Chapter Text
Charlie's almost vibrating, biting her lip to keep herself from constantly squealing in excitement. Vaggie watches with a mixture of slight nerves and fond amusement and quiet anticipation. It's a big day.
Although Vaggie never knew how to do anything but be Heaven's soldier, becoming Charlie's hotel manager didn't take a lot of adjustment, which is quite surprising. She's been so used to only taking orders. She never thought she could ever have a job that required a lot of decisions either consulted with or decided on by her. She has a say on something for once.
They're partnersnow, Charlie had proclaimed. Vaggie tries not to think about all the different ways that could mean, and all the different reasons it makes her happy.
Today is the day they go to The Hotel. Or what will soon be The Hotel. It wasn't easy to get property in the heart of the city that wasn't already owned by some overlord or minor turf leader of some sort, even for the princess of Hell. One might think it should be easy considering her title, but Charlie just isn't the type of person who would take advantage of her power. Due to this, she doesn't get a lot of respect among her people, unfortunately. Charlie could pull rank and make any demon give them what she wants, sure, but that just isn't Charlie.
After a long time of agonizing over it, Charlie finally gave in and heeded Vaggie's advice and asked her father for help.
Vaggie still hasn't met the King of Hell himself. Charlie has tried to have the two meet, but Vaggie isn't inclined to meet any powerful royal demon at the moment that isn't Charlie, and Lucifer is unsurprisingly uninterested.
The limousine finally stops in front of an abandoned building that Charlie agreed to accept instead of any the other establishments Lucifer offered. Cracks in the foundation are evident. The whole place is probably covered in twenty layers of dirt and dust. Whichever surface isn't covered in vines and mold, that is. There's a goddamn pirate ship sticking out of the building's side for some reason. It's probably on the verge of collapsing, and yet Charlie jumps out of the car and swoons as if she were seeing a beautiful castle.
Well... It's Charlie's castle now, isn't it?
"Oh, isn't she beautiful, Vaggie?" Charlie sighs, eyes still on the decrepit building.
"It doesn't look very OSHA-approved..." Vaggie mutters as she steps out of the limousine and takes her place beside Charlie.
"Hm?"
"... Nothing. The contractor still can't find the key?"
"Not sure," Charlie's excited smile wanes as she scrolls through her text messages. "He hasn't replied to me since we got in the car. Lemme call him."
As Charlie gets on that, Vaggie heads over to the door and, like the contractor had told them, it wouldn't budge. Vaggie huffs out a sigh. She's considering just using her spear to break one of the windows when she notices a piece of paper stuck to one of the panels. She's been getting better at reading again, but the handwriting in this slip of paper is too much of a scribbled mess to comprehend. It's not as pretty as Charlie's penmanship or as eye catching as her glitter pens.
"He's not answering his cell either," Charlie says as she approaches. "Whatcha got there?"
"I think he left this note," Vaggie replies, still squinting. "... Launch...? Oh. Motherfucker left us to have lunch."
"But it's, like, eight in the morning."
A beat passes. Then--
"Whatever!" Charlie claps once, hyping herself up again. "We'll find a way in ourselves."
Vaggie holds up her spear. "I have an idea."
"Without! Destroying anything!"
Vaggie puts down the spear. "I no longer have an idea."
Charlie puts on a serious look. "Let's circle the perimeter. The key's bound to be around here somewhere. She can't part with the Hotel too far for too long. I go left," she starts walking backwards to said direction, still facing Vaggie, "you go right."
Vaggie gives her a sarcastic, two-finger salute."Sure thing, boss."
The serious look wears off to give way to Charlie's petulant pout. "I told you not to call me that!"
"Ma'am."
Charlie crosses her arms.
"... Sir?"
Charlie trips. When she sits up, her face is beet red. "N-Not that either!"
Vaggie just laughs. "Yeah, whatever, hun. Just stop tripping on your own hooves."
"Much better..." Charlie mutters as she stands and dusts off her pants.
Vaggie's smirk stretches to a grin. "What was that?"
"Nothiiiing!" Charlie sing-songs as she skips out of sight.
The building isn't in very good shape. As she keeps walking and lets her fingertips graze the cement wall, she could have sworn she felt the ground beneath her tremble.
When she turns around the corner, she sees the pirate ship in all of its out of place glory. The sails are torn and the canons are gone, probably scavenged by some demons. The crow's nest however remains in tact, standing almost as high as the old hotel building Charlie now owns.
Suddenly distracted by curiosity, Vaggie climbs up what remains of the ship's deck but finds the ladder to the crow's nest missing too many rungs to be of use. She clicks her tongue. If only she had her wings--
Vaggie grits her teeth. She doesn't need her wings. She hasn't needed them for the past four months.
After a few good tugs, she decides. The vines will do.
Vaggie is winded by the time she gets to the top of the building's no longer functioning neon sign. She'll have to get back to properly working out soon. She's getting out of shape.
She takes a deep breath, takes off on a run, and jumps. If she were to ignore the tell tale signs that say otherwise, she could trick herself into thinking she's flying again. But gravity soon comes for her, and Vaggie's relieved to have become used enough with her lack of depth perception to not miss her mark.
At least not as badly as she would have.
Her body collides painfully against the mast, but she still lands on the crow's nest, so she considers this a success regardless. She laughs breathlessly. It's so much easier to see Heaven's realm from here and she uses the vantage point to flip her middle finger in its direction.
See? She could do it, even without the blessings they thought she didn't deserve.
"Vaggie, what the fuck?!"
Vaggie jumps at suddenly hearing a familiar voice shriek. She looks down and sees Charlie in front of the ship, staring up at her with wide, panicked eyes.
"I'm okay!" she shouts down at her. "I'll be down in a sec!"
Charlie says something that Vaggie can't hear. When Charlie starts pacing below with her arms wildly gesticulating, Vaggie chuckles to herself and takes in the rest of the view.
Pentagram City, Hell, has been her home for four months now. It's still a horrible place. Violent crimes in the Doomsday District. Leftover entrails and gore in every corner of Cannibal Town. Addiction and debauchery in The Vees' territory. Sin is still everywhere in this little shithole Charlie calls home. But as Vaggie looks over at the beautiful lights of the city from afar, she can't help but look for all the places she's been to and feel a certain amount of... something. One might call it attachment, at most. Fondness, even, if she dared.
Over there is Pentagram Theatre, where Charlie brought her to watch a troupe of terrible actors and their production of Mamma Mia. None of them could actually sing but Vaggie almost cried laughing with Charlie as they watched. Two blocks from there is Lilith Park, where she helped Charlie recruit some addicts for the hotel. They failed but got some surprisingly good ice cream after Vaggie beat the shit out of them for pulling a knife on Charlie. And then somewhere at the edge of the city they found a restaurant that had good food but was also owned by a fairly feared gang. They had to leave before dessert when a fight against an enemy gang broke out.
It all could have been a lot worse. Hell could have been so much worse, and it really is pretty bad, especially when Heaven is to compare. Heaven didn't have murderers in the streets or rapists as beloved celebrities or crime lords as governing forces. It didn't have pain and sorrow. But Heaven could be better, too. She wishes it were more genuine, less hypocritical, more forgiving. She wishes it had Charlie. Maybe then she'd be more keen over the thought of going home.
"You. Are. Insane!"
Vaggie's attention is pulled away from the city lights to watch Charlie climb the same neon sign Vaggie used. Charlie has even discarded her shoes, using her hooves for a better grip.
Vaggie's smile must look fond as her eye stays on Charlie. It feels like it. She's accepted that refusing to be charmed by Charlie is a losing battle at this point. "And what does that make you? For following me all the way up here?"
Charlie had to stop climbing to give Vaggie a put out pout. When Vaggie's grin merely grows at the sight of it, Charlie visibly struggles against a smile of her own before turning away to continue her climb.
"You did great, sweetie, but it's okay," she says as Charlie hauls herself to the top of the sign. "I'll come back down--"
"No." A determined look washes over Charlie's face as she looks from the edge of the sign to the crow's nest. "Stay right there. I'll come to you."
"Charlie, you don't have to--"
But Charlie does it anyway. Vaggie barely gets to finish cursing before Charlie takes off on a jump. She makes it and Vaggie catches her with a grunt as Charlie lands so she doesn't topple over.
"Hah!" Charlie breathlessly cheers, clutching onto Vaggie's waist for dear life. "I did it!"
Vaggie pats Charlie's back. She can feel the raucous thump of the other woman's heart beat through her chest against her cheek. "Good--Good job."
Charlie only pulls away enough so Vaggie could see her accomplished grin, but her arms stay around Vaggie's waist. Vaggie freezes.
They haven't been this close since the day Vaggie accepted the job to be her hotel manager. Although their bond has grown stronger since, with Vaggie having the confidence to even say that Charlie has become her best friend, Charlie seems to have suddenly realized that physical boundaries are very real things that exist. She no longer takes Vaggie's hand in hers or hugs her just because or puts a hand on her waist or the small of her back. Vaggie misses the contact, to be honest, but she understands. Charlie has chosen to setup boundaries to make their goal easier. Hell is supposed to only be a temporary stopover for Vaggie after all.
Vaggie understands that, and yet she doesn't move away, even as she has become hyper aware of the arms on her waist or the heat of Charlie's front against her own or the feeling of Charlie's labored breath fanning against her face. Charlie, however, steps back. She takes back her arms and warmth and breath and Vaggie is left with nothing but a craving for what used to be their norm. She didn't even realize she missed Charlie this much. Is that possible when you see each other everyday anyways?
"This is nice," Charlie says, leaving a respectable space between them. "I can see why you wanted to come up here."
Vaggie looks back at said view but closes her eyes and lets herself feel the wind on her face. "If I try hard enough, it kinda feels like I'm flying again."
"Really?"
"Nah," Vaggie chuckles and looks at the city lights again. "But it's a familiar view. Beautiful. Despite, you know, everything. It's still beautiful."
"Yeah," Charlie breathes out beside her and Vaggie can feel her voice and eyes on her.
Vaggie's cheeks heat up. Even when she's physically distancing herself Charlie can never help herself. Vaggie hates how relieved this makes her feel. Quietly, Vaggie rasps out, "You're not even looking at the view."
Charlie quickly turns her head to look away. "Sorry, just um... I just noticed that you're hair's getting longer!"
Vaggie picks at a strand. "Oh, yeah you're right. I usually have it trimmed every three months..."
"I know a good salon in the city if you wanna..."
Vaggie thinks about it. "No. I think I'm gonna grow it out."
She sees Charlie beam at her. "Really?"
"I used to keep it short so that I could... It makes it easier to move around and... and fight... with shorter hair."
It's shameful how hard she tries to hide the truth from Charlie, she knows. She isn't afraid that Charlie would hate her for what she did, not exactly. Charlie has a heart that is willing to grant mercy for everyone, including the damned sinners of Hell. And with Charlie thinking that Vaggie herself is one of them, neither of them are under the illusion that Vaggie has never done any wrong. She just... she doesn't want Charlie to know what she's done. What she used to be. Because she likes the things she's doing now and the person she's becoming because of Charlie.
"That was really the only reason I kept cutting it short. But I don't really need to do that, do I?"
Vaggie still isn't certain whether Charlie's plan could get her back to heaven, but one thing's for sure. No matter what happens, she isn't going to be an exorcist anymore.
"I'd love to see that," Charlie says.
"I mean, you'll barely even notice the difference," Vaggie says with a shrug. "Since you're with me everyday and all."
"I will! I already do! Like how I noticed that your teeth've been getting sharper!"
Vaggie is genuinely taken aback, a hand going to her jaw. "They are? I didn't even notice..."
Is it because she's been in Hell for so long? Oh, God--
"You don't notice because you don't look hard enough," Charlie starts bragging, eyes closed and mouth set to a proud smile. "I, however--" her eyes suddenly fly open, horrified-- "d-definitely don't look at your mouth too much. Or. At all. Haha, izzat the key?"
"Charlie, what--"
"It's the key!" Charlie squeals, grabbing Vaggie by the shoulders so she could have her face the Hotel's roof. "We found it!"
The "key" is a hellborn demon that resembles what people on Earth might call a cat, with its fluffy fur and long tail and pointy ears. A glaring difference from a normal feline, however, is the single large eye occupying its whole face. It blinks its huge eye once at them before taking off on a run.
It takes them a bit to get from the crow's nest then back to the sign. It takes them even longer -- around two hours -- to catch the pesky little key. But they soon do, and as Charlie hums a song in her bathroom while giving the key a bath, Vaggie absentmindedly listens as she pours over the paper work for the Hotel's restoration on Charlie's bed.
It's hard to say when scenarios like this started becoming their norm. Vaggie used to do this kind of shit in the kitchen table by herself. Then when she noticed that Charlie is prone to procrastinating her share of paperwork -- actual legitimate paperwork that didn't involve doodles and music sheets-- Vaggie decided to officially schedule a time for both of them to work on their share in the kitchen together. Then when coaxing Charlie out of the comfort of her room would become too troublesome, they'd just end up doing it in her room. Vaggie has spent more time in Charlie's bed than her own at this point.
"So Dad finally replied to my text," Charlie says as she emerges from the bathroom with the key wrapped in a towel. She makes a face at all the documents spread atop her bed and Vaggie makes work on gathering them so they don't get wet.
"You mean the text you sent him three days ago?" Vaggie mumbles as she gets her binder. She's fallen in love with binders recently, for some reason. Turns out she has a knack for organizing things. This one's covered in stickers courtesy of Charlie.
"Yeah..." Charlie makes a different kind of face as she uses the hairdryer on the key. The specific kind of face you make when you're thinking about the father you have very complicated feelings for. She giggles but it's an empty gesture. "He usually takes three to five business days to process a reply."
Are they talking about a father or an electronic money transfer?
"Alright." Vaggie sets aside the binders on Charlie's coffee table before sitting beside her on the bed. "What did he say?"
"That you gotta use dead rats to lure her. Really effective way to catch her, apparently."
Vaggie inhales. Then exhales. She pinches the patch of skin between her brow as she says through gritted teeth, "Would've been really handy to know that before we spent two hours trying to catch the pesky little shi--"
"Shhh!!!" Charlie lets go of the hairdryer in favor of covering the key's ears with her hands. "Don't finish that. You'll hurt Keekee's feelings!"
"... Keekee?"
"Dad said that's the name he gave her when he built the Hotel."
"Key. Key."
Charlie grins, this one genuine as she holds up the now dry key. "How cute is that?"
Not any cuter than the woman before Vaggie, but that's fine. It's a huge hurdle to overcome. "It's pretty cute, yeah."
-----
"Are you ready?"
Vaggie swallows as she nods, focusing on Charlie's eager eyes instead of her own queasy stomach.
So here's something you might want to know about Charlie: she is, apparently, two hundred years old. Roughly.
Vaggie almost choked on a grain of rice when Charlie once casually mentioned it as they were eating two months ago. Vaggie may not know a lot about the life she had when she was alive, but she had a feeling she was no older than twenty five before she died. Even then, she'd only been an exorcist for almost a decade before she was felled. So the knowledge that Charlie is much much older than her by more than a century is a huge shock to Vaggie. Vaggie is aware that Charlie's an adult, but she just had such a youthful glow about her, you wouldn't think she could be old enough to be your how many great grandmother.
But then there's the little things. Like Charlie's inclination for dapper suits and slacks. Her vintage taste in decor and various media. She has modern devices like a phone, but she rarely uses it. She has no social media and can barely tell whether she's talking to voicemail or a dead line. She does like texting though. The message thread she has with Vaggie that's 50% actual words and 50% emojis attests to that. But overall, Charlie isn't exactly a very "modern" woman.
So when they got to advertising the Hotel, Charlie wanted to do it the old fashioned way. She took Vaggie's advice and paid for online and t.v. advertisements, but she still wanted to put herself out there and look for demons who are interested in either checking in or applying for a position in the staff once the Hotel is restored herself.
So that's why they're here in the busiest plaza of Pentagram City. Charlie is standing confidently in the middle of the crowd, but Vaggie can tell by the tapping of her foot and her slightly crooked bow tie that Charlie is a little bit nervous. When she notices Charlie clench her fists, Vaggie steps into her line of vision to straighten her tie.
Vaggie ignores Charlie's undignified squeak and says, "You got this, hun." When simply straightening it as it is doesn't do, Vaggie opts to undo the tie altogether to redo it herself. Charlie's fingers twitch once over her actions, but she keeps herself behaved as her arms stay stiff at her sides the whole time. When she's done, Vaggie smiles, satisfied, then directs that smile at Charlie who looks at Vaggie like she's the most captivating thing in a crowd of hundreds. "Just like you rehearsed."
Charlie smiles, and it's that soft one where her eyes turn into half-moons and her lips are stretched far enough for her sharp fangs to poke out of both edges of her mouth. "Just like we rehearsed."
Vaggie rolls her eye. Right. Even though Vaggie's role in this performance is to merely provide visual aid and moral support. "Yeah, sure."
When Vaggie steps back and lets her have their impromptu stage again, Charlie points a finger up at the sky, casting her bit of sorcery to conjure fireworks flashy enough to catch the plaza's attention.
And so, Charlie's performance begins. It starts out solemn, with Charlie singing about the annual exterminations and the carnage and chaos it brings. But then the beat changes as Charlie sings about her Happy Hotel. That's Vaggie's cue, and so she unravels the tarpaulin they prepared that illustrates the Hotel. The actual Hotel is still undergoing renovations, so this is just an edited picture that Charlie and Vaggie cobbled together with their combined limited knowledge in photo editing. Remembering Charlie's insistence to Smile, Vaggie, please! Vaggie does as rehearsed, though she may look a lot more forced than Charlie would have liked.
As Charlie continues to dance and sing, Vaggie takes in the crowd's reaction. Many have chosen to just keep on walking, but of the few that stayed to watch, some look bored, some confused, and a lot of them look amused. And not necessarily in a good way.
Just as Charlie is about to start on the second verse, a rotten tomato comes flying out from the crowd right into Charlie's chest, ruining her perfectly pressed suit and the bow tie Vaggie fixed up for her. For a moment everyone is silent, including Charlie. The music is gone and the theatrical lights from Charlie's sorcery have dimmed.
And then somebody bemoans, "Boo, you suck ass!"
More insults and miscellaneous items get thrown in Charlie's way. When the princess merely stands there, stunned before what were supposed to be her people, Vaggie pulls out her spear and slices through a goddamn pineapple that was about to hit Charlie's head.
She growls, pointing her spear at the demon that was about to give Charlie a concussion without a second thought. "¿Qué demonios crees que estás haciendo?"
The demon merely laughs and Vaggie snaps. She launches herself at the offender, but is caught by the waist by a pair of long arms. Vaggie struggles to free herself, but then stills when she realizes that Charlie is the one holding her back.
Charlie's eyes are downcast when she says, "Let's just go."
It's a shameful retreat, with the demons jeering as Vaggie and Charlie climb into the limousine. Vaggie is fuming inside the car, ranting in both the unnamed language everyone in Heaven and Hell has the innate ability to speak and the native language she had in the living world. By the time Vaggie had run out of things to spit out in a fitful rage, Charlie is still quiet beside her. All the fire in Vaggie fizzles out at the sight of Charlie curled up in her seat with her legs folded to her chest, hugging her knees as she looks through the car window.
Vaggie curses, this time directing it to herself. She should have checked on Charlie before anything else.
She pulls out a handkerchief, something she has recently always had with her. With the kind of place Hell is, Vaggie has often found it necessary to wipe blood and grime off herself whenever she walked the streets of Pentagram City.
"Charlie," Vaggie says, her voice much softer than it was when she was going on a rant moments ago. "That's going to stain."
Charlie cluelessly looks to her at first before she notices Vaggie pointedly look down at her shirt. "Oh."
Charlie puts her feet down and reaches for the cloth, but Vaggie shakes her head and says, "Let me." Charlie gives in with a tiny nod, though she does take the initiative to shrug her jacket off.
Six months ago, Vaggie sat in this same car disgraced and broken. She doesn't know how she died, but she has a feeling it was never as painful as it was when she lost her wings and eye. She hadn't felt pain since gaining her halo, not to mention pain as excruciating as that. Words can never say enough how grateful she is that Charlie found her that night. Vaggie wishes she had magic that could sooth the pain and sorrow Charlie is going through now, just like she did once did for Vaggie, but right now all she has is her clumsy hands.
Vaggie pretends not to notice Charlie's eyes on her as she works on cleaning what she could. When Vaggie moves to undo the bowtie again, Charlie doesn't squeak this time. There is a noticeable hitch in her breath however, though Vaggie doesn't outwardly acknowledge it. She leaves the bow tie on her lap as she cleans Charlie's neck of the rotten juices first before wiping off what she could from Charlie's white shirt.
"Sorry," Charlie rasps out. "It's a little pathetic to be so down over this."
Charlie and Vaggie differ in a lot of things. Vaggie doesn't understand Charlie's penchant for theatrics or her spontaneous urge for public performances or the adoration she holds for sinners. But Vaggie can imagine how heartbreaking it must feel to be subjected to such humiliation and rejection by the people she loved over something she was passionate about.
"It's not," Vaggie whispers. There's no hope in getting rid of this stain with just a handkerchief, but Vaggie keeps her hands busy anyways. "You spent a week composing that song and another to choreograph and practice it. They didn't even let you finish. If getting down over this is pathetic--" she chuckles-- "then me getting mad on your behalf is ridiculous."
That last statement is what finally gets to Charlie. She grabs Vaggie's wrist, gentle but firm, and makes Vaggie look back at her. "It's not ridiculous. It's really sweet."
There are seven fundamental Sins that had snaked its way in the heart of humanity in the beginning of Creation, and Vaggie had always been taught -- both in life and in the afterlife -- that they are to be abhorred for being the root of all Evil. Though angels agree in general, even their kind are not perfect enough to completely reject it their whole afterlife. Adam reeks with pride and lust and gluttony. Lute is overcome with envy and greed. They are flaws that any angel understands. But Vaggie's time with Charlie has taught her that sins aren't necessarily bad things to indulge in. At the very least not when it's on behalf of someone as wonderful as Charlie.
Like wrath in the name of injustice and hurt aimed towards Charlie. Or pride in her talents and resilience. Envy over her kindness. Sloth making her indulge in quiet moments with her. Greed for her attention, gluttony for her presence. And lust for--
The limousine stutters from its smooth ride as it drives over a speed bump and Vaggie, who had been partially kneeling with one of her knees braced on the leather seat and her opposite foot supporting her weight on the car floor, stumbles onto Charlie. With one hand immobilized by Charlie's grip, Vaggie's other hand comes up to prop against the backrest by Charlie's shoulder. Vaggie ends up with her face practically buried in Charlie's neck, and the proximity brings Vaggie's attention to what bit of skin is now exposed by the few buttons popped open in Charlie's shirt. It's still pretty modest, Vaggie admits. The most she could see is some pretty collarbones, but Charlie regularly doesn't show much skin at all, so it was enough to have Vaggie feeling hot underneath her clothes. Charlie's state, however, is nothing compared to Vaggie's. Her other knee had also gone up to the seat, right between Charlie's legs, making her skirt ride up and show a scandalous amount of thighs.
It's Vaggie's turn to squeak, and when she turns her attention to Charlie's face, she finds bright red sclera and white hot irises staring at her legs. But then Charlie notices Vaggie's gaze and she blinks, eyes back to their warm yellows and reds as she stares back at her with bright red cheeks. Vaggie scrambles off of Charlie then, pulling down her skirt that suddenly feels a little too tight.
And if the temperature in the car has suddenly gotten a little hotter, nobody says a word about it for the remainder of the ride back home.
-----
Charlie likes to take a hands on approach to many things. She likes to be personally involved in her projects. So instead of waiting in the comfort of her home until renovations for the Hotel is done, Charlie can be found in the Hotel helping out. Today she's putting up wallpapers in the hallway. Vaggie personally doesn't want to be involved in this kind of stuff, especially when the workers outside kept wolf whistling at her whenever she'd pass by, but she can't bring herself to leave Charlie working alone. Their partners after all, so she's here helping out too.
"Any news on the recruitment?" Charlie says as she finishes up with a corner of the wallpaper.
Vaggie almost doesn't notice the question directed at her. Charlie has opted out of her fancy suits today in exchange for a cute pair of overalls that they can spare being stained by paint and glue. Vaggie is wearing a near matching pair, the only difference is that Charlie's has long pant legs while Vaggie's are cut short for personal preference. Charlie looks absolutely adorable, and Vaggie hasn't been able to take her eye off her all day.
"I, uh, haven't gotten any emails or texts from people interested."
She decides not to share all the crude messages their flyers and posters have attracted. Charlie doesn't need to know about all the nudes Vaggie has had the misfortune of seeing.
Charlie's smile remains, but her posture visibly deflates. "That's fine. It's fine! It's only been, like, a month since we started putting up the notice that we're hiring." She turns her back on Vaggie to busy herself with another roll of wallpaper. "We should try to finish this wall by sundown."
Something has changed ever since that day in the plaza. Vaggie didn't realize exactly what it was until they started helping with the renovations two weeks ago.
Charlie loves music with her whole heart and her entire soul. She's rarely found out and about without some kind of song to belt or hum in her lips. Though she's still chipper, she's recently been a lot quieter, and Vaggie now realizes it's because she hasn't heard her so much as hum a song for a while now.
"It's a little quiet," Vaggie says. "Do you mind if I play something?"
Charlie looks surprised. "Of course not."
Vaggie likes music herself, but not in the way Charlie does. Where Charlie likes to project the song in her heart as loud as she can, Vaggie likes to indulge in it privately. Vaggie sings, but she prefers to enjoy the music with her body, dancing in the privacy of her room when she can. Nobody has seen her do either things, at least nobody Vaggie could remember, but she'll make an exception for Charlie, and this she'd like to keep in her memory.
Charlie's shoulders square as soon as she hears the opening notes of the song playing from Vaggie's phone. If Charlie were a dog, her ears would perk up at the sound of one of her favorite songs in a musical being played.
Vaggie feels herself grin at the eager look in her eyes. From where she's sitting on the step ladder they were using, Vaggie can tell that Charlie wants to sing along. Vaggie wants to give her more of a reason to do it, and so she sings first.
"Guess mine is not the first heart broken. My eyes are not the first to cry."
Charlie's eyes widen, her jaw going slack. It isn't like Vaggie to revel in attention, but she does like having Charlie's eyes on her, even when she doesn't even usually sing in front of anyone.
"I'm not the first to know. There's just no getting over you."
As if in a trance, Charlie approaches Vaggie as she keeps singing along to the song.
"I know I'm just a fool who's willing... to sit around and wait for you."
Charlie stands before Vaggie who has to crane her neck up to keep eye contact with her. She smiles as she sings the next line, and Charlie's eyes become impossibly softer.
"But baby, can't you see there's nothing else for me to do? I'm hopelessly devoted to you."
Vaggie doesn't sing along for a moment, letting Olivia Newton-John belt the lines but now there's nowhere to hide, since you pushed my love aside by herself as she sees Charlie's hand raise for a moment, only for her to change her mind. The corners of her lips quirk upwards at Charlie, and she offers her hand to her. Charlie doesn't waste any time. She takes Vaggie by the hand and pulls her up so she's standing with her.
"I'm out of my head," Charlie sings along this time, tucking back a strand of hair that escaped Vaggie's ponytail. "Hopelessly devoted to you."
Vaggie's cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. They both sing, "Hopelessly devoted to you... Hopelessly devoted to you."
As the interlude plays, Vaggie's hands have now ended up in Charlie's. They haven't held hands in a long time, and she relishes in the feeling of Charlie's warm palms and the thumbs drawing circles against her skin. She tells Charlie, "There you are."
Behind them from Vaggie's phone, Olivia continues to sing.
My head is sayin', "Fool, forget him"...
Charlie blinks down at her. God she's so tall. "What do you mean?"
My heart is sayin', "Don't let go..."
"You've been a little out of it, recently." Since the plaza. As a matter of fact since she "hired" Vaggie, Charlie has been a little different. A lot more subdued. "I miss you being all theatrical and just... so. Much."
There's no other way to say it. Charlie does things by a lot. Her words, her volume, her affection, her touch... Charlie is so authentically herself, it's disheartening whenever she holds herself back from doing what she wants. Vaggie thought she'd have trouble adjusting to such a person, but she's found herself missing her so much that she's now the one initiating contact. And staying in Charlie's room. And fixing up her clothes for her. And doing cheesy shit like this.
"Hold on to the end", that's what I intend to do.. I'm hopelessly devoted to you.
As the song crests again, Charlie surprises Vaggie by twirling her once before dipping her, supporting Vaggie's weight by the waist while Vaggie holds onto her with her arms around her shoulders.
But now there's no way to hide. Since you pushed my love aside.
"You want me acting like this on a daily basis?" Charlie says with a cheeky little smile.
I'm outta my head. Hopelessly devoted to you
Vaggie has to admit. Her breath may have just been taken away. "M-Maybe."
Charlie gives her one sweet smile before spinning her again to right her into a standing position. But just as she thinks they're done, Charlie pulls Vaggie back into her, arms wrapped tightly around Vaggie's waist with her face buried in Charlie's chest.
Hopelessly devoted to you... Hopelessly devoted to you...
"You're making this so hard," Charlie says with a pained whine. It makes Vaggie worry.
It's a little awkward to be held like this, with Vaggie's short stature this position has her standing on the tips of her toes. She'd topple over if Charlie weren't here to hold her, but that's perfectly fine with Vaggie. "What do you mean?"
She feels Charlie shift in their embrace, as if she's shaking her head. "Nothing." When Charlie pulls away, much sooner than Vaggie wanted, she keeps her hands on Vaggie's arms, wearing a resolute look on her face. "I promise I'll get you to Heaven, Vaggie. That's where sweethearts like you belong."
There's a lot of things Vaggie could say in response to that. Like, God, I hope so, if she were the same person she was eight months ago. But as she watches Charlie fumble with the wallpaper, humming to the next song on Vaggie's phone, the words on her tongue are too jarring to voice out. What kind of angel would she be if she said Is Heaven really worth saying goodbye to you?
A Fallen one, maybe. She is falling, definitely.