Chapter Text
It was the closest to perfect known in months.
Back in Gravesfield, there was always quiet in the human realm residence; a house that retained this presence, until the universe gifted Camila Noceda her daughter’s appearance alongside numerous witches. A stranger adjustment, but a welcome one.
The demon realm occupancy waited for them on their return; none of what made the house a home to be found. A time that makes them shudder by how uncanny it seemed to see such a place of whimsy so run down.
‘There is no Titan’, the graffiti had mocked Luz on King’s absence. Amity then wrapped her arm around her shoulder as the human held back tears.
Then, twenty four hours later, it’d all changed.
For the first time since Belos’ reign and the Day of Unity, life breathed into the once desolate Owl House. Where split wood and deteriorated brickwork once was, the house had been spruced up and reimagined but kept its quirky qualities. Spaces of dust mites and dead creatures were now filled with mementos from battle, the few preserved belongings, and photographs depicting demons, witches and humans alike. Unusual but undeniably family.
Said family now occupied the home, a celebration raging on as enthused voices carried over faint bard music.
After a trying summer, Luz was at last in a home where it was the most full it had ever been; it was finally a joyous occasion, something momentous to show her Mami the wonderful people she’d found in the Boiling Isles. Where she’d once feel hyper vigilant and excitable at her worlds colliding, she finally felt a sense of calm.
She stood with her mom, Eda and Lilith, a pacified Collector hanging over her shoulders like an almighty backpack. The childlike deity was soundly sleeping after a lengthy encounter with Luz, learning of Belos’ return and with King’s guidance, he was able to restore the Boiling Isles to something beyond the wildest dreams of magic. A place where all could thrive, beyond puppeteering and playtime.
When he terraformed Eda’s turf, the vision of the Owl House came to mind with slight improvements, per his suggestions. She gave in as a thank you.
Luz hands him over to Eda, who rests him on her hip with her good arm. She’s animatedly recounting how she had rescued Raine, lovingly batting her eyes over to them as they play on, a fleeting moment that the human girl remembers to tease her mentor about another time. Lilith rolls her eyes at the sappy interjections while Camila smiles in understanding.
And Luz would have been content catching up with her owl family all night had her tired eyes not met pools of gold in the kitchen.
Amity had not known the meaning of contentedness until she had ended up in another world; life in Blight Manor hadn’t warranted her such a feeling. After years of extracurriculars and expectations, her relationship with Luz had shown her that there is so much more to her status. A feeling extrapolated by becoming closer to her friends, and life in the human realm allowed her, for once, to just be. No bargains or badges; unparalleled freedom.
Then, she was back home. And after a fight for the history books her library sanctuary would recall for centuries, they had won. She was part of the change.
Where she’d normally be more reserved with such circumstances, masking with techniques Odalia had branded onto her like a sigil you can’t remove, she felt the spike of adrenaline and was making sure everyone around her knew how elated she was.
Leaning against the table, she laughs at Gus’ nudging of Hunter, tattered ears crimsoning abashedly at the mention of Willow. The girl in question is giggling too, her braids draping over Amity’s collarbones as her head rests on her shoulder, her own cheeks blossoming into a blush too. She doesn’t tease the plant witch (tonight, at least), knowing exactly what it feels like.
In that moment, she misses Luz and sharing in this solidarity, so she glances over to find her already staring. Her cheeks catch fire at this revelation.
Time slows around them; the Apple blood in King’s tiny hands slows to a trickle in its spillage, Darius brushes past Alador at a non-currency snails pace, and Hooty’s hollers come out distorted and distant.
It all disappears as Luz focuses on the beauty under kitchen beams; her dark eyes dart to her girlfriend’s lips, only to flicker back up to her scarlet face. A knowing grin plays on her features.
And Amity reciprocates with her own lips curving up, inevitably enamoured, her friends unaware of the searing passion in proximity, the homely living room framing her favorite human nicely. Without a word, she ducks out of the distractions, the others paying her no mind as she takes her leave, clasping her hand tightly with Luz’s as she passes her. They both begin their exit, never looking back.
Boots clack against the stairs as a witch scampers upstairs, Luz hot on her tail. The party doesn’t suffer from the loss, everyone huddling close together, all lost in the stories that will be told to Boiling Isles inhabitants for generations.
For above, another happy ending was occurring.
The new redesign of the house had awarded Eda a fresh nest, and Luz a new bed; the firsts of a sense of finality, a sign she was home. Permanence, like her stay in the demon realm, as well as the human world. A second home she could travel to when she needed solace. How she even considered the idea of staying in one place was beyond her.
Amity watched the latter step forward, featherlike fingertips working her lavender locks behind her pointy ears, strands inevitably faded like her train of thought. Her eyes involuntarily drift shut, not that it mattered, because Luz’s are closing too.
Their lips touch, and like spell circles and fire glyphs, it’s explosive; finally, they know what the rest of forever feels like, coming together seamlessly like Grom dances, flowing like journeys through love tunnels, and they can barely breathe as they clutch each other tightly, eager noises filling the air as muffled chatter floats through the floor.
Lung capacity gaining comeuppance, only a soft sigh is between them as they ruefully parted. When they catch eyes, dilated and desirous, they know exactly what to do. Luz pulls her closer, catching Amity by the waist, as dainty palms hold her face, thumb grazing her eyebrow scar with tenderness. Like she’d dissolve should she ever stop.
“Can we-?”
“Yes.”
And then, they’re back in it. Imperfect footsteps clamber backwards until they topple onto the mattress, gentle giggling between them before they make their own music, rivalling the playing of the party.
But no one hears the bedroom upstairs become a symphony; the timbre of the titters of laughter with awkward manoeuvres and hairs falling in faces, the bass of bed frame groaning with each change in position, the melody of moans and whimpers, repeats of names like a refrain, combated with soft ‘shh’s and gentle kisses that grow more unabashed as the medley flows, harmonising as the notes float off the page until finally, legato sensations that only slow as the breathing between them does.
Laughing erupts from the life in the living room, someone from their friend group particularly funny tonight, and it almost masks the gasp that leaves Luz’s lips as she rolls off of Amity, who’s blissful state is leaving her sighing softly.
They lay there for a while, deciphering the downstairs, while they catch their breath. The architecture tries to chill their bones to no avail, their bodies flushed and toasted despite only a thin blanket between them.
Luz intertwines their hands, her own sitting larger in her girlfriend’s. Her face is relaxed, as she leans down to whisper softly. As if any change in tone would shatter the scene they’ve set. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that.”
Amity giggles, eyes rolling back for the third time that night. She kisses their conjoined hands absentmindedly. “I can tell. Maybe we should save the demon realm from destruction more often.”
The human girl laughs at that; a ridiculous notion. But then, she remembers the serendipity next to her, the infectious atmosphere below, that feeling of understanding; her person being not a dummy in the principal’s office but a hero. Not determined by a prophecy, not clung onto by a fantasy. This was real. And it was perfect.
She’d do it all again.
“Maybe.” She quietly resigns.