought you? And have my jaw drop so hard your sisters tease the ever-loving shit out of me for days. We’d drink the most expensive- anything we could get our hands on and take a trip on a whim. And honestly? You being pregnant doesn’t change any of those plans, not even the drinking; I’d just drink on your behalf instead. You’re perfect as you are. All I want is to be with you, but even more than that, I want you to be happy. I’d give it all up for you. None of that stuff matters to me, not even a fraction, as much as you do.”
Mel’s struck speechless, staring at Abby.
Then, she bursts into tears.
(Freaking hormones…)
Abigael, naturally, panics. Her face goes on quite the journey as she tries to figure out how to soothe Mel, eventually settling for nudging the tissue box closer with the single most awkward, “there, there,” she can muster.
At least it makes Mel laugh.
(The snot bubble that bursts at Mel’s laugh warms Abigael’s heart, chuckling too as she gently wipes Mel’s tears with her thumb.)
Mel sniffles, resorting to joking to ease all of their tensions, “I think even I’d rather deal with Spike right now…”
The two share another laugh, Abigael pressing a kiss to Mel’s forehead.
“You know, when I said date, I really just meant that awful greasy diner you love. The one with the mango milkshake you can’t get enough of?” Abigael smirks, teasing softly still, “I thought we could split one like those cheesy movies Bouncy’s always making us watch.”
That makes Mel laugh more, eyes crinkled happily she smiles so hard.
“You are the single softest demon I have ever met.”
“Am not. You take that back this instance.”
“Nope. You want to share a milkshake with me.”
Abigael scoffs playfully but she’s helpless to retaliate; it’s true. She’s soft.
(And maybe, just maybe, head over heels in love. But she’s not going there. Those thoughts and feelings are firmly locked away in a – ironically enough – mental crate to be revisited later. Maybe.)
“You keep telling such awful lies, Angry Spice, and I might rescind my date offer.”
“Too late, I already said yes, so we’re going. Now you’ve put the idea of a greasy cheeseburger in my head and there’s no getting out of it, babe. Also, I’m not sharing a milkshake.”
Abby’s quiet happiness fills the entire kitchen space. Beyond even, as Mel’s sisters turn to look in on them just then, as if they can feel it. Her words are gentle against Mel’s temple as she murmurs into the kiss she presses there, “Can’t wait, my love.”