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thequeensbastardenglish · 3 years ago

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of whisky, witchcraft and what lies between

When Lena walked into Peggy's bar she'd been ready to tear shreds from her. Elizabeth Walsh was out of Peggy's reach, there was no way for her to pay for what she'd done, she she'd been prepared to hae the daughter pay for the sins of the mother.

But Lena just looks too sad. A couple of drinks couldn't hurt or lead to something more, could it?

read on A03 or please continue...

There was a momentary sense of satisfaction to popping that entitled rich bitch’s idea of her fairytail reunion with her mother’s memory. But it had only lasted a brief moment. Five minutes after Lena Luthor had left the regret had set in. The feeling of unease lying heavy in her gut and the second guessing rattling around in her mind. Now Peggy was pulling pints and serving customers with a churning stomach and knowing that she’d never get the chance to apologise for her harsh words.

Not that she would apologise. Elizabeth Walsh had been rotten to her core and it was better for the Luthor woman to know that then continue to believe her mother was a saint. But she still felt bad. That was her own mother’s fault for raising her to be empathetic. Still. The guilt was eased by the knowledge that someone with Lena Luthor’s money would likely be sleeping on the finest cotton sheets and returning to her life of wealth and luxury. She’d hurt for a bit but what did someone of her stature know about real suffering? So Peggy continued to work and tried to put it out of her mind. It wasn’t like she was ever going to see her again.

Life sure did like its little jokes.

It was later in the evening when Lena Luthor walked back in.

Peggy dropped her bar towel across her shoulder and placed her hands on her hips and watched as Lena approached the bar meekly. Her head lowered, shoulders up, and a definite drag to her steps. For someone so neatly put together she looked a mess.

“Ya look like yer’ve seen some stuff.” It was impossible to hide the nasty satisfaction. Her dear departed mother would be so disappointed. She didn’t remember him well, but she knew her father could hold a grudge, and well, maybe the vindictiveness came form him.

Lena stopped at the bar and placed her arms across the top. She raised her head and it was immediately apparent that she’d been crying. Peggy fought down the urge to immediately try and soothe her.

“You could say that,” Lena said then laughed wetly. She wiped her hand under one eye. “Sorry, I don’t usually — no. Actually I cry a lot these days.”

“Really? Doesn’t come across when I see ya on TV.”

“Public persona’s aren’t real. They’re just carefully crafted fantasy.” She drew in several shaky breaths and finally, once satisfied that she was under control, looked up to meet Peggy’s eye. “I’m surprised you’re not kicking me out.”

Peggy smirked. So, whatever it was Lena had found out it had corroborated what Peggy had told her. That was satisfying. But Peggy wasn’t one to gloat. She could be magnanimous in her grim satisfaction.

“You got cash?”

“More then I know what to do with.”

“Then you can buy yourself a drink. I’m not gonna kick ya out.” Peggy cursed her dear old dead mum and her stringent teaching on hospitality. It’s old magic Peggy, there are rules. Peggy barely resisted the urge to huff in annoyance. “Whisky neat?” she guessed.

Actually…” Lena stared at the pumps. “I’m trying to be better about drinking and wallowing. Whisky is too contemplative. What beer would your recommend for someone who rarely drinks it?”

“YellowBelly’s Fighting Irish is the most popular.”

“That is…” Lena blew out a breath eyeing the pump warily. “Strangely apt. I’ll have that.”

Lena took her half of ale and retreated to the far corner, sliding into a booth and pulling out her phone to make a call. Peggy went about her work. She served customers, took orders, piled dirty glasses into the drawer for the wash, and wiped down tables. Lena remained at her table slowly sipping her beer and talking softly on the phone.

Peggy resolved to ignore her but her eyes were continually drawn to the woman in the corner. She hadn’t even taken her coat off. She sat stiffly, chin tight and head held high. She cut a strange and lonely figure. Dark coat and dark hair stark against her pale skin. She must have burn on overcast days with a complexion like that. She looked smaller in person than she did on television. Maybe it was standing next to Supergirl that made her look taller, more in control, maybe it was just camera trickery and a great stylist team. Whatever it was, Lena Luthor hadn’t brought it with her. SHe looked tired and defeated.

Her call finished her phone lay on the table before her and her glass was finally empty. Peggy walked over.

“Another?” she indicated to the empty glass.

“I’ll take that whisky now please.”

“Thought ya didn’t want to wallow.” Peggy picked up the empty glass and stared down at Lena. She looked tired, and not just the usual jet lagged tired that tourists did around here but a bone deep tired hat she’d be carrying about for the rest of her life. Weary with life as her dear departed mum would say.

“I didn’t but I just chickened out on a phone call so now I do want to wallow.” She smiled sardonically and rolled her eyes. “A bit of whisky to help with the self-deprecation.”

“You rich folk have it so rough.” Peggy marched to the bar and poured Lena her drink, making it a double because she looked like she needed it. On a whim she poured herself one. It was coming up to the end of her shift and she didn’t need to be the one to close up. Perks of being the boss. She went back to Lena’s table where the woman was staring down at her phone as she picked at her finger nail.

Peggy clunked both glasses down loudly and Lena jumped. She stared wide eyed as Peggy sat opposite her and slid her drink across the tale to her. She sipped her own.

“What are you..?” Lena trailed off. Then she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. When she opened her eyes again her gaze had hardened. “I’m not in the mood for a fight.”

“Yer sure? Yer look like ya gearing up for one.”

The muscle along Lena’s jaw twitched. She had a hell of a jawline on her. One that could probably cut steel. That maniac of brother of hers must have been right jealous. He was clearly hiding a weak chin beneath his beard.

“I’m being neighbourly. Didn’t want ya drinking alone.”

Lena finally picked up her whisky and took a sip. She put the glass back down and murmured a thank you.

“Saw yer on the phone before. Take it that wasn’t the phone call ya chickened out on.”

“No. That was my friend Andrea. She’s been instrumental in my taking this journey or self discovery.” She rolled her eyes again.

“Then who yer trying to call? “

“Just… A friend. A former, well…” She exhaled, her jaw working. She rubbed her finger against the wooden table top, following the pattern of the grain. Finally she looked up. “She is a friend but for a time I wasn’t a very good friend to her. We fell out. And I did some awful, terrible, arguably unforgivable things to her.”

“But she still calls yer a friend?”

“She’s very understanding. Even to those who least deserve it.”

“Then why aren’t ya calling her? Sounds like if she forgave yer after all that then the least ya could do is call her.”

Lena’s eyes flickered fearfully towards her phone.

“It feels selfish to waste her time with my worries,” she said. She licked her lips nervously. Peggy followed the movement of her tongue and took a long, slow sip of her whisky. She set her glass down gently.

“Sounds more selfish to not call her.” She tapped her fingers against the side of the glass. Lena’s eyes widened and she drew back. Her pale skin going whiter by the second. She was the spitting image of her mother and it made Peggy’s blood boil. She was staring into the face of her father’s murderer and offering her friendly advice when she should have been throwing her drink in her face and cursing her out. “She cares about yer as much as yer make it sound then ya should call her. She’d want to hear how it’s going.”

“You’re right.” Lena picked up her phone and stood up. She stepped out from the booth, paused, turned and grabbed her whisky. She downed it in one swift gulp, lips twisting at the taste. It was a sipping whisky and that was a waste. She wanted to do that then Peggy had some cheap shit behind the bar she could have given her. Lena set the glass down and hurried outside, thumb already moving across her phone.

Peggy sipped her own whisky. With a huff she stood up, took Lena’s empty glass to the bar and refilled it, bringing it back.

From what Lena had told her it sounded like the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. Elizabeth had been a terrible friend as well. She’d abandoned Peggy’s mother when she’d needed her the most. Left her to shoulder the looks of pity and incrimination. Peggy had been forced to watch her mother wither under the stress of what had happened to her husband, under the guilt, until she hadn’t been able to stand it anymore and she had given up. She had as good as killed Margaret Bishop as she had her husband.

She swirled her whisky. It wasn’t true what they said, children were stained by the sins of their parents. Elizabeth’s Walsh’s selfishness was written deep into Lena Luthor’s blood. That was also old magic.

She looked up from her drink as Lena returned, shoulders still hunched and her coat still on. She paused when she reached the table, no doubt surprised that Peggy was still there.

“Well. Don’t keep me in suspense.” Peggy raised both brows at Lena. Slowly Lena slid back into the booth. She placed her phone down on the table.

“She was busy. But I gave her a quick rundown of what I’d found out.”

That her long thought exalted mother was a liar, a murderer and a gold digger. She’d probably already known the last one, being the product of an affair and all.

“And?”

Lena looked uncomfortable. “And she was happy that I was getting answers. But she was busy and couldn’t talk for long.”

Maybe Lena wasn’t quite as forgiven as she’d thought.

“Honestly, I’m amazed she’s taking my calls at all.” Lena smiled sadly. She picked up her glass and took a sip. “Thank you. I think after this I’ll try and find somewhere to stay. If anywhere will have me.”

“Might have to go a few towns over.” Elizabeth’s crimes were well known in the area. “Didn’t think you’d be staying.”

“There’s some more questions I want to ask Florence,” Lena said.

Peggy slammed her hand down on the table top. “Y’what?”

Lena had found Florence Abbott. She’d found the other witch that had made up her mother’s coven. Who had left her mother to die.

“I — I have more questions for Florence. Assuming she’s willing to answer them.”

Peggy dragged her nails across the table top. All these years. All these years and Florence had apparently just been hanging around waiting for Lena Luthor to show up. Where the hell had she been Peggy’s entire life? She remembered her vaguely from when she was a child. That she’d been kind, a little stern, tutting when Peggy had begged for sweets but giving her them regardless. She’d left after her father’s funeral. Left rather than face justice.

There were so many things she wanted to say to Florence Abbott and every single one of them would be far harsher then what she’d thrown at Lena.

“Peggy?”

She looked up at Lena’s curious watery gaze. This woman cried at the drop of a hat.

“Enjoy yer drink.” Peggy pushed her half finished drink towards Lena and stood up. She stalked back towards the bar and went back to work guilrt replaced by the old familiar burning twist of anger.

More fool her for ever speaking to Lena Luthor again.

Last orders came and went and Lena Luthor was still at her booth only just finishing off her whisky. Peggy stomped over and stood by the booth, fists on her hips.

“Drink up, settle up and get out.”

“Right.” Lena startled. She slung back the last dregs of her whisky and stood, following Peggy to the bar. She dropped her card on the bar top and Peggy ignored the name of the bank printed on it as she swiped it. To her immense surprise and annoyance Lena dropped a hundred dollar tip.

“Yer driver waiting outside?” Peggy asked. She didn’t really care but it was a force of habit to make sure her patrons made it home safe.

“He’s back at the B&B. He was tired so I told him to get some rest. Use the room I was meant to be staying in.”

“Sounds real smart. Guess that’s why you’re the scientist and I’m just pulling pints. Where you sleeping, genius?”

Lena smiled and shrugged. “I’ll work something out. It’s a nice night for a walk.”

She left. Not that Peggy cared where she slept. It was none of her business. City girl wanted to curl up beneath a tree then more power to her. She had an alien who could fly on her frequent called log, she’d be okay. She probably had the keys to a spaceship in her pocket.

Peggy cashed up, wiped down the bar, said goodbye to her staff and stepped out front to lock up. As she was turning the key she felt the prickle on the back of her neck, the fine hairs rising.

“I’m gonna tell yer now, attacking me would be a serious mistake.” Her voice didn’t tremble. Her fingers tips did. The magic humming beneath her skin.

“Good job that’s not what I’m doing then.”

Peggy spun round. Sure enough Lena Luthor was waiting for her, eyes bright in the light from the bar. “What is it yer want?”

“To talk.”

“Think we talked enough. I’m going home to get some sleep.” She stomped down the steps and brushed past Lena. She was rounding the corner of the bar to the steps for her apartment when Lena called out.

“Florence Abbott had a lot of interesting things to say. Some of them corroborated what you told me.”

“Oh, aye?” Peggy turned. Jaw clenched and fingers curling to fists. “What was it old Florence had to say?”

“Much the same you did. Witchcraft and cauldrons. Hopping over brooms and running naked in the moonlight,” Lena sneered. “I’ve seen a lot of strange things. Even what aliens have passed off as magic but there always a scientific explanation.” She took a step towards Peggy. “What I find interesting is that you believe in it. Even with Supergirl and Superman flying around you still get those that deny the existence of aliens. Why would you ever believe that your mother and mine were witches? Unless…”

“You’re chatty. Where was all this when we were enjoying our drink?”

“I’ve…” Lena tipped her head side to side, wrinkling her nose in thought. “I’ve had time to contemplate. To put some things together.”

Peggy tilted her head back and stared up at the night sky. It was a small town with little light pollution so she could see the stars. For all of her guilt and shame, for all of the blame she took on herself and allowed to grind her down, her mother had always preached kindness.

“Damn ye mum,” she hissed at the stars. She dropped her head, sighing loudly. “Where yer staying tonight?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. The couch is a pull-out.” Peggy turned and went to the stairs leading up to her apartment. She didn’t look back but knew that Lena was following. She put her keys in the door and unlocked it. Behind her she could hear Lena breathing heavily, her teeth nearly chattering even though it wasn’t all that cold. She pushed the door open and stepped in, flicking the light on and kicking off her boots. “Shoes,” she told Lena not waiting to see if she complied.

She walked through to the kitchen and turned on the lights there as well. Lena wandered in after her, looking about the small apartment. She froze in the kitchen door way, her eyes widening.

“You have children,” She said. Peggy followed her gaze to the toys that had been left on the floor.

“Two boys,” she answered. She filled the kettle and placed it on the stove not lighting it yet. “Don’t worry. It’s the holidays and they’re with their father. Tea?”.

“Yes, please.” Lena finally stepped inside the kitchen. “You have a very nice home.”

Peggy snorted. “Ya taught to say that at yer fancy schools?”

“Yes.” Lena unbuttoned her coat, slipped it off revealing a black blouse. She hunger the coat across the back of one of the kitchen tables before pulling it out and sitting down. She rested her forearms on the table, fingers lacing together.

“What did Florence tell ya?”

Lena met her gaze steadily. “That she and my mother and yours were witches.”

“You believe her?”

“I believe what I can see.”

“Can’t see atoms but you believe in them.”

“You can see — of course you can seem atoms.” Lena screwed her brows up, confused. Peggy had never claimed to be good at science. It was one of those subjects that had never clicked for her. “You can’t see magic.”

“You feel magic,” Peggy told her. “Why are yer here?”

“Because.” Lena heaved in a breath. “Because Florence says that I have my mother’s…” her lips twisted into a sneer. “Gift.”

She made the word sound dirty rather than something to cherish. Like it was a shackle she would have to bear always chafing at her flesh. Irritation flashed white hot through Peggy. This woman. With all her money and her airs, with her super powered friends, was looking down on one of the last connections Peggy had to her mother. She saw it as best a joke and worst something to turn her nose up at.

“Doesn’t explain why yer’ve come crawling to me.” She crossed her arms, glared at Lena. “I don’t have answers for ya.”

“Sounds like this ‘gift’ is hereditary.”

“So yer wondering if I have it? Even though you don’t believe in magic.”

“I’m not going to believe in something without evidence.”

She should kick her out. Tell her not to darken her doorstep ever again. Instead without breaking eye contact, Peggy turned the gas on for the stove top and put her finger to the ring. Lena’s brows drew down, her lips parting. It took so little effort. No will at all. Just the barest hint of a tingle in her fingertips. It was more a parlour trick than real magic. A small flame flickered from Peggy’s fingertip lighting the gas.

Lena twitched but to her credit didn’t leap from her seat. Didn’t start screeching for the villagers to get their pitchforks. She raised her eyes to meet Peggy’s and exhaled slowly.

“I suspected,” she breathed. “It passes from mother to daughter?”

“Not always. It’s dying out, there aren’t enough of us left.”

Lena nodded, absorbing the information. “I don’t want it,” she said finally.

“Tough shit.” Peggy turned to her cupboards and pulled out two mugs. She set about preparing the tea pot as the kettle on the stove started boiling.

“I won’t do anything with it. It doesn’t matter if it’s… there. I don’t want it and I won’t use it.”

The kettle boiled and Peggy poured the water into the waiting pot. She set it down on the table before Lena, ignoring the frown and pout she was sporting. She pushed one mug towards Lena and kept the other for herself.

“I don’t have any fancy china to break out for ya,” she explained. Lena curled her long fingers around the empty mug, seemingly not caring that it was chipped. “Good news for yer is that it’s probably too late for ya t’learn. Normally mother teaches daughter. That usually happens young. Yer mother not being here, yer age, well…” She shrugged. “You might have the gift but I doubt you’ll ever learn to use it.”

Not more then cheap tricks anyway. Very few learnt instinctively and without a teacher Lena’s power, whatever it might be, would eventually wither.

Lena seemed troubled at the news. She shrunk down, shoulders up again and head lowering. Biting back the umpteenth sigh for the night, Peggy poured both their teas. Much like Peggy, the gift was probably Lena’s only real connection to her mother. Her real mother, not the Luthor matriarch who spoke in syrupy sweet tones on the television but couldn’t hide the cold contempt in her eyes.

Peggy poured them both half a cup of tea. Lena lifted it and inhaled the aroma, closing her eyes.

“Its fennel and ginger,” Peggy said. “It’ll soothe ya and help ya sleep. Good for the bowels too.”

“Thank you.” Lena smiled at her over the top of her mug. The stress lines around her eyes melted away, the hardened edge of her lips softened, and she looked like she should. A beautiful young woman. One who likely shouldn’t be looking like she was trying to carry the weight of the world on her shoulder.

“You got no luggage?”

“I left it in the car,” Lena admitted. Her smile turned a little sheepish as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

They sat in a not completely uncomfortable silence drinking their tea. Finally Peggy drained the last of her mug and stood up.

“I’ll lend ya a shirt or something.” She quickly cleaned up. Pointed Lena in the direction of the bathroom while she went to the den and pulled out the couch and found some blankets that didn’t smell too fusty. She’d just finished making up the couch when Lean reappeared, her face freshly washed and hair out of it’s neat braid.

Without the make up she looked softer. Younger. Less fake and more like a real person. Even more like her mother. She favoured the Luthor’s colouring but the eyes and the jaw line were all Elizabeth.

Peggy hated her.

Lena pulled at her own fingers as she approached. “Thank you for this. It means a lot to me.”

Peggy pulled a shaky breath in through her nose and held it.

Magic was a strange and unpredictable thing. Peggy hadn’t always been the best student of the craft, her mother had only shared enough so Peggy wouldn’t hurt herself, and anything else Peggy had taught herself through painful trial and error. But she knew that when magic called you answered. And she was drawn to Lena. Felt it in every moment where she’d wanted to turn her away but had pulled her in. Had anted to cast her out but invited her into her home. Served her tea and invoked old magic that meant she couldn’t kick her out.

Her eyes dropped to Lena’s parted lips.

“Fuck.”

Lena’s eyes widened a fraction just before Peggy kissed her. Her lips were soft. They parted further, a surprised “oh,” breathed against Peggy’s mouth. She stumbled back, her fingers going to her mouth.

Peggy’s heart was thundering. What was she thinking? What the actual fuck was she thinking? This woman was everything she despised and yet Peggy wanted her.

Lena stepped back into her and pressed her lips to Peggy’s. They stood in the low light of the den, hands y their sides, bodies apart, but leaning into one another, lips moving against and with one another. Lena tasted like her tea and whisky, with a hint of mint that suggested she’d slipped a mint at some point. Peggy brushed her tongue against Lena’s and the small whimper that Lena emitted made her break the kiss.

She stared into Lena’s eye. The faded moss green of one and the gentle washed out blue of the other.

“This way.” Peggy walked past her, not waiting for a response. Lena followed behind her as she led her to the bedroom.

Peggy switched on the bedside lamp and pushed the door closed behind Lena. She didn’t reach for her but she turned, stepping back till her knees met the edge of her bed. Lena swallowed, eyes tracking over Peggy.

It wasn’t about romance. Certainly not about love. It was something older and more primal than that. It was about the pull that Peggy felt and that she was sure Lena felt too. Old magic drawing them to one another.

She didn’t go to Lena and Lena didn’t come to her. They stood apart and each stripped off their own clothes dropping them to the floor until they were both bare and only then did they close the gap between them. Only then did Peggy curl her hand around the back of Lena’s neck and draw her towards her, capturing her lips in a heated kiss.

She pressed Lena down atop the sheets on her bed. Kissed her as she cupped her breasts, thumbs skimming over already stiffened nipples.

Part of her wanted to wrap her hands around Lena’s exquisite neck. To throttle her the way someone should have done her mother. But Lena gasped and trembled beneath her like it had been age since she’d been touched with anything resembling kindness so the urge was smothered. It had been a long time for Peggy as well. Not for the kindness, but the gratification of sex. So she kissed Lena and let her hands roam over soft skin, she rolled her hips and moaned at the feel of long strong fingers exploring the length of her body. They gasped wetly into one another mouths, legs twisted together as their hands delved between on anothers legs.

Then it was a race to the finish. They breathed hot and wet, fingers pressing, hips pushing. Messy and beautiful and heart pounding.

Lena came first. Her hips shuddering against Peggy’s hand and letting out a small broken cry. She shook, twitching away from Peggy’s touch. She gulped down several breaths. Just as Peggy was starting to suspect she was going to have to finish herself off, Lena rolled her over to her back, lowered her head and took a nipple in her mouth. She pressed two finger inside her and ground down on her clit with the heel of her hand and — <em>oh!</em> — She had impressively long fingers.

Peggy’s orgasm was almost overwhelming. It rolled white hot through her, liquid heat and all those over used flowery imagery, with stars bursting behind her eyelids. Really she came so fucking hard that she yelled and slicked wetly against Lena’s hand.

When she opened her eyes Lena was leaning over her. Eyes wide and shining, red blooming in her cheeks and chest, her hair in disarray.

She was beautiful. And broken. Peggy could see the cracks running though her and the way she was desperately trying to hold onto herself.

“Well that was something.” Peggy wiped her own hand down her stomach and settled back on the pillows.

Lena laughed. The smile curling a the edge of her lips a little shy. She dropped onto the bed next to Peggy and stared up at the ceiling.

“This wasn’t what I was expecting when I followed you home,” she admitted.

If she had a better understanding of her gift then she would have seen that it was inevitable.

“Come with me to see Florence tomorrow,” Lena said.

Peggy shook her head. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Maybe one day she would be ready to face that woman but she refused to be part of it now.

“I’ll just get in the way,” she said. She turned her head so she could watch Lena, took in the frown pulling at her lips. She wanted her again. To touch her. To taste her. Sex was a kind of magic in it’s own way. People never really understood how much of themselves they gave away in the act.

“Right.” Lena licked her lips. She sat up, swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Stay,” Peggy said. Lena looked back at her, surprised. Like she thought Peggy would kick her out. Which to be fair was probably exactly what she was used to in these situations. She knew nothing of the old ways. Peggy reached out and trailed a finger down her spine. “Stay and make me come like that again. I’ll make ya breakfast in the morning.”

The smile that broke across Lena’s face was the best yet. Her cheeks dimpled and eyes squinted closed. She turned and leaned over Peggy, buried her face to her exposed throat and pressed her lips to her pulse.

She wouldn’t go with Lena to see Florence. She already knew this was a fleeting moment not meant to last. That Lena would leave, go back to her friend whom she had hurt and work on her forgiving herself. Likely she would rarely think of Peggy.

She didn’t know it but she had smoothed the jagged edges of Peggy’s hurt. Made the ache where she kept the memory of her mother that little bit less.

But it didn’t hurt to hope that Lena might think of her again one day.

#lena luthor #peggy bishop #supergirl #fic #you ever write something that you know noone is going to read?#I do it all the time!#hoo boy do I hate this witch business #witchcorp?#pegcorp?#I refuse to write out that accent phonetically #femslash

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