A/N: This was written for someone on Tumblr. I have no explanation for this, except that I was really inspired by Lindsey Stirling's "Master of Tides" live video on YouTube.
Title is from a Mary Chapin Carpenter song. All store names are from "iCarly," because I am a huge dork.
Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/follows/favorites/supports the things I put out into the world.
Enjoy!
Daisy sits down on the edge of the abandoned sky-way and swings her legs over the side. Up here, she can see everything happening in the plaza below, including the fountain.
The fountain.
It's not that Daisy's a juvenile delinquent (okay, she totally is) or that she's been living somewhat on the fringes of the world (but she has), but she's pretty sure her new foster father wouldn't like what she's planning. Phil Coulson seems like a cool guy (and Daisy has a feeling he truly is) but she hasn't, like, asked his opinion on minor public trouble-making (or, to be honest, much of anything). So it's just her, going with her gut feeling, as she sets up everything for the night in her head.
There's one thing she hasn't counted on, though, and that's the adorable security guard/custodian of the plaza. Daisy has no idea what her name is, but she does know the girl still manages to look awesome in a bland navy jumpsuit. It's tempting. And hot.
God, you're getting ahead of yourself.
Daisy yawns. Maybe no one would notice if she took a nap here in the shade on the sky-way. She hasn't been sleeping well (yeah, since she was about eight years old), partially thanks to her old friends, the nightmares, and partially from her excitement over the night's big event, and for some reason up here she's relaxed and drowsy.
Maybe she'll take her chances.
Jemma sighs as she makes the rounds of the plaza. Surrounded by shops, with a large fountain in the middle, the plaza is a great place for tourists. It's not such a great place for a girl who wishes she was literally anywhere else.
But no, she's here, making the rounds every hour, checking all of the byways and nooks and crannies for vagrants or malfunctioning equipment and picking up whatever trash the tourists decide doesn't need to actually make it into the can. And on one of the hottest days of the year, she's already dealt with two Slurpees (one just inches from a garbage can, the other dropped into the inner workings of Build-A-Bra's air conditioning) and three puking children.
It's your own damn fault.
She picks at the collar of her "official" navy blue jumpsuit. Sure, it's official; it officially identifies her as a Menace to Society. Well, no, technically it says she's a part of the Greater Horizons Cooperative. But everyone around here knows that means she's some sort of juvenile delinquent. And despite her stratospherically high grade point average and her honors awards and the fact that last year at this time she was building a machine to refine proteins from parts she found in her grandmother's basement, Jemma squarely falls into that category.
It wasn't even theft. No one was using those things.
It's theft if you get caught.
Which she had.
Jemma sighs and prepares to do her least favorite part of the job – going up through the back stairwell of the now-defunct Wild Wild Vest (a clothing store that obviously needed to be closed from the very moment it opened) and across the attached sky-way, checking for homeless vagrants or signs of vandalism. Jemma hates the sky-way; it always feels like she's in a scene from a bad horror movie, and she holds her breath until she safely makes her way to the far end and steps out into the back stairwell of Cupcake Jake's.
She unlocks the door to the empty store before climbing up the stairs to the sky-way. So far, so good. No bums, no graffiti.
Halfway across the sky-way she realizes there's something blocking her path. It looks like a heap of clothes.
I'm positive those weren't there two hours ago…
Jemma approaches cautiously until she's only a few feet away from the mound of clothing, then takes a few more steps forward and crouches down, gently trying to move the obstruction aside.
It's then she realizes what she thought was a pile of discarded garments is actually a person. A girl. A sleeping girl.
A girl. A sleeping girl. Asleep in the sky-way.
And the girl is wearing a pirate costume.
Bloody hell.
But for some reason Jemma's not worried.
In fact, she only starts to worry when the girl's eyes fly open and she starts to scream.
Daisy jerks back when she feels hands moving over her body, and half-caught in the same nightmare that's been chasing her for the majority of her life, she screams.
"Bloody hell!" a British voice exclaims.
Daisy shoves whoever it is away from her (realizing far too late it's her, it's her, the beautiful gorgeous guard) and scrambles to her feet. She grabs her backpack and her violin case and takes off without another word, sprinting out of the sky-way, her lungs burning.
I have to get away from here.
She stops once she's back in the plaza, heart pounding, and tries to catch her breath.
Whoever that was saw me. They'll know I was up there. Shit.
Daisy takes another few minutes to resume normal human facial expressions and patterns of breathing before she ducks into the crowds around the plaza, heading for Phil's house.
(Phil won't ask questions. So far, he hasn't asked a) why she sleeps with the light on, b) why she left the house wearing a pirate costume, c) why she wakes up screaming, or d) for her to pack her things so he can take her back to St. Agnes'.)
Jemma sits at the edge of the plaza. It's almost nine-thirty and the shopping area is still packed. Tourists flock to the carts and kiosks offering food for sale, and the fountain continues to put on gorgeous light-and-water shows. It's the kind of thing Jemma could enjoy if a) she wasn't working or b) was there with a friend.
But that would require c) actually having a friend.
(People don't generally want to hang out with a juvenile delinquent.)
And she's not even supposed to be working, but Mr. Koenig, her supervisor/probation officer from Greater Horizons, called and asked if she was available to take Hunter's shift. And of course, she was. It's not like she's got anywhere else to go.
So she's people-watching, counting the minutes until she needs to do her next round of checks and litter pick up. And, okay, thinking about the girl in the pirate costume. The gorgeous, bizarre girl in the pirate costume.
Jemma's nearly convinced herself that the entire thing was a hallucination brought on from the heat and the stress of walking through an abandoned section of the plaza that already gives her the creeps when she sees a tri-corner hat slipping through the crowd.
And since we're not in colonial Williamsburg…
Jemma darts after the hat, knowing she could be chasing nothing. (But she doesn't really believe it.)
Daisy stops at the edge of the fountain and kneels by the edge, setting her violin case just out of the way. From her backpack she removes her phone and her wireless speaker set. With a few quick, practiced motions she syncs the phone with the speakers; a blue glowing light emanates from the speakers showing her they're ready for action. Her tablet is the next thing to emerge from her pack and it only takes a few quick swipes and screen taps to bring up the hack of the fountain's control panel she's rigged up. The tablet, too, syncs with the speakers and her phone, and that element is ready.
She pulls up the correct track on her phone and slips off her shoes. She takes her violin from the case and holds it up to her ear, checking to make sure each string is still in tune. It all seems perfect, and so far no one's even noticed her. Daisy looks around once more, hesitating, her pulse seeming very loud in her ears.
Once I hit "play" I've got twelve seconds to get it right…
Daisy takes a deep breath and hits "play."
Jemma stops at the edge of the fountain. There's that girl (that beautiful, beautiful girl), the girl in the pirate costume. She looks… nervous. And she's holding… a violin?
The girl sits down on the edge of the fountain and brings the violin to her shoulder. Her bow touches (kisses) the strings and a simple melody flows from the instrument. The music is nearly immediately recognizable as some sort of Irish sea shanty, backed by some sort of instrumental track from the girl's speakers. For a moment Jemma stands still, truly enjoying the sounds flowing over the plaza.
Then the girl jumps – jumps! – to her feet and into - into! – the fountain and starts to dance, and all Jemma can think is that she's definitely – definitely! – getting fired.
By the time her feet leave the ground and touch down on the pad of the fountain, water splashing up cool between her toes, Daisy's forgotten how tense she was. It's just her and the music and the water and the night, and she relaxes.
Then she spots the (gorgeous) security guard girl and she nearly freaks out.
But then she realizes a) she's a foster kid and no one really wants her anywhere anyway, b) she's having way too much fun to stop, and c) so what if she gets sent back? This is the most fun she's ever had.
So when the security guard comes towards her, waving a broom and yelling, Daisy does the only thing she can think of –
She dances away from her.
A crowd's gathered and the pirate girl is still up there Irish-step-dancing through the water, and it's as though the water is following her movements and the cues from her music and Jemma can't slow her thoughts long enough to process any of it.
She grabs her push broom and starts thrusting it towards the pirate girl, feeling oddly like it's a sabre and she's some sort of soldier attempting to take down a nefarious pirate leader. Jemma yells something at her, waving her hands, as the girl dances away from her, parrying each thrust of the broom with a backwards motion or a swell of music.
(Something about this girl is beyond weird.)
(And magical.)
And Jemma can't lie – since the theft that caused her end up in the Greater Horizons program, she hasn't had so much fun.
Daisy grins as the security guard becomes more and more frustrated. It's hilarious, especially since Daisy's body moves like well-oiled machinery. Her fingers are light on the strings, the music flowing out of her like she's some sort of violin wizard, and her feet in the water are cool and swift. People are staring now, gathered around the plaza like this was planned. Some have their phones out, recording the event.
And what Daisy loves the most is the guard, who is still trying to stab her with the broom.
So she does something completely unplanned, something that she knows has the potential to turn what was supposed to just be fun into an event that could send her away from Phil (who she actually thinks she might like).
She waves her arm at the security guard, managing to make it look like a flourish with her bow, throwing down the gauntlet.
You want me? Come up here and get me.
It's as though the girl's challenging her.
Get up here and dance with me.
Before her body quite knows what it's doing, Jemma's leaping up onto the fountain.
The water's cold on her feet and she realizes she's crossed some sort of line, stepped away from a place she can never return to.
Seems like it might be worth it.
And with that, Jemma starts to dance.
They go back and forth in the fountain, the pirate and the security guard.
The pirate sashays forward, her music her weapon, all flourishes and quick Riverdance movements, water spraying up like glinting diamonds in the evening light.
Then the guard advances, her broom her sword, forcing the pirate backwards, stomping and swaying her hips like a child playing in puddles.
Pirate advances! Guard blocks and parries!
Guard advances! Pirate twirls around her!
Forward and back – back and forward – around and around – neither touching the other though the grins on their faces are wide enough to encircle them both.
It's like magic.
No, Daisy thinks, as her body threatens to crack wide open from all the glowing, bubbly energy she's producing, it is magic.
It's perfect.
And then the music stops.
Jemma looks up in surprise when the pirate finishes the song and all at once the music and the fountain end the show. It's far too still and quiet in the plaza, and she looks over, seeing astonished faces in the crowd.
They're clapping. They're cheering.
And the pirate girl steps forward, still holding her violin, and grabs onto Jemma's hand. Without quite knowing why, Jemma automatically steps forward and bows alongside the pirate girl.
Jemma's breathless and grinning and she can't explain why she feels so good…
… and then the pirate girl tugs Jemma closer and kisses – kisses! – her.
The security guard's lips taste like raspberries, and she smells like raspberries and the way the world smells after a summer rain. (So, basically, perfect.)
Daisy feels nearly drunk when she pulls back, like there are sparkles in her eyes.
(Because there are definitely sparkles in the other girl's eyes.)
"Um, hi," she says.
"Hi," Jemma says. "That was… quite impressive."
The pirate grins. "Thank you."
"But just so you know, I'm not just going to be your wench," Jemma goes on, a giggle threatening to burst loose from her chest. "I'm the kind of savvy maiden who requires a few more trips around the harbor before she chooses a ship."
Daisy laughs. "What the hell is wrong with you? What's with all the pirate speak?"
"You're right," the guard says. "Where are my manners? I'm Jemma."
"Jemma," Daisy says softly.
"And you?"
"Oh! I'm Daisy."
"Well, pleased to meet you. Do you… um… do you do things like this often?"
"Kiss girls I've never met in the middle of public fountains?"
"Sure, let's go with that."
"No. Never," Daisy says. "And if you're referring to the impromptu dance show… this is my first."
"Do you think you might be tempted to do it again?"
"The dancing or the kissing?"
Jemma yanks Daisy towards her and kisses her again. Then she grins. "Either one, I guess."