#gentle childhood that was stolen from her overnight

[moonflowerlesbians]

Prompt #69 for Dani and Jamie ☺️

Hello!! Very sorry this one took longer than the rest. I combined two prompts (yours and #36 from @inescapableair) and then the story kind of went off on its own and I ended up with over 2.2k words. I hope this is alright! I reimagined what happened the morning Dani brought Jamie coffee in the greenhouse.

You can also read this prompt-fill and the rest on AO3!

send me prompts pretty please?

~~~

The rising sun casts long shadows through the dusty greenhouse windows. Vines climb to the ceiling, weaving elegantly through support beams and creating a picturesque roof overhead. The sunrise sends dappled rays across the room like star clusters, catching the dust in the air.

“Show me again?”

Jamie wraps her hand around Dani’s slender forearm, enjoying the way the woman’s tendons flex beneath her fingers. She’s behind Dani, curly brown hair tangling with blonde as Jamie peers over her shoulder.

“It’s all in the wrist,” Jamie explains, moving Dani’s hand with her own. Her voice is still sleep-rough and impossibly low. “You’ve got to rotate it just so, and sort of curl your finger. Press against the center, and-- ah, ah, gentle, gentle. That’s it. That’s it.” She sighs, and Dani slouches against her.

They set the plant, now sans-pot, down on the workbench near the still-full mugs of coffee Dani had bought with her. The empty terracotta wobbles when Dani’s elbow bumps it, and she mumbles an apology.

Her cheeks are rosy with the morning chill, and not for the first time, Jamie wonders how someone can appear so soft, so open, in the dawn light. Dani is an enigma, that much Jamie is sure of. She's a mystery wrapped in a fuzzy purple coat with a horrendous faux-fur collar that only Dani can make utterly adorable, and it’s all so horribly cliché that Jamie almost wishes she’s alone with her plants and her thoughts and the time to sort out whatever is whirling about in her mind. Almost.  

Almost, because no one in their right mind would give up a single instant with the woman who could charm the britches off a soldier and lecture an unruly child in the same breath. Every moment with her is electrifying, as terrifying as it is enticing. The fear of the unknown mingles with the glow of possibility.

“Are you apologizin’ to me or the plant?” Jamie asks quizzically.

“Both?” Dani is sheepish. She tucks a flyaway hair back behind her ear. It’s just about the prettiest thing Jamie’s ever seen. God help her.

“Right,” Jamie adjusts her jumpsuit, “well, I appreciate you respectin’ my kids-”

“Your kids?” It’s Dani’s turn to sound skeptical, but when Jamie looks, her eyes hold nothing but fond amusement.

“Aye, you’ve got to look after your kids, and I’ve got to look after mine. I’ve got quite a few more, too, mind you.”

“True, but yours can’t lock you in closets.”

Dani grimaces as she says it, and Jamie flashes back to Hannah’s dismissal on the morning that followed.

“Strange behavior is to be expected.”

Yeah, Jamie had thought, but I had a pretty shite childhood, too, and you don’t see me going ‘round scaring pretty women.

“Nah, but they can still get up to all sorts of mischief if I don’t keep an eye on ‘em.”

“Like what?” Dani challenges.

“They start gettin’ too big for their pots, got no sense of personal space. I tell you, see that mint over there? I planted one seedling, that’s one singular batch, mind you, and how many do I have now?” Jamie gestures broadly. “I don’t know. Little buggers spread faster than the plague.”

Dani pinches a mint leaf and brings it to her mouth. “The plague’s never tasted so good.” The tip of her tongue darts out to capture the herb, and she savors the flavor.

Jamie coughs. “Ah, right, as I was sayin’, I ‘ppreciate you lookin’ out for my kids, but the plants haven’t really got feelings. Just like to pretend they do.”

“Why?”

Christ.

It is six o’clock on a fuckin’ Thursday morning, and Jamie was not prepared to have her morning solitude infringed upon by the wholly enchanting, godawful-coffee-bearing woman who’d rejected her four days prior, nor is Jamie prepared to explain her life’s philosophies in the very greenhouse where she had made a regrettable decision that she’d been analyzing in every waking moment.

How does one explain to the woman who occupies your mind so fully that she should really be paying rent that you anthropomorphize your charges because doing so makes you feel better about being utterly baffled by actual people? That, time and time again, you’ve put love and energy into the pursuit of human connection only to find your effort fruitless?

That, with plants, at least you see the physical indications if you harm them, and you can right your course before they’re damaged beyond repair. Conversely, you can watch plants blossom under the right care. They tell you what they need, what they want. A bit more sunlight, a little less water, rotate the pot, trim the dead stuff. Your effort is rewarded.

Or, maybe, with plants, when you fail them, they can’t tell you so, can’t hate you for what you’ve done. It’s easy enough to toss out a dead plant; much harder to explain to a screamin’ baby why his big sister’s crying, shushing him, clutching her left shoulder, while the constables’ sirens draw closer. That the neighbors called them because they haven’t seen your mother in days. That your big brother is yelling and throwing insults like stones. That maybe if you’d cared more, if you’d been more careful, if you weren’t a whore, a slut, a useless girl, that he’d still have a family. It’s your fault.

Plants can’t say they want you one moment then send you away the next. They can’t lie to you, mislead you, manipulate you. The complexity of the relationship is limited to a simple transaction. You give them exactly what they want, and, in exchange, they grow for you. They give you the satisfaction of feeling as though you’ve succeeded at something for once in your life.

They grow, and you’ve done something right, something good.  

“They keep me company,” Jamie says at last.

Dani grins. “You know, when I’m not with Miles and Flora, if you ever want company that can actually hold a conversation, let me know.”

Jamie tenses, beating back dangerous ideas of stolen kisses and whispered promises with a stick.

“Oi, quit flirting,” she says smugly. It’s a deflection, she knows, a way to pretend she isn’t thouroughly intimidated by the possibility of being known. She turns around and picks up the first thing she sees, a spade, hoping Dani misses the way her whole body vibrates.

Dani backpedals. “Oh, I didn’t mean to-”

“Kidding, Poppins.” Jamie turns back to her after having regained what she’s masquerading as a sense of composure, even as visions of impossible domesticity dance behind her eyes.

“Oh. Um, of course.” Dani fiddles with the cuff of her jacket, a blush spreading from below her collar.

“But, ah, if you… if you wanted to drop by every now and again… I’m sure the plants would love not havin’ to listen to me blather all the time. Probably detrimental to their growth at this point, really. You’d be doin’ them a favor.”

“That so?” Any residual embarrassment is gone from Dani’s voice. She’s bold, confident, now, striding slowly toward Jamie with a playful smirk that Jamie most definitely is not thinking about kissing right off her beautiful face. “I’d be doing the plants a favor?”

Jamie swallows thickly. “Mhm.”

“Because I’d hate to be a bother.”

As if that’s possible.

“What?”

Shit.

Dani has paused, an amused quirk to her lips.

Jamie clears her throat. “You’re never a bother.” Dani opens her mouth to reply. “Bit chatty at times, a little messy.” Dani looks affronted, but Jamie just points at the pile of dirt where they’d been working. “If I’m honest, you’ve got a bit of a knack for making me feel like I’m goin’ crazy, but, no, you’re never a bother.”

When Jamie meets her eyes again, they’re honey-sweet and soft as fleece. They glow in the cool dawn light.

“Why’d you really come all the way down here this morning?” Jamie asks quietly. “Because I’d wager it wasn’t to bring me the world’s worst cup of coffee and get your fingers all dirtied up when you could be warm in bed.”

Dani’s smile drops, and she studies Jamie as if gauging something only she can see.

“I missed you.”

The admission hangs suspended in the stillness, caught between them like dew in a spiderweb. It glistens and shines but bends heavy with the threat of the rising sun, ready to burn away this delicate thing if they hesitate.

“Was only gone a couple days.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” The question is guarded, but not impatient. Patience did not come naturally to Jamie, but she’s learned. Seeds don’t sprout overnight, after all. Roots need time to grow. But, for Dani, Jamie is certain she would spend years watering their leafling if only Dani would give her the sign to begin.

“I,” Dani struggles to get the word out, “I really like you. And I really don’t know how to do this; I just know that I want to,” she rushes. “I really, really want to.” She looks at Jamie with such hope enveloping every inch of her face. “And I’m kind of hoping you want to, too.”

Jamie says nothing, her heart hammering away in her ribcage, afraid that, if she speaks, she’ll crush this fragile blossom with misplaced words. She wants this, she does, but she’s not sure she can take it if Dani changes her mind again.

“I know, I know, I messed up the other night, and I’m so, so sorry, but I want to do this right.” She tugs at one of her buttons. “So, I was wondering if, maybe, you’d like to get a drink.”

A drink. One drink is safe.  One drink on a date with Dani Clayton is less so. Is it worth the risk?

“There’s a pub in Bly, right? We could go, get away from the house, have a drink. Maybe see where that takes us?”

She’s nervous, which tells Jamie she’s sincere, though Jamie wants her to be sincere so badly she suspects she would ignore a matador waving a half-dozen red flags.

“Sounds lovely.”

“Is that a yes?”

Jamie knows she should agree. Say yes, and pull the pink scrunchie from Dani’s ponytail and run her hands through silky blonde hair. Press their lips together the way she’s wanted to since she first got a taste of Dani during the bonfire. She’s scared, petrified, even, but bloody hell, this is the first time in years the reward has even begun to outweigh the risk. Jamie is willing to put aside a lifetime of hard-learned wisdom for a woman. No, not a woman. For Dani.

Dani, who appeared in the kitchen of Bly Manor one day and changed everything. Dani, who had upturned Jamie’s perfectly boring life as a gardener without even trying. And, the thing is, Jamie can’t even find it within herself to be mad.

Bloody hell.

She steps forward, and Dani regards her warily. Her eyes flick lightning-quick to Jamie’s lips, but Jamie catches the movement. She brings her hands to cup Dani’s jaw, her thumbs tracing high cheekbones. She looks for permission, which Dani grants with a miniscule nod. Jamie’s face splits into a wide grin, and she surges forward, pressing their lips together.

Dani tastes like mint and heaven and oh, oh, if Jamie could just have this one thing for the rest of her life, she could die happy.

But first, a drink.

When the need for oxygen at last overpowers their eagerness, they break apart, Dani’s hands coming to join Jamie’s on her face.

“I guess that’s a yes, then?” Dani’s giggle is high and breathless, her nose flushed pink.

“If you have to ask, I must’ve done something wrong.”

“Just making sure.”

They kiss again, and it feels like flying.

“I should, ah, probably get back to work,” Jamie whispers, minutes later.

“Fine,” Dani sighs, “just do what you have to do.” She leans against the worktable, perfectly content to watch Jamie in her element.

Reluctantly, Jamie attempts to straighten up her tools but doesn’t make it more than five paces away.

“Can you stop being so bloody cute so I can concentrate?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Haven’t you got those kids of yours to check on? What were their names? Flora and-”

“Alright, alright-”

“Milton? No, ah, Milson. Martin?”

Dani silences her with another kiss.

“You might have a point, though,” Dani admits, “I should probably get them up for the day.”

“Don’t know what the wee gremlins would do without you.”

“Oh, they’d be fine,” Dani dismisses.

“Mm, but I wouldn’t.”

“Charmer.” Dani’s brow furrows at something over Jamie’s shoulder.  “Flora?”

Jamie turns. Flora, still in last night’s pink pajamas, walks barefoot in the grass. Dani is there in a flash, checking the girl over for injury and talking a million miles a minute. Then Flora is unconscious, and Jamie is helping carry her back to the house and tucking her neatly into bed with a concerned Dani at her side.

She takes her leave of Dani in the hall outside Flora’s room with a peck on the cheek and murmured reassurances. Dani clings to her as she goes, and leaving feels like the hardest thing in the world. Jamie manages, though, and later, back in the greenhouse, alone with her plants and her pruning shears, she allows herself a moment of child-like giddiness that she swears Dani will never hear of.

That’s another reason to prefer plants, Jamie thinks.

Plants can’t spill your secrets to the woman you like.

[depth-of-misery]

The Flood of A Paramour

Her voice is a soft hymn I faintly remember from my childhood. Sunshine filters through her hair and frames her face; her eyes are a stained glass mosaic set in mahogany skin. For a split second, I swear she is something holy. My heart knows not what to make of these thoughts. She lights a fire in me that I thought had died out, a flickering flame of hope in all this darkness. Dignity rests on her proud shoulders, and joy lingers in her dimpled cheeks. In her arms, I feel I have finally come home. They cannot scare me anymore with their stories of fire and brimstone. If love is a sin, then consider me damned. I will gladly burn for only a moment more of her time.

There aren’t words to describe you, but let this be another effort at framing the outline of your iridescent existence. I forget, sometimes, that you don’t hear how I talk about you when you aren’t there; thus, you don’t understand what you do to me. You don’t see the way your name makes my eyes light up brighter than any starry night could. You don’t see the way your voice makes me giggle and the way your words cradle my heart, even when you aren’t here to hold my hand. The world has worn you down, and I know you are tired, but you are no less breathtaking to me. Your smile melts all of my walls; your gaze makes my knees weak. No matter how exhausted we are by the world, I know we can come home and tumble sleepily into bed together. You hold onto me, and I hold onto you, and we hold onto the promise we made. At the end of the day, we have each other. At the end of the day, you are mine, and I am yours. At the end of the day, even if this world falls apart, even if every single nation goes to war, know this: I love you, I love you, I love you.

But, these tears are exhausting, and I am tired enough without adding the weight of mourning you to my shoulders. I would’ve carried the world to please you. I would’ve held anything you gave me, scars or nightmares alike, and turned it into a balancing act. My exhaustion became a secondhand focus. What mattered most to me was you being okay. Right as I was figuring out how to heal myself too, though, your overnight disappearance added nearly enough weight to make me topple. And i fell. I fell into despair not into love.

I could be good to you, if someone’d let me. I am gentle. I am kind. I am sappy and overly sweet and I am tall enough to cradle you in my embrace and to rest my chin on your head, on your paper crown of stolen stars.

Let me tell you you’re beautiful. Let me hear you say it back. Let me be yours and let yourself be mine and let us pretend that neither one of us is alone. For once, let me fall in love. Quietly. Calmly. With a girl so ethereal that she puts aphrodite to shame.

Let me be in love with a girl who will love me like I love her. Let me take care of her, let me sing softly into her downy hair and let her sing the harmony back.

Please, let me fall in love again.