"She looks nothing like him. I wouldn't have guessed in a hundred years that she could possibly be the spawn of that creep."
Maleficent pauses the machine and meets Diaval's eyes for a moment, chewing the inside of her lip so hard she winces. "I'm not sure if that makes it better or worse."
"Well -" Diaval hisses as the needles start scraping at his skin again, talking through clenched teeth just loud enough to be heard over the buzzing. "It's not like you ever have to see him. This is just business. Like, if you had pursued your interests in stripping for a living -"
"Diaval."
"Okay - if you were a mechanic, see, and she brought her car in to be fixed, or you were a hella scary doctor and she needed surgery -"
"I know it's just business." Maleficent dips the gun into a cap of ink before bowing over Diaval's chest again. She decides against telling him about the dream she had the night before because that would definitely imply that it isn't all business. "Doesn't make it any less awkward."
"The great Maleficent, feeling human emotions."
"Shut up. It's not too late to ruin this raven. No laughing," she barks, waiting for the now grinning Diaval to be still again before she continues.
Diaval is the only other person Maleficent knows who knew Stefan Kingsley when she did nearly twenty years thought makes her pause briefly, staring down at her almost finished project, four sessions in the making. (For being so heavily modified, Diaval's pain tolerance is hilariously low). She had never dwelled on the fact that Diaval has been her friend for so long. Her only real friend, anyway. She has acquaintances, employees, but no one she willingly spends free time with other than Diaval. She remembers when they first met, the two of them little more than children, blank canvases and eager artists interning at the same shop. He was insufferable then and even more so now, but he is the only person Maleficent has ever felt even a little bit comfortable with. Diaval is honest to a fault and, more importantly, he is not afraid of her. As much as she enjoys scaring folks, it is refreshing to be in the presence of someone who sees through the horns and the contacts, respects her, and knows when to shut up.
Truly, Maleficent does not ask for much.
She glances at the clock. The Moors doesn't technically open until noon, but Diaval was itching to finish the chest piece before her big back project came in at one, which would likely steal the day right out from under her. Besides, it gave the empty shop to themselves, where Maleficent doesn't have to worry about her employees eavesdropping. Generally speaking, she likes the people who work for her - she doesn't make a habit of hiring dicks - but that does not mean she necessarily trusts them. Not with this.
"Twenty years is a long time, Mal," Diaval says, trying to find Maleficent's eyes with his. She avoids them. "But you were with him for a long time. And he did something terrible to you. It's understandable that it bothers you, that she bothers you."
Maleficent leans back, wiping gently at Diaval's skin with a damp paper towel. He's searching her face, she can practically feel his eyes digging holes into her, but she focuses on the raven she has dutifully inked into his skin. Front facing with its wings spread from shoulder to shoulder and two skulls nestled in the blue-black feathers of each, it's very Diaval. Maleficent is happy with it, and for a few moments the nagging pain of a past long gone is replaced with pride for her work.
"Is it finished?" Diaval starts to sit up but Maleficent presses him down again with a hand to his shoulder.
"Let me wipe you off, it's not going anywhere."
Diaval is all but vibrating in the chair as Maleficent wipes away the excess ink and carefully smooths him over with aquafore. When she finally motions toward the mirror he springs to his feet, catches the edge of his shoe on the floor, and almost faceplants.
"Jesus Christ, D."
He doesn't acknowledge her scolding. In fact, he might as well have not heard her at all. Over his shoulder, Maleficent can see his reflection, expression open with awe. He slowly turns in front of the mirror, then back again, leaning close to inspect every last finishing detail. His fingers trail just around the edges of the piece and Maleficent swears he's about to start -
"Absolutely no crying in my shop," Maleficent says sternly, standing and snapping off her gloves.
"Think what you want about Aurora," Diaval sighs with a finger curled under one eye. "She was right. You're the best in the world."
Maleficent snorts and turns her attention to dismantling her station and wrapping up Diaval's chest with protective wrap. By the time everything is cleaned up, her employees are arriving, whom Diaval pounces on one by one to show off his long awaited Maleficent Original Work. Maleficent smiles only to herself at the praise, but it's short lived - the clock reads just past noon. Aurora will be there any minute. Maleficent has never been so nervous to show a client sketches in her life.
After leaving the coffee shop the other day, shaken with the realization of just who Aurora's father is, Maleficent had gone straight home and paced her living room for a solid half hour, pulling her hair out and talking out loud to the dog. His advice was to go for a walk. That helped, but it seemed her subconscious was not finished thinking about it.
She dreamed of Aurora that night. The finer details had been lost upon waking, but it was certainly about the little waif, lying next to her, staring at her profile as she pointed to the sky. Maleficent wishes she did not believe in the significance of dreams.
As far as she can tell, there is one unmistakable fact that she must confront, something she was distinctly aware of the minute she laid eyes on Aurora.
Maleficent is attracted to her.
Perhaps it is the young woman's pureness, her sincerity, her gentleness. It would be difficult for even the most cross of people not not be drawn to someone so genuine. Or, maybe, Maleficent simply has a thing for blondes.
She wishes it were that superficial.
Maleficent has never been physically pulled to someone that much younger than herself. Aurora can't even drink. She's in college. A year prior, she had been in high school. And that isn't even the worst of it - Aurora is the daughter of the most vile man Maleficent had ever known and he happens to be her ex.
There are so many layers of shit it's a wonder they're not all starring in some twisted soap.
Maleficent outwardly cringes, looking over her sketches for Aurora's crown in her office. She doesn't know what has come over her this past week with this strange girl, but Maleficent is convinced that it is something that will pass, that the dream was only a result of discovering who Aurora's father was. In all likelihood, maybe she just needs to get laid.
She's overthinking it, at any rate. Diaval is right. This is just business. She's providing a service for a customer. Once it's over, it's over. Hopefully one tattoo will be enough for the aspiring photographer.
"Did Maleficent do that?"
Drawn out of her thoughts by the sound of her name, Maleficent gathers her sketches and takes a deep breath. She knows whose voice that is by now.
"Incredible, right?" Maleficent doesn't have to see Diaval to know he's puffing his chest out like a proud bird.
"It's beautiful." The words are spoken on the edge of a soft, dreamy sigh. "She's amazing."
"For Christ's sake," Maleficent growls to herself under her breath through clenched teeth and urges her heartrate to slow before finally stepping out of her office and rounding the corner to the front desk. She sticks to the back wall behind Diaval and much like the first time they had met, Maleficent does not face Aurora, pretending to look busy with shuffling papers on the far counter.
"You know, Mal isn't the only one who is great at what she does. I'm the head piercer here. I could add some sick accessories to your face."
Maleficent glances sideways and sees Diaval leaning topless across the counter, grinning from ear to ear. Carefully, she flicks her eyes to Aurora only to be met with her big eyes staring back at her. Her yellow hair is pulled on top of her head into a curled bun with loose ringlets spiraling at the sides of her face, and Maleficent is becoming convinced that Aurora's wardrobe is made entirely of dresses. This one is floral, patterened with red roses.
Aurora moves her eyes away first. She smiles at Diaval and gives a slight shake of her head. "I can hide my tattoo. It would be much harder to hide my face."
"Faces aren't the only things I know how to pierce -"
"Diaval."
Although the name is spoken with pure anger, Diaval does not turn to face Maleficent. He winks at Aurora, straightens, and keeps his shit-eating grin to himself as he walks into the adjoining room, leaving the two of them alone. Aurora is about as red as the flowers on her dress.
Maleficent clears her throat and slowly comes up to the counter, clutching the papers in her hands much too tightly. She looks to Aurora but the girl's eyes are on her feet and she is shifting uncomfortably. "Pay him no mind," Maleficent says, watching Aurora's teeth flash into sight as they bite down on her lower lip. "He's an idiot."
Giggling nervously, Aurora finally raises her head to meet Maleficent's eyes with her own. There is something missing from them that is difficult to place.
"Oh, it's fine. I know he was just teasing." She looks away again, one hand holding the other at the elbow and pinching the skin there.
Confidence. That's what the girl is lacking this time. Aurora had been nothing but bubbly their first two meetings, and now she is awkward and distant. And it's Maleficent's fault. Her behavior at Starbucks the other day had made the situation even more delicate than it had been to begin with.
Before she can think to stop herself, Maleficent sets down her sketches and leans her arms on the counter. The movement spurs Aurora to look up again.
"I'm sorry for the way I acted the other day. It was very … rude." Maleficent frowns. "I … don't have a great excuse, but I promise it was nothing to do with you." Which is only kind of a lie.
As if she is hearing the best news of her life, Aurora perks right back up. "That's okay! I completely understand. I ended up leaving shortly after anyway. But maybe -" Aurora stalls, swallowing, her ever present smile widening. "Maybe we could get coffee together again sometime, except this time not on accident?"
Stunned, Maleficent feels her jaw growing slack and only barely manages to tighten the muscles in her cheeks to keep it from falling open. Aurora is asking her out on a date. A date. There is nothing platonic about it - Aurora is flushed but standing with nerve, her expression hopeful and expectant. Maleficent's tongue feels like cotton in her mouth. She suddenly wishes she had not sent Diaval away so she wouldn't be having this conversation, so she wouldn't be possibly considering saying yes.
Has she lost her damn mind? Maleficent is convinced she has, because when she looks at Aurora, she doesn't see Stefan's daughter like she thought she would after their encounter at the coffee shop. She just sees a brave young woman asking her crush out on a date.
"I …" Maleficent straightens, clears her throat again, and idly runs a hand down the middle of her head, between her horns, and down the back of her hair. "I don't normally mix business with pleasure."
Oh, gods.
This time, no amount of foundation can hide Maleficent's furious blush. Thankfully, Aurora is too embarrassed to take notice.
"So, if I wasn't a client," Aurora begins tentatively, peering up at the taller woman through her long, dark eyelashes, "would you have said yes?"
Maleficent has been asked out on many dates by men and women and all kinds of people in between but she's acting like it's the very first time all over again. She remembers the first time very clearly, even more so now that she is staring into the face of the man's offspring.
Her brain is very firmly telling her one thing but everything else is saying another.
As if by divine intervention, Maleficent is saved from having to answer the question. One of her artists appears, searching through a pile of papers on the front desk to the left of Maleficent, oblivious to the tension in the air and the unanswered question hanging between them. Straightening her back and turning her mind back to business, Maleficent finally takes the sketches in her hands and spreads all four on the counter in front of her side by side, facing Aurora. Aurora only looks disappointed for a moment; as her eyes turn down to the drawings, there is only awe left in her eyes, just like Diaval's less than an hour before. Aurora's hands gather at her mouth as she looks at each crown in turn.
"Oh my god," she breathes, lowering her hands and flattening them against her chest. "They're beautiful! They're all so - oh my god, Maleficent, these are incredible!"
Maleficent smiles tightly to herself, watching as Aurora's fingertips hover over each sketch, never touching, just gliding an inch or so above the paper. Blue eyes trail back and forth and back again, completely struck. "Which do you like best?"
"Oh, I don't know if I could pick. They're all wonderful." Aurora gently presses her fingertip on the edge of each paper, pulling it toward her and back again, and she does this for a long time before finally shifting her hand and tapping it on the last of the four. Coincidentally, it is Maleficent's favorite. The crown is more angular than the rest with colorful jewels on the silver tiers. "This one, I think. My mother's eyes were almost this color," she says, tapping the diamond-shaped cerulean gem at the head of the tallest point.
Maleficent does not admit that she had chosen that color because it matched Aurora's eyes.
"Good. This one it is, then." Maleficent shuffles the papers back together with the one Aurora had chosen on top. "Three more weeks and you'll have it forever."
Aurora looks almost overwhelmed with the concept. "I can't wait. Thank you so much, Maleficent. Truly."
A smile breaks over her lips before she can help it. Maleficent nods and turns her attention back to the desk, trying to find something to give her an excuse to leave. She needs to clear her head. Maybe if she could get a few weeks of peace and not run into the girl on accident like before, that would give her enough time to put all this nonsense behind her. Just as she's psyching herself up to tell Aurora she has to get ready for her next appointment, the blonde interrupts her by stealing a pen from across the counter. Maleficent pauses, watching as Aurora fishes a small planner from her purse and whips it open to the back pages, where she quickly rips one out.
"I almost wish I had picked a different artist," Aurora says, her voice teasing. She glances up at Maleficent as she scribbles on the paper before turning it over, whatever she had written now face down. "But if you change your mind on your … policies, ring me." Aurora slides the pen and paper over with a grin far too mischievous for such an innocent face.
She doesn't have time to reply. The little sprite is gone in a flurry of her floral dress, leaving flowers stained in Maleficent's eyes.