signed_sabrina | (no subject)

Sabrina Spellman is turning seventeen tonight.

Honestly, in the time since her sixteenth birthday, she's seriously doubted that she would make it to this day-- and certainly doubted that she would be free from the Path of Night and the Path of Night, able to do as she pleases. She's not sure she can say she expected anything that's happened to her over the year, really, not a single thing.

But standing outside the warehouse Kavinsky has thoughtfully offered for her use, in a somewhat accurate Halloween costume, she's absolutely happier than she ever foresaw. Where she'd been worried about losing her boyfriend and best friends, she's got three people she loves so much she can hardly stand it, in entirely different ways. Where she'd had a ghost or worse for a father, she has a dad who knows who she is, her capabilities, and loves her only for being herself. She misses her aunts and Ambrose, but knowing that she's still back with them is of great comfort. She can't say she's doing much better on the high school front, but she's not sure she cares.

Enough people seem fascinated by the sex cult rumors that when she and Salem had littered both high school campuses, Sabrina had got plenty of takers. The party itself will start soon, and Sabrina looks up, comforted by the lack of full moon. Taking her broom, she carefully sweeps each step clean, feeling the ritual settle her. The warehouse inside looks a lot like a clearing in the woods, complete with bonfire, and if the punch is spiked, well-- it is a high school party.

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Charlie is doing his best impression of Murphy Bivens: ripped, skinny jeans and torn black cotton, eyeliner, chains, boots. He lets her tug him wherever she wants him, pulls her in close against him on the dance-floor.

"You really do look beautiful, Brina."

"Thank you," she hums more than she says, moving with him as easy and natural as if they create their own kind of gravity. "I'm a fan of your look tonight, too. That eyeliner and jean combination is making me want to be a terrible hostess."

She grins, looping her arms around his neck. "Or, contrarily, a very good hostess to you."

"I thought you'd like it," says Charlie, flashing a grin. He kisses the corner of her mouth. "Stay over at my place tonight. After all this. I want to wake up with you."

"I really, really like it," she murmurs, in a tone he'll know all too well to mean she does really, really like it. "The eyeliner especially." She's about to wax poetic about how beautiful, almost a bit unearthly, she thinks it makes him look, when he asks her to stay over.

Sabrina rises up to press their foreheads together. "That sounds like the best end to the night. I might have to meet you there, but you're my final stop. I want to wake up with you too."

Charlie's smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, a pleased flush touching his cheekbones. When she leans in against him like, he smudges the tip of his nose against hers.

"Sounds pretty perfect to me."

If there's anything more enticing at this moment than the dark kohl around his eyes, it's the flush in his cheeks. She kisses each of those rosy spots, returns the nose-smudging with interest.

"It's so much different than last year. I mean, there's obviously major differences, but I feel-- I feel sure of myself, like I know the path I'm going to take. Which isn't any sort of Path at all."

"Even if it was, at least you'd have the three of us with you," he says, brushing his mouth against hers. "You don't have to do anything on your own anymore."