A/N: THIS IS AN EVEN BIGGER BALL OF CHEESE. This is the fluffiest thing I have ever written in my life. Your soundtrack suggestion for this one is "Better" by Regina Spektor. I hope that you will enjoy and share your thoughts!
If I kiss you where it's sore,
Will you feel better?
Will you feel anything at all?
"I have to get back to work soon," says Aurora, the admission sadder and heavier than she'd like for it to be.
"Call in sick," Maleficent suggests.
Aurora laughs at the notion. She'd never do such a thing, and Maleficent knows her well enough by now to know that. In fact, she'd bet Maleficent knew that about her by the end of their first meeting. "They saw me this morning," she says. But she makes no move to stand from the park bench where they've been sitting for the better part of an hour, facing forward, knees separated by less than an inch.
"People get sick during the day," Maleficent replies. "Especially when they never take any time off."
"I could never..." she says, but even as the words leave her lips, she's considering it. How wild would it be? How gloriously out of character? To call in sick to work so she can stay here with Maleficent and continue to just...be.
It's strange that such a commanding presense is the only one in Aurora's entire life that makes her feel at ease. Maleficent doesn't expect her to do or be or say anything in particular except for the truth, and what's really on her mind. She never realized it before, but pretty much everyone else she knows expects specific answers to specific questions, and limited reactions to limiting situations. She knows what she's supposed to say or do like it's scripted, and now that she knows there's something more to life than that, she finds it endlessly frustrating.
"Come now, Aurora," Maleficent stands from their park bench, still facing away from her. Aurora's name on Maleficent's lips is like satin sheets. It's like that first sip of coffee early in the morning. It's like what Aurora imagines an addictive drug would do to her. "Haven't you ever done anything you weren't supposed to do?"
Aurora closes her eyes and leans her head back to stare up into the sky. She told her Aunt Flora she didn't want to go on a date with That Boy I've Been Telling You About, or any boy for that matter, but she chickened out before she made it any further than that, and said she just wanted to focus on work and school for now. She told Phillip the same thing, but unfortunately, this only increased the frequency with which he visits the coffee shop. Maleficent had shaken her head smugly and informed her that telling him that only made her a challenge to him.
She hasn't told anyone she's been seeing Maleficent...if what they do can even be called that. Once or twice a week, they have coffee before or after one of Aurora's shifts, and sometimes, like today, they take walks through the city together. Usually just to the building where Maleficent works or the bus stop Aurora sometimes takes home if she's too tired to walk. Maleficent could certainly walk her home—she doesn't live that far from the coffee shop—but in truth, Aurora is nervous to allow Maleficent any further into what little personal life she has.
There isn't really a good reason for it. Her aunts go through stages of practically stalking her, and they'd definitely disapprove, and that would be a whole mess to deal with, but more than their reaction, Aurora fears Maleficent's. As she's just been contemplating, she's a different person around Maleficent than she is with everyone else in her life.
Sometimes, when she hasn't had quite enough sleep or she's feeling particularly lonely, it occurs to Aurora that Maleficent could just simply start going to another coffee shop, and Aurora would never see her again. And where would she be then? Where would she be if she slacked off at the job that puts her through school, if she shirked the only constant in her life just for this mysterious, magnetic woman who could just disappear at any time on a whim?
She's allowed her mind to wander, perhaps deliberately, from Maleficent's question. Has she ever done anything she wasn't supposed to? Ever, in her entire life?
"I drunkenly made out with a couple of girls at a party once," she confesses quietly. "That ended pretty spectacularly. I got mono and had to ask my aunts for help. Might as well have been Aunt Flora's prisoner for the next few months, and she didn't even know I caught it from a girl."
Maleficent turns back to face her and offers her hands. Aurora hesitates, then takes them and stands. She's taller than average, herself, but Maleficent always seems somehow to tower over her. It's something about the way she carries herself, the way she occupies her space so fully.
"So you're frightened," says Maleficent. "Frightened of...unforeseen consequences."
Aurora purses her lips, swallows hard, nods silently.
"There's nothing wrong with kissing a girl or going to a party, Aurora," says Maleficent. Her voice is harsh no matter the circumstances, but this is as warm as it has ever sounded, and Aurora shivers unexpectedly. "But even if in someone's perception there were, you could spend every day of your life doing exactly as you're told, and bad things would still happen. To you, to your loved ones, to strangers on the news," Maleficent lets go of Aurora's hands and offers her arm, instead. They walk towards the great suspension bridge adjacent to the little park where they've been sitting. It's in the opposite direction from the coffee shop.
"If you put your faith in another person, they'll likely let you down. If you fall in love, you'll likely get your heart broken. If you take a risk, there will in all likelihood be unforeseen consequences. The likelihood of anything in this world turning out for the best is very small." They stop walking, not far from the crosswalk that would take them onto the bridge's pedestrian walkway. Maleficent turns to face Aurora. "But if you never try, never risk anything?" she says. "You lose even that."
Aurora grabs Maleficent by the arms, pushes herself up onto her tiptoes, and kisses her. It's like nothing she's ever felt in her life. She's weak in the knees, and she only keeps her balance because Maleficent grasps her firmly by the waist and pulls her close. Their bodies are pressed together, deliciously warm compared with the chilly autumn air that surrounds them, and Maleficent's lips are so soft, and wow, is she a good kisser, and they're surrounded by a beautiful park and a bustling tourist attraction, but they might as well have fallen out of time and space altogether, because all that exists for Aurora is Maleficent, holding her tightly, and kissing her back.
They break apart, gasping for air, and Aurora is smiling so widely it hurts, and Maleficent never smiles, but her black eyes are glittering in the warm afternoon light, and she's looking at Aurora like she's something special.
Aurora suddenly feels brave enough for anything. Brave enough to tell her aunts who she really is, and who she's been seeing, brave enough to allow Maleficent into her life even if that only makes it harder when she leaves it, brave enough to allow herself this one glorious chance, to do something she isn't supposed to: to want this, desperately.
She stumbles backward from Maleficent, one hand still grasping at the sleeve of Maleficent's jacket, the other hand fumbling for her phone. They haven't broken eye contact, and Aurora has no intention of ever looking away.
"Hi, Roxanne? It's Aurora. I'm really sorry, but I've got some kind of a stomach bug, and I can't come in for my shift tonight."
"No! Aurora, you never get sick! Ugh, fine. We'll be fine for one night. Get better."
"Thanks, Roxanne."
As Aurora replaces her phone in her pocket, Maleficent inclines her head slightly, and raises one dramatically arched eyebrow.
"I feel pretty damn guilty," says Aurora accusatorily.
One corner of Maleficent's lips quirks upward so subtly that if Aurora were any further away, she'd never have noticed it. This, the first time Maleficent has ever shown her anything even remotely resembling a smile, brings Aurora's own ear-splitting grin back to the surface immediately. She takes Maleficent by the arm and practically drags her into the crowd of people approaching the bridge's walkway.
They walk arm in arm the whole way, and mysteriously, no one runs into them or bothers them at all. Maleficent's presence affords them a pleasant bubble of personal space. They stop in the middle of the bridge to listen to a young woman playing the violin and look at the city skyline as the sun hangs lower and lower in the sky, painting the clouds in hues of orange and red, and the lights in the tall buildings across the water begin to light up the sky in the sun's absence.
They walk across the bridge and stop at a diner, and Aurora balks at the menu's selection of alcoholic coffees.
"Coffee mixed with tequila?" she exclaims.
"It's quite good," Maleficent replies. "Try it."
"I don't know..." she begins. She hasn't had any alcohol since that fateful party, despite having recently turned twenty-one. But she's already done something pretty crazy tonight in calling in sick to work just to hang out with her ever-mysterious customer-turned-almost-friend. "You know what? Why not?"
Again, Maleficent flashes her that tiny, almost imperceptible smile. "Why not, indeed."
Aurora has to break out her state ID, which is still the incorrectly-oriented under-21 one, and the waiter has scarcely handed it back to her before Maleficent takes it from between her fingertips to examine it.
"Well," she remarks. "It seems some of us do not experience the awkward teen years."
Aurora laughs. "Are you kidding me? I was a mess."
Maleficent bites her lower lip, and Aurora's mind momentarily goes blank. "You certainly didn't look it," she says, then hands Aurora's ID back to her.
"My aunts would hardly let me have any friends, forget about going over to their houses. And even when I was out for a couple of hours, they called me like every five minutes," she sighs. "College has been..." she looks down at the picture, the strained smile and meticulously applied make-up, "...more of an improvement than I remembered, I guess. But it's like they're just waiting for me to fail so they can swoop back in and run my life again."
The alcoholic coffees arrive, served with a generous scoop of whipped cream on top. "I'm sure they mean well, or whatever meaningless platitude is expected of me," says Maleficent. "Cheers."
Aurora manages a small smile and takes an experimental sip of her tequila coffee. The alcoholic taste is strong and foreign to her, but somehow in this moment, it's exactly what she wants. "Wow," she remarks, and her smile becomes more genuine. "You didn't lead me astray after all."
"I wouldn't be so quick to say that," Maleficent replies lightly. "In truth, I know nothing about raising children, nor do I have any desire to, and my mother was fortunately extremely neglectful. But it seems that you were their pet project up until you acquired the freedom to pursue your own life. They're simply having difficulty letting go of that."
Aurora sighs. "Does life ever stop feeling like a constant battle?"
Maleficent chuckles quietly. It's a low, rich, reverberant sound, and it touches Aurora's heart. "Sometimes, rarely, one is granted a momentary respite."
They mitigate the force of the alcohol with a giant basket of cheese fries, and Aurora can't remember the last time she's had something so delicious. Her apartment is mostly stocked with canned soup and ramen noodles.
"It's kind of weird to me to watch you eating cheese fries," she says to Maleficent. "In my head I guess I pictured you only ever frequenting five-star restaurants or, like, having veal fed to you in your bed or something."
"Nonsense," says Maleficent pleasantly. "I find the idea of someone feeding me in bed detestable."
Aurora laughs. "Favourite food, hands down?"
"I only feast on the blood of my enemies," Maleficent replies without missing a beat, then eats another cheese fry.
"You never answer my questions!"
"Perhaps you're not asking the right ones."
The sun has long since set when they make their way back across the bridge, and Aurora is feeling very tipsy, but walking arm in arm with Maleficent, she feels no fear. There's something inexplicably frightening about her, to be certain, and perhaps Aurora has yet to discover what that something might truly be, but to have someone so intimidating by her side, for the moment, feels like a tremendous comfort.
"I hardly know anything about you," says Aurora cheerfully. "Every time I ask you a question, you say something completely mysterious!"
"Some of us spend our youths learning to hide ourselves without making it seem deliberate or obvious," Maleficent replies. "After so many years, it becomes a reflex."
"But I want to know you," Aurora insists.
"Are you quite certain?" Maleficent wonders. "No one who knows me likes me very much."
Aurora considers this for a moment, thinks hazily of the way she felt about Maleficent before speaking to her, of the way there's something underneath the surface with her—something that seems like it could be dangerous. At the same time, there's something about Maleficent that makes Aurora trust her. In fact, as she's been thinking this whole evening, sometimes it is exactly the quality that intimidates her that also makes her feel safe.
"Maybe you've just never given anyone a real chance?"
Maleficent is silent for awhile. When they reach the other side of the bridge, she asks, "Where am I escorting you, milady?"
To her surprise, Aurora falters. She thinks of what she said not a moment prior, about not giving anyone a real chance, an echo of what Maleficent said earlier about taking risks, and how she's here now thinking about just asking Maleficent to walk her to the nearest bus stop, so she can continue to live in the strange, thrilling, frightening in-between where Maleficent is an enormous part of her life, yet completely separate from it. Where she can feed the delusion that if Maleficent spontaneously disappeared from her life, her world wouldn't shatter.
Instead, she gives the address of her apartment building, and they continue to walk in silence, observing the crowds of people Aurora's age stumbling around the city, already drunk and yelling and happy and wild even though it can't be that late.
"What time is it?" Aurora wonders as they turn onto her block.
"Nearly ten," Maleficent tells her. "They must have started early," she indicates the group of rowdy twenty-somethings across the street from them.
Aurora is blown away. 'It's been that long?" she marvels. It felt like they sat in that diner for mere moments. The time they spent walking across the bridge—a trek that takes between forty-five minutes to an hour depending upon one's pace and fellow walkers— passed by in a blur.
"Was it worth your while, taking the evening off from the fast-paced world of caffeine and artificial sweetener?"
Aurora laughs, a bit sadly, and focuses her attention upward, on the buildings that tower over their heads. "I think tomorrow it might feel like a dream."
"A good dream?" Maleficent wonders as they stop at the bottom of the stairs that lead to Aurora's building. "Or a bad dream?"
Aurora grasps at the sleeves of Maleficent's jacket and gazes up into her eyes, so dark in the dim lights from the street that Aurora feels she could get lost in them. "Much better than a dream," she says. "In my dreams, just before we say goodbye, you...take me in your arms..."
As though she's anticipated Aurora's thoughts, Maleficent wraps her arms tightly about Aurora's waist. Aurora's heart flutters, and though she has no fear of falling, her grip on Maleficent's sleeves tightens.
"And then..."
They're not a breath away now. Aurora is acutely aware of the promise of warmth from Maleficent's lips, a stark contrast to the cold of the night air, and her body is tingling all over.
"I wake up..." she breathes, practically against Maleficent's lips, but suddenly Maleficent has withdrawn just ever so slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and Aurora is left with a peculiar kind of ache in her body and an all-too-familiar sensation of spinning in her head.
Maleficent withdraws her hands from Aurora's waist, takes her hand, and kisses it with a kind of agonizing slowness, never breaking eye contact. Aurora's body is on fire. She's never understood the idea of someone being utterly overwhelmed by desire until this moment, and she thinks she might be panting for air.
"That's a quote from a movie for children, you know," she says. "Sweet dreams, Sleeping Beauty."
Maleficent disappears into the crowd as though by magic, and a part of Aurora wonders if perhaps she is dreaming, if perhaps she has been harbouring vivid delusions for the past several months, but the kiss they shared earlier remains the most real, the most enduring sensation she has ever known, and sitting on her shitty kitchen table, like a tragic centerpiece, there's the coffee collar with Millicent written on it.
She clutches it against her chest like an amulet, just like she did when Maleficent left it for her, the only proof that she's definitely, definitely not just completely making this whole thing up, and she begins to laugh quietly to herself. It's not the kind of laughter that comes from amusement, but rather, from a happiness so sudden, so surprising, so seemingly impossible, that the notion that it could be real, that this could really be happening, is nothing short of hysterical.
She washes her face and falls into bed, still hazy with happiness, body still tingling with maddeningly unrealized potential. The ache between her legs remains unbearable, and the touch of her own hand is utterly unsatisfying. Her eyes drift closed, and her mind offers up the image of Maleficent's hand, long-fingered and elegant, Maleficent's eyes, dark and full of every emotion her face never showed, Maleficent's voice, deep and cold and so powerful that even the simplest word reverberated in Aurora's very core.
Aurora's name on Maleficent's lips...Maleficent's attention focused on Aurora...that strange quality about her that made her both frightening and reassuring...
A tortured moan escapes Aurora's lips. She thinks of the way Maleficent leaned in, almost kissed her goodbye, withdrew, and this—this deliberate mystery in which Maleficent continues to shroud herself is the thought that sends Aurora over the edge. A wave of agonizing pleasure crashes over her body. It's a tidal wave—overwhelming, overpowering, devastating—and yet her longing remains unmitigated.
As she drifts towards slumber, she's comforted by the memory of something Maleficent said to her the first time they had coffee together.
If one wishes to see someone again, one ought always to leave her wanting more.
Well if that's your game, Aurora thinks, just before sleep claims her. Mission accomplished.