Multi-Fandom One Shots

The Spirit Is Willing (Moira O'Hara)

You nodded, believing her. You sat up, proper, and ran your hands down your face. "Ooh... I need some coffee," you determined, standing. 

"Well, I'll-"

But you were already moving to the kitchen. The pot was being filled and you had grounds and a filter in the top. 

"This is my job," Moira attempted to remind you, with no small amount of sass. 

You didn't face her, watching the water level. "Maids clean. And you're a sweetheart. I can make a pot of coffee. Would you like some?"

Moira set two caps on the counter beside  you. She waited until you'd poured the water and replaced the pot before hitting all the buttons in quick succession. She watched you stare at the dropping fluid. She rubbed your shoulder. "You can talk about them.... If you want."

You bent to rest your chin on your hands folded on the counter. "About what?"

"Your dreams." 

You didn't answer. You looked up and over at her. A yawn interrupted whatever you were about to say and Moira rubbed your back. Standing straight again, you turned your back to the coffee. You looked over at her, contemplating. "I was assaulted... When I was young- little. My father and his best friend...." You shook your head, not crying but unable to continue. And exactly what you didn't want... happened. 

Pity filled Moira's eyes. She looked more distraught than usual, like she might weep. "I'm so sorry, Miss."

You nodded, not knowing what else to say. The maker beeped and you both busied yourself. 

*

You inherited the house. You had no idea, but Moira had known your father very well. She knew what kind of soul he had. Luckily, he was driven mad and killed himself far away from this house. But his friend had the address and an age old invitation from your long dead father. Still, he let himself in on one of the rare occasions you were out. The protective maid didn't even know his identity and she wanted to seduce him purely to dispose of him. But she waited for the Lady of the House. 

You didn't disappoint. Instantly suspicious, just like Moira, but yours was born of the door ajar. Suspicion turned into fear once you laid eyes on the man, hostile. 

That's when the maid manifested. This house had not winnowed you in the months you'd lived here so she dreaded to think what could scare you. You were unarmed, unfortunately based on how you sought a weapon. Moira was your weapon, emerging from the shadows and learning the kind of man he was by the gleam in his gaze on her. "Madam," she greeted formally, "I didn't know how you wanted to deal with the intruder."

He stepped toward the ginger. "You shoulda let me know you were here."

You stepped between then, warming the dead heart you were protecting. "Moira, call the police. Tell them I'm armed on my own property and I'll do my best to resolve this peacefully."

The ginger retreated dutifully. But she was a target. The man now mildly familiar with the house tried to follow. He took a shortcut, but you didn't leave Moira's side. When he grabbed the frail, old wrist, you lost it. You bent his arm so hard she thought it might break. You kicked him and followed to keep attacking. Focused and with him, you didn't need to stay close to Moira, just the opposite. He never got close to her again, but the cops got close enough to cuff him. 

Once he was in their care and off to jail, you raced to find the maid. She was in your room, remaking her already perfectly made bed. "Are you alright?" you asked. 

Moira froze from where she was bent over your bed. "You protected me," she commented obviously. 

"So physically you're fine, but how are you feeling?" 

The ginger slowly turned to face you. Both eyes, even the blind one, bored into you, like she saw your soul. She was feeling quite a lot, you could tell. Tears filled those eyes. "I-" She couldn't continue. 

"Oh!" Crossing the room in a few short moments, you held her face in both hands, slowly guiding her to look at you. "You are safe with me," you promised. 

One of her tears got so heavy, it went from her eye straight to the floor. You used your thumbs to clear the wetness that leaked free, but the sweetness just caused more. "I know!" she croaked out in her gentle voice. "I wish-" There was no point. She shook her head. 

You watched the conflicted woman and felt your heart break in two. Moira, who gave so much of herself to her tenants, was steadfast and loyal as the house. You weren't ashamed to have a crush on the older woman, but you knew her romantic adventures were likely over. Oh, well, what was one last hurrah? At least she'll know she's still got it. Slowly, with excessive eye contact so she could run if she liked, you kissed the maid. It was sweet. Moira didn't move at first, and then she did and she made you breathless. The ghost was surprised. She was more than used to residents desiring her, especially ones spoken for. But you were so young and you'd always seen her aged form. You could have the boys - or girls apparently - lined out the door - just maybe not this house's - for your hand and Moira had made not one move on you. Entirely professional, you did care for Moira O'Hara. 

Despite it beginning with you in the lead, you were stunned when Moira kissed your nose, you still out of it. She came back in and retracted with your bottom lip. You let out a low moan as her chilling presence left you again. You looked at the woman and blinked. She was... different. Her hair was much more managed, tamer and curlier but bound. Both of her eyes were unscathed and beautiful blue. Your jaw fell open. "You're... my age." 

You suspected it was still Moira - though in a much shorter skirt - and you believed it when her first smile was relieved. Next, it went confident. A smooth hand pressed on your chest, urging you to your bed. 

"That makes no sense. You're still Moira?" you asked. 

The ginger nodded. You fell onto the comforter and Moira climbed atop you. "Don't think about it too much, but it's me." And she proved it, with an identical kiss.