Dance with Me

by Ly Merrick

It is precisely the undefinable that links two souls together, some mysterious combination of chemical and fate. Cordelia finds that Misty overwhelms her senses – with and without sight.

Title: Dance With Me

Pairing: Cordelia/Misty (Foxxay)

Synopsis: It is precisely the undefinable that links two souls together, some mysterious combination of chemical and fate. Cordelia finds that Misty overwhelms her senses – with and without sight.

Author's Note: Uhh. My current obsession is problematic. I spent a lot of the evening looking at GIFsets, reading fics, watching fanvids, and cursing YouTube for country copyright bans. Anyway, so here's another one-shot. I hope you enjoy. It's set in the usual Coven circumstance and takes place away from the hubbub of witch hunters and the Seven Wonders. Let's just pretend the Seven Wonders never happened. Mmkay.

###

"He called her a melon, a pineapple, an olive tree, an emerald, and a fox in the snow all in the space of three seconds; he did not know whether he had heard her, tasted her, seen her, or all three together." – Virginia Woolf

Second Sight, as Cordelia experienced it, was typically on the border of painful and pleasurable. It was in this very opposition that her feelings lay. Her Sight gave her the ability to service the Coven in a way she had not felt previously able. Alchemy was all well and good, but in the end, she was no Fiona. She couldn't comprehend what it was that she had done to deserve a lack of ability, while someone as exceptionally cruel as Fiona had been … the Supreme.

Her power and her vulnerability lay in a simple touch. She used it as necessary, since she hadn't quite learned how to control what came and went when flesh met flesh. She saw lies, saw betrayal, and with each vision felt saddened and horrified.

Early in her life she had taken on the role of Headmistress, the caretaker for all the lost witches who would come forth and seek guidance or protection. It had been a heavy burden to shoulder and often, late at night, it was one that Cordelia didn't particularly want anymore. She wanted to sit outside and drink tea without feeling like each moment was one stolen away from somebody. There was no solitude, no quiet, and always someone who needed her.

These were rare moments that she desired a release from her duty. Fiona would not protect the Coven. Regardless of power or rank, Cordelia was a member of the Coven no matter what, with the blood of the Supreme in her veins, and this meant if her mother would not do her job then Cordelia had to. More often than not she desired peace not for herself but for the girls. Amidst all the turmoil, she was too occupied by their safety to feel petty desires very strongly.

However, hours before she met Misty Day, sick with grief over the witch hunters, over Hank, over all of it, she had been closed away in her greenhouse for a good portion of time. She had been crying – as she seemed to do lately – and tending to her plants was her only true refuge. There were enemies at all sides – Fiona, with her eternal desire to murder young witches capable of taking her throne; witch hunters banging down the doors to murder them all; Cordelia's broken body, shattered dreams, and at the moment it all seemed too much.

She confessed her turmoil to no one. There were rare moments when she would ask for Auntie Myrtle's advice, but she never voiced frustration. The eccentric witch was given to looking at Cordelia the way one would look at an injured bird, but had advice centered solely on destroying Fiona. And now Auntie Myrtle was gone.

Cordelia Foxx was human and vulnerable. She allowed herself the tears, and by the time she rinsed her eyes off she felt a strange shift in the air. A sort of static. The shed in the backyard had been closed somewhat abruptly just outside the greenhouse, but by the time Cordelia clapped her walking stick against the floorboards, there was no audible sign of some intruder or menace. Still, anxiety settled in her chest and she made her way across the yard (cautiously), her free hand set out in the air before her.

"Delia," a voice ghosted across the yard and Cordelia stopped.

"Auntie Myrtle?"

"Sweet daughter of mine," Myrtle's odd perfume graced Cordelia's nose. "The suffering you've endured – it brings me pain. I am, however, glad that you're not able to see how terrible I must look."

To her own surprise, Cordelia felt tears sting her eyes again. (Crying hurt, ever since the acid had damaged the tissue in her eyes.) "How are you alive?"

"You have a new house guest. And there are witch hunters about – they found myself and the child, and likely followed us here."

"Who..?"

Cordelia was guided by Myrtle's familiar hand, and as she came into the house it was as if the air itself continued to spark. What Cordelia had mistaken for anxiety was a strange sort of tension, settled right in the middle of her chest. She felt a curious anticipation. If they had brought Myrtle back, this meant the new houseguest had the ability to bring back the dead. It was called many things, but was a gift few witches possessed.

There was heated whispering in the entryway, an unfamiliar voice exchanging please with Zoe. Cordelia gently pulled her arm from Myrtle's grasp and straightened herself. She shed all vulnerability, but what she lacked in vulnerability she multiplied in compassion.

"Who is this?" Tapping her stick along the way, she felt Zoe's hand gently halt her in an appropriate place. The air was static, and oddly, Cordelia felt her heart beating a little more rapidly.

"Ma'am, I – there was a man in the swamp –" A warm voice bleat out a weak and anxious plea.

Cordelia offered her hand without question, ignored the strange ache and trembling in her bones. She tried to memorize the voice, as she could not memorize anything else at the moment. She sensed hesitation like a ripple between herself and the swamp witch that had resurrected Myrtle. The girl was afraid to take her hand, and there was a moment where she felt self-conscious.

And then Misty Day took her hand in both of her own. She felt the swamp mud very lightly caked on her palms, felt the warmth as her fingertips fit so carefully around Cordelia's hand. These were mere milliseconds but they seemed intense in some way. Before the vision took hold, she felt as a tugging at her bones, a certain magnetism of atoms.

She saw Misty's death – felt the pure pain, anger, sadness of it. She wanted to cry as she watched the girl struggle in fear. She wondered, absently, if her hand was gripping Misty's tighter in response. Cordelia had distantly heard herself gasp for air as if she herself had died. Vaguely, she thought that Misty had drawn in a sharp gust of air.

Cordelia experienced Misty's rebirth, felt the power surge back through and surround the girl completely as the swamp gave her life. She could almost feel the intense web of energy that connected Misty to everything and everyone else. She smelt the warmth of the sun-baked mud, the peculiar floral smell of the present combining with the past. She felt Misty's heart surge to life.

She did not want to let this girl's hand go. She also wished – briefly – that she could look upon her with a pair of eyes that functioned as eyes were supposed to. Briefly, she felt Misty's heart as if it beat within her own chest. Cordelia withdrew her hand in a slow shock, her heart racing as the connection broke and she was returned to the present.

"Misty Day, ma'am," the warm voice etched along Cordelia's senses.

"I know who you are – you have the power to give life – you were tortured and burned and here you stand –" Cordelia had unintentionally stepped forward.

"This is our – this is Cordelia Foxx," Zoe interjected carefully. Cordelia noted absently that Zoe was likely about to say that Cordelia was the leader of the Coven, and was grateful she had not. To say such a thing would incur more of Fiona's wrath whenever she returned from the alley she had run off to. She was not in the mood to endure her mother's constant belittling.

"Miss Cordelia, a man tried to kill me and my friend here – please don't make us leave."

"Oh, child," Myrtle chided just near Cordelia's shoulder. Cordelia still felt immobile, standing at most two feet across from this strange and magnetic witch. "You don't know anything about Cordelia if you think she'd throw you or that strange boy out. This is the house of the Coven. It is – or used to be – an academy for witches like yourself."

"This is your home as much as it is mine," the headmistress spoke almost softly. "You are safe here, Misty Day. You have my word." She heard the rustle of fabric, and knew that Misty had advanced. She felt fingers pass the fabric of her sleeves. Cordelia became aware that Misty had just tried to give her an embrace and hesitated to do so.

"Thank you, so much," Misty had settled on these words instead, and grasped the fabric of Cordelia's sleeve. A thumb traced along the dip of Cordelia's forearm, the crux of her elbow, and she tried to ignore the spinning sensation in her head.

"Zoe, please show Misty where she'll be staying. We'll collect her things as soon as things have … quieted a little. Until then – "

"I have clothes," Zoe offered, her footsteps retreating away. "Come on."

"And please –" Cordelia stopped the group at the stairs, following the trail of sound in front of her, "do not let Fiona know that Kyle is staying with us." She had of course seen Zoe and Kyle, seen too much to wrap her mind around at the moment, but she knew presently that Misty had not only healed Kyle but brought her surrogate mother back to life. She was powerful.

There were now three extra bodies in the house. They didn't lack for space, of course. It was only the pure concentration of so many possible dangers that overwhelmed Cordelia.

Nevermind the intensity of admiration and sudden devotion she had felt to protect Misty the moment she had seen the girl die, felt the flames lick her skin.

Needless to say, Cordelia went to bed early that night, and did not dream.

###

Blackness. Blindness. It was all Cordelia knew now, and even as she stood at the window in her bedroom and felt the warmth of the sun bleeding in, she could not see it. She ached so badly to see anything that was not somehow horrific and mind-numbing. Her hand was pressed to the glass and her head lay against the frame.

A rare moment of peace and quiet. Downstairs, the girls were bickering and Myrtle was correcting them. Somewhere down the hall Kyle was watching an educational video on Zoe's computer meant for children. She was trying to focus her thoughts, center on something that was not troubling but she could find nothing.

Cordelia felt a flash of fear. What if a witch hunter were outside, looking inside her window? She backed away slowly, gathered her walking stick with a trembling hand, and made her way down the hall. All the while talking herself out of blind fear, she found herself knocking on the doorframe that she knew to be Misty's. She heard the girl humming some incoherent tune, and smiled.

"Misty, I'd like to speak with you," Cordelia requested softly and formally.

"Oh, hey there Miss Cordelia – is everything alright? Have I done somethin'?"

Cordelia offered her kindest smile, and found herself chuckling, "Not at all. I just haven't gotten opportunity to sit down and speak with you. As an alchemist – I'm rather curious about the swamp mud you used on Auntie Myrtle, and a few other things."

"Oh, I don't know a lot of the names for things, but I'd be happy to try'n answer anything I can," Misty spoke softly, and had come closer. Close enough that Cordelia's heart had picked up in its curious response, the sinew of her bones tugging.

"Would you care to join me in the greenhouse?"

"That's my favorite place in this whole house," Misty chattered by way of response, and moved by as Cordelia stepped aside to let her through. Cordelia followed the girl, her hand tracing down the hand-rail as she walked carefully down each step. She was still frightened on them, but didn't want to betray this. Somehow, though, she felt a tender touch at the small of her back. "You alright, Miss Cordelia? Lemme help you."

Misty's hand lay cautiously there, and her footsteps began to echo Cordelia's. The shorter woman felt Misty's warmth beside her and felt a blooming of responding warmth in her chest. "Thank you," she responded as they got to the bottom, moving with the girl through another hall and out to the greenhouse. They walked in companionable silence, with Misty just beside Cordelia as if she were watching out for the headmistress.

As Cordelia clicked the door shut, she felt around for a pair of gloves and quickly went to tending her plants, motioning for Misty to follow. "Pay close attention," she commanded softly, "of all the girls, I believe you'll have the most aptitude for knowing what it is I have out here."

"Plants never hurt nobody," Misty seemed to observe, "I mean, they can, but the only time they do is if some person uses 'em to hurt another person. It's really sad, that somethin' so beautiful can be abused like that," the slightly younger woman's voice seemed tinged with sadness. "I think that's probably a lot like you," this last part was spoken next to Cordelia.

Cordelia flushed only slightly, "This swamp mud you speak of – do you know of its properties? Any of the ingredients? It seems to have amazing healing properties, as you've managed to heal at least three people in this household with minimal damage."

"I'm not sure of the names. I'm real sorry. I mean, maybe I can get some, when we go get my things."

"My theory is that the magic lies not in the mud but in you," Cordelia turned in Misty's direction, eyes cast slightly higher than her own eye level. Although she could not see Misty, she yearned for that human connection one gains when looking into another person's eyes. "It is some natural extension of your – of your …" she hesitated, trying to sort out her words, her hands working in the air between them as if they would be able to find the words there, "your power of Resurgence, although I think in reality that power is born from empathy, compassion, and some deep understanding of the workings of life."

Misty seemed to be shifting her weight, by the creak of the floorboards, "I don't know about all that, Miss Cordelia. I just – I feel for that spark of life somebody has in 'em, like lookin' for light in a totally dark place. And then I … I guess I convince it to come back."

Cordelia couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips at the genuine nature Misty seemed to have. She reached in the air between them, nearly found a hand or an arm or something, hesitated, and drew her hand back. "It's a beautiful gift, Misty Day, and a very powerful one. I apologize for bombarding you with theories – I just feel this is a power rare enough that I wish to understand it."

A hand pressed at her arm again, just at the elbow, "Miss Cordelia, if you don't mind me sayin', you don't have to be so formal with me. And I mean, I told you I don't mind answerin' questions. I'm just sorry I don't know all the – " her hand broke off, and Cordelia felt a small flush of air near her hands suggesting Misty was motioning for some kind of word herself, "all the language you folks use to explain all this."

"Never apologize to me," Cordelia corrected almost affectionately. "You were raised in circumstances, like many witches, where you weren't able to learn anything about what you were. Your death –" a surge of emotion in her chest cut her words off as they tipped onto her tongue. She grasped her chest a little. "I am so sorry you've suffered so very much."

Cordelia felt eyes on her, and the silence became thick.

"What?" She inquired the way one might to a long-time companion, sharp and short, full of anxiety. "Is there something –"

The words that followed in response were enough to electrify Cordelia's skin, or rather the tone in which they were spoken. It was lighthearted and genuine, but there was something intense underneath the skin of the words that made Cordelia's heart stop for a millisecond of time.

"I really like you."

Cordelia smiled, hesitantly.

"Can I help you with your plants? Everywhere else in this place feels dark. I don't like it. It's different in here though. It's nicer somehow."

"Certainly," Cordelia's fingers grazed her throat, feeling the warmth of flush there. Misty's attention flattered her, as much as she would rather not admit. The way she had said she liked Cordelia had given her a reaction of sorts that she'd not expected. She felt rather silly about it, but pushed it aside.

So began Misty's instruction in alchemy.

###

Cordelia had never thought she would feel angry for being given eyesight again. Yet as she lay in bed, doped up and healing from Auntie Myrtle's attempt to restore her, she felt angry. It was a day or two after she'd woken up with the ability to see and grabbed Myrtle's hand in a panic when she realized that she no longer had Second Sight. She had grieved. And she feared the worst for the Coven as a result.

She'd cast Myrtle out in anger and told her to ensure nobody came in. She forgot about the semblance of calm she'd begun to feel, forgot about everything but the fact that she was now useless and as pathetic as her mother claimed her to be. Cordelia felt that maybe if she hid away for long enough, she would simply fade away.

It was in this desire to escape that she realized she was avoiding responsibility just like Fiona. She had gotten out of bed with the flush of shame hot on her cheeks, despite the sour taste in her mouth and the way her limbs felt too heavy to be her own, and began to run a hot bath. If she soaked, she would perhaps feel better.

As Cordelia came back into the bedroom, she realized that there was a plant that had not been there the day before. It was a plant native to the swamps of Louisiana, and grew there alone. She'd not had this plant in her greenhouse. Misty, a girl who was quickly becoming a confidante, had left it for her. She touched the leaves, sighed heavily and closed her eyes. She had not yet seen the young woman who so quickly enchanted her with the freedom in her soul and the love of Stevie Nicks. Misty's compassion continued to astonish her. And her ingenuity as well, because she had not been aware of Misty's visit.

It was Misty, or rather the thought of her, that reminded Cordelia to be steadfast and patient. She sunk into her bath shortly after, soaked and found her mind wandering to the girl.

"Come on, Miss Cordelia," Misty's laughter lit up the room. "Dance with me," she coaxed, grabbing Cordelia's gloved hand and pulling her into her gravity. She rested an arm around Cordelia's waist and pulled her in close, Stevie singing to them in the background. "It's been a while since you smiled, and that's just a sin," the playfulness in Misty's voice made Cordelia laugh and dip her head against Misty's shoulder.

"You're the most ridiculous girl, Misty Day. I can't dance," Cordelia tried – however lackluster in her attempt – to pull away, only to be tugged close again. Misty smelled like flowers, like the warm earth in the middle of the summer. She exuded a shivering contentment.

"You're dancin' right now!" Misty whirled Cordelia gently, guided her. Cordelia felt herself falling into the moment, losing herself and her worries. She became less aware of everything else and more aware of the present; she was especially alert to the way Misty had rested her cheek near Cordelia's, singing quietly to the song.

Misty was intoxicating – a sensory experience. She encompassed Cordelia, cocooned her in the awareness of now, the awareness of her own ability to be happy in the worst of times. "No one's ever danced with me. Did you know that?"

"Not even that jackass of a husband you picked outta the dump?"

Cordelia laughed.

Misty seemed to fall silent, even the humming grew still, but still they danced, circled. Cordelia felt Misty's cheek withdraw from her space, felt eyes on her. They swayed, and Misty seemed to stare at Cordelia. The shorter woman felt herself blushing, felt herself shrink and the desire to hide grew. She was not nearly so used to people staring at her in the way she perceived Misty's attention. "I think Stevie would want me to make sure that somebody dances with you the right way. She's weavin' magic around us."

The dance slowed, and Cordelia found herself leaning against Misty's shoulder, memorizing the smell of her hair, the way her hips swayed in the space between them, the way her fingers danced along Cordelia's lower back, as if Misty were tracing parts of her into memory.

Cordelia's fingers were pruny by the time she managed to get herself out of the tub. She had been so lost in the vivid memory of that dance with Misty that time had ceased to exist. She craved contact with Misty now, having forgotten the sorrow and the anger in losing her only active magical ability. For now, her only thought was finally seeing Misty. Like moth to flame.

It was late, and even Myrtle had retired for the evening, since she was no longer standing guard at Cordelia's door. Cordelia tightened her robe and padded quietly down the hall, hoping that she would not be seen by the other girls. Although she regularly checked on them at night, she had never done so in her robe, nor had she done so at such a late hour.

She didn't knock, for fear of waking the other girls, but she opened the door quite slowly. Her eyes – still sore, but perfectly 20/20 – scanned the room as she stepped in, moonlight streaming in to the smaller bedroom. On the twin bed, Misty was passed out beneath her covers, her shawl laying near the bedstand. Cordelia was torn between wanting to wake her and wanting to just take her in for a moment.

The visions of Misty had always been clear. She knew what Misty looked like, but the reality of her, the reality of the person behind the voice and the forever pulsating warmth in the air around Misty – it was a lot to take in. Her hair spread messily on the pillow, Misty still managed to seem angelic somehow.

Cordelia forgot herself in those moments, just listening to the sound of Misty's breath and realizing this person was no imaginary desire manifested. She was truly real, solid. Cordelia felt awed; maybe because people so kind had ever been in books. She'd lied to herself in thinking that this person would not somehow be real when she could finally see her. Yet here she lay, as real as Cordelia standing in a bathrobe.

Cordelia switched on the bedside lamp carefully, watched the light play over Misty's face as the blonde's expression wrinkled in the displeasure of being awoken. Her brow knit and she began to roll over. "Not again, Zoe, I'm not gonna help you find Kyle just 'cause he decided to take a late night walk –" it was when her eyes opened that she stopped speaking.

Cordelia Foxx was suddenly hyperaware of herself. Aware of water beading at her neck, aware of how tightly her robe was tied, aware of how she must look coming in here like this. She almost began to make an excuse when Misty tugged at Cordelia's arm and pulled her into an embrace.

"I didn't think you were gonna come out," Misty breathed, obviously not concerned with how she had essentially pulled Cordelia down, somewhat on top of her.

"I didn't really want to," Cordelia admitted quietly. Her trust in Misty was total and complete, and as she closed her eyes and squeezed her arms just a little more tightly around Misty, she felt her heart ache. "And then I thought about how you danced with me and the fact that if I owe anyone, it's you. I have a duty to this Coven and … it's not easy, but I think if I have – support, if I have you, then perhaps I can do what needs to be done."

"Your eyes look funny," Misty observed with a little laugh. "I'm just so glad you're out of that room. I don't even care for what reasons. Did you see my plant? I got it for you. Went back and got it from my garden," Misty pulled away, sitting up against the headboard. Cordelia was folding her hands in her lap and adjusting herself on the mattress when she felt a hesitant hand on her arm. "I just wanted to see you smile again."

"I've not seen you smile enough," Cordelia replied with just a bit of a smirk. She tried to memorize Misty's face, the play of expression across her features. They sat in silence for another moment, but when Cordelia finally met Misty's intense and overwhelming gaze, she became aware of the tightness in her chest.

Uncertainty painted Misty's features for just a moment, "What?"

"You're so very lovely," Cordelia's tone came out more reverently than perhaps she had intended.

Misty's smile was contagious, and it made her eyes squint at the corners. She laughed, and scooted forward on the mattress, closing the space between them a little more. "So you needed to see me so bad that you didn't even get dressed?" She poked a finger at the fluffy bathrobe, and then tugged gently on a wet strand of hair.

Cordelia laughed, covered her face a moment. "I suppose I do look silly, coming in like that."

"I sat outside your door last night, so don't feel too silly, Miss Cordelia."

"A part of me believed I could not be so lucky, to have such a wonderful confidante, and that … if I were to see you, that I would see that you weren't real," Cordelia hesitated on her words. "Does that sound crazy to you?"

"No, not really," Misty's voice was amused and soft. Cordelia watched her eyes dance in the moonlight and resisted the urge to touch her face.

"Very quickly you have become supremely important to me, and I want you to know that. I feel as if there is no one I have ever met that moved me in the way you have," she didn't know why, but she felt Misty had to know her importance. Now that she could look the girl in the eye, she didn't want to look away. Cordelia's eyes lingered on Misty's questioning gaze. "I don't know why, but the few weeks I have spent with you in the greenhouse or… really at all, I've grown very attached to you."

Misty's smile was all the reward and confirmation Cordelia needed. They shared a lingering and intense moment in which there were no words, only the meeting of eyes.

"I should go to bed," Cordelia smirked at herself in her insecurity. She wrapped her robe more tightly and began to stand, but felt Misty's insistent hand clasp her own. How she had missed the warmth of it and hoped there would be a day they could touch without the consequence of overwhelming vision. Standing, she glanced at their clasped hands and then at Misty's determined expression.

"Cordelia," she had never really used her name in an informal way, so when it was said now, full of affection and a hint of something beyond Cordelia's grasp, it made Cordelia's fingers twitch in Misty's palm. "I believe in you. I know you been worryin' about…about not being able to help the Coven, now that you can't see the future, but you're powerful and kind. You're everythin' we need."

The shorter woman watched the soft expression, saw Misty's vulnerability, and it made her feel a little breathless in such a confession of faith. "Thank you," she murmured in reply, though it wasn't enough to convey her gratitude.

She didn't want to leave Misty's side yet, and found herself still holding Misty's hand. The swamp witch seemed to reciprocate the feeling, because she tugged Cordelia's hand cautiously. When Cordelia glanced down in question, she watched Misty scoot back against the wall, disengage her hand, and pull the covers aside.

It was a question, though it didn't get spoken aloud. Misty was asking Cordelia to stay, asking if this strange connection they had was acceptable, and mutual.

It was inappropriate, Cordelia knew, but she found herself climbing into bed with Misty. They lay face to face in the moonlight, Cordelia forgetting uncertainty for now as she reached between them and brushed her fingers over Misty's skin – tracing the line of her cheekbones, her jaw, resting carefully just along her throat.

"What color were your eyes before, Miss Cordelia?" Misty asked sleepily.

"A very dark brown," Cordelia replied softly, too enamored with this very moment to feel tired. Electricity seemed to travel through her fingertips into her chest every time she touched Misty's skin and felt the responding goosebumps, watched Misty begin to fall asleep.

"I would've liked to see that."

A while passed before she began to feel tired. She fell asleep face to face with Misty, just so she could ensure that the thing she'd see when she woke was the only person she felt she could cling to in these difficult days.

###

Somehow Stevie's magic was more powerful when Cordelia had all her senses. Mostly because, sitting on a stool, working on a particular mixture, Cordelia's eyesight allowed her to watch Misty as she twirled and danced to Stevie. She often found herself getting lost, Misty's abandon contagious.

Embraces came easy in private – now all Cordelia needed to do was reach a tentative hand toward Misty and she would find herself wrapped in the warmest embrace she'd ever been lucky enough to experience. They spent the majority of their time together despite the outside turmoil, and in the greenhouse very late at night they were able to just be.

Cordelia almost felt as if she could consider Misty one of the best friends she'd ever had, if she didn't think about intimacy with Misty so very often. Particularly of late, she would find herself alone in the evening and wonder what it would be like to press her lips just at the base of Misty's throat, run her fingertips along her collarbone. Her heart raced at the thought, and even now as she glanced up and sucked her bottom lip in thoughtfully, she felt a rush of arousal at the feelings she had. And yet it went beyond lust. Misty felt like a piece of her soul that she had been missing. While in Misty's company, Cordelia felt whole and certain.

Misty must have noticed Cordelia's contemplating look, because she grinned widely and circled around the table. "Dance?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes, grinning, "I really have to finish this –"

"You have time," Misty pleaded, her eyes playful. She tugged Cordelia's hand a little roughly, causing Cordelia to stumble into her a little and she dragged her around to the slightly more open area of the greenhouse floor.

They danced often, if they didn't embrace. Cordelia would find herself being tugged to her feet and then lost herself in the simple joy of having a person who wanted to dance with her, regardless of the fact that they really had no particular label on their bond. How did you label a person who felt like a piece of yourself?

Misty guided Cordelia a little more slowly this time, and as always the air between them sparked with electricity and tension, but the taller woman's grin was enough to take any anxiety out of the situation. Their hips moved together, and Cordelia found that she could at least learn to dance. "How would I even begin to function without you, Misty?"

"I'm not sure, Cordelia, but I sure don't want you to try," Misty leaned down, pressed her forehead to Cordelia's.

"You make me forget that there's a war going on outside this greenhouse."

"Mmm," Misty hummed, still swaying, her hand grasping the curve of Cordelia's hip. "That's good. I think that's what I'm supposed to do."

"You do it well," Cordelia complimented, her tone lilting in amusement.

Even as they swayed, and Misty disengaged enough to meet Cordelia's eyes, she wasn't expecting the way Misty's hand swept up gently alongside the curve of her jaw, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of Cordelia's neck. Her heart stammered against her ribs uncertainly, and she forgot, momentarily, that she should be breathing. Their eyes met just briefly enough again for Cordelia to see Misty's intention.

She could not meet Misty halfway; by the time her body thought to react, she already felt Misty's lips brushing against her own. Misty's feet had stopped guiding them in their slow dance, her hand slipping away from Cordelia's hip and joining the other at the base of Cordelia's neck. She kissed Cordelia the way she had always dreamed – a mounting affection and desire burned.

She was responding in ways she didn't realize she was able. Her hands were clinging to Misty's sides, grasping the fabric there and tugging in a subtle plea. Misty pressed her torso flush against Cordelia's. The kiss deepened inevitably, and became intense enough for Cordelia to emit a whimper between them.

She had wanted this, had burned for this, but had not dared to let herself feel what she was feeling right now. If Misty had been a part of her before, the kiss between them bonded their very hearts together as if they beat in the same chest.

"I've been wantin' to do this for so long," Misty breathed against Cordelia's mouth, long enough for the two of them to catch their breaths.

Cordelia's heart was racing and she felt absolutely dizzy. A kiss had never made her react so strongly. She ached in places that she believed would no longer ache for anyone. Something in her took control, and instead of uttering out a trembling response, she pulled Misty into a searing, mind-numbing kiss. She was pushing Misty's hips backward, up against a low-mounted shelf; she was staking her claim.

Misty responded in kind, groaning softly and pulling Cordelia against her. Her palm was spread against Cordelia's back, fingers grasping at what they could.

It took some time before Cordelia was able to will herself to cease the passionate kissing. They both needed to breathe and she didn't want this to turn into a purely physical connection. She pressed her lips to Misty's neck, pulled herself into a tight embrace as Misty's arms slipped around her, and closed her eyes.

They stood together like that, flushed and grasping at one another as if they were one another's only tether to reality.

###

It was later that night, when Misty had followed Cordelia to her room as per usual, that Cordelia realized she needed to not only act on but to express how she felt. She closed the bedroom door behind Misty and hesitated, locking it carefully and watching as Misty draped her shawl over the bedside lamp and sat on the mattress, eyes lingering on Cordelia.

"I wanna kiss you again," Misty murmured frankly. Still seated on the side of the bed, this left it to Cordelia to cross the distance. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to stop doin' that now."

Cordelia stood just in front of Misty, nudging her legs open with a knee and stepping between Misty's thighs, wrapping her arms around the younger woman's neck and leaning down. She captured Misty's lips in the barest hint of a kiss, taunting not only Misty's senses but her own as well. Ache moved through her bones. "I don't want you to stop, Misty."

"I hope you know – " Misty pressed the words to Cordelia's mouth, gently grabbing her by the hips and forcing her down onto the mattress, leaning over her. Locks of hair hung on either side of her face, framing her and the subtle scent of her shampoo making Cordelia dizzy looking up at the swamp witch, "this means that you're mine now."

Cordelia grinned, reached upward and pulled Misty's face down toward her, pressing her lips to her ear, "If I fall in love with you, we're both doomed," she teased quietly, but as she pulled away all the sincerity was there.

Misty's expression was serious and full of desire, "I love you, Cordelia. My whole heart and soul aches and I'm just… you make me a whole person," she confessed in the dark.

Her vulnerability caused Cordelia to gently switch their positions. As she leaned over Misty, she pressed her lips to each eyelid, her forehead. Her hands were trembling a little as the grasped Misty's hip, "Tell me again?"

"I love you, Cordelia Foxx."

Cordelia swooned a little, sifted her fingers through Misty's hair. "I am so far beyond in love with you. It frightens me."

"Don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere," murmuring the words quietly, she pressed her lips to Misty's, a bare brush of soft skin. This was the beginning of many nights in which Misty would be the big spoon, Cordelia tugging Misty's hand around her waist and holding it close to her chest, tightly as if it would ensure that Misty would be there in the morning.

It wasn't until weeks later, when the trouble for the Coven had passed, that they would make love. Cordelia would memorize the sharp point of Misty's hip as she pressed her mouth just below her stomach but not close enough to satisfy, the way her thighs tasted as her tongue ghosted along goosebumped flesh, or listen to Misty's quiet pleas and insistent moans. She would feel her own ecstasy rush over her in the midst of an orgasm, would realize that after all these years she'd been looking for someone who wanted to worship her flesh as much as she wanted to worship theirs.

"No one's ever danced with me before. Did you know that?"