"You were always underestimatin' yourself, weren't you? You always thought you were just like the rest of us, that you were just a witch, but look at you now… you're the goddamn Supreme."
Cordelia Goode is having a difficult time keeping herself in check as she finds herself in the presence of Misty Day for the first time in—god, how long has it been? It feels like forever. That much she knows as she sits behind her desk and watches Misty flit about her office. She moves from the bookshelf against one wall to a window behind the desk, and finally comes to rest on the edge of the desk. She reaches for the pictures Cordelia has on display, lifts each one and observes it before she sets it back down gently.
"I think that Mallory girl was right… we do have some catchin' up to do."
"Yes, we do."
It's one thing to greet Misty with Mallory at her side and Nan standing with what she knew to be a knowing smile; it's another thing entirely when it's just the two of them in her office catching up. It's so much more to be in her space, where there is no need to tread carefully and no audience to consider her words and what they could mean. It's just the two of them, and Cordelia can feel the other woman's magic reach out toward (for?) her—whether it's intentional or not, she doesn't know—and her toes curl as it wraps around her own, leaves her feeling content as warmth spreads throughout her body.
"You've made this whole place lighter, I can feel it. The foul stench that once covered this place is completely gone. There's only good here," Misty says.
"I'd like for you stay here, but I'll understand if you don't want to."
"Nah, I ain't going anywhere."
"I kept your shack maintained. I never imagined you'd be here with us again. I tried so many times to bring you back, and failed just as many, but I'd hoped..."
She had hoped that with the abilities she gained as the Supreme, that she would be able to pull her out of purgatory—she hadn't, though she had nearly died trying.
God, if she had any inkling that she would be the Supreme, she would never have put the girls through that experience.
As it was, she had held Misty and whispered to her for hours—had pleaded with her to follow the light, to hear her and come back to her, but—her time's up—she had turned to dust in Cordelia's arms, and she swears the breaking heart inside of chest did the same. And that, she supposes, is the moment she knew she was irrevocably in love with Misty Day.
"I never stopped hoping that you'd return to us one day."
Misty tilts her head toward Cordelia and smiles, eyes shining as she looks down on her. There's something in them that Cordelia can't quite put her finger on, but her eyes are warm and inviting and the color of the ocean, and she swears that she wants to get lost in those ocean eyes and the woman they belong to. Cordelia knows she is staring up at her in wonder and she feels no shame.
"Why're you lookin' at me like that? Like it hurts to?" Misty asks as she pushes off the desk and moves to the window again. "You just can't keep your eyes off of me, can you?"
The question is spoken quietly, almost thoughtful. Cordelia turns her chair toward where Misty is watching the sky slowly turn dark, props her chin on a fist held up by a bent elbow on the desk. Golden light filters through the slats of the blinds and splash across Misty's face, and Cordelia can see her eyes shine even with the distance between them.
"No, I don't suppose I can. I think I'm afraid you're going to disappear again."
"It's okay, I don't mind. To be honest, I think I'm afraid of that, too."
A silence, one that is not quite uncomfortable, falls over them for several minutes. And then Cordelia cuts through it with unfiltered words that were falling from her lips before she could stop them: "You look good, Misty Day."
"You look good too, Miss Cordelia. Real good," Misty says with a chuckle. Then she turns away from the window and takes a step closer to the desk, extending her hand the woman sitting behind it. "Would you like to dance with me?"
"In my office?" Cordelia says dumbly. "There's no music."
"I know it's not ideal, but I'd really like it if you'd say yes. I'll take care of the music."
Perhaps it is the confidence she sees in Misty that compels her to reach for the outstretched hand, and to allow the other woman to draw her in. They move around the desk and Misty uses her foot to move the chair on the other side of it out of the way to allow for more room. Once it's against the wall, her hands are on Cordelia. Not certain of where to put her hands, Cordelia places them awkwardly on Misty's hips, frowning slightly at the sweat accumulating on her palms.
"This ain't a middle school dance, Delia. C'mere… come a little closer, darlin'."
Without a word, Cordelia allows Misty to draw her ever closer. She can only sigh, feeling content as hands settle on her hips and squeeze once before one slides around her waist as the other moves up her back to sit between her shoulder blades. They are close—so, so close—and Cordelia moves her hands from Misty's hips to her the small of her back, then all the way to her shoulders. With each hand far up the other woman's back, her fingers curling over the curve of each shoulder, it feels more like an intimate embrace than it does dancing—even as Cordelia rests her forehead against Misty's shoulder and they begin to sway. Cordelia listens as Misty starts to sing, her voice soft. She feels every word deeply, feels every word in her very bones.
"Tell me this isn't just one more elaborate dream to get me through another night," Cordelia murmurs, turns her head to kiss the skin closest to her—the column of Misty's neck.
"Do you often have dreams where we do this?" Misty wonders, voice shaking slightly at the contact. "This ain't dream, darlin'. I'm here, I'm real. I'm alive."
"Do you promise?"
"Yes. I swear it."
"I knew you for such a short time, but I missed you forever," Cordelia says, nuzzles the space between neck and shoulder. Kisses her again, once then twice more. "God, Misty, I'm so..."
"You're what?""
I'm so in love with you."
The gentle movement of their bodies stops almost at once, and though Cordelia doesn't move to put distance between herself and her friend, she does feel herself deflate slightly.
"You turned to dust in my arms and I felt like a cold fist reached into my chest and crushed it—so hard and so completely that my heart was dust, too. That was the worst moment of my life, but it was also the moment I knew, without a single shred of doubt or shame, that I never want to be without you.
"I don't expect anything from you, but it's important to me that you know—that that you were missed every single day. That you are an important member of this coven. That you're here and you're safe, and that I love you completely. And I promise that you will always have me by your side, as a friend."
Laying it all out there for her world—for Misty to see, feels like a sacrifice or maybe a promise or both—one she feels could be the most important one of her life. Because while she's taken her own sight to find her and bring her home, had searched long and hard for her in the netherworld and nearly gave her life with each failed attempt to pull her out of it, Cordelia thinks watching Misty willingly walk away from the coven—from the friendship they had built—that would be the second greatest loss of her life.
"Yeah, as a friend…" Misty says. She exhales slowly and draws her head back to meet Cordelia's eyes. "You have the most beautiful eyes, you know? It's a shame I didn't get to see them before."
Tendrils of magic reach out again, and Cordelia hums as she feels it interact with her own. "Misty..."
"You let me come into your life and into your hone when I needed help and allowed me to call it my own. You protected me when no one else did. You taught me so much about magic, but also about family, what it means to have found my tribe and be the best version of myself. You're the best friend I've got, maybe the best I've ever had."
"I know, and I'm sorry," Cordelia whispers. She feels her face flush in shame. "I never meant to screw that up. I'm sorry—"
Cordelia's hands fist the material of the shirt beneath them as Misty kisses her, effectively stopping the apologies falling from her lips. Misty is both softer and sweeter than she's imagined her being—she's so much more—and Cordelia's eyes flutter shut as the hand on her back slides upward to cradle the back of her head, the kiss deepening with the movement. And, god, the magic that had been mingling with hers was suddenly spreading through her from her toes all the way to the top of her head, spiraling through every bone in her body, lighting up each nerve ending.
"Jesus…" Cordelia exhales as she pulls away slightly to take a breath. "Fuck, Misty, what is that? Do you even know you're doing that?"
"I could hear your voice, not only that day when you were callin' out for me, but also each one that followed. I don't know how many there were. You say it's only been a year, but it feels like I spent an eternity hearing your voice, an eternity missing you always and wondering what could have been," Misty says.
She shifts so she can cradle Cordelia's face in her hands, her palms on her jawline and her thumbs brushing over her lips. The very tips of her fingers are alight with magic, the visual not unlike that of built up static being released upon metal.
"What do you mean?"
"The day we met, I was so scared and angry at the world and at God—for allowing everyone I'd ever cared about to set me on fire and leave me for dead, for allowing me to heal and finally feel safe again only to have my life nearly taken from me again. I was too preoccupied with the negativity surrounding me that I didn't even want to acknowledge what I felt just touchin' your hand that first time. You've had my heart from that very first moment, I think. But you were married and had other things going on, and then things went from bad to worse… and then I was gone. I could feel you, though. You were always there with me, every moment, always."
Cordelia releases her grip on Misty's shirt and lifts them, gently wipes away the tears that had fallen from her eyes and down her cheeks—without her even noticing, she thinks. Those ocean eyes meet hers and Cordelia moves her hands to those still cradling her jaw, runs her thumbs back and forth over her knuckles before dropping to loosely hold her wrists.
"That won't change. I will be with you forever, in whatever capacity you need me to be."
"Y'know, I've never experienced the kind of magic I feel when I'm near you—not once in my whole life. I feel like all of who I am is reaching out for you, and when I feel you close the distance, it's like you are all around me and inside of me, everywhere at once, and it's worth the eternity I had to endure to be in this moment with you. I am yours, Cordelia. I am completely yours."
"My dearest Misty," Cordelia hums sweetly. She brushes her lips against Misty's then kisses her fully, nearly swooning as she feels their magic spiraling around each other. "You are mine, and I am wholly yours."
"It won't be easy, y'know. If we're gonna do this. I've got some healin' to do. I was in that darkness for so long, I don't know who I am anymore."
"I'll help you."
And with that, they shift into an embrace like the one they had been in previously, and begin to sway again—and as Misty begins to sing again, the words of Stevie Nicks never sounding so sweet as they do falling from her lips, Cordelia feels the magic of the other woman in every atom that makes her who she is. It thrills her as it brings her peace like she's never known, and brings light to the darkness inside of her—all the while creating a blossoming warmth in her chest where her heart is beginning to mend.
"What if I'm different? What if I'm not the same as I was before?"
"I don't know how you could be the same person you were before. How can a person go through literal hell and stay the same?" Cordelia says. "I don't imagine it's possible."
"What if—"
"Hush, love. How about we avoid thinking about what-ifs? We are are here, in this moment. Try to stay in it, alright? We can talk about what comes next soon, but just stay here with me for a little while longer, okay?"
"Okay," Misty says. Then, after a moment of consideration, she adds, "Whatever comes next—whether I heal or I don't, whether I'm the same or I'm different—I know only this for sure: I'll love you always. I swear it."
"And I'll love you forever."
"Always and forever. I like the sound of that."