Chapter Text
“Ladies, here’s to another successful Winter Solstice,” Bobbi announced, raising her voice over the din of the crowded pub. She lifted her martini glass and smiled. “Blessed be!”
“Blessed be!” Jemma repeated in unison with Daisy, Elena, and May. She clinked glasses with her coven mates and took a healthy sip of her gin cocktail.
Blessed, indeed. Jemma felt incredibly lucky to be part of this powerful group of women, even if her own power was…well…somewhat lacking lately.
Her mood instantly soured. She made a face and took a deep swig of her drink.
“Ah-ah!” Daisy said, jabbing her finger into Jemma’s shoulder. “None of that, Simmons!”
Jemma swatted her hand away. “None of what? I didn’t even say anything!”
“You didn’t have to, your face said it all,” Daisy fired back. “It’s the Winter-freaking-Solstice! You’re not allowed to feel sorry for yourself!”
“I’m not feeling sorry for myself,” Jemma retorted. “I’m just not feeling… like myself. Believe it or not, there is a distinction!”
Daisy shrugged. “Tomato, to-mah-to. Either way, you’re bringing the vibe down.”
“Oh, well, I’m sorry my inability to execute the simplest of charms during one of the most important Sabbats of the year brings your vibe down,” Jemma grumbled. She finished the rest of her drink in one gulp and plunked the glass down on the table. “And it’s to-mah-to, for the record!”
“Jemma, you’re just going through a bit of magick block,” Bobbi said gently. “It’s not that uncommon.”
“It happens to the best of us,” Elena chimed in. “Remember when I was training for the Boston Marathon? I couldn’t tell the difference between an astral aura and a celestial aura for weeks.”
“Years ago, I was blocked after a really bad call,” May added. “It made my protection charms practically useless. It’s why I left the NYPD and went into the private sector.”
“Those are completely different situations,” Jemma scoffed. “For one, I’m not training for a marathon, and I’m definitely not a bloody police officer!”
“ACAB!” Daisy shouted gleefully. “I’ll drink to that!”
Bobbi rubbed her forehead. “Daisy, could we maybe not?”
“My point,” Jemma said loudly, “is that I am not under any physical or emotional stress, so there is no logical reason for my magick to be blocked!”
“I think a break-up is a pretty logical reason,” Elena pointed out. “Just saying.”
Jemma snorted. “Oh please. Breaking things off with Milton was the best decision I ever made!”
And it had been. Truly. He was a nice enough bloke, but dear lord, he was a dud in every sense of the word.
“Just because you’re the one who ended it doesn’t mean it can’t affect you,” May said. “The end of relationship is going to cause upheaval no matter the circumstances.”
Jemma shook her head. “No, trust me, it’s not about Milton.” Her head was starting to pound. “I’ve been struggling with a problem at work, and I’m just so…ugh, I’m just so frustrated!”
“The dendrotoxin bullet?” Bobbi asked. “Still?”
Jemma reached for her glass and scowled when she saw it was empty. “Yes, still,” she spat. “The issue isn’t with the dendrotoxin, it’s with the bullet casing, and apparently there isn’t a single competent technician in the entire damn company who can come up with a solution!”
“The problem isn’t with the toxin, or the gun, or the dorky technicians you work with,” Daisy said. “The problem is much simpler than that, and it has an even simpler solution.”
Jemma crossed her arms. “Does it now? Oh please, wise one, do enlighten me! What is this solution you speak of?”
“You need to get laid, Jemma Simmons,” Daisy declared.
Jemma’s cheeks immediately heated. “Don’t be absurd.”
“Un-cockblocked,” Daisy continued, ignoring her. “Dicked down. Back-blown. Taken to Pound Town”-
“Okay, I get the point!” Jemma interrupted. She shifted in her seat. “Sexual frustration has nothing to do with any of this!”
Liar, whispered the little traitorous voice in her head.
Elena slapped her palm against the table. “Well, I’m going to get us some more drinks. Who’s in?”
May sighed. “Not me, unfortunately.” She stood up from the table and made a face. “Andrew’s mother is flying in tomorrow morning and staying with us through New Years.”
“Oof,” Bobbi said sympathetically. “That’s rough. Are you going to be okay?”
May was already heading for the front door. “Don’t worry, I stocked up on sage,” she called over her shoulder as she exited the pub.
“Smart woman,” Daisy said.
“And then there were four,” Elena intoned. She pointed at Bobbi. “Morse. Another dirty martini?”
“Ugh, I wish,” Bobbi groaned. “But unfortunately, that little bundle of joy of mine is still breastfeeding before bedtime.”
“Little bundle of joy?” Daisy asked. “Is that what we’re calling Hunter nowadays?”
“Daisy!” Jemma admonished as Bobbi and Elena burst into gales of laughter. “Honestly, can you go two seconds without making a sex joke?”
“I mean, I could, but where’s the fun in that?”
Bobbi grabbed her coat. “Have fun you three,” she said with a grin. “And behave yourselves.” She pointed upward as she walked toward the door. “The Goddess is always watching.”
“Well, I hope the Goddess approves of shots of Fireball, because that’s what we’re doing,” Elena declared. “I’ll be back.”
Jemma rubbed her forehead. Whiskey probably wasn’t the fix she needed, but at least it would help her temporarily forget her predicament.
A predicament that was one hundred percent a result of workplace stress, no matter what Daisy said. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she couldn’t even remember the last time she had anything other than the most boring sex imaginable.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Daisy said, interrupting that particularly depressing train of thought.
Jemma sighed. “Nothing worth discussing, trust me.”
“Fine, we’ll discuss something else then,” Daisy said. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a small package wrapped in brown paper. “Let’s discuss this present Yo-yo and I made for you.”
Jemma clucked her tongue. “I thought we said no gifts! I didn’t get you anyth”-
“Shut it, Simmons,” Daisy interrupted. “This isn’t only for your benefit. It’s for ours too.”
Jemma bristled. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Is that your way of saying I’m not pulling my weight in the coven?”
“No, that’s not what I mean, not even a little bit,” Daisy protested as Elena returned to the table carrying six very full-looking shot glasses. “What I mean is”-
“You’re miserable, Simmons,” Elena said bluntly. She placed two shots in front of Jemma. “And we hate seeing you like this.”
“It has nothing to do with your block,” Daisy added, reaching for her two shot glasses. “If you never cast another charm for the rest of your days, it wouldn’t phase us in the least.”
“You’re one of us, magick or no magick,” Elena said. “But we know that’s something you can’t stomach, which is why”-
“- we made you this,” Daisy concluded.
“Well…okay,” Jemma relented. “I still maintain you did not have to do this, but I do appreciate the gesture.”
Daisy slid the package across the table. “Good,” she chirped. “You can open it now and thank us later.”
Jemma tore the paper open, and a bundle of red fabric fell onto the table. She picked it up and furrowed her brow. “You made me a scarf? I didn’t know either of you knew how to knit.”
“We don’t,” Daisy said. “We bought it at the Cumberland Farms down on Washington Street.”
Jemma’s frown deepened. “Oh, you got me a… gas station scarf?” Something wasn’t adding up. “Um, not to sound ungrateful, it’s lovely, but how exactly is this”-
“It’s not about the scarf, Simmons,” Elena interrupted. “The scarf is just a vessel.”
A little warning bell went off in Jemma’s head. “A vessel for what?”
“We might have put a little something-something into the fabric,” Daisy said casually. “Maybe.”
“Potentially,” Elena added.
The warning bell morphed into an air raid siren. Jemma held the scarf up to her face and inhaled. She recognized the scent at once.
She was going to kill them.
“Cardamom and damiana,” Jemma said flatly. “You cannot be serious.”
“With a hint of lady’s mantle, just to give it a little extra oomph,” Daisy added. “I learned that from you, by the way.”
“Oh, do not try to flatter your way out of this!” Jemma cried. “An aphrodisiac charm? How is making me hornier than I already am going to solve a damn thing?”
The second the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back.
“Ah-ha!” Daisy exclaimed, pointing across the table. “So you admit it!”
Dammit.
“Yes, okay…maybe it’s part of my problem,” Jemma admitted. “But it’s certainly not the whole thing! And you didn’t answer my question.” She waved the scarf in the air. “Unless this thing vibrates, wearing it isn’t going to do me a whole lot of good!”
Daisy and Elena looked at each other and then back at Jemma with an identical glint in their eyes that she did not care for—not one bit.
“That’s because you’re not the one who’s supposed to wear it,” Daisy said.
Jemma’s jaw nearly hit the floor.
“A love spell?” she hissed. “Are you insane?”
“It’s not a love spell,” Daisy insisted. “It’s just a little charm to…enhance whatever someone may already be feeling for you.”
“And it compells that someone give you exactly what you need,” Elena added with a wink. “If you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I know what you mean!” Jemma barked. “And I still think it is completely unethical!”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Simmons, it’s not brainwashing. The guy’s mind stays his own, I promise. It just increases his intuition a little bit, that’s all.”
Jemma looked down at the scarf and bit her lip. She was fairly certain that Milton couldn’t have found her g-spot even if he’d been handed a map and a miner’s helmet.
“That one over there is kind of cute,” Elena said, pointing towards the bar. “I think he was checking you out earlier.”
Jemma turned around. “You mean the man in the turtleneck who looks older than my dad?” she asked sourly.
Elena squinted. “Oh, that is a turtleneck, isn’t it? Never mind.”
“Listen, it’s not something you need to use tonight,” Daisy said. “Or ever, if you don’t want to. Just consider it another tool for your arsenal should you ever decide to take your vagina out of long-term parking.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Jemma said drily. She picked up her shot glass. “I promise to keep it in mind as long as you promise never to never use the words ‘vagina’ and ‘long-term parking’ in conjunction ever again.”
“I’ll do my best, but you know me.”
Jemma downed her shot, scrunching her nose as the cinnamon-sweet liquor burned its way down her throat. “Yes, yes I do,” she coughed. She grabbed her second shot and held it aloft. “Which is why I think we’ll need more of these.”
Elena’s shot glasses were already empty. “Now that I can definitely do,” she said with a wicked grin. “Drinks are always free when you’re sleeping with the bartender.”
“Yo-Yo, you’re married to the bartender,” Daisy said. “There’s a difference.”
Elena shrugged. “Yeah, so? I’m still sleeping with him.” She stood and waved toward the bar until she got Mack’s attention. “Vamos a necesitar otra ronda, mi amor! “she called out.
Jemma turned around just in time to catch Mack rolling his eyes. “Another round already?" he asked. "Who's the designated flyer tonight?"
“Oh, a flying broom joke, hardy-har-har,” Daisy said drily. “How original, Mack. Do you write your own material?”
Mack grinned. “Actually, Mrs. Sousa, your husband came up with that one last time he was here.”
Jemma tossed her head back and downed her second shot. She was very happy for her happily married friends who got to have sex on the regular. She wasn’t bitter at all.
“God, he is such a dork,” Daisy said fondly. “And he’s also our designated ‘flyer’ tonight once he’s off shift, since you were asking, so feel free to make those drinks on the stronger side, Mackenzie.”
The stronger, the better. Jemma couldn’t agree more.
“Strong drinks were a bad choice,” Jemma announced to anyone and everyone within a three-block radius. “Bad, bad, bad.”
“They are always a bad choice, Simmons, which is why we drink them,” Daisy said. Or at least that’s what it sounded like she said, but Jemma wasn’t sure. Daisy seemed to be having an awfully hard time with the letter S.
“Keep walking you two, we’re almost at Jemma’s building,” Elena’s voice said from behind. Elena’s words were very clear. She must have had the less-strong drinks. Elena was very smart.
“I seriously can not believe they made Daniel work overtime, that’s suuuuuch bullshiiiitttt,” Daisy moaned. “Walking sucks. I hate walking. My feet hurt. The ground is stupid.”
Jemma wobbled on the curb and grabbed Daisy’s arm for balance. “You shouldn’t say that, Daisy, the ground is a very important part of our craft,” she whispered. “Very important things grow in the ground.”
“Why are you whispering, the ground can’t hear you,” Daisy stage-whispered back. “Wanna know why? Because it’s stupid.”
“Speaking of stupid, let’s cut through the park before one of you walks into a telephone pole again,” Elena said, grabbing Jemma by the shoulders and turning her away from the telephone pole that she definitely wasn’t about to walk into.
“Ohhhhh, so pretty,” Jemma breathed as they stepped through the park entrance. Fairy lights were sparkling in every tree branch. She had never seen so many lights in her life.
“I’ve never seen so many lights in my life,” Jemma declared.
Daisy snorted. “Bitch, your apartment overlooks this park. You see these lights everyday.”
Jemma made a face. “Well it doesn’t make it any less true. And don’t call me a bitch, bitch.”
“Whatever, bitch-face.”
“Your face is bitchier.”
“Yours is the bitchiest.”
“Girls, girls, please,” Elena said drily. “You’re both bitches.”
Jemma hummed. That seemed fair.
Daisy suddenly stopped.“What in the winter wonderland shit is that?” she asked, pointing.
Jemma bumped into Daisy's back and nearly tumbled over. “What shit is what?” she snapped, struggling to regain her balance. Daisy was right. The ground was stupid.
“They’re snowmen,” Elena said wearily. “Just a bunch of men made of snow. Now can we please keep moving before we die out here?”
“Ohhh, the snow sculpture contest!” Jemma squealed. She tugged on Daisy’s hand. “I forgot that was tonight!”
Behind them, Elena said something in Spanish. It did not sound very complimentary.
“Whoa, these are, like, freakily good,” Daisy said as she eyed a sculpture of Cinderella’s carriage. She frowned. “Is freakily a word? It doesn’t sound like a word.”
“It’s an adverb,” Elena said. She sounded very tired. “Just not a very good one.”
Jemma stopped in front of a giant snow panda and smiled. “Oh, I love panda bears,” she said dreamily. She reached out and booped his little snow-panda nose. “This one is definitely my favorite.”
Elena rubbed her forehead.“Simmons, that’s the Playboy bunny.”
Jemma squinted. “It is? Are you sure?”
“I like this one!” Daisy called from the other side of the display. She held up a swath of plaid fabric. “Look, he has a kilt!”
“Hey, stop manhandling the snowmen,” Elena snapped. “We are not getting arrested for vandalism tonight.”
“Well, how else am I supposed to see if he’s wearing anything underneath?”
“Yup, okay,” Elena said tightly. She grabbed Jemma by the wrist and started dragging her down the path. “It’s bedtime.”
“Hey, slow down,” Jemma whined. “Not everyone is a marathon runner, you know!”
Elena said something in Spanish again. Jemma knew better than to ask her to translate.
When they finally reached Daisy, she was shaking her head and looking terribly disappointed. “There’s nothing under there!” she whined, pointing at the snowman’s kilt. “Not even a carrot! What a missed opportunity.”
“Elena says it’s bedtime,” Jemma announced. “We probably should listen to her.”
“But I don’t want to go to bed,” Daisy pouted. “Daniel won’t be home for hours. I’ll be lonely.”
Jemma crossed her arms. “Oh, boo-hoo. At least you have someone to share a bed with!”
“Don’t give me that, you could be sharing a bed with someone,” Daisy snapped. She reached for the tassel of the scarf, which was peeking out of the top of Jemma’s bag. “You could have had your pick of anyone in that bar tonight if you had just used this.” She punctuated her sentence by yanking on the scarf. Hard.
Jemma was not prepared for hard scarf-yanking. Her bag flew off her shoulder and landed upside down in the snow.
She planted her hands on her hips and glared at Daisy. “Well, now you’ve done it,” she fumed. “All of my stuff is in the snow. Now what am I supposed to do?”
“I dunno, pick it up maybe?”
“You pick it up. You’re the one who did it!”
Elena stepped between them. “I will pick everything up,” she growled. She crouched down and began tossing loose items back into Jemma’s purse. “Because if one of you falls over, the chances of you getting back up under your own power are close to zero.”
Jemma looked down at the ground and felt her knees wobble a bit. Elena was making some excellent points.
Daisy suddenly sniffled. “I’m sorry, Jemma. I don’t even know why we’re fighting,” she said tearfully. She passed the scarf back to Jemma and wiped her eyes.“I just love you so much, and I just want you to be happy!”
Jemma grasped the scarf tightly as her own eyes began to well. “I don’t know why we’re fighting either.” She held her arms out.“Because you’re my best friend!”
“You’re my best friend too!” Daisy wailed as she fell into Jemma’s arms and wrapped her in a bear hug.
“Yeah, don’t mind me,” Elena muffled. “I can breathe, it’s fine.”
Jemma pulled back and looked down. Elena’s face was smooshed against Daisy’s stomach.
“Oops, sorry, Yo-Yo,” Daisy said. She patted the top of Elena’s head. “Didn’t see you down there.”
Elena swatted Daisy’s hand away. “Get off me!” she snapped, climbing to her feet and brushing snow from her pants. She turned to Jemma and handed her the purse.“There,” she huffed. “I think that’s everything. You owe me.”
Jemma beamed and planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek.
“You smell like a distileria,” Elena grumbled.
Jemma smiled.“Thank you."
Elena sighed. “Not a compliment, Simmons.” She cupped Jemma’s chin and turned her head. “Look, your apartment building is about a hundred feet away. Do you think you can make it the rest of the way on your own?"
Jemma bobbed her head. “Absolutely. One hundred percent."
It was probably closer to 85 percent, but Elena didn't need to know that.
“Okay, good, because I’m bringing this one"- Elena jerked her thumb in Daisy’s direction" - to the taxi stand on the other side of the park. There’s no way she's going to be able to stand up much longer.”
“I heard that!” Daisy called.
“I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret!” Elena called back. She turned back to Jemma. “Wish me luck.”
“You can do it,” Jemma said solemnly. She grasped Elena’s shoulder and looked her in the eye. “I believe.”
Elena snorted. “Well, that makes one of us.” She sighed and turned around. “Alright, Daisy, let’s – oh, for fucks sake, where did she go?”
“Over by the gazabo,” Jemma said, pointing at a patch of snow toward the center of the park. “I think she's making snow angels.”
Elena swore under her breath and took off running. Daisy was about to learn a lot of Spanish swear words.
Jemma sighed and looked down at the scarf in her hands. She really was lucky to have coven mates who cared so much about her that they tried to turn a gas station scarf into Spanish Fly.
If only she could find a man who cared as much about her orgasms as her friends did.
“Someday I will,” she said out loud to the cute little kilt-wearing snowman; because she was so lonely, she apparently talked to snowmen now. “But not with magick.” She draped the scarf around the snowman’s neck and smiled. It looked nice on him. It matched his kilt.
“May you find the snow-woman of your dreams and have lots of kilt-wearing snow babies, my friend,” she said, tying the scarf in a very smart-looking knot. She yawned and patted his head. “So mote it be.”
Jemma barely remembered the walk to her building, which was nice because it made the journey seem extremely short. She unlocked the door to her flat, kicked her shoes across her living room, and collapsed on her sofa.
“Blessed be,” she murmured to no one in particular. She closed her eyes and fell fast asleep.
Bang!
Jemma’s eyes flew open, an action she regretted immediately. Sunlight was streaming through the window, hitting her directly in the face, and it hurt like the dickens.
She shaded her eyes as she took in her surroundings. She wasn’t in her bedroom. She was on her sofa. She was still wearing her clothes from the night before. Her shoes were on the other side of the room.
Dear lord, how many drinks had she had?
She sat up, and judging by the way the room tilted, the answer was a lot. A lot of drinks were had.
She groaned as she tried to get her bearings. Something had woken her up, but she was fuzzy on the details -
A series of sharp bangs echoed through her flat and cut right through her skull.
Right. Noises woke her up. Loud ones.
She looked around with bleary eyes while her brain caught her up to speed. The door. Someone was banging on her door.
She rubbed her temples and stood carefully. Her legs felt a little wobbly as she shuffled across her living room, but she seemed to get steadier with each step, which was promising.
“Hello?” Jemma croaked as she opened the keyhole and peered through. A man in a brown UPS shirt with a scowl on his face stared back.
She frowned. A UPS delivery on a Sunday?
“Jemma Simmons?” the man asked. He sounded as grumpy as he looked. Probably because he was delivering post on a Sunday.
“Yes, that’s me,” she said, trying to remember what the hell it was she ordered.“You can leave it outside the door, thanks.”
“Doesn’t work like that.”
Jemma stifled a groan. She must have mistakenly had her lab supplies sent to her home address. Those were the only packages she ever had to sign for.
“Just one second,” she sighed. She flipped the deadbolt and opened the door. “Do you need my government ID or”-
“Finally!” the UPS man said as he walked straight into her flat.
Jemma's eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Uh, excuse me"-
“Do you have any idea how long I was standing out there?” he interrupted. He put his hands on his hips and glared at her. “Too. Bloody. Long. That’s how long!”
Her jaw dropped. “And that gives you license to storm into a stranger’s flat and yell at them?” she asked incredulously. "It is Sunday morning! How was I supposed to know I was getting a…”
Her voice trailed away as she looked him up and down. The UPS man was wearing a kilt. That…was a choice.
“Well, if you don’t like being woken up so early, then maybe don’t tie your personal effects around things that don’t belong to you,” he retorted. He pulled a balled-up piece of fabric out of his bag and tossed it at her feet.
She looked down. It was a red scarf.
All at once, the gaps in her memory began to fill in: Daisy and Elena’s gift, the drinks, the snow sculptures, the snowman with the kilt…
Shit.
Jemma cringed. "That was your snow sculpture, wasn’t it? I…um, did I damage it?”
The man gave her a blank look. “Yeah, you could say that.”
Her stomach plummeted. “Oh, I am-I am so sorry,” she stammered. “Listen, I had a little too much to drink last night, and believe me when I say I meant no disrespect at all.”
He cocked his head. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” she insisted. “I was drunk as a skunk and thought the scarf looked nice with the kilt, and…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, just tell me how to make it right, and I’ll do it, okay?”
The man—Fitz, according to the name embroidered on his shirt—scoffed loudly. “You want to make it right? Okay, I’ll tell you how to make it right.”
He stepped into her space and glared at her with extraordinarily blue eyes. "Undo the spell."