Chapter Text
Agatha groaned as she stared at herself in the vanity mirror. It was the worst and best time of the year. One full of pumpkin chai, apple cider, and her favorite maple lattes. The leaves were changing, the air cool instead of burning, and all the weight would magically wash off her shoulders. She wondered if her seasonal depression was reversed as her mood and energy always ran low during the spring and summer, and during the fall she was always a ball of energy. But this Samhain, Agatha was starting to hate it… well the children part anyway.
College Agatha would have been going to parties, getting crossed off her ass, some flimsy lace outfit that could have been hardly an excuse for a costume, and finding some woman to warm her bed for the night. For the past four Samhains, Agatha had simply stayed home, passing out candies to the suburban kids of fucking Westview, but the school was perfect, safe, the qualifications high for teachers, and good fucking sports teams and choir. The town was big enough for an abundance of families ; activities on the weekend, a market in the town center, and a huge park that she walked almost every day. It was the perfect town for a fresh out of college, pregnant Agatha Harkness.
She was twenty-one when it happened. The week before Halloween night she had forgotten to take the pill and when she found a woman– well one thing led to another, and three weeks later, Jen and Wanda were holding her hair and rubbing her back as she puked into the toilet. On the ground beside her was a positive pregnancy test. Whoever the woman was, she had the gene to get her pregnant, and nine months later, after she walked the stage– her belly round underneath the gown– Nicholas Scratch Harkness was born.
Nicholas was born weak, doctors whisking him away before she had the chance to see him, to hold him, to even know if she had a son or daughter. She had thrashed, fought, and cried for her baby until a nurse had sedated her. And the next morning, Agatha woke to the very same nurse laying the babe in her arms, telling her she had a fighter, and a son. He was born with a congenital diaphragmatic hernia, something that doctors would perform surgery on him soon. For weeks, her baby boy stayed in the NICU, little tubes keeping him breathing as his tiny hand latched to her finger through the hole.
When he was discharged, did Agatha name him Nicholas– her little victory, her little fighter… her little gremlin that was making her hate this town more and more by the day. Between PTA meetings, classroom parties, and asked to chaperone field trips– she about had it. But this was his first year she allowed him to go trick-or-treating with the twins. Wanda was older when they had met, already married, and pregnant, making the twins seven, and Nicky just five years old.
It was the first day of October, on a weekend early in the morning, when she was woken to little knees digging into her ribs, stinky morning breath in her face, and a bright little voice, whisper-yelling, “Mama, Mama, Mama!”
The moment her eyes opened, she was greeted by deep brown eyes, the morning sun already turning them gold. She had groaned, her arm grabbing him and pulling him down against her chest, telling him to go back to sleep. Nicky simply had wiggled out of her grip, and demanded they go costume shopping together for his first time trick-or-treating. Agatha somehow made a day of it, taking Nicky to the Salem Witch Museum first– his fourth time going– and going to Spirit Halloween. It was on their way home when they passed it, the house at the end of the street– a house still holding its Victorian style architecture. It was covered in cobwebs, large spiders over the windows as graves filled the front yard. Phantom hands stuck out from the walls and zombie hands from the earth. The driveway lined with lights and lanterns, warning signs littering the entrance. And her darling boy was obsessed with it immediately.
She didn’t know who lived there, and living in this part of town, everyone knew everyone, except for the mysterious person who lived in the old manor.
“Mama,” a small voice came from the door.
She turned then, setting her lipstick down as her son peaked into her room. Nicky was dressed as a cowboy– a brown hat, jeans, and the perfect plaid shirt with chaps and a holster for his Nerfgun. A handkerchief was tied loosely around his neck as he bounded up to her. His cowboy boots thumped against her carpet, the spurs clinking with every step. The gap between his front two teeth was on display, something she couldn’t bring within herself to fix– it was almost familiar– as her heart always melted at it. And underneath the hat were his cochlear implants, the black silicone gleaming slightly.
Sensorineural hearing loss, doctors were sure because of the cognitive diaphragmatic hernia, or maybe it was just genetics– genetics she did not know of.
She caught him mid leap, hugging him tightly as he giggled, his hat falling to the floor as he nuzzled against her neck, “Mama! Mama! Can we go to the spooky house, pleasepleaseplease?”
Don’t look him in the eye. Don’t look him in the eye. Don’t–
Brown eyes grew comically wide, puppy dog eyes pleading up at her and immediately making her chest ache. She swore in her head, sighing, giving in to the little gremlin. Nicky’s face was already lighting up, knowing that he won her over.
“Alright, alright, little outlaw. But ground rules before we leave, mister,” she said, picking up his hat. “Don’t touch the decorations, don’t run too far ahead, and stick with the twins if you do get ahead. Understand, cowboy?”
Nicky smiled to himself, one that she saw in the mirror daily– it was one that promised mischief, “Yes, Mama.”
She stood them up, brushing her dress and fixing the skirts as Nicky practically vibrated in front of her. He turned back to look up at her, eyes wide and curious as she grabbed her witch hat, placing it on her head.
“Go ahead down stairs, little love. Auntie Wanda and the boys should be over any minute,” she gestured towards the door.
Instead, arms wrapped around her waist, his little face burying into her stomach before running out, laughing wildly. She shook her head, knowing tonight was going to be spent with her and Wanda chasing the boys around. According to Wanda, normally Natasha took them, but this year was Nicky’s first, and she was determined to be there for him– determined to be there every moment for him. She would never be like Evanora. She made that promise the moment she first saw him on the monitor– vowing to give him the childhood she never had.
Agatha turned towards the mirror, staring at the dress that hugged her body. It was black with purple lace, the skirts asymmetrical with the front coming to her knees and the back brushing her heels. She already rolled on her tights and the corset top– well, she had tightened as much as she could, her cleavage spilling just enough to be scandalous, and outrageously modest to her college self. She was twenty-seven well almost twenty-eight– she could still have her fun and was far from old… even if she hadn’t dated let alone slept with anyone since having Nicky.
The sleeves were long and flowy, off the shoulder– giving that Stevie Nicks vibe she loved so much. The boots were next, ankle boots with short heels, giving her enough height, but still be comfortable enough to walk in. With one last lipstick application, she made her way down the stairs where laughter already filled her house.
“Why, Agatha– don’t you look divine,” Wanda appeared from the kitchen.
Agatha arched her brow as Wanda almost blinded her in ruby regalia– leather pants and corset, a leather jacket with ruins, and a Sokovian crown sat on her head. Her hair fell in wild curls, shorter than Agatha’s but it flamed in promised chaos for the night.
“Oh, please,” she drawled, descending the final steps, her hips swaying as she smirked at her best friend. “I always look divine. Tonight is just the rare occasion where it is appropriate to be extra.”
Wanda laughed, balancing the lantern buckets just as Billy and Tommy darted past them– their twin capes fluttering behind them, “And is that occasion to be one of Westview’s succubus witches?”
Agatha flinched. Barely. Her smile only faltered for a second at the name they used to refer to her as at parties. She was known as the succubus– a breaker of hearts– whatever. She cared nothing for but the bodies she had in her bed… and well, it was true. She wasn’t exactly proud of it anymore, not with Nicky running circles around them with the twins… but it was what gave her him, and she wouldn’t change it for the world.
“Always, hun,” she flashed her teeth instead, grabbing her own tote bag full of extra tote bags for candy, and a coat for Nicky and herself.
“Mama! Auntie Wanda! Hurry-hurry! We need to beat the other kids for the good candy!” a small cowboy’s voice rang out from the front door.
Wanda snorted, “Oh, Agatha, he is all you in personality.”
“Of course,” she smirked, grabbing her keys and phone. “Mama doesn’t raise no losers.”
Their laughter rang again, looking towards the boys where both of their hearts softened. Nicky was practically dancing in place, the spurs of his boots clinking, and his little hat already crooked. She reached for her phone, snapping a picture before her son could protest, capturing the delicate jack-o’-lantern glow from the porch, the live setting capturing his bright laughter and bottling it deep in her memory storage.
By the time they had wrangled the twins and Nicky in order, candy buckets ready and costumes properly set, dusk had already fallen over Westview. The sun was a molten gold, the shadows tall and thin as the last of the leaves were already falling. The neighborhood was coming to life, children screaming from scares, parents laughing, and hot apple cider filtering the air. Halloween lights graced every house, little blown up decor in the lawns as their neighbors either sat on the porch or opened the door with bowls of candies for the little ones.
Agatha’s heels clicked down the concrete, her fingers already cracking the glowsticks for the boys to wear once night settled properly. Nicky happily stopped for her, allowing her to wrap it around his hat before he was running back ahead, giving the necklaces to the twins, the three of them laughing as they practically raced to the beginning of the road. Wanda glanced at her, a knowing smile gracing her lips as they both knew where the boys were going.
The house loomed ahead, painting in green light as haunted screams echoed from somewhere, and the five of them stopped dead in their tracks to stare at it. It looked different with the sun setting, each of the graves having lights– the foam looking a little too real as shadows moved in the windows. Agatha felt her stomach twist as she stared at it. There was something else, an energy she wasn’t sure she could place– and it went beyond the screaming soundtrack blaring from the speakers. The mothers looked down at their sons, watching as the twins backed up, their faces now nervous and unsure as they slowly made their way back to their mother’s side. Real screaming caught their attention as out from the side of the house– out of the garage attached to the manor, a group of teenage boys ran, screaming in terror down the driveway and out of sight. And her son, her usual timid son, started to head past the dozen warning signs and towards the screams.
Tommy’s eyes went wide, his long legs running after him as Agatha shot forward too, “Hey, Nicky wait!”
Agatha was hot on his heels as well, “Nicky!”
Nicky only paused, refusing to look back at them as Tommy was suddenly tucked into her side, pretending not to be scared, “Are you sure this is the first house? Don’t you want to warm up for the scare?”
Her son shook his head, “I’m not scared.”
“Of course, you’re not,” she muttered underneath her breath in defeat.
“Yeah, neither am I!” Tommy chimed in beside her.
Nicky looked back at them then, his brown eyes glinting, “Yeah? Even behind my mama?”
Yep, he was her son through and through.
Before either of them could reply, Nicky surged forward, his boots thumping up the driveway and passed the standing plastic skeletons. Agatha groaned, reluctantly taking Tommy’s hand in her own as they followed her son towards the open mouth of a cave… well it was a garage, but the lights were dimmed to a green glow. The mouth of the cave was styrofoam painted– at least Agatha was pretty sure as Nicky disappeared behind the black curtains. Tommy stopped dead in his tracks though, refusing to budge, making her look down at him.
“It’s okay. Go head back to your mother. I’ll get you some candy with Nicky,” she soothed him, her hand brushing through his hair.
It was thinner than Nicky’s, prickly from the gel, and yet the motion still coaxed the boy to run back Wanda. Agatha took a deep breath, stepping through the velvet curtain, staring at the walls perfectly carved out like a maze. It was narrow though, and she could just make out the stands holding it all up, covered up by cobwebs and pumpkins to prevent people from tripping. She followed it slowly, the soundtrack of screams making her ears bleed as the smoke left a low haze.
“Nicky?” she called, not able to hear him, and slowly, the old friend of panic was setting in.
She hurried her steps, almost running as her chest tightened in worry. What if he forgot to turn down his implants? What if he turned them completely off? What if a psychopath lived here? What if he had taken her son? What if he had hurt him? What if they both were walking into a trap? Agatha and Wanda had done their research on the neighborhood. It was supposed to be safe, the HOA strict to the point it even pissed her off, and the police constantly roaming the streets, especially during events.
She turned another corner, and she breathed out in relief. Nicky stood there at the end, his little head cocked at the doll in the rocking chair. He backed up slowly, his little hands trembling as his bucket dropped, bouncing against the plants of wood underneath their feet. He turned then, staring up at her with wide eyes.
“Mama?” his voice shook.
Agatha was quick, coming beside him to hold his little hand. Her hands immediately went to the dials on the implants, checking they were low enough. Nicky had already turned them down, his little chest rising up and down frantically. They both turned back to the doll. It was cloaked in black, the skirts blending in with the green lighting as the smoke made it hard to figure out the doll’s eyes. Below the nose was all bone, a sharp jaw line and hollow nose as pure teeth greeted them. The doll was Death, in a woman’s form and size, and at Lady Death’s feet was a bucket full of giant Pixy Sticks– a two-foot straw of pure sugar.
“Go on,” she nudged him gently forward. “It’s just a doll. Just a little scare, little love.”
Nicky shook his head, his eyes wide as he tugged at her skirt, “No– please, Mama.”
Agatha felt herself soften, even among the screams and green smoke as she turned back to life-sized doll. She let go of Nicky’s hand, giving him his bucket back first before reaching down to grab a Pixy Stick. Just as her fingers brushed one, the chair creaked. She looked up in time to find the hood of the doll falling off, large eyes blinking up at her as she screamed. The doll stood, forcing Agatha to stumble back, her heel catching on a loose floor board before she landed hard on her ass.
She yelped as her own teeth bit down with the landing, catching her lip and crimson immediately filling her mouth. Her bag fell from her shoulder, the coats tumbling out as she winced, pain shooting through the wrist that tried to catch her.
The ‘doll’ froze mid-motion, eyes blinking before hands appeared from the cloak– real, hands reaching forward in alarm, “Mierda, are you okay?”
The voice wasn’t hollow. It wasn’t mechanical. It was warm, alive, threaded with guilt and a slight Spanish accent that stopped the pain just for a moment. Then, the hands were pulling down the Death mask, revealing soft round cheeks, plush lips, and eyes that Agatha swore she had seen before.
“Fuck, you’re real,” Agatha breathed, still blinking up at the woman, almost as if she were ghost– still comprehending that was indeed real.
Her fingers pressed to her bleeding lip before, wincing as her wrist moved in the wrong way. She hissed cradling just as the soundtrack stopped, the LED lights flickering to a soft yellow, brighter than the green to see, but still soft enough where it didn’t hurt. The woman kneeled down beside her, calloused, cold hands taking her wrist to look at it. Agatha looked at her again, and this time her heart stuttered. The woman not only had her falling, but also decided to take her breath too. She was ethereal, striking in dark eyeshadow and bright red lips. Agatha felt herself unable to pull away, something magnetic refusing to pull her gaze away from the stranger… and yet, there was something there… that same feeling she could quite place.
“Mierda, it looks sprained,” the woman’s voice finally snapped her out of staring, her face becoming red as those eyes finally lifted up at her.
Her eyes were like fresh soil bathed in sunlight, green little specks decorating around the black hole. Her nose was cute, button shaped, forming to the gentle slopes of her face. The woman stared at her, her mouth opened slightly. And what felt like minutes, all they did was stare at one another, until the sound of crying and of boots running drew her attention to just catch her son sprinting back out of the maze crying.
Well, there goes her son’s love for Samhain, ruined by the first house they visited.
“Fuck,” Agatha sighed, staring at the blank space where Nicky previously was.
The woman crouched in front of her chuckled, “Really left yeah to fend for yourself.”
Agatha turned back to her, a smirk grazing her lips, “Well, with the lights on, I can think I can fend for myself just fine.”
Her eyes raked the woman up and down, the peak of abs just underneath the wires of her top, the muscles lining her arms– Gods, the woman had to be sent by the Gods themselves. The woman blushed, chuckling as her tongue poked her cheek, her ears turning red.
She ducked her head, the blushing making her jostle the hands on her wrist and Agatha hissed in pain.
Smooth, real smooth, she thought to herself as concern flashed over the woman’s face.
“Damn, it’s already bruising– I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you- I-I mean. I did– but–”
Oh, she’s cute too.
The woman helped her up, Agatha stumbling on her own heels until firm hands landed on her waist, steadying her. The hands were strong, fingers digging in slightly on either side of her waist. She looked up at the woman again, her gaze lingering too long on plump lips as her stomach swooped.
“I have a first aid kit inside. We should get some ice on that quick– joder, I am so sorry–”
The sound of yelling quieted the woman’s rambling. They both looked just as Wanda rounded the corner with all three boys behind her. Wanda’s gaze lowered immediately, stifling a smirk as she landed on where the woman’s hands were still on her waist. The woman let go, not quick– unhurried to make sure she was balanced.
“Is Mama okay, Auntie Wanda?” Nicky’s small voice popped up, peaking around her legs to peer up at her.
Agatha softened, but still the pain still lingered as she clutched her wrist, “I’m alright, little love. Come meet…”
She paused, realizing she never asked the stranger’s name.
“Rio,” the woman supplied, kneeling down to Nicky’s height as he finally came around from Wanda’s legs.
Rio grabbed a Pixy Stick, holding it up as a peace offering, “Sorry, bud. I didn’t mean to scare you and your mama too badly.”
Agatha watched as her son stepped forward, a smile on his face– as if the tears ceased to exist, “Thank you… I guess I forgive you.”
He sniffled once, his hand tentative as he took it from Rio’s, both of their eyes almost glowing gold in the light. Behind Nicky, Wanda eyed the woman, looking between the two closer to the floor before looking up at Agatha, an unreadable expression plastering on her face.
“See? That wasn’t so scary,” Rio teased, her voice gentle as she fixed the hat on his head that made Nicky giggle.
The tension in Agatha’s chest eased, but the ache in her wrist reminded her she wasn’t entirely unscathed.
“Agatha, your wrist,” Wanda’s gasp broke through the tender moment.
This time Agatha looked down, the swelling making itself known as it was clutched tight to her chest. Rio stood up, her raven hair falling further down her shoulders.
“Again, I am so sorry. Please, let me wrap it for you or least let me ice it.”
Agatha opened her mouth to protest, but Wanda was already stepping forward, “Of course she’ll let you. I’ll take the boys. Just text me if you’re headed home after to rest.”
Once more, she was ready to protest, but a tiny body flung against her, Nicky’s face rubbing against her stomach again, “I’ll be good, Mama. Just make Miss Rio use her powers to fix your wrist.”
His voice was pure innocence, high pitched with worry and love. Her arms wrapped instinctively around him, her uninjured hand rubbing over his shoulder blades. Her son melted further into her, still burying his little face into her stomach.
“Lucky for your mama, I’m a Green Witch,” Rio teased softly beside them.
Nicky pulled away, looking up at the woman. To both hers and Rio’s surprise, Nicky lunged forward, wrapped her into a similar hug. Agatha froze, her mouth opening slightly as she looked towards Wanda. Wanda simply raised an eyebrow staring at the boy who seemed to cling tighter until Rio returned the hug. Agatha’s eyebrows creased as she watched them, not understanding how her son was so comfortable with the woman. Nicky was shy, even as a babe, crying if anyone but her held him. As a toddler and now a five-year-old, he was no different, always hiding behind her legs when he meant strangers, refusing to even say “hello.” It took hours for him to warm up, even leaving her side– he clung like a koala to her. When he met his baby sitter for the first time, Agatha had to sit with him for a day with Sharon until she felt comfortable enough to leave him with her by himself.
Elementary school was worse. He was excited to learn, a bright boy who always sat down eagerly for Agatha’s own lectures on history. She thought she had prepared him, gentle reminders that he would be away from her for a day but he would be around kids his own age and make new friends. The moment the bus arrived, she was prying him off her, meanwhile every instinct in her begged to scoop him up and take him back inside the house. Okay, so she had herself a little velcro child, but she never dared complain– not if it meant her son had a healthy, safe attachment to her.
And now he was hugging the woman who made him run away crying.
“You’re so cool, Miss Rio,” Nicky mumbled shyly before running back to Wanda.
Wanda took his hand, still eyeing Rio, “We will be around the block. Call me when you two are done.”
The moment the boys and best friend were out of the garage, Agatha felt her heart stuttering again, looking at Rio unsure. Rio was already moving, going through the curtains behind her chair. Agatha shuffled slowly behind her, clutching her arm as she stepped out of the green lights into a normal large garage.
“I have the first aid kit upstairs,” the woman said, opening a plain white door.
Agatha followed in silence, her head turning around the woman’s home. The stairs were old, dark oak, creaking with every step as the door at the top shuttered open. Dozens of fake candles illuminated the kitchen like a seance waiting to happen. Real vines hung on every wall, plants filling every corner. Bronze bells hung from a door’s handle, one that led to the woman’s backyard. She was led further into the kitchen where Death laid down her mask and draped her cloak over a counter chair at black marble counter island.
Agatha leaned back against the island, watching Rio reach up to her cabinets to grab a large plastic container. The lid popped open, filtering the charge silence– a silence where Agatha worried her own breath would somehow deplete the energy that sent static down her very arms… unless that was just the pain.
“He’s a sweet kid,” Rio said softly, hands fishing out wraps before turning to a fridge.
Agatha nodded, “Yeah, he’s usually shy, but he seemed to take right to you.”
Rio paused for a moment, her hands stilling on the blue ice pack. The hum from the refrigerator sang at them, a gentle melody before Rio turned.
“I guess I’m honored then,” she replied, setting the ice pack beside her before taking the wrap in between long fingers. “May I?”
Agatha hesitated. She hated being fussed on– dotted on. It made her feel weak and small, like she was incapable of taking care of herself. But when their eyes met, Agatha saw something else flicker there– something that couldn’t name, and it made her body move before she could even think. She gasped when Rio took her hand, the skin cold to the touch, but the little pin-pricks of her skin were for an entirely different reason.
Rio didn’t look up as her hands were practicing, wrapping around her wrist and down her forearm before moving over her thumb and between her forefinger, “It’s not broken, but it is sprained badly enough. If it doesn’t heal in four weeks, I would go to an orthopedic.”
“Are you a doctor?” Agatha found herself asking.
Rio shook her head, finishing off the wrap before pressing the ice pack against her wrist, “Not the doctor that you are thinking. I’m a forensic pathologist.”
Agatha smirked, her hand falling over the ice pack as the woman let go, “So, Lady Death does suit you.”
Rio’s lips quirked, the edges of her mouth lifting upwards for her cheeks to grow rosy, “And what do you do, Agatha?”
The way she said, it sent shivers up her spine, the energy practically growing as the woman leaned back against the opposite counter. Her arms grossed, biceps highlighted in the candle’s ambiance. Agatha found herself following up the lines of muscle, wondering if Rio could lift her with ease, hold her against the wall, and– she snapped out of it. Her gaze returned to browns where they were focused below her chin. The smirk was sinful that graced her lips as feigned stretch her shoulders, shoving her chest forward before cradling the ice tighter against her injured arm.
“I’m a researcher, pairing with Salem University– studying the last of Salem’s witch covens.”
Rio chuckled, her tongue poking her cheek again, “So, your costume also fits, and I have to say– I love the Stevie Nicks touch.”
Agatha felt herself lit up, her eyes growing wide as someone recognized what she was going for, but she had to keep her cool as she shifted her weight on her feet.
“Ah, so Lady Death has good taste in music,” she smiled, tilting her head as a delighted spark flared.
Rio scoffed, but it was all warm, a gleam in those brown eyes holding her captive, “Please, my tía was obsessed with her, and Halloween is never complete without watching Practical Magic at least three times. Plus, it took me years to understand that she wasn’t a witch herself.”
“Well,” she murmured, the smirk falling to a smile. “She kind of is– the voice, the lyrics being pure magic, and the flare– only a witch could leave another woman that breathless.”
Rio raised an eyebrow, “Only a witch?”
“A witch and a woman who plays being a doll to scare people.”
The laugh was warm and rich– something addictive like fresh espresso poured in the morning. Hot and golden. Raven hair fell around the frame of her face as she shook her head, crossing one boot over the other. And then the woman grew serious, her head lifting up with a casual confidence as she stepped closer, movement stilling the very breath from her lungs. Rio’s hands were on her wrist again, checking the wrappings from the melting ice pack.
Rio opened her mouth, a flicker of hesitation before it came out, “And does this woman have a chance with a witch or is this witch already taken?”
That pulled the breath right from Agatha’s lungs. Her pulse thudded in her head as her throat tightened, a little frog making its way in as the world seemed to tilt for a moment– like she was twenty again, just younger– somewhere where green lights flashed as a stranger flashed her a smile in the mists. She hadn’t dated in years, never found someone interesting nor someone who she could bring around Nicky. Here, Rio had already charmed her son and now was making her stutter like she had never been asked out before.
Before she could respond, the phone in her bag buzzed, breaking them back into the real world– the candles, the warmth of the home, and the ache in wrist. She blushed, quickly fishing her phone out.
Wanda : Your little outlaw is asking for you. We are making our way back down to the manor.
Agatha cleared her throat, tucking a strand behind her ear as she glanced up at Rio, “Sorry, Nicky’s already missing me.”
There was an awkward pause, Rio still staring at her with wide, calm eyes, just waiting.
“And no, I’m not taken.”
A bright smile flashed on Rio’s face and for a second Agatha could have sworn the gap between her teeth was identical to a little cowboy’s, but the thought was completely wiped away as Rio took her phone, typing in her number.
Lady Death : (978-XXX-XXXX)
“Dinner. Tomorrow night. Let me make it up to you properly.”
Her lip curled, a grin shining full of teeth, “Asking me out of pity, Rio?”
Rio leaned a little closer, “No, but I would be a fool not to ask you out on a date.”
“And I would be even worse a fool not to say yes,” she murmured and before she could stop herself, Agatha closed the distance.
The skin was warm underneath her lips as she brushed them against her cheek, lingering a little longer than necessary as Rio froze, her eyes wide. Agatha smirked, pulling away while fixing her bag on her shoulder.
“Until tomorrow, Rio,” she called behind her, making her back down the cellar steps.
And behind her, she heard the rasp, “Te veo, Agatha.”
The air that greeted her was colder than she remembered. The sun was already asleep as she walked down the driveway, fighting everything not to run back into the home as an old spark greeted her like a long last friend. Her feet slowed, Agatha biting her lip as she felt the phantom sensation of her lips pressing to Rio’s cheek.
“Mama!” an excited squeal echoed down the street.
She turned, but before she could even see him, Nicky was already latched to her. She smiled fondly, lifting him up on her hip and wincing at the strain in her wrist. His body was warm against hers, his little arms quick around her neck as he nuzzled against her like a very large cat. Laughter brought her attention as from behind Nicky was her best friend and the boys.
“Mama, did Rio make your wrist better?” Nicky asked before her best friend could.
She nodded, straightening the hat on his head, “Yes, little love.”
He nodded, the most serious a five year old could be, “And when can we see Rio again?”
Agatha felt herself soften as she glanced at Wanda. But Wanda’s face was stoic, something she did when she was still thinking, still deciding if she liked or hated something– painting her face with an unreadable indifference. And for a moment, she wondered if Wanda didn’t like Rio. Maybe Nicky had said something to upset Wanda? But she trusted, for once, for Wanda to speak later.
“We’ll see, little love,” she said softly, kissing his cheek before setting him back on the ground.
He ran ahead with Tommy and Billy, the three boys carrying on and giggling as they made their way to the next street to begin on the houses. Both her and Wanda accompanied their sons to the doors, greeting familiar moms all whilst Agatha was muttering under her breath how much of a brat the kid is, or whether or not she and Wanda should grab the cartons of eggs– alas Wanda did have a point… eggs were too expensive these days to waste on people like them.
It wasn’t until the end of the night, after carrying Nicky upstairs– who was fast asleep in her arm– and tucking him into bed did they talk about the not-so-mysterious neighbor again. Agatha had just kissed her son’s head, placing his beloved stuffed animal, Scratchy the rabbit, into his arms and setting his implants to charge before she made her way down the stairs. Wanda had already changed, her own boys back at her house, and digging the wine bottle out of her cabinet. Her shoulders slumped as she toed off her boots before reaching for the first glass that was poured.
Her phone on the counter buzzed, before the glass could reach her lips.
Lady Death : Hope you made it home safe, Stevie.
Agatha’s breath hitched, the corner of her mouth twitched upward. Her heart stuttered as she stared down at the low glow of the screen. She opened it, biting her lip to hide her smile as her thumbs circled over the screen, thinking of a response. Instead, those three dots came again.
Lady Death : I was serious too about tomorrow night. I can pick you up at seven, and already got us a reservation. Formal wear.
“Who’s that smile for?” Wanda’s voice made her hands slip on the phone, clattering screen-up onto the wood . “Ah, a date tomorrow at seven. I’ll take Nicky at 5:30 so you have time tomorrow to get ready.”
Agatha’s eyes narrowed to the stairs, her mind already deciding to panic for her. Formal wear. What the hell was she supposed to wear? Worse, what would she tell Nicky? She had never brought anyone of romantic interest around him before, let alone had left him for a date night. The panic grew suddenly, her heart squeezing at the thought–
What if he thinks I am ignoring him? What if I spend too much time away from him? What if he doesn’t like Rio?
It had always been just the two of them, minus the help from her friends, but ninety-seven percent of that time, it was her and Nicky– Coven Two. But Wanda was already picking up her phone, texting Rio back with ease.
Perfect, see you tomorrow, Lady Death : Me
Location : Me
With that, a hand clasped around her uninjured wrist, her body being dragged up the stairs and into her bedroom where Wanda pushed her onto the bed. She landed back with an oomf, watching the red head already going through her closet, draping dress after dress over her arm.
“So, formal but we need some ‘Stevie’ vibes then since she seemed to like that. Long sleeves, and then you could go for a higher heel– tomorrow you’ll keep your hair down, Agatha.”
Wanda pulled out the first dress, a green flowy thing she hadn’t worn since the night of her graduation– seven months pregnant, the only maternity gown that didn’t make her look like a trad wife.
“Wands, absolutely not. That’s a maternity dress,” she growled, standing up and throwing it back in her closet, not caring as the hanger ricocheted off the wall and down to the floor. “
Her best friend rolled her eyes, “Why do you even still have that thing then?”
Agatha flinched, not outwardly, never outwardly, “That’s the dress I wore when I graduated.”
Wanda froze, her gaze softening as she pulled out another dress– a satin one of midnight purple, bell sheer sleeves.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” she murmured, picking up the green dress and hanging it up once more before lifting the purple. “This one– this will be perfect for your first date.”
Agatha groaned, holding the dress up, frowning slightly. She had bought this dress a year ago for a conference in Salem on her research paper. It was her first major one where she had been planning months in advance, staying up late after putting her son to bed, learning sign language and hell, there were moments when Nicky corrected her. And yet, she hadn’t gone that night. Nicky had a fever, one that congested him that led to them spending the night at the ER.
“It’s been years, hun, since I have been on a date. I barely remember what to even do, what to say– fuck how to even flirt with her.”
Wanda simply snorted, “Well, whatever kept you in that manor for so long did the trick. Just some advice from a married woman.”
She rolled her eyes, chuckling, “Yeah, and what’s that?”
“Be yourself. You were tonight and this woman seemed to love that.”
“But–”
Wanda held a finger up to her, “Nope, no ‘buts.’ This woman called you ‘Stevie,’ and already booked a reservation at a fancy restaurant which I am assuming she’s paying, plus giving you a ride. Also, what does this Rio do if she owns that fucking manor.”
“She’s a forensic pathologist.”
Wanda’s smirk was deep, seared onto her face, “Oh, she’s perfect for you.”
***
The next day passed quickly, Agatha waking with a dull headache from either the wine or her nerves. Her wrist still throbbed underneath the wrappings. She removed them before showering, lacing them back around before heading down the stairs. It was noon and she wondered if her son was awake. She walked into the living room, finding him playing with his toy horses, cantering them around the carpet and making faint noises with his mouth as he picked up his favorite wild stallion, a Kiger Mustang– Spirit. They had watched that movie hundreds of times by now, Nicky refusing to even touch the TV show which she was glad for. She leaned against the wall, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, watching him fondly before her stomach growled in protest.
“Nicky, sweetheart, what do you want for lunch?” she asked, watching him make the plastic horses jump over a pillow.
He didn’t respond, still continuing his light humming and having Black Beauty fight Spirit. She smiled, realizing today was a ‘no-ears’ day, Nicky having hearing fatigue. She came up behind him, making her foot fall a little heavier for him to feel the floor so he knew she was approaching without scaring him. He turned then, a smile on his face as he launched himself around her waist again. His tiny body was warm, molding to her before he was pulling away. His hand came up to his chin, his other arm laying horizontal to his body– the motions smooth and sure.
Good morning, mama.
She chuckled, repeating the first movement, but kept her hand above, signing, Good afternoon, little love.
His laughter was sweet before he was signaling that he was hungry, asking for dinosaur nuggets. It was then that the afternoon blossomed slowly, the pair eating in comforting silence together before Nicky was back playing for next few hours. She kept herself occupied, refusing to let her mind focus too much on the fact that she had a real date tonight. That afternoon bloomed into the evening and at five thirty sharp, Wanda was marching into her house, going straight to her bathroom. She allowed her friend to do her hair and make up. And just as Wanda was finishing the last of her loose curls, Nicky peeked his head in.
His movements were quicker, Why is Auntie Wanda doing your hair?
Nicky was already yawning, clutching his rabbit to his chest, his signs clumsy. She signed back carefully, exaggerating her movements so he could keep up in his sleepy state.
I am going to dinner tonight, sweetheart.
Nicky’s brow furrowed, With who?
She froze for a moment, unsure if she should tell him. Her mind raced, not wanting to get his hopes up. He was still so young, still so hopeful, and she couldn’t bear it if her son was upset if Rio was something he wanted in their lives and then ended up not.
Work– very important. Your aunt is helping me look perfect before you go over and have a sleep over with Tommy and Billy.
He nodded, running off back to his room to hopefully pack.
***
By six-forty, her son and Wanda finally headed out the door, walking across the street where Natasha waved from her porch steps, enveloping Nicky in a tight hug before Tommy and Billy were there, rushing their friend inside. Agatha released the breath she was holding, going back inside. Wanda’s words echoed in her mind, a reminder to just be herself, and yet, she had no idea where this night would go. After putting on her dress, she found herself in the living room, furiously picking up Nicky’s toys, and laying them in a basket. She refolded all the blankets and gathered Nicky’s shoes from the doorway, taking them up to his room before starting to make his bed for him. The twenty minutes passed, almost too quickly as the house echoed with the chime of the doorbell.
Agatha’s heart stopped for a moment, her face paling before she pulled herself together. She ran down the stairs, shoving her feet into her high heel boots– pretending she hadn’t just ran from the second floor like a maniac. She took a few deep breaths, but nothing seemed to stop her racing her heart… that was until she opened the door. Rio stood there underneath the porch light and the first thing Agatha found herself staring at was the smile. It was wide, infectious, and real. Her cheeks plumped up from the smile, a light rouge dusting them as wide, owlish eyes stared down at her. The small gap between her front two teeth was on display and a flash of recognition sparked in her mind, wondering if she and Rio had met before last night.
“Hey,” Rio breathed, her voice steady and deep.
She wore a hunt green two piece suit, the blazer’s lapels creased to perfection and the polyester pants hugged everything perfectly on Rio. Her Doc Martens had patterns of vines wrapped around them and the hand around the stems of the bouquet of red and purple azaleas had black ink crawling carefully around long slender fingers. Agatha looked back at Rio, staring at the way her black locks framed her face, her eyes lined in black, the porch light reflecting a gold there.
“Hi,” she breathed, her heart still stuttering in her chest.
They stared for a moment longer, two fools feeling their hearts beat in their throats as they stared at one another in wonder. And somewhere, high above the cosmos, planets collided. Fire, gas, and rock combined, pieces being thrown light years away from the collision zone. A spectacle of green and purple flashed before its audience of stars. And for a moment, the universe froze in time, light simply stopped moving, allowing sound to catch up. And in the mists of the green light, the smoke and unknown fire created a picture of two hearts combining.
They had blinked out of it, hearts still humming with the echo of colliding planets. Rio checked her wrist, adjusting the wrap before she stepped inside with the bouquet. Agatha watched as Rio carefully arranged the azaleas, her fingers brushing the rim of the vase before Rio took her uninjured hand in hers. She guided her to a forest green Subaru, teasing and laughing with a warmth that made Rio laugh back, making the stars sparkle in the green mists. The drive to the restaurant wasn’t the gentle awkwardness Agatha expected. Conversation flowed like a lazy river, from work to old memories, from Rio’s travels to the choice to settle in the quaint town outside Salem. Stevie Nicks and Fleetwood Mac spilled softly from the speakers, a playlist Rio must have made just for her, their music threading through the hearts that perhaps were bound before.
When they pulled up to the restaurant, Agatha’s jaw dropped. It was the Witchery, a Michelin Star restaurant with an eight year waitlist. She had always wanted to go, but never knew if she could afford it let alone still be in buck-fuck Westview long enough for the waitlist. And Rio got them a reservation last night and drove a fucking Subaru.
Who the fuck was she?
Rio smiled, the same laid back one she was increasingly becoming fond of as she got out, running around the vehicle to take her hand. Rio’s hand was warm, calloused, but soft. Gods, Agatha couldn’t remember the last time she was treated like this– Hell, if she had ever been treated like this. Rio was a gentleman, keeping her arm and guiding her inside. The restaurant was dimly lit, a quartet playing softly somewhere behind the black, sheer drapes– the melody carefully carrying the whispers of low conversation. The walls were rock, rough and cave-like, swords mounted on the walls and paintings of witches hung sporadically throughout. Fake little potions sat in the crevices of the walls, and each table was draped in a white cloth with red lace in the center. The smell of steak and basil made her mouth water, her eyes flicking among the dinner plates.
A waitress spotted them, immediately escorting her and Rio to a round secluded table, laying the menus down for each of them. Agatha’s eyes went wide, staring at the prices– the lowest costing sixty-five dollars, and that was an appetizer. She went to protest, not understanding how Rio could afford such a place– how much did a forensic pathologist make? She made a mental note later to look it up later. Just as went to protest to Rio, a gleam caught her eye. The three candles on the table– their light flickered against something shiny underneath Rio’s hair and behind her ear– something she had missed before.
It was black silicone with a white, clear piece resting behind her ear– a thin wire connected to a circular disk. Agatha froze staring at the woman, and suddenly Nicky’s face flashed in her place– that gaped tooth smile, the same big brown eyes, and even the facial shape. She blinked out of it– it couldn’t be possible. And a woman having those genes to get her pregnant was rare in their world. Too rare to make Agatha believe maybe she did meet Rio before.
The waitress came back, setting a simple bottle of Sauvignon Blanc down, Agatha’s favorite. The woman placed her pad underneath her arm and started signing to Rio.
Good to see you, although, this time with company, her signs were clumsy, but clear. You finally found someone?
Rio’s smile was bright as she nodded, her hands and arms smoother– practiced and perfect, Good to see you, too. And yes, first date. I hope it all goes perfectly so I can see her again.
The waitress’s chuckle was low and sweet, her eyes lingering on Agatha before turning back to Rio, Do you think she is the one?
Brown eyes sparkled in the light, her motions hesitant and slow, There is this feeling with her, something that already makes me feel seen and safe. I just hope to explore where else this could go.
Agatha’s heart gave a dangerous flutter as she stared at her in quiet shock. Rio was already feeling like this? And yes, maybe she shouldn’t like that they were talking about her as if she couldn’t see every word– but Gods, the sincerity of it. The way Rio’s fingers fidgeted between signs, the soft tremor of nerves as though one wrong move might ruin everything. The care she’d taken, down to the playlist, the gentle teasing about Stevie Nicks– it all hit Agatha like a wave. Normally, her instincts would’ve screamed red flag at how fast Rio felt things, how much she was trying to impress her. But this time, under some strange, cosmic pull, Agatha felt it too.
Rio was nothing but a hopeless romantic– one that wasn’t only in love with the idea of love, but in love with putting in the effort to love.
“Do either of you have any questions on the menu or would like some recommendations?” the waitress’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she realized she was staring at Rio.
Which was no wonder why Rio was fidgeting. Agatha’s stare could be harsh, no matter if it was in awe, disgust, or annoyance. She cleared her throat, sitting up more while shaking her head no, wanting Rio alone for a moment before they dived deeper into the date.
The moment the waitress walked away, Rio bit her lip, her tongue playing with the side of her cheek, “Um, I guess I should tell you that–”
Agatha beat her to it, her hands and arms moving with her own flow, You’re deaf. I didn’t even see your implants. They look beautifully made.
Rio stared at her, jaw slacked before bright pink swept into her features as she ducked her head, “Mierda, you sign.”
She laughed but her voice softened to something reverent, reaching out to Rio’s hand, to get her to look at her, “My son, he’s deaf too– not sure if it’s genetic or his complication at birth. But I had to catch up fast.”
The ravenette’s face was attentive, following every word as Agatha signed while speaking, knowing her son prefers it most days as well instead of just speaking orally.
“The doctors caught it early, but I won’t lie. It was difficult at first– learning sign while also being a first time single mother. If you’re comfortable responding, when did you lose your hearing?”
“I was born deaf, and my abuelita was the one to realize it. She got my implants when I was young so I could sign and speak both English and Spanish. I sign both PRSL and ASL. My family is from Puerto Rico,” Rio’s voice grew quieter with her words, her gaze distant.
Then the waitress was back, a quiet smirk on her lips as Rio ordered potato soup as their appetizer. Agatha allowed her to order her entree before silence fell before them. It was then that Agatha took a deep breath, her arms, hands, and fingers moving with her body– her eyes keeping Rio’s : I hope you know I feel the same. There is something about you that I hope we can continue exploring where this goes.
***
The night lingered, laughter spilling over the restaurant until the hour grew late– Rio paying the bill and taking her home. When they pulled up, Rio had simply walked her to her door, not expecting an invitation inside, no subtle hint that their evening might continue. Instead, Rio stopped at her porch, pausing before the door, and smiled down at her.
“Could I take you out again?” she asked, her voice hushed as her eyes sparkled in hope.
Agatha agreed, secretly hoping for at least a hug goodbye. But Rio surprised her. She leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Agatha’s cheek– the same gentle brush they had shared the night they first met. Agatha, however, was not content to let it end there. She turned, capturing Rio’s lips, tasting the faint remnants of basil from her steak and potatoes. The kiss was unhurried, tender, deliberate. It sparked something wild and new inside her, something she had never felt with anyone.
Later that night, after Rio had left and Agatha was in her bed, she knew that Rio had ensnared her heart. And she prayed to whatever deity that would listen, that Rio would treat it gently and hold it close to her own for the rest of their lives.