vic ⋆˙⟡

It was a similar vibe for the cheer squad, even though you weren't actually competing in anything at this point in the season, but rather just cheering on the sidelines at football games. By the end of practice, everyone was already irritated with each other, you most of all.

Your coach barked from somewhere along the track, squatting in front of the bleachers, as a collective groan went up from the team. You jogged back into position, wiping sweat from your forehead with your sleeve. The September heat was sticking to everyone, making tempers shorter than usual.

On the field, Natalie kicked a ball back toward one of the girls with far more force than necessary in a passing drill, eliciting a yelp from her. She mumbled an apology that she clearly didn't mean.

Her cocky demeanor pulled a snort from you as you passed, causing her head to snap to you immediately. She gave you a look like she'd been waiting all afternoon for a reason to start something. You rolled your eyes and turned away before she could get the chance to.

Unfortunately, that only seemed to encourage her.

Every time you glanced toward the field, Natalie was looking your way- not staring, no, never staring- just looking long enough to be annoying before turning away the second you caught her.

The first time you caught her, you ignored it. The second time, you raised an irritated eyebrow. The third time, you blew her an exaggerated kiss (which actually got a barely concealed smirk out of Nat as she nearly missed a pass). You laughed so hard at her fumble that your coach made you run another lap.

After that, things somehow got worse.

Whenever the cheerleaders stopped for water, Nat seemed to have something to say- a loud comment to one of her teammates that had some hidden meaning only you'd understand. A scoff when you went up during stunts. A sarcastic clap when somebody landed a tumbling pass. Nothing direct enough for you to call her out on, but just enough to get under your skin.

By the middle of practice, you found yourself looking for her too- mostly to make sure she wasn't looking at you, which only made it more irritating when she was.

At one point, you caught her watching while your group rehearsed a sideline routine. Natalie didn't even try to look away- she just smirked, the expression widening after you flipped her off

"Y/n!" Your coach's voice cracked across the track, causing you to flinch and immediately drop your hand. A few of your teammates burst out laughing, drawing the attention of a few more Yellowjackets soccer players

The rest of practice devolved into a silent battle- petty glances, eye rolls, smug smiles- neither of you willing to let the other get the last word, despite not actually speaking.

By the time practice finally ended, your patience was hanging by a thread as you gathered your poms from the far side of the track. You heard footsteps approaching behind you, but didn't bother turning around.

"You following me now?"

"Please." Natalie's voice came from much closer than expected. "You wish."

You slung your duffle bag over your shoulder and finally glanced at her, ponytail swinging as you turned around, "Then what do you want?"

"Nothing." Your brows furrowed slightly, not quite believing that was the end of it, "Great."

You started walking away, and Nat tongued her cheek before falling into rhythm behind you, "You're in a bad mood."

You laughed, the sound coming out sharper than intended, pulling a frown from the blonde, "What's so funny?"

"You."

"Me?"

"You've been acting insane all day." Her eyebrows shot up, "Me?"

You both approached the locker room, continuing to argue as you walked in on the last of your teammates finishing up and going home. "Yes. You."

Natalie scoffed, carelessly yanking open the locker she kept her things in (which just so happened to be across from yours), "You're unbelievable."

"Says you." For a second, neither of you said anything, pretending not to be focused on packing up, but really you were both just waiting for everyone to clear out.

The sounds of metal lockers slamming echoed through the room as the last few girls filtered out. Van shoved her backpack over one shoulder, eyes darting between the two of you. "Try not to kill each other."

"Not making any promises," Natalie muttered, focused on packing her cleats in her bag. You rolled your eyes as Van laughed and disappeared through the door.

The room grew quieter... then more still... until eventually there was only the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead and the occasional rustle of someone stuffing things into a bag.

You zipped your duffle bag a little harder than necessary, while Natalie tossed her practice jersey into her locker, slamming the door shut, the metal rattling.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you left. It was ridiculous- you'd spent the entire afternoon getting on each other's nerves, and now that you were finally alone, neither of you seemed willing to deliver that final jab that would cause the tension to snap.

Your eyes flicked up, meeting Natalie's already present gaze. That same aggravating feeling that always seemed to show up whenever she was around, ever-present in your stomach. The feeling that every conversation between the two of you was seconds away from becoming a fight- or something better.

You leaned against the locker behind you. "What?"

Natalie's jaw ticked. "What do you mean "what"?"

You rolled your so dramatically she thought they were gonna fall out, "You keep looking at me."

She huffed out a laugh, amused at your childish (yet true) accusation, "I do not."

You let out your own incredulous laugh and looked around the room with your arms crossed, before pointing at Natalie, "That."

"What?" You gestured vaguely in her direction, "The weird thing you've been doing all day."

Natalie's expression darkened. "Weird thing?"

"Yes." You shrugged, gesturing again, "Whatever this is."

For a moment, she just stared at you. Then Natalie took a step closer, "You've spent all day practically begging for attention- is mine not good enough for you now?"

Natalie froze for half a second after the words left her mouth- she'd imagined they were gonna come out cooler, cockier, but they sounded more bitter and jealous. You stared at her, unmoving, then laughed. Sharp and disbelieving, you laughed in her face.

"Oh, that's what this is about?"

Her jaw tightened, "Don't."

"No, seriously." You shook your head, a pout of mock sympathy taking over your lips, "You've been picking fights with me for six hours because you wanted my attention?"

"I didn't say that." A condescending smile replaced your dramatic pout, "You kinda did..."

Natalie slammed her locker shut; the sound echoed through the empty room as she whipped around to approach you.

"You think everything's about you." Nat invaded your space, and you just continued to smirk with your arms crossed.

"Yeah, well, you kinda make everything about me." For a moment, neither of you moved. The locker room had been completely empty for a while now, save for the two of you and the incredible tension between you- the same position you always seemed to end up in.

"God, you drive me fucking crazy..." you muttered, rolling your eyes. The corner of her mouth twitched, "Likewise."

Neither of you moved nor looked away, the tension that had been building all afternoon seeming to pull tighter and tighter until it felt impossible to breathe around it.

"You're unbelievable," you said,

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Natalie's gaze dropped to your lips. It was only for a split second, but it was enough. The next thing you knew, you were closing the distance, and she was meeting you halfway.

The kiss was messy and impatient- an impulse decision you both made at just about the same time. Your hands found her jaw, and hers gripped your waist, pulling each other impossibly closer.

Natalie's hands traveled to knead at your hips, only to move and caress your ribs, causing your breathing to speed up at her exploration. Her hands slipped under your shirt as she pushed you back until you were leaning against a table pushed against the wall.

You pushed off your heels and rested your weight on the table, letting your legs fall open slightly, only for Nat to push her way in between them. You continued to suck on her tongue as she popped the button of your skirt and pulled down the zipper.

Her hand grazed your stomach as it slid past your panties and into your wet center. Nat moaned into the kiss and pushed her face impossibly closer to yours, practically trying to devour you. She pushed two fingers inside your cunt, the slick allowing her easy access. You inhaled sharply, which gave Natalie the upper hand in the battle between your tongues.

Natalie curled her fingers in perfect rhythm with the grinding of the heel of her hand against your clit, knowing exactly what gets you where you needed to be. She could feel her fingertips hitting the spongy core of your center, and how you became wetter and wetter with each pulse of her movement

It only took a few minutes for her to get you to that place- and Natalie knew it all too well. She picked up on the clenching of your walls around her fingers, the quicker unfinished breaths you were delivering with your head thrown back, how violently you were biting your lip... you made it too easy

"You seriously think I'm gonna let you come that easy?" Nat mumbled against your throat, delivering a few more perfectly timed curls before pulling her fingers out and simultaneously pulling you off the table to flip you around. The momentum had you catching yourself against the table, palms holding your weight up as you bent forward.

"Can you imagine how everyone would react if they knew their perfect princess was a total crybaby lesbian... who only gets off to the fucking burnout..." Her voice dripped with condescension, a faux pout morphing into a mocking smirk.

Heat rushed to your face. Every word felt carefully chosen, designed to get under your skin. Around you, the room seemed unnaturally quiet, the air thick with tension.

"That's not what's happening," you snapped, jaw clenched. Natalie only laughed, short and sharp. You moved to look over your shoulder at Natalie, frustrated beyond explanation at this point, but her hand is firm on the nape of your neck, pushing you back down against the table. She held you down with one hand, the other flipping up your skirt and pulling your panties to the side.

Nat slowly slid her cock into your tight hole. She intensely observed how your body reacted- tension releasing from your shoulders as you exhaled, focusing on not making any sort of sound that would give her satisfaction, palms flexing, then gripping the table.

You're not sure when she even put the strap on, or when she pulled her pants down, and that irritated you. Well- not so much the not-knowing part, but the fact that you got even wetter just thinking about her having it on her at all times, just in case she has to fuck the attitude out of you at any given moment.

Her hands slid up from the back of your neck into your hair. She yanked your head back, causing an impossible arch in your back, your palms gripping the edge of the table to give you some support, as your jaw hung open in a silent moan.

"Would you look at that..." Your eyes were barely able to flutter open as Natalie continued to pound into you. Your gaze met hers in the full-body mirror across the room, and your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight.

Natalie had your upper half held up by your hair, gripped in her fist. Your jaw hung open as you panted, eyes barely able to stay focused on the view. Your bra wasn't doing much either at that point; all the movement while you'd been pressed against the table caused your tits to slip out of the cups a bit, nipples well exposed, bruises beginning to bloom where the blonde had bitten you.

You looked a mess. Natalie did too, but it suited her- the messy, smudged makeup and wild hair. You looked out of place, and maybe that's what made the whole thing so much hotter to both of you. It was pornographic. God, you wished you could snap a picture of the scene and keep it in the box you kept in your bottom bedside drawer. Or buy a camcorder and have Nat hold it to get every angle, so you could rewatch it over and over until the next time you pissed her off.

The sight before you, mixed with your debaucherous thoughts, and of course, the perfectly timed pounding straight to your core, had you just about collapsing against the table underneath you. Your arms were ready to give out, and if it hadn't been Natalie's painfully delightful grip on your hair, you would've absolutely been face down again.

Natalie's hand in your hair traveled around the front of you, sliding up your stomach, stopping there for a moment to feel her cock poke against your tummy for a few thrusts, then continuing up to settle on your throat.

You felt so secure. You hated it. You've never admitted this to her, and you probably never will, but the moments when your brain turns off and you just let her take control of you are your favorite. You knew she'd never hurt you- at least not in a dangerous/non-pleasurable way, and something about that small bit of security made your heart (and pussy) flutter more than it should've.

You came with a whine- biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut as you approached your climax, jaw dropping with an exhaled whimper when you finally got there. Natalie continued to thrust relentlessly until she felt you slump fully in her hold.

She pulled out and maneuvered you to sit on the table again. Not giving you any sort of break, Nat bent down and began lapping at your drenched center. You let out a wanton whine, head thrown back as your hand dives into her hair, tugging instantly

"Nat- Nat, please- can't-" she shushed you, the sensation odd but stimulation against your clit

"I'm just cleaning you up, pretty girl..." she mumbled against your core before returning her attention to your center. She licked and slurped at your folds, then sucked on the crevices of your thighs, making sure to lap up every drop of your slick that had spread across them.

You should've known that sort of peace wouldn't last, that every step forward was, sooner or later, followed by three steps back.

The shift had been so small you almost couldn't pinpoint it, but you'd gotten used to her tells, and her yours, especially in the silent moments after you'd been with each other.

She stiffened like she'd remembered something or become aware of her surroundings. Every answer after that had gotten shorter. And every attempt you made to recover the conversation had bounced right off her.

You knew better than to ask her what was wrong, but you yourself had also been feeling irritated and decided to be willingly ignorant as you questioned her anyway.

"Nothing." The universal signal that something was definitely wrong. You'd pushed once, as you always did, and Natalie had immediately gotten irritated- as she always did.

Suddenly, she was acting like you were the one making things weird, so you scoffed and left- a typical ending to your hookups, one you'd think you'd be used to by now.

By the time you'd gone home, the whole thing had left a bad taste in your mouth. It wasn't a fight; it was barely even an argument- you've had much worse between the two of you, so this was nothing. But that feeling of her letting you think you're getting closer than last time, just to pull away and make sure you feel bad for getting too comfortable, is always what weighs heavily on your heart

So when you walked into school the next morning already tired, already annoyed, and already replaying yesterday's conversation in your head, your patience was hanging by a thread.

Unfortunately, Randy found you before you could even give the day a chance. You heard him before you saw him.

"...that's not even what happened." You sighed. Of course, Randy had somehow attached himself to a conversation happening near your locker, loudly explaining something nobody had asked him about.

You tried to ignore him, as did everybody else. You got your books, spun the combination to set your lock back in place, and focused your attention on literally anything else.

But Randy just kept talking. Every sentence was somehow more confident than the last, despite being so completely detached from reality.

At some point, he'd started arguing with someone... and at another point, fairly soon after, that someone had become you. You weren't even entirely sure how- one second you were minding your own business, then the next Randy was explaining your own opinion back to you incorrectly.

"No," you snapped for what felt like the fifth time. "That's not what I said."

"It's basically what you said."

"It literally isn't, though." Randy shrugged, the gesture alone nearly making you homicidal.

"Whatever." You felt something twitch behind your eye. Yesterday's frustration came rushing back all at once. Natalie's short answers, her sudden distance, the way she'd looked annoyed for no reason, the way you'd spent the entire night wondering what could put an end to your misery...

And now this idiot was standing in front of you acting like being loud automatically made him right.

"Seriously, can you not?" you muttered.

"What?"

"Can you stop doing that?" Randy laughed.

"What am I doing?" You stared at him. The fact that he genuinely seemed unaware somehow made it worse.

"Existing?" someone nearby offered, and a few people laughed. Randy rolled his eyes and glanced in their general direction. "Oh, wow. Real mature."

The bell hadn't rung yet, so people were lingering in the hallway now, slowing down as they sensed something entertaining might be happening.

You should've walked away- realistically, you knew that. Instead, you stayed, and Randy kept talking- every response more dismissive than the last, every interruption scraping another layer off your already nonexistent patience.

"You always get like this when somebody disagrees with you."

You actually laughed, sharp and humorless, "Disagrees with me?"

"Yeah."

"You haven't listened to a single thing I've said-" The smug look on his face as you began to come undone is really what did it, and something inside you snapped clean in half.

"And you know what, Randy? You can absolutely go fuck yourself because no one has actually cared ONCE about anything you've ever had to say," but you don't stop there, your outburst has layers to it.

"And I can't even have the pleasure of saying, "no one cares what you think" because you DON'T think! You've never had a single thought in your head, and that's the only impressive thing you'll ever fucking do."

"Jesus, what's your-"

"No- shut up. For once in your life, just shut up and listen." The words come so fast you can barely keep up with them.

"I am so tired of hearing you talk over people like your opinion is some kind of gift. Nobody's impressed, Randy! Nobody's sitting around waiting to hear what groundbreaking observation you're going to recycle from somebody else." His face reddened as a small crowd started to form, which you couldn't care less about.

"You walk around acting like you're the smartest person in every room when you're barely the smartest person in your own fucking conversations." You whipped around and stormed down the hall, face burning at your own actions, even though it was totally deserved.

You could hear people mumbling and laughing over your outburst as you booked it to the bathroom. Was it necessary to unleash your romantic frustrations on some random Jock? Not really. But did it make you feel better? That would also be a "no"... If anything, it just made your skin feel too tight for your body.

The bathroom was empty when you got there, fluorescent lights humming softly overhead. You shoved the door shut harder than necessary and immediately regretted it when the sound echoed too loudly in the small space.

For a second, you just stood there, far too aware of your breathing, staring at yourself in the mirror like you were waiting for some version of you to make sense of what just happened.

Your cheeks were still warm, not quite from embarrassment, more like leftover adrenaline, still running hot under your skin. You pressed your palms against the sink and exhaled slowly.

It wasn’t even about Randy. It never really was when you thought about it too long. It was just easier to aim everything outward than sit with whatever’s been sitting in your chest since yesterday.

You went about your day, trying to wipe away everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, in hopes of relaxing. It seemed like even acknowledging that things happened made it all worse, because even at the end of the day, you found yourself in one of the stalls of the locker room, trying to calm yourself down again.

You left the stall and headed to the sink to splash a bit of water on your face, like that might reset something. It didn't. The hallway outside kept moving without you. Voices passed by, laughing, talking about the game tonight, about borrowing jerseys, and who’s meeting after. Normal stuff. Your stuff.

You glanced up at the clock in the corner of the locker room, wishing it was much later in the afternoon and that you could just go out and cheer already. Back to smiling and acting like nothing was wrong.

You leaned against the counter, exhaling again, slower this time. You told yourself it wasn't a big deal, and you almost believed it until the door opened again. You looked up before you could stop yourself, and standing in the doorway, like she’d paused mid-step and forgotten why she walked in, was Natalie.

For a second, neither of you said anything, the bathroom suddenly feeling even smaller than it did a moment ago. Her eyes flicked to you, then away, then back again like she was weighing whether or not to leave. Your stomach dropped in a way you couldn't quite describe. Of all the moments in the day when you could’ve stayed invisible, she picked this one. You straightened a little without meaning to, still trying to catch your breath from everything before.

“...Hey,” you managed, quieter than you expected. Natalie didn't answer right away, just shifted her weight in the doorway. The bathroom hummed around you- fluorescent lights, distant lockers slamming outside, muffled voices bleeding through the walls like the rest of the school is happening somewhere far away and you’ve been dropped into a quieter version of it.

Natalie was still in the doorway- not leaving, not coming closer either, just hovering.

Your hands were still slightly damp from washing them, even though you dried them. You wiped them on your skirt without thinking, suddenly hyper-aware of everything- your breathing, your heartbeat, the way the space between you feels too small for something that isn’t even happening yet.

You almost were able to come up with something normal, but your brain kept tripping over itself, replaying the last twenty-four hours in fragments you couldn't organize into anything useful.

Natalie finally pushed the door fully open with her shoulder and stepped inside. The sound of it clicking shut behind her was louder than it should've been. She glanced at you, then at the mirror, like she was checking whether she wanted to be seen there at all. You cross your arms without meaning to.

“Game day bathrooms are your new hangout spot?” you muttered, because apparently your mouth has decided subtlety is dead.

Natalie huffed something that might've been a laugh, “Didn’t realize I needed your permission.”

It didn't land the way it usually does, her familiar edge irritating you in a bitter way rather than a fiery way. There was something softer under it, buried too deep for you to grab. You shifted your weight, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened anyway.

“Right,” you muttered, arms crossed, before you picked up your bag and began to head for the door. “Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your busy schedule.”

Natalie’s eyes flick to you again, sharper this time. “Wow... you’re in a mood.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh, “You noticed.”

There was a slight beat before she pushed off the doorframe and stepped further in, like she’d decided staying was easier than leaving. The space between you felt less like distance and more like tension pulled too tight. Natalie tilted her head slightly.

“What happened to you today?” That question hit harder than it should've, taking you back to the feeling of comfort and casualness. You understood why she hated being asked what was wrong, because at least for you, it felt like answering would make everything between you normal. Like complaining to her would give her too much access to something she could use against you in the future. Like she didn’t spend yesterday disappearing in front of you and leaving you to carry it all into today.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say. “Maybe I just enjoy being emotionally stable and not weirdly shut out for no reason.”

Natalie’s expression flickered briefly before she scoffed softly, like she was brushing it off before it could turn into something real.

“Wow, dramatic much?” she says, but it’s flatter than usual, less sharp, more… cautious, somehow. You let out a short laugh, but you both knew nothing was funny.

“Dramatic?” you echo. “You literally freak out on me and go from normal to completely emotionally unavailable in like- five minutes, and then act like I'm insane for noticing.”

Natalie exhales through her nose, leaning back slightly against the lockers like she’s trying to put space between her and the conversation.

“I didn’t go "emotionally unavailable," I just didn't feel like talking to you anymore.” Ouch. There wasn't any bite to her words, which definitely made it worse. You huffed through your nose and rolled your eyes.

“Oh, sorry,” you muttered. “Next time I’ll use more accurate terminology for ‘suddenly acting like I don’t exist.’”

Nat took a deep breath and let her head fall back against the lockers, eyes trained on the ceiling tiles. “You act like I planned it.”

“I didn’t say you planned it,” you reply immediately. “I said it happened. And then you acted like it didn't- which is kind of worse.”

That landed a little differently than any other time you'd accused her of ghosting you. Because you never actually seemed to care about her pulling away, you just made a fuss about it when it meant you couldn't have the last word. Now it felt like you were upset about something entirely different...

“…I wasn’t ignoring you,” she said, quieter now- honestly.

“Okay,” you shrugged, then continued impatiently, “Then what was it?”

She hesitated, trying to decipher in real time how much of herself she’d be willing to let you see before it turned into something she regretted.

“I don’t know,” she breathed out finally, a little sharper. “I just… got in my head, that's all.”

You stared at her, head ticking slightly to the side in suspicion, “That’s it?”

Natalie shrugged, defensive now. “That’s it.”

You nodded, not believing any of it, then she added, quieter, “I mean- sorry, I didn't think that would ruin your whole week.”

You huffed out a breath, crossing your arms again, “Now who's being dramatic?”

That earned you a look- not an irritated one that told you another heated argument was about to ensue, but a tired one that you weren't quite sure what to make of.

“You’re still mad about it,” she observed.

“I’m not mad,” you corrected automatically. Natalie raised an eyebrow, and you hesitated, “…I’m just saying it was weird.”

There was a pause where neither of you moved much, the air between you shifting- less sharp than before, but still charged in that way that didn't quite settle.

Natalie tilted her head slightly. “You’re the one who stormed out yesterday too, you know.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because I had a reason.”

“Oh my god,” she muttered with a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

That finally pulled something looser out of you- a small, reluctant huff of what could be a laugh if you were less stubborn. “You started it.”

“I did not start anything,” she argued immediately. “I was literally just existing.”

“You were existing suspiciously and avoiding casual conversation!” Natalie stared at you, then, despite herself, she laughed. It broke the tension just enough- not completely- but enough that your shoulders dropped a fraction.

She put her hands in her pockets as she shifted her weight back against the lockers, studying you for a second.

“You’re seriously still mad about yesterday,” she said again, but this time it sounded less like an accusation and more like curiosity.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, then stopped. Because saying yes is way too honest for what she deserved, but you knew denying it entirely would just keep you in this cycle until who knows when.

“Maybe I’m just mad at you in general.” Natalie’s mouth twitched.

“Yeah?” she quirked, the teasing lilt you'd grown accustomed to sending a warmth through your chest. “That sounds healthy.”

You shrugged. “It works.”

There was a moment where Natalie just stared at you, amused, before pushing off the lockers and striding over to you, crowding your space in a way that somehow didn't quite feel suffocating.

"Ya know, you've sure got a lot to say for someone who cries when she sits on my face."

You let out a small gasp, smacking her shoulder, not expecting her to shift the conversation to such, "I do not!"

"You absolutely do, and you're desperate for it every time-" you cut her off almost immediately, before she got too cocky

"Well, it seems to be the only way to get you to shut up, and i'm honestly hoping one of these days you just suffocate down there and die." Nat let out a full-body laugh at your seriousness, shifting to lean her shoulder on the lockers next to you.

"A girl can dream..." she expressed sarcastically-dreamily, overexaggerating her wide-eyed expression to further piss you off, only to pull a soft huff of laughter from you.

You turned back toward the mirror, pretending to focus on your makeup, even though you could feel Natalie looking at you. You caught her reflection once- then again. Both times she looked away immediately. Which was strange since Natalie usually had the subtlety of a brick through a window.

A small smile tugged at your lips. "You look guilty."

She scoffed, "What would I be guilty of- I literally haven't done anything."

"Exactly." her head jerked slightly, brows pinching together

"What does that even mean?"

"It means you're being weird." She rolled her eyes. "Says you."

You frowned at your reflection. "What?"

Natalie shrugged. "You've been weird all day."

"I've been normal all day."

"No-" She pushed off the lockers and wandered a little closer. "You've been mopey."

You groaned, pausing your makeup routine for a moment to complain. "Don't use that word."

"Mopey?" She stalked toward you in a somewhat jokingly predaorty way, trying to be obnoxious

"Yes." Her hands disappeared into the pockets of her jacket as she rocked back on her heels, looking entirely too entertained by the conversation, "Why?"

"Because it's so belittling." You whined, and Natalie's smile widened, your reaction only encouraging her.

"I mean what else could I call you?" she paused for a second, "Mopey."

You pointed a makeup brush at her. "Stop."

Natalie's grin only grew, the teasing officially becoming the new point of the conversation. It was honestly the most wholesome argument the two of you have ever had, and neither of you seemed quite ready to genuinely pissing each other off.

"You were soooo mopey."

"Natalie."

"You moped around all day!" Despite yourself, a laugh escaped you, and Natalie immediately looked pleased, like she'd won something. You rolled your eyes, but your own smile was becoming harder to suppress, which Natalie noticed immediately, of course.

She was so pleased with herself that she'd managed to drag you out of whatever mood you'd been trapped in and intended to take full credit for it. Meanwhile, you were trying very hard not to encourage her, because every time Natalie realized she was getting a reaction out of you, she doubled down.

"Wow."

"What?"

"That." She pointed at your face, making you get self-conscious instantly. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror for a brief moment to see what she was talking about, before looking back at her.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing."

"Natalie."

"Nothing." The fact that she was suddenly refusing to elaborate made you more suspicious than if she'd just insulted you. You eyed her suspiciously, then turned back around, catching her reflection in the mirror again, this time, she didn't look away.

Something about that made your stomach do an uncomfortable little flip, as you forced yourself to focus on your makeup again.

"Y'know..." she said, with a smile so soft you'd think she'd forgotten who she was talking to. Your eyes flickered up to her, then back down, then you glanced fully at her through the mirror, "What?"

You instantly regretted acknowledging her, as you watched a grin slowly return to her face,

"Ya know... I always thought you looked so cute in your stupid uniform." this pulled a genuine laugh of disbelief from you, causing you to take a break from fixing your makeup in the mirror.

"Yeah? Is that why you show up at the end of every home game and irritate me until I drag you back to my house?"

She looked even more smug, like a stupid cat who just successfully pushed something off the table, "that's exactly why"

There was a brief pause as she hovered near you. Nat could tell you were turning somethig over in your head- trying to decide whether or not your next question would be recived well.

"You gonna show up again tonight?"

"Hmm, i don't know... think it's about time i start trying to break my bad habits"

"Okay, then skip the game and still come to my house after"

"I don't know, y/n..." she teetered, obviously pushing your buttons, her mind was made up before the topic even came up, "what if I just wanna come over and fuck?"

You didn't even roll your eyes at her that time, just crossed your arms over your chest and demanded, "Then come fuck me."

Nat scoffed out a laugh, a bit taken aback by your bossiness, considering how shy you seemed to be getting a few moments ago, "You gonna ask nicely?"

She already knew the answer to that. Even if you were showing moments of softness, you were still a brat. "Of course not."

And so she did exactly as you told her to do- not without rolling her eyes and insulting you, of course. You teased and flirted, tugging her close by the collar of her jacket as she fiddled with the bottom of your skirt, before parting ways.

baran thought, what did this woman have that she didn't? she couldn't have been a better lover, that was for sure. did she have more money? because if so baran would buy you any and everything you wanted just to keep your eyes on her the way they were on the woman in front of you. was she funnier? because if you wanted to laugh, baran would make it her mission to make you laugh.

she cursed herself for telling you to see other people because she didn't mean it. she didn't think you would actually see anyone else. you were just so interested in her and now you wanted to go on dates with other people? if you wanted to go on dates, baran would've planned as many dates as you wanted. she was jealous, and she never got jealous. it was your fault, you made her this way.

baran was pulled from her thoughts when the hostess approached her with her food in hand. she thanked the hostess and walked towards the door to leave, but on her way out, she looked back, seeing the woman now closer to you, her lips moving against yours, and her hands groping you. baran was pissed, how could you let someone else touch you? she said you could see other people not let them touch you.

the next time she sees you, she has you on all fours with your back arched and her hands digging into your waist as she fucks her strap into you. she's giving you deep, long strokes then she remembered you kissing that woman and her pace quickened, fucking you faster and harder, her grip on your waist becoming stronger, definitely leaving a mark. you're making those beautiful sounds she loves so much and telling her it's too much, but baran knows you can take it.

baran's thinking about how you allowed someone else to touch what's her's. her thoughts making her grow more and more possessive over you, she reaches down and grabs a handful of your hair to pull you into her body.

"you're mine." she growled into your ear. "don't let anyone else touch you ever again. you hear me? never again."

"y-yes." you stuttered.

"yes what?" she tightened her grip on your hair as she continued ruining your hole.

you knew what to call her.

"yes, mommy." you whined, feeling every bit of her inside of you. "i won't let anyone else touch me ever again."

Nat drove up a small hill, finally pulling the car into a gravel driveway, and your heart fluttered in your chest.

It wasn’t a campground.

It was a fucking cabin. Small, wood-paneled walls, a triangular red roof with a chimney on its left side like the whole thing had come out of a children’s book. There was a large strip of green grass ahead of it — an actual front yard, filled with majestic trees and a beautiful selection of potted plants by the porch, not to mention a rocking chair right next to the door and a round firepit a few feet away, two thick logs on either side of it. In the distance, a lake. An actual lake with an actual pier and an actual kayak tied to it. The forest stretched a bit further, a clear pathway between some trees leading to what you could only assume was a hiking trail.

You were speechless.

“Nat…” You blinked, trying to make sense of what you saw. “What is this?”

She chuckled proudly.

“I told you you were gonna like it when you saw it,” she simply said, letting out a breath as her back relaxed against the driver’s seat.

Luke’s soft snore in the backseat brought a smile to your lips, or maybe it was the view, you couldn’t know for sure.

“I thought this was a camping trip,” you muttered, still disbelieving.

“It is,” Nat tilted her head, pointing at the front yard area. “There’s a place to build a fire, there’s a lake, there’s enough space to set up a tent for Luke. He’s gonna have the full experience.”

You chuckled, incredulous.

“There’s a house.”

She nodded, the grin widening on her lips as she gave you a smug look.

“Technically, it’s a cabin.”

You kept staring at the whole ensemble with your jaw on the floor, still assembling the fact that the weekend ahead was about to be infinitely easier than you’d anticipated, all things considered. Nat shrugged lightly in that same way she used to when she knew she did a good thing but didn’t want to draw any attention to it.

“You didn’t think I was gonna make you sleep in a tent, did you? Little miss indoors?” She huffed a laugh, casual, low. “Just because Luke wants to camp doesn’t mean we have to suffer through it. This way everybody’s happy.”

You shook your head, trying to avoid the weakness in your knees that came with the realization of how incredible this was. Sure, you were pretty certain Nat also didn’t want to have to go through the whole cramped-up-RV or shacking-up-in-the-same-tent situation, but you didn’t expect her to be so amazing. To go through the trouble of finding a place that would work for everyone. To give Luke exactly what he wanted while making sure you’d be as comfortable as you could in a situation like this.

“That’s fucking genius,” was all you managed to say, getting one last good look at the view through the windshield before unbuckling your seatbelt. “How did you even…?”

“Crazy what Google can do when you use the right words on your search,” she unbuckled herself too, looking at you for just a brief moment before turning around to catch a glimpse of your son. “You get him while I pick up the bags in the trunk?”

“Yeah, sure.”

And so you stepped into your co-parent role, fighting not to let yourself get too impressed, grabbing Luke from the backseat while he stayed out like a light in your arms, ever the heavy sleeper.

The inside of the cabin wasn’t as big as it was intentional, perhaps even more charming than the outside — a living area that opened up to the kitchen, a stone fireplace dominating the far wall, a leather couch with knit blankets in muted greens and browns thrown over it. There was an L-shaped counter attached to the farmhouse sink, a retro style fridge that hummed softly on the corner next to a stove, a cute little round table by a bay window that overlooked the lake. Two bathrooms, two bedrooms — a twin with two beds, a dresser and a desk, and a suite with a queen bed and a quilt that looked handmade tossed across it. The latter was connected to a small deck through a sliding glass door, facing the woods.

It was cozy, perfectly pleasant, the type of place you might have taken advantage of in another life when it would’ve been acceptable to snuggle through the day and steal kisses through the night.

Now you’d have to settle for awkward small talk.

You struggled a bit to carry Luke to the couch, he’d been getting heavier every day and you figured soon you wouldn’t be able to do it anymore. Once he was settled, you deemed it best to let him rest for now, knowing how much easier it’d be to set everything up if he wasn’t running around as you were sure he would once he realized where he was.

“Let me,” you offered at the door, taking your bag from Nat’s hand as she clumsily tried to carry two at the same time.

“Thanks,” she graciously accepted it, smiling awkwardly. “Just… leave it in the suite. I'll bunk with Luke in the other room.”

You stopped, looking at her for a second. She'd already booked the trip. She'd already paid for the whole thing without even mentioning it. She'd already been the one behind the wheel for over an hour on the way there.

“No, Nat,” you shook your head. “You take the suite. I'm happy to share with him.”

But she didn't budge.

“No, no. He'll probably wanna spend most of the time in the tent, anyway,” Natalie shrugged as if it was no question. “It's cool, I don't mind sharing.”

“Nat—”

“Just take the room, Y/N,” she walked past you toward the twin room, not rude or dismissive, simply not offering a chance to argue back. “You take longer in the shower anyway.”

You let out a chuckle, a bit startled by the comment like it was normal for her to tease you about how long your showers usually ran, letting yourself simply stare down at the bag as Nat disappeared through the door.

“...Okay, then,” you muttered under your breath, only for yourself to hear.

In no time, Luke was already up and running all over the place, the nap doing nothing to dampen his energy. He talked a mile a minute, nearly colliding with Nat as she brought a hand to his shoulder, laughing with recognition like she wasn't surprised at his eagerness, his shoes scattered and forgotten on the floor where he'd carelessly kicked them off.

“Calm down, bud. Let's get you something to eat first, then we'll go for a swim,” she said calmly, hand moving up to fix his hair, messy from sleep. “Maybe we can set up the tent, too?”

“THE TENT!” He yelled, just remembering the camping aspect of the trip as if that wasn't what he’d been expecting all along. “Can I help? Please! Can you teach me, please, please, please?!”

You leaned against the doorframe of the suite, watching quietly as she chuckled, Luke's eyes shining with all his seven-year-old excitement.

“Of course. Shoes back on, though,” she called out. “Shoes, then food, then you can pick what we do first. Deal?”

“DEAL! YES!” His eyes scanned the cabin, settling on you, smile widening as he caught a glimpse of your own. “MOM! We're gonna SWIM! Then we're gonna set up a TENT! And there's a KAYAK! Did you see? Did you see?!”

You laughed, melting by the second at the way he could barely finish a sentence, too excited to function properly.

“I saw, baby. Fun, huh?” You nodded, making your way toward him. “But you heard mama, come on. Go put on your shoes while I make you a sandwich.”

“Okay, mom, but do it fast!”

By the time Luke was fed and the midday sun had reached its peak, Nat had already taken him to the twin room in order to help him find a pair of swim trunks. Don’t forget the sunscreen, you’d gently reminded, not wanting to take any chances with his skin as pale as his mama’s. In the meantime, you took the opportunity to change into a swimsuit as well — staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror, eyes set on a specific spot, biting on the inside of your cheek like you did every time you let yourself look for too long.

You had a finger hooked around the side of the bottom, pulling it down just enough to reveal the spot below your hipbone. You took a deep breath. There it was, the only tattoo you’d ever let Nat give you, the only time a tattoo gun had come anywhere near your skin — the letter N, in black ink, small but present like a cruel reminder of the life you’d lost every time you took your clothes off.

You’d both gotten each other’s initials done on the same spot on the day you got your marriage license from city hall. We’re barely gonna wear rings, Nat had argued, since neither of your jobs really allowed them on the clock. This is so much better. I’ll give you yours, you’ll give me mine. I promise it won’t hurt.

While it didn’t hurt the day you got it, it certainly did now.

You’d thought about getting it lasered, or maybe even getting something else tattooed over it, but you chickened out every time. Besides not wanting to go through the pain, the little ritual you had of staring at the small letter on your skin every time you changed clothes or took a shower was your favorite kind of torture. Even though it was a constant reminder of the life you didn’t have anymore, it also served as proof that, even if it was over now, it’d been real. She’d been yours. And you were foolishly still hers — with her initial branded on your body and everything.

You let the swimsuit snap back into place, the one you’d consciously bought for this occasion because the ones you owned didn’t do much to cover that specific spot. You slung a towel over your shoulder, staring at yourself in the mirror one last time, mentally preparing to go outside and see your ex-wife in similar gear.

You wondered if Nat still had her tattoo, your initial just below her hipbone, wobblier and more amateur-looking than yours.

It didn’t matter now. She probably didn’t. She had unlimited access to tattoo guns and artists every day, and she was no stranger to needles. She must’ve gotten it covered in the first month you’d been apart. Why would she even keep it anyway?

You made your way outside, reluctant but purposeful, knowing it was all in favor of a greater good once Luke flew in your direction, swim trunks on, smelling of sunscreen and smiling like he was about to live the best day of his short life so far.

“MOM! COME ON! You're taking too long!” He grabbed your hand eagerly, running outside as he pulled you, making you wonder when he'd gotten so strong.

“Easy, buddy,” you laughed, never immune to your son's happiness. “I'm coming.”

Nat was already in the water when you stepped outside, up to her waist, back turned to you. She stared down at something, maybe a fish, maybe the distorted image of her hands underwater — Natalie Scatorccio and her ability to look for beauty in the mundane, in tiny little aquatic creatures, in the refraction of light when it shined against her skin. Luke could be the same sometimes, observant and careful, though it'd often get outshined by his urgent need to explore and dive head first into something he was excited about. That was all you. The need to be in the thick of things. The restlessness you couldn't shake. The need to do, to be, to move.

“MAMA!” He yelled, letting go of your hand when he realized Nat had already beat him to testing out the water. “IS IT COLD?”

Natalie turned around as soon as she heard him, smiling brightly, shaking her head.

“It's perfect, bud. Come on in.”

Luke ran like a bullet, not needing to be told twice. Luckily, he remembered to kick off his sandals at the last minute, tossing them carelessly onto the grass before making a splash into the water and mercilessly launching himself in Nat's direction. She laughed, immediately matching his energy, welcoming him with open arms and letting them both sink for just a moment before resurfacing.

“WHOOOA!” He yelled excitedly, arms tight around her neck, shaking his hair.

Nat laughed again, visibly endeared, bringing a hand up to push wild, wet locks away from his eyes.

“I know, baby. Pretty rad, huh?”

“Yeah! So rad!” He clung to her, turning his head around to catch you standing on the shore. “Mom! The water is so good!”

“That's great, buddy!” You said, looking at him and only him, cheeks burning when you realized Nat's eyes were set on you too.

“He's right,” she called, making you feel bare in your swimsuit just from addressing you when that's all you wore. “You coming in?”

You shook your head.

“You guys go ahead,” you grabbed the towel from your shoulder, shaking it slightly as proof of your excuse, looking at Luke. “Gotta catch up on my tan. I'll be right here, though. Gonna see just how fast you can swim right from the shore.”

“COOL!” He gave you a thumbs up, still keeping one arm clutched around his mama. “You can time mama and me to see who holds their breath under water the longest!”

You smiled, happy he didn't insist. Truth was you couldn't care less about a tan — you simply didn't trust yourself to be near Nat in the water, wet hair and tattoos on display, without completely breaking.

“You're on, mister,” she laughed, once again giving you an out.

So you set your towel on the grass, sunglasses on, letting the sun hit your face as you did your best not to stare at your ex-wife too much. Luke and Nat splashed around in the water, his laugh filling your ears for what might've been hours in between timed competitions and races and her pointing out random fish that were brave enough to swim by the both of them. Eventually, she left the water with heavy breaths, smiling as she told him not to swim too far, mama just needs a little break to catch her breath.

You lay back on the towel, propped up on your elbows, thankful for the advent of sunglasses and their ability to hide your gaze — because, even though you absolutely shouldn't, the view was simply impossible to pass up on.

It was the first time that day Natalie's body had been completely on display, not covered to her waist or higher by water, and the scenery was just unfair. The sunlight, now lower than when they'd gone in, worked overtime to highlight her in all the right spots — golden streaks against brown hair, darker from the water, droplets glowing as they dripped down her skin and disappeared into her waistline in a way that couldn't be described as anything but mesmerizing. Sinful, maybe. But all the while still majestic, still scary beautiful, still hypnotizing and magnetic and gorgeous in the way Natalie had always been. With her like that, finally still, arms up as she dried her face with a towel, you could at last get the good look you'd been secretly craving.

All of her old tattoos were still there, as far as you could see. The plant on her right hip, branches you used to trace with your fingertips all the way down to the side of her thigh. The dagger just above her knee. The one across her ribcage — a sun and a tree and two stick figures, poorly drawn, an exact replica of one of Luke's mama and me drawings from when he was about four or five. The same one she'd excitedly shown you after an exhausting shift one day, the one you liked to look at and kiss once it'd healed, right before everything started going wrong.

Your eyes drifted to her left hip, but the search was inconclusive. As it turned out, Nat’d apparently had the same idea as you — that fucking swimsuit covering just what you looked forward to seeing most.

Something else caught your attention, though — one new tattoo, one you didn't recognize, one you'd never seen before. Proof of how much time had passed, of how much it'd all changed, of the long way you'd come from a time when you'd know every single inch of her skin by heart. A clock. Technically a pocket watch by the looks of it, about as big as your palm, right on the left corner of her stomach. Pretty, clean style, clearly done by a skilled professional. Probably Van's work — you recognized the trace, plus you knew at least two thirds of Nat's ink had been done by her and vice-versa.

Nat dried herself half-heartedly, droplets of lake water still trickling down her skin by the time she walked up to where you lay.

“Mind if I…?” She gestured at the spot beside you, making your heart race with the proximity, though you'd never admit it.

“Go ahead,” you nodded, sitting up on instinct.

She lay her towel next to yours, sinking down on it with a groan, clearly tired from Luke's relentless creativity for water games.

“So,” she said, close but not enough to touch, eyes set on the little boy who now swam around with his snorkeling gear on, “apparently hyperventilating is a good strategy for holding your breath longer under water. Luke says it makes more oxygen go to your blood. Wonder where he learned that.”

You chuckled, knowing damn well that'd been your doing.

“I told him to use it moderately,” you shook your head. “But it's good to know the lesson stuck.”

“He also said superventilating,” Nat smiled, fondly watching him swim in the distance, “but I figured I'd let it slide since he explained the whole biology of it so well.”

You laughed, light, careful.

“Kid's smart. Nothing gets past him.”

“Must drive Ms. Lee crazy,” she let out a snort, endeared. “Has an opinion on everything. Wants to know why stuff's the way it is. He'd make a good scientist.”

You smiled, looking at him too, your heart melting in the way it did whenever you let yourself think about your son for too long.

“Last I heard he wanted to be a doctor-tattoo artist-guitar player. And I'm pretty sure he's kind of going through a vet phase too.”

Nat laughed, easy, and you could feel the smirk that lingered even though you didn't dare look.

“Yeah, the vet phase is definitely there. He's been bugging me about getting a puppy for a few weeks now.”

“You too?” You asked, all too familiar with the please, mom and I'll take good care of him and I promise I'll clean up after him! “Sly kid. Trying to get it where he can.”

She chuckled.

“A little more pressure and I might give in.”

“Oh, I'm sure,” you said, looking down. Daring to tease because you simply couldn't help yourself around her. “You'd give him your left arm if he asked nicely.”

“I'm right-handed anyway,” Nat joked, soft. “Plus, you're one to talk.”

You raised a brow, finally giving into the pull and letting your eyes fall on her face.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

She looked at you too.

“It means exactly what it is. You're just as much of a fool for the kid as I am.”

Your heart did that thing it usually did when Nat's eyes found your face, slamming against your ribcage so violently you thought it might break through. Still, you did your best to act natural, choosing to stick with the safe option and keep talking about Luke.

“Maybe a little,” you countered, swallowing the nerves. “But I'd say you're worse.”

Nat didn't back down, the smirk still there.

“Y/N, you're on a fucking camping trip.”

Caught red-handed.

“Is it really a camping trip if I’ve got hot water and a bed?”

Nat chuckled, visibly amused, and you were just as thankful for the lightness in the mood as you were heartbroken by it.

“You didn't know those would be there until a few hours ago,” she retorted, and you knew you couldn't argue anymore. “Admit it. You're a sucker. No shame in it.”

She gestured at her rib tattoo, the one of Luke's drawing, as if to prove you were both on the same boat — the two of you just as helpless when it came to your son. You looked on instinct, for just a second, knowing that staring down at Nat's body from this close was a dangerous game you couldn’t afford to play.

“Fine,” you said, eyes landing back on Luke, who still swam around like his energy would never run out. “What can I say? We're both suckers.”

Natalie let out a small sigh, looking at him too.

“We are,” she muttered, voice softer now, no longer carrying that teasing tone. “Can't blame us, though. Anyone in our place would. We've got the best kid in the whole world.”

“We really do.”

“MOM!” Luke yelled in the water, eyes meeting yours from afar, saving you before the moment between you and Nat turned into more than you could handle. “COME SWIM WITH ME! IT'S SO FUN!”

You smiled. Well, there you had it. The proof of Nat's accusations, and you'd fallen guilty.

“I've been summoned,” you joked, low enough so only she could hear, stepping to your feet as you threw your sunglasses on the towel. “Coming, baby!”

By the time the sun started to set and Luke was already bathed and changed into dry clothes, the three of you stood outside, gathered near the firepit as Natalie pulled the unassembled tent off its bag. He had insisted all of you put it together as a family — the word landing like a punch to your gut, but this weekend was about him, so he'd get everything he wanted.

Plus, you figured it'd be kind of fun to see Nat try to assemble a tent. She'd often tease you about your aversion to anything crafty back when you were together, but she wasn't exactly handy either — one time, about three or four months into the pregnancy, you'd seen her spend over an hour trying to figure out how to set up a dresser for the nursery, even with the instruction manual (with pictures on it) right beside her the whole time. So, as torturous as this whole experience might be, at least you'd get a good laugh out of it.

“Okay, little man,” she looked at Luke as he bounced on his heels, gesturing at the equipment spread on the grass. “Basically what we need to do is grab the poles, slide them through the holes on the fabric and then clip the edges together with those little plastic thingies.”

He nodded.

“Got it.”

“We gotta do it as a team, though,” she continued, grabbing one of the poles, free hand picking up the fabric so she could slide the pole in. “Because if one of us messes up, we can't move forward. So let's… take it easy, okay? Take turns doing it.”

Much to your surprise, she got the first pole in smoothly, barely looking, as if she'd done the same thing about a billion times before.

“There,” she smiled at Luke, proudly holding the evidence of her work, “now we do the same thing on all four sides and then move on to clip the ones that'll go on the bottom.”

“Can I go next? Please? Can I try?”

She chuckled, ruffling his hair with her free hand as she held the fabric up with the other.

“Sure, bud. Grab a pole. I'll show you how to do it.”

Luke eagerly grabbed one of the tent poles, trying but failing to mimic Nat, his rushed motions getting the pole stuck halfway through the sleeve.

“Gentle,” she took his hand, guiding it, helping him slide it through till it reached the other end. “There, like that. Can’t rush it or it doesn't work.”

You watched the scene silently, eyes narrowed at Nat's unexpected ease when it came to the task at hand. She must've gone through that manual a million times at home, you thought, because that was the only explanation for her to be so good at this. Either that or this was easier than it looked, because you knew Natalie Scatorccio simply hadn't been built for handy work, and you had the evidence to back it up — the dresser, the bookshelf that always leaned to the left in her old apartment, that one time she tried to hang a picture in the shop and ended up drilling a hole right through the wall.

“Gentle,” Luke repeated, calmer now, the same focus and determination on his face as you'd seen the day he drew a dragon on Nat's tablet, “okay. Now it's your turn, mom.”

You nodded, stepping to your role, knowing the shared activity was an excellent opportunity to give your son a lesson on the importance of teamwork. Plus, then again, if Nat didn't have any problems doing it you were sure it couldn't be so hard.

If only you knew how wrong you were.

“Alright, let's do it,” you picked up a pole confidently, ready to give it a go. “Explorer 101.”

Luke stayed beside you, watching like he couldn't wait to get another turn again.

“You gotta do it gently, mom,” he instructed as if you hadn't been right there to hear Nat say it the first time. “If you rush it then it doesn't work.”

You chuckled, the little parrot repeating his mama’s lessons as he often would.

“Okay, honey. I’ve got it.”

And then you slid the pole through the fabric sleeve, face falling when it got caught halfway through. You pushed it further, figuring it might have just been a little jammed, but it didn’t work — all it did was bend the pole, which you were pretty sure wasn’t meant to happen.

“You alright there, explorer?” Natalie teased, already smirking like she couldn’t help it.

“I’ve got it,” you emphasized, regretting not having sat this one out.

You kept trying to push the pole through, careful not to tear through the fabric, but also not ready to pull back and start over. This was harder than it looked. You should be good at it, for fuck’s sake. You’d given patients central lines much more complicated than that, and even then you hadn’t struggled this much to get the fucking tube in.

How was Natalie so good at it?

“Mom, you’re bending it,” as if the whole show wasn’t humiliating enough, now you were getting humbled by a seven-year-old. “You have to be gentle, remember?”

Nat chuckled, infuriatingly amused by your distress.

“You heard him. You’ve gotta pull it back and reposition.”

“I said I’ve got it,” you insisted one last time before pushing again, unsurprisingly to no success.

This wasn’t going to work.

“I think there’s something wrong with mine.”

Nat snorted obnoxiously.

“With the pole?”

Luke shook his head.

“Try again, mom!” He encouraged, placing a small hand on your arm, smiling in the same way you would when trying to get him to tie his shoes or get his spelling right. “Mama can help you, she’s really good!”

You sighed, watching his careful face, taking in his gentle tone. He was so sweet. A sensitive kid through and through, which you’d made a point out of encouraging ever since you’d sat next to Nat in that cold doctor’s office and found out you were going to have a boy. You wanted to raise him right. Teach him all about respect, about the importance of allowing himself to feel things, show him it was okay to cry when he needed to. That he didn’t have to struggle to do everything by himself. That there was no shame in asking for help.

You and your fucking lessons.

“Okay,” you gave in, looking at Natalie, who smiled victoriously at your lowered head. “Mind helping me, Nat?”

She looked at Luke for a moment, basking in the win, then back at you.

“Yeah, of course. Get the edge of the pole and pull it all the way out of the sleeve,” she instructed, the tease slowly giving space to something softer as you followed the steps. “There. It’s not bent anymore, see?”

“You’re doing it, mom!” Luke exclaimed, eyes shining, a welcome distraction from Nat’s raspy voice as she guided you so carefully.

“Now push it back in. Gently. You can feel it out with your other hand to see if it’s coming through.”

And just like that, you got it right.

“Good job, mom! You did it!” Luke yelled eagerly, encouraging, jumping up and down before lifting a flat palm in your direction.

You laughed, not immune to your son’s adorable cheerleading, giving him a high-five.

“Thanks, buddy.”

“I knew you could do it! She did a really good job, right, mama?”

Nat chuckled, eyes landing on you for a moment, the smile lingering on the corner of her mouth. It didn’t look teasing this time — instead, there was earnestness to it, the kind you recognized from when Luke said please and thank you to a stranger or wanted to place his own order at a restaurant, and you knew she was proud for seeing her lessons stick.

“Yup,” she raised a hand in your direction, just like he’d done, playing it up for the sake of your kid. “Good job, mom.”

We’re both here for Luke.

“Thanks,” you high-fived her too. “And thanks for helping me.”

“Anytime.”

“Okay, can I get another turn now?!” Luke was already reaching for the equipment on the floor, eager to build something, wanting to prove how he’d get it right this time.

But you stayed still a moment, heart fluttering in your chest, Nat’s eyes shining in the sunset suddenly too much for you to handle.

The three of you finished setting up the tent, carrying all kinds of pillows and blankets from the cabin in order to make it cozy enough to sleep in — which Luke insisted he was going to do. It didn’t take long for night to fall, the air getting cooler, causing everybody to put on their jackets before moving outside to roast marshmallows by the fire.

The fire which Nat had started the old fashioned way, with sticks and rocks and determination, even though the kitchen had a perfectly fine blowtorch in one of its drawers.

“Wanna see something cool, Luke?” She’d asked, sitting next to him, guiding him through the steps though she never let him touch the fire.

Who was that person?

First she knew how to put together the world’s most complicated tent, now she was building fires from scratch like Tom Hanks in fucking Cast Away. Natalie Scatorccio. The same you’d seen accidentally break about a hundred wine glasses in your lifetime. The same whose solution for every little problem around the house was to call a guy.

It didn't add up. Either she'd taken a survivalist course after the divorce or she'd been replaced by a handier, more adventurous doppelganger. Whatever it was, you shrugged it off, not wanting to ask just yet — not when Luke was straight up carbonizing his marshmallow, pouting disappointedly when it came out looking like a piece of charcoal.

“Easier, Luke,” you poked a stick through another marshmallow, showing him the ropes because that you could do. “Not so close to the flames.”

The evening was easy, you and Nat falling into a nice rhythm that consisted mainly of listening calmly as Luke narrated the highlights of his day like you both hadn't been there to see it. He talked about the fish, about the kayak, about how he’d totally beat mama in a race again tomorrow, yawning into his marshmallow because he couldn't help it after such an exciting day.

Once you started alluding to the idea of getting him ready for bed, he frowned, sticky hands clinging to your arm.

“But mama promised she'd let me sleep in the tent,” he whined. “It's not camping if I have to sleep inside.”

You sighed, not crazy about the idea. It'd been fun to show him the tent in the afternoon, to lounge around for a few minutes while Nat got ready inside, but sleeping in it? Absolutely not.

“Lucas.”

“Please, mom. Please. Mama promised.”

You shot a glance at Nat, who smiled sheepishly.

“Guilty,” she admitted. “Tell you what, kiddo, why don't you go change into your PJs and brush your teeth while I get some more blankets?” Natalie looked at you, shoulders relaxing as she fixed the sleeve of her jacket. “I've got it.”

And so you cleaned up while Nat equipped the tent with enough blankets to build a fortress, supervising as Luke got his Spidey pajamas from the suitcase.

A few minutes later, ready to get in bed and relax the tension of the day off, you looked at the bedside table and didn’t see the book you'd brought there. Fuck, you thought, I must've left it outside. You thought about toughing it out and trying to fall asleep, but you knew it'd be useless. You didn't stand a chance without your faithful reading session before bed.

So you stepped outside, finding it on the swinging chair by the porch exactly where you'd left it, but that wasn't what called your attention.

Luke and Nat did.

They weren’t in the tent yet as you'd expected — instead, they sat on one of the logs by the fire, Luke leaned against Nat's side as she kept an arm around him, fingers threading gently through his hair. They had their backs turned to you, talking calmly, just loud enough for you to hear while they didn't seem to notice your presence. You hung back a second, observing. Enjoying the rare opportunity to just stand and watch. Taking in the ease, the tenderness, the love.

“So,” Nat said, looking down at the top of his head. “You excited about the big eight tomorrow?”

He nodded, tired, clutching something in his hands.

“Mm-hm. It's gonna be the best birthday ever.”

She chuckled.

“Yeah?”

“Yup. This is the coolest place in the world,” he snuggled closer, shooting his eyes up, smiling sleepily. “Today was so fun, mama. Like, the most fun.”

“I'm glad you liked it, baby. I had fun too.”

He let out a soft sigh, keeping his gaze on Nat's face like he had something on his mind.

“Mama.”

“Yeah, bud?”

“How did you get so good at camping?”

You smiled to yourself, quiet, still watching. That observant kid. Attentive to detail in ways that still managed to surprise you. Wanting to get to the bottom of things in the same way you did. Noticing the people he loved in a way that was all Nat.

She let out a soft breath, as if bracing for something, and you stilled in place.

“Uh, my father used to take me sometimes,” she muttered, eyes on his face, fingers still in his hair. “When I was about as big as you.”

You froze, heart breaking in your chest. Nat never talked about her dad. You'd only ever heard her mention him twice — that time she showed up at your door after the first breakup and on the night she first brought up the possibility of divorce, and on that second time she hadn't even explicitly said anything. You had no idea about the camping trips. So that's where her experience came from, that's why she'd been so good at everything you'd been doing all day.

Luke frowned, a new found curiosity on his face.

“You have a father?”

Nat shook her head.

“Not anymore, bud. But I did when I was your age.”

He nodded as if he understood it, even though you knew he was too young to make sense of her words, bringing his free hand to Nat's knee.

“Did he die?”

Natalie watched his face carefully, tender, smiling sadly.

“He did, baby.”

“That's too bad,” he said, rubbing her knee gently, comforting her. “Maybe mom could have saved him. She can save everyone's lives, she's really good at it.”

You felt your chest burst with so much warmth and so much pain you didn't know what to do with it. You simply stayed there, eyes filling with tears despite yourself, clutching the book in your hands like it could somehow ground you.

“It was a long time ago,” Nat shook her head, still smiling, stroking Luke's hair with the utmost affection. “Way before I knew your mom.”

“It's okay to be sad about it, mama. Cry if you need to, remember?”

She chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Mama's okay, buddy. Thanks for being so sweet.”

He wrapped his arms around her neck, pushing to get on her lap, whatever he had in his hand shining in the moonlight.

“It's okay, mama. We're gonna have so much fun tomorrow anyway,” he pressed a wet kiss to her cheek, causing her to let out a laugh. “Can we go exploring?”

“Only if you get a good night's sleep. Eight-year-olds need all the energy they can get if they wanna face these woods,” she gave him one last squeeze before tapping his back, helping him up. “Come on, let's check out how cozy that tent feels with all the blankets. Charmander can come along.”

“Charizard, mama,” he corrected, waving the object in his hand — which you now recognized as a Pokémon card, of course. “Aunt Van gave it to me.”

And so you stepped back inside before you could be seen, heart heavy and warm all at the same time.

Sleep didn't come, not even with the book. Not when your head was filled with thoughts of Nat — sweet, as little as Luke, forced to go camping with a father who didn't know how to love her. Getting yelled at when she couldn't set up a tent or start a fire. Subjected to everything she refused to repeat with your son, her son, the boy both of you loved more than anything in the world.

When the words started to blend together on the page and you still couldn't seem to shut your fucking eyes, you sighed. Good thing were prepared for this — knowing how close you'd be to Nat this weekend, you'd brought a pack of chamomile tea as a last resort just in case.

You snuck out to the kitchen, making some tea, sitting at the table in order to have it before trying to sleep again. It wasn’t going to happen anyway, not now. You figured you might as well make good use of the time while you were at it.

So you opened your laptop, placing it before you, thankful for the advent of wifi as you logged onto the hospital’s internal system and checked on your patient’s clinical evolutions for the day. It wasn’t like you’d be there tomorrow to help with any changes, but it was good to be kept up to speed. If anything happened, you were just a call away from your residents anyway.

As you typed something up on the page, already halfway through your cup of tea, the creaking sound of the front door made your eyes shoot up. Nat carried Luke inside, body limp and heavy with sleep, his head tucked into her shoulder as he breathed steadily. She stopped when she saw you, seemingly surprised, smiling softly, politely.

“Hey,” she muttered quietly, not taking any chances even though he was a heavy sleeper. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

You shook your head slightly, looking at her face, the words you’d overheard her tell Luke earlier echoing in your head.

“I could say the same about you,” you offered back, soft, careful. “Whatever happened to spending the night in the tent?”

“Please,” she chuckled, “no fucking way I’m sleeping in that thing. Was just waiting for him to pass out before coming inside and sleeping in an actual bed.”

You matched her expression.

“Can’t blame you. At least he got to live his camping fantasy.”

“Yeah,” she pulled her head back a bit, staring at Luke for a moment before settling back on you. Her eyes carried so much love, so much devotion for the little boy that anyone could see it from miles away. “He’s having a good time. Out here, I mean.”

You smiled. My father used to take me sometimes, you heard in your head, once again thinking about how difficult those trips must’ve been for her judging by what you knew about the man. And she’d been so amazing today. Giving Luke all the attention he needed, encouraging him, always patient. Always kind. Never once raising her voice. Never once losing her head.

You thought she deserved to know it.

“He is,” you nodded, earnest. “You did good, Nat. This place is incredible. He’s gonna remember it forever.”

Natalie smiled too, honest, beautiful.

“That’s the goal,” she said like a mantra or a prayer, the words genuine on her lips. Her eyes drifted to the laptop before you and she chuckled again, shifting Luke slightly in her arms. “Get some sleep, doc. Got a whole day ahead of us tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll find a way to hold the fort without you.”

You nodded, surrendered, a little smirk popping up on the corner of your lips. Doc. The old nickname, the one she’d use when you were bent over the kitchen table in your apartment, looking over books and charts like they’d been written in a foreign language.

“Soon,” you reassured, just like you used to in another lifetime when you knew she’d be waiting for you in bed once you were done. “Just need to wrap something up real quick.”

“Sure you do,” she snorted, picking her rhythm back up. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Night, Nat.”

You finished your tea and went to bed, even if you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep, even if no one was there waiting for you anymore. She was right — if anything happened at the hospital, it didn’t concern you. Not this weekend.

You woke up extra early the next morning, surprised when you didn’t see Nat’s car outside through the balcony doors. You smiled to yourself, she didn’t. Upon further inspection and the torn piece of paper with her handwriting you found in the kitchen, you realized she absolutely did.

Gone into town to pick up Luke’s cake, be back before he wakes up — N

The cake. The chocolate and vanilla swirl from that bakery you’d been ordering from since he was old enough to try it, which you’d already learned by now was only good if you got it the same day you were supposed to cut it. The place must’ve been at least an hour away from the cabin, and you’d already practically woken up at dawn, so Nat must’ve barely gotten any sleep in order to drive there and back before Luke woke up on his special day.

She really was an excellent mom.

You got to work too, knowing your son’s birthday meant no effort would be spared, already getting started on the balloons you’d packed and the coffee you were sure Nat would need when she got back.

By the time she arrived, box in hand and a paper bag dangling from her arm, the living room was already covered in multicolored balloons as you hung a HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUKE banner on the wall by the kitchen table.

“Wow,” Nat said from behind you, moving to place everything on the counter so her hands would be free to help out. “You really went all out, huh?”

“Says the woman who got up in the crack of dawn to go pick up the cake,” you joked with recognition, standing on a chair, arms stretched all the way up. “How was traffic?”

“Not too bad,” she came closer, right behind you, grabbing the roll of duct tape from the table without you having to ask. “Banner looks really good.”

“Thanks, there’s this place at the mall that makes them in—” as you reached for the tape she handed out, your foot slipped in an awkward way that caused the chair to wobble, making you lose your balance.

It happened fast. You gasped, bracing for the fall, but it never came.

Instead, Nat’s hands moved up to your waist at the speed of light as if on instinct — steadying, balancing. Tight and strong. Not letting you fall.

“Careful,” she said, looking up at you as your chest heaved from the scare, knees now trembling for an entirely different reason. “You good?”

You still had your back to her, except now your neck was turned, eyes on hers, blue and soft and genuinely concerned. Her hands were still tense on your waist like that was normal, like it hadn’t been two fucking years since they’d last touched that spot.

You nodded, letting out a soft exhale.

“…Yeah,” your voice came out lower than you intended it to, “I’m okay.”

“Sure?”

Nat’s hands softened their grip, but she didn’t let go.

“Mm-hm,” you muttered, absolutely not okay, but that didn’t have anything to do with the almost-fall.

Natalie was touching you. Not just anywhere, not just accidentally in passing or for a split second while handing you something, but actually, intentionally touching you — firm, familiar, fingers spread across your waist in a way that had the tip of her pinky right where she was marked on your skin forever.

“You can let go now,” you let out in a near whisper, not wanting the moment to end, but worried about what stupid thing might come out of your mouth if she stayed that close for too long. “I've got it.”

Nat blinked like she'd only now realized her hands were still on you, pulling them back, her absence suddenly making your body feel cold.

“Yeah, yeah,” she murmured awkwardly, clearing her throat. “Watch out, though. Those chairs can be real unstable.”

“I'll be more careful. Thanks.”

“Yeah, of course.”

A beat went by, both of you silent. You finished hanging the banner — not threatening to fall this time — as Nat grabbed the paper bag she'd left on the counter, starting to set the table with the pastries she'd brought from the bakery.

“Bear claws?” You chuckled, already down on the ground, trying to lighten the mood.

“Luke's favorite,” she pulled out some croissants and muffins too, moving to grab plates from the cabinet to put those in. “I figured we could all use some carbs since we're going hiking today.”

“Hiking?”

“Luke said he wants to explore,” she let out a snort, shaking her head. “And, well. Birthday privileges, right?”

You nodded, not excited about the plans, but determined to make this the best day ever for your son.

“Birthday privileges.”

By the time Luke appeared in the hall, Spidey pajamas on and eyes full of sleep, the decorations were already set and the presents you'd both brought were wrapped and on display by the table. You ran to light the candles stuck on the cake, putting on your best smile to start your son's day off the right way.

“There's the birthday boy!” Nat exclaimed, joyful, arms open to welcome him. “Whoa, man, I think you're already getting taller!”

Luke giggled, slowly waking as he took in the decorations.

“Am not, mama.”

“Are too,” she crouched down to get on his level, hugging him tightly, kissing his cheek. “Look how big you're getting.”

He laughed, melting into the hug, clingy arms wrapping around her while you stood and watched the scene with warmth in your heart, the earlier chair incident now gone and forgotten.

This was all that mattered.

“THERE'S CAKE!” He jolted toward you as soon as Nat let go of him, stopping where you stood with the cake in hand, excitedly bouncing on his heels. “Is it chocolate and vanilla, mom? Is it? Is it?”

You laughed, nodding, leaning down so he could blow the candles.

“Yes. Chocolate and vanilla, your favorite,” you said with a smile, so full of love you thought your chest might burst. “Happy birthday, baby.”

You and Nat sang him happy birthday and he blew the candles, hand over his heart while he closed his eyes shut and silently made a wish. I can’t say what it is, he insisted once you'd both pried, or it won't come true.

The morning settled nicely over the three of you, Luke talking a mile a minute about his new Lego set and the cool pair of binoculars you'd gotten him (the wrapping paper now scattered all over the floor), making plans for the day, eating pastries and cake and begging you to let him have just one sip of coffee.

“When you're older, buddy,” you chuckled, shaking your head, because apparently even birthday boys couldn't have everything they wanted. “But there's OJ in the fridge if you're thirsty.”

By the time you were all fed and Luke was covered head to toe in sunscreen and bug spray, you and Nat walked side-by-side as he ran ahead, new binoculars around his neck, following a little wooden arrow that led to a well-marked hiking trail.

You watched him for a second, chuckling to yourself. The things I do for this kid, you thought, still not believing you were spending a very rare day off out in the woods with your fucking ex.

“How sure are we about this?” You asked, hanging back beside Nat as Luke looked at everything through the lenses. “He's a city kid. Closest he's gotten to hiking was that time we took him to see The Lion King.”

Nat snorted.

“The ad said the trail was kid friendly. And, well, he's nothing if not determined,” she nodded in Luke's direction, making you smile as you noticed him go WHOA! at the sight of a bird. “I think he's good for it.”

And so the three of you fell into step — Luke excitedly cataloging every creature, plant and rock with his binoculars, you and Nat just behind, watching, assessing, making sure to periodically warn him not to run too far.

As time passed, you noticed Nat's cheeks starting to blush, hair beginning to stick to her forehead in a way that should not be this attractive. She took a sip from the water bottle in her hand, letting out an exhale, eyes following Luke as he walked ahead like he wasn't the least bit fazed by the exercise.

“It's kid friendly alright,” she muttered, breathy. “Not sure it's meant for adults, though.”

You chuckled, amused, probably just as flushed as she was.

“The wonders of hiking. Sweat and mosquito bites and muscle cramps,” you took a sip from your bottle too. “Yet everybody seems to be doing it these days.”

“I fucking swear. You open Instagram and it's all hiking this, yoga that,” she rasped like that was a topic she'd debated before.

“Don't forget kayaking.”

She chuckled.

“For fuck's sake, right? It's like everyone's suddenly an outdoors person,” she shook her head. “You know Shauna Sadecki?”

You frowned, confused at the sudden change of topic.

“Callie's mom?”

Nat nodded.

“We were talking the other day at pick-up and she told me how she's been on those dating apps lately,” she leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice. “You know, since the divorce.”

You raised a brow, but Nat kept talking before you had a chance to ask.

“Four different people have asked her on hiking dates,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “Guys and girls. It's a fucking epidemic. Whatever happened to bars?”

Your shoulders relaxed and you allowed yourself to laugh, half because what Nat said was indeed absurd, half because she finally pulled away and you didn't have to hold your breath in anymore.

“Those apps are nightmares,” you commented offhandedly. “Craziest people you'll ever meet.”

Nat stopped for a second, looking at you with a smirk she couldn't seem to hide — though, to be fair, you weren't sure she was trying.

“Speaking from experience?”

Shit, you thought to yourself, realizing you’d talked too much.

“What— no,” you immediately corrected, suddenly wishing you could dig a hole and crawl into it. “I just— I heard it from some friends, that’s all.”

But Nat didn’t budge, for once leaning into the slip instead of letting you off the hook.

“Friends. Right,” she chuckled. “It’s no shame, you know. You’re single. You’re successful. I’m sure you’d get a ton of… likes or whatever.”

“I'm not on dating apps,” you reinforced, cringing to your bones, flushed for a reason that didn't involve all the exercising anymore. “I told you, I just have some friends who've done it.”

Nat let out a snort that made you want to bash her head in. That teasing, relentless, gorgeous fucking woman you'd always had a billion soft spots for.

“No need to get all defensive about it. I'm just fucking with you,” she kicked a pebble, resuming walking in order to catch up with Luke's pace — who still did his own exploring a few feet ahead, oblivious to the conversation. “And I wouldn't judge you if you were, by the way.”

“Sure, Nat. I'll set up a profile right now,” you rolled your eyes, following suit. “I can squeeze a few dates in my schedule when I'm not working or driving Luke to soccer practice. Who knows, I might get some action by the time he turns eighteen.”

She laughed, the shit-eating grin on her face denouncing the fact that she knew she'd successfully pushed your buttons.

“What, you're gonna tell me you’re not dating? At all?”

“Wouldn't you like to know,” you huffed, exasperated, turning your eyes away from her.

Why did she care anyway?

“I'm just making conversation,” she shrugged, annoyingly composed. “You know. Friendly asking.”

“I barely have time to stop and breathe, Nat,” you gave in, figuring she wouldn't leave you alone anyway — classic Natalie. “Dating's not exactly at the top of my to-do list right now.”

“You work too hard,” she countered, unfazed. “Should give yourself a little break sometimes.”

You frowned, eyes falling on her again, trying to decipher what she meant. What was she trying to say? Was she just being friendly? Was she genuinely just worried about your tendency to overwork yourself? Was she implying she had been dating? 

Your breath caught in your throat, that name flashing in your head again — Lucy, some faceless woman texting Nat, asking her if she was okay.

You figured you wouldn't get another chance to ask.

“Well, have you been—”

“MOM! MAMA!” Luke exclaimed, interrupting you mid-question, which you couldn't decide whether it was a good or a bad thing. “Look! Blackberries!”

Nat caught her step as if the whole conversation had never happened, smiling excitedly at Luke. You followed right behind, putting the mom mask back on, opting to try to put whatever that had been out of your mind, as hard as you figured it'd be.

“Those aren't blackberries, buddy,” Nat instructed, stopping beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “They’re mulberries. Blackberries don't grow on trees, they grow on vines.”

“Oh,” he nodded, interested. “Mulberries. Cool! Do they taste sweet?”

“When they're ripe,” Nat placed a hand on her hip, looking up at the tree, little berries hanging from it just out of her reach. “You wanna try one?”

“YES!” He jumped eagerly. “Just like a real explorer!”

“I'll grab a handful, hold on.”

You watched her, knowing there was no way either of you would be able to reach them, they were simply too high up.

Nat didn't seem to care about her odds.

She placed a foot on the trunk of the tree, crooked and curvy, using a hand to support herself as you realized just what her plan was.

“Nat,” you warned, having seen enough accidents at work that had started just like that. “What are you doing?”

“Getting mulberries,” she answered like it was nothing, ever the stubborn idiot when she wanted to be.

“That's dangerous.”

“I’ve got it,” she said smugly, pushing herself up, placing both feet on a lump on the trunk as she carefully picked up the berries. “Alright, one, two, three…”

Luke watched the whole thing like a movie, mesmerized, eyes shining like he'd just found out his mama was a superhero.

“Mama, you can climb trees! That's so rad!”

She let out a soft laugh from up there, definitely a little smug.

“Thanks, bud. Tell that to your mom,” she teased, making you roll your eyes again. “Alright, I think I got enough. Coming down now.”

Nat lowered herself, using her free hand to lean against the trunk, and it seemed to work in her favor — until, at the last minute, it didn’t. Before either of you knew it, her feet slipped, making her land with them both on the ground, but not without scraping her arm against the tree first.

“Ah, f—” she caught herself, groaning, mulberries tucked in her hand as she used the other one to cradle her injured arm on instinct. “Jesus!”

Your heart stopped, and you were stepping up to her side before you even knew it, unsure if the readiness came from being a doctor or from the fact that it was Nat getting hurt right in front of you.

“Let me see,” you said, prompt, unhesitant.

“It's—” she huffed, clearly masking the pain. “It's nothing, I'm fine.”

“Mama!” Luke yelled beside you, eyes wide, focused on Nat's arm. “You're bleeding!”

“I’m okay, buddy,” she reassured him, visibly shaken by the pain, but toughing it out. “I’m okay, it’s just a little scratch.”

“Natalie, let me see,” you insisted, unable to see anything clearly when she kept turning away, just spotting a red blur of what could only be blood dripping down her forearm.

She opened her mouth to protest again, but Luke was faster.

“Mama! You’re hurt!” He exclaimed in panic, a second away from crying, chin already starting to tremble. “Let mom look! She’ll know how to fix it!”

“Okay. Okay, buddy, okay,” she said calmly, gently, wanting to give him a sense of security. “Here. Here, I’ll let mommy look. It’s okay. It’s okay, mama’s alright.”

Luke curled into your side, forehead against your ribcage as you brought an arm around him and Nat finally lifted hers in your direction.

“It’s okay, baby,” you muttered, rubbing gentle circles on his back to soothe him. Your free hand moved to support Nat’s elbow, steadying it, offering you a better look at the injury just below it. “It’s not deep. Just a little scrape that looks scarier than it actually is. Mommy can make the bleeding stop and then we can put some nice bandages on it when we’re back at the cabin.”

“You can make it stop?” Luke asked, voice muffled, clutching onto you.

“Yeah, darling. You’ll see, it’ll go away in a minute.”

You let go of Nat’s arm gently, fiddling for a hand towel in the backpack you carried, handing it to her without hesitation.

“Press it down on the cut,” you instructed, careful. “Should stop bleeding soon, it’s a small one. Shallow.”

“Thanks,” she followed your instructions, visibly calmer now that the scare was gone, looking over at Luke with soft eyes. “Really, buddy, mama’s okay. It doesn’t even hurt anymore. You heard mommy, it just looks scary, but it’s nothing.”

“It looks really scary,” he muttered, still tucked into your side.

“I know. I know it does, baby,” Nat ran a hand through his hair, wincing just a little, opposite fingers pinching the towel against her arm as the mulberries stayed safely tucked in her palm underneath. “Tell you what, how about we go back to the cabin now so your mom can patch me up and make me good as new? Then we can go kayaking or we can play some soccer or we can eat more cake. Whatever you want.”

He nodded, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Okay,” he sniffled, not really crying, but nearly there. “Okay, let’s go back.”

Back at the cabin, you grabbed the first-aid kit you’d packed in Nat’s car just in case, promptly getting to work on the wound. She sat across from you on a kitchen chair, toughing it out as you sprayed antiseptic on the cut, an apprehensive Luke holding her free hand for emotional support.

“Does it hurt, mama?”

Nat shook her head.

“No, little man. I can barely feel it anymore.”

You knew she was lying for the sake of his innocence, but you went with it. You were careful, steady, gentle hands cleaning the wound and placing sterile dressings over it, explaining every step to Luke in order to try and keep him calm.

“There,” you said once you were done, looking over at your son with a reassuring expression. “All done.”

But he was still skeptical.

“You’re sure it’s all better now?” He asked, looking between you and Nat, brows still furrowed. “Mama’s all fixed up?”

“As good as new,” she moved her arm, trying to prove her point. “See? All better.”

He pressed his lips together in a thin line, staring at the dressings for a moment.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, worried, eyes falling on your face. “Maybe you should kiss it just in case.”

You froze.

“Luke—”

“Just like you do with me,” he explained in his eight-year-old logic, clutching Nat’s hand. “It always makes me feel better. It might be what mama needs.”

He looked at you pleadingly, like a kiss would be the answer to finally settle the lingering distress on his little face, and you found yourself at a loss of words. The fucking kid. Unknowingly putting you through the world’s most dangerous situation. Unknowingly breaking your heart all over again when you knew that two years ago the kiss wouldn’t even have been a question.

Shit. It was his birthday after all.

Natalie stayed quiet, eyes on you as if her plan was to follow your lead, whatever you decided, and you sighed resignedly.

“Okay,” you said, defeated, looking at her to make sure that was alright. “Just in case.”

Nat nodded, lips pressed together.

“Work your magic, doc.”

You held Nat’s elbow, trying not to let on just how much your hands shook. Even with sweat dripping down her temples, her scent was just as pronounced as the day you met her — earthy and mature and still just a little sweet —, which didn’t help your nerves. Her eyes stayed on you the whole time, blue and focused, lacking the ease from the hike — that annoying nonchalance, the I have my shit together she might as well have screamed while asking questions about your dating life now all gone, giving space to silence and breaths she didn't fully let out. You got closer, Luke's eager stare in your peripheral vision working as the only thing in the room capable of grounding you.

You've kissed her a million times before, you thought to yourself, not sure if it helped or just made everything worse. You've kissed every inch of her body, a little peck on her arm is nothing.

It was quick. Soft and salty and barely there, just next to where you'd placed the dressings.

Still, you felt it in your whole body.

“There,” you muttered, eyes finding Nat's for just a second before turning to Luke for safety. “All healed.”

“Do you feel better, mama?”

Nat cleared her throat.

“Yeah, bud,” she said with a weak nod, her gaze following the same path as yours. “All better now.”

Luke let out a relieved breath, at last fully relaxing once he believed his mama wasn't hurt anymore.

“Told you,” he squeezed Nat's hand, still in his own. “Mom can make everyone better, she's so good at it.”

“She is,” Nat smiled, small and tame, touching his hair tenderly. “The best.”

“Okay, now we can play soccer!” And just like that, he was already back on full birthday boy chaos. “I'm gonna go get the ball! Mama, you play against me! And mom can be the goalie! Come on, people!”

Luke jolted like a lightning outside, leaving you and Natalie alone in the kitchen, both staring at the path he'd taken.

“He just… bounced right back, didn't he?” Nat chuckled, voice low.

You swallowed the lingering tension, doing your best to act normal.

“Like it never happened. Eight-year-olds and their perpetuous resilience.”

“Right? They should teach a class or something like that,” she snorted, weak, pausing for a second. Her eyes landed on you. “Uh, thanks, by the way,” she lifted her arm. “The way you handled that was… pretty amazing.”

“Just… doing my job,” you shrugged, trying not to let the effect of the compliment show on your cheeks. “Uh, make sure to change the dressings once a day, by the way. I can show you how to do it if you want.”

“Thanks, doc,” she grinned, nodding. “Anything else I need to do?”

“Just steer clear from trees,” you joked. “Or, you know, you can look. But no climbing anymore.”

“Can't make any promises. But I'll try.”

As you were about to tease back, thankful for the rhythm you'd managed to maintain even with the unspoken awkwardness of the kiss, Luke ran back inside, ball in hand.

“COME ON! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!”

And so you both stepped back into your roles.

Night fell a bit more warmly than the one before, Luke's birthday high and sugar rush decreasing by the second, especially after you'd gotten him bathed and ready for bed. You lay next to him in the tent, Nat inside taking care of cleaning up the decorations, his body curled against your side as he fought off sleep and lost by a mile.

“Mom?” He muttered quietly, nearly gone.

“Here, baby.”

“If I make a birthday wish and tell just one person what it is… then it's okay, right? It can still come true?”

You smiled, taking in the moment while you still could. While he still believed in birthday wishes and the unspoken rules behind them.

“Sure, buddy. Why do you ask?”

“Because I wanna tell you mine,” he whispered, eyelids so heavy you expected him to fully pass out any second now. “But you can't tell anyone else. I don't wanna risk it.”

“Cross my heart.”

He shifted against you.

“I wished we could come here every year. You and me and mama. Family camping trip for all my birthdays.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest at the word family.

“We can make that happen, honey.”

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep after that.

You carried Luke inside with a grunt — he was getting so heavy —, his head tucked into your shoulder as you let the smell of his shampoo ease every nerve that had been on edge over the weekend. It hadn't been easy — being this close to Nat after so long, having to act natural even though you were dying inside half of the time —, but now, on your last night here, holding your baby in your arms, you took comfort in the fact that it had all been worth it. He'd had so much fun. He'd been cared for and appreciated and loved through every second of it. He'd loved it so much he wanted to come back every year with his moms, who still managed to make him feel like part of a family even with everything that had happened.

You'd done your job, and you'd done it well.

“He's out?” Nat asked quietly, leaned over the kitchen counter with a glass of water in hand.

“Like a light,” you whispered. “I'll go put him to bed.”

Natalie followed you suit, opening the door for you, hanging back as you gently tucked Luke into the twin bed. You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Happy birthday, buddy.”

Nat watched the scene, arms crossed, leaned against the doorframe with a little smile on her lips. You looked at her, knowing exactly what was going through her mind — all the love for that little boy practically oozing out of her every pore in a way that made her glow. You nodded in recognition, smiling back.

“He's the best thing I ever did,” she commented, earnest, watching his chest move up and down with steady breaths. “Best thing we ever did.”

“He is,” you looked at him too, stopping beside her, letting go of all the ex-wives drama for a moment. Right now, you were both Luke's moms. “Turning out pretty great.”

She chuckled, endeared, shaking her head slightly.

“Best kid in the world,” Nat uncrossed her arms — the dressings still tight in place —, feet slowly moving backwards into the hallway, eyes landing on your face. “Hey, think you can come outside with me a second? I wanna show you something.”

You raised a brow, stepping out of the room, carefully closing the door.

“What is it?”

“Come on. You'll see.”

You couldn't think of a world where you'd ever say no to that.

Outside, Nat circled the cabin, stepping onto the deck that connected to the master bedroom without a word. She sat on the little couch there, fiddling for something in her pocket — an Altoid tin, as it turned out, making your lips curve immediately with recognition.

“You didn't.”

She laughed, cracking the tin open, showing you what was inside — a single joint, carefully rolled in those same fucking rolling papers she used to carry around back when you met her.

“I did.”

You shook your head, amused and surprised, taking the spot next to her — careful enough not to touch her as you sat. Maybe you shouldn't, maybe you were digging your own grave and setting yourself up for the biggest embarrassment of your life, but you couldn't pass up on the opportunity. Nat sat there, beside you, smiling with a joint tucked between her fingers like no time had passed and you were suddenly ten years younger.

And when it came to her, a little part of you was always going to be that same clueless college girl with the wide eyes and the shaky knees.

“I haven't touched one of these in years,” you chuckled, looking at her in disbelief.

“Eight years,” Nat tightened the roll, an old habit you immediately clocked. “Me neither. But when I saw the pictures of the cabin online, I mean…” She shrugged, that gorgeous grin still painted across her lips. “I had to. For old time's sake, you know?”

“I'm not even sure I still know how to.”

“We can find out right now,” she handed you the joint and the lighter, raising her brows slightly as if checking if you actually wanted it. “Do the honors, doc.”

You looked at it for a moment, unsure whether or not you should.

Well, you were already here. Fuck it.

“Gladly,” you placed the joint between your lips, lighting it, fighting tooth and nail not to cough from the smoke that suddenly invaded your throat. You were rusty, but you still had it in you.

She laughed, watching you inhale the smoke.

“There she is.”

“Like riding a bike,” you said with an exhale, handing her the joint.

Nat smoked too, and you watched her ring-clad hands shining in the moonlight, the smoke curling in the air and enveloping her face in the same way it used to. She was gorgeous. So fucking beautiful, especially from this close, especially with that little grin that met her lips the second she exhaled.

“Like riding a fucking bike.”

You both took about two or three more hits before you started feeling lightheaded, shaking your head, laughing as you handed her the joint back.

“Alright, I think that's it for me,” you leaned back against the couch, breathing softly. “Maybe I still need training wheels, just in case.”

“I know,” Nat put out the joint on the corner of the coffee table, placing it back in the Altoid tin with a giggle. “Fuck. I used to go through these like water. Whatever happened to that? When did I turn into such a fucking lightweight?”

You chuckled.

“We’re moms now, Nat. Which means we’re pretty much ancient.”

“Been out of the game for too long,” she joked, staring into the distance — a dark blur of trees blending together in the horizon. “Eight years old. Can you believe that?”

You nodded, warm, the weed making you feel pleasantly light.

“Eight years old,” you repeated. “Feels like yesterday. I thought you were gonna rip my hand out in that delivery room.”

She laughed.

“Yeah, only because he was the biggest newborn ever. I thought I was gonna die. Felt like giving birth to a watermelon.”

You looked at her, amused, shaking your head.

“Well, got Travis to blame for that. The guy’s basically a human closet.”

Nat lowered her head with a snort, thinkative. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, and you raised a brow.

“What, did I strike a nerve there?”

She shook her head.

“No, no. It's just— I don't know. Weird,” she paused, eyes falling on your face. “I just forget he's not yours sometimes.”

It took her a second to catch herself.

“I mean, he is yours. In all the ways that matter. You're his mom. What I mean is just… I forget we didn't make him together, you know?”

You chuckled, understanding what she tried to say, the slight high lowering your inhibitions just a bit.

“I think that would've been a little difficult, Nat.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I don't mean it like that,” she nudged you softly, daring to move just slightly closer, thigh still not touching yours. “He's just so much like you. Getting more and more similar every day.”

You smiled, chest filling with warmth.

“He's my baby,” you muttered, full of love for your son, mind drifting back to his soft words in the tent earlier. “And he's just like you too, you know. It's like looking at a carbon copy.”

Nat sighed softly, visibly more relaxed.

“I think we're doing a good job,” she muttered, leaning back. “All things considered.”

“We are. He had a really good time this weekend, you know,” you grinned. “Said he wants to come back every year.”

Nat's lips curved in a big smile, proud, knowing she'd done something right.

“Every year?”

You nodded earnestly.

“It was his birthday wish. But it's a secret. You can't tell anyone.”

She nodded too, determined.

“My lips are sealed.”

You both paused for a moment, settling into a silence that was, for once, comfortable.

“It was all you, by the way,” you cut through the quiet, gentle, voice trailing off in the light breeze. “You did all this. The cabin, the tent, the… patience you have with him. You're a really good mom, Nat. He's lucky to have you.”

She licked her lips — that same habit that resurfaced whenever she was excited or curious or nervous —, her smile softening into something smaller, gentler now.

“He makes it easy,” she looked over at you. “And give yourself some credit. You're very good too.”

“We both are,” you recognized, “that's why he's such an amazing kid.”

She chuckled.

“I can accept that.”

Silence again. Nat tapped her fingertips on the armrest, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“I'm sorry if I made it weird, by the way. With the, uh, dating app thing earlier. I was just trying to make the mood light.”

You let out a little snort.

“Make the mood light?”

“Yeah, just— get rid of this wall that seems to have set itself between us, you know?” She shrugged, and you knew exactly what she talked about. “Joke around like we used to.”

You nodded, heart melting for the billionth time this weekend. Classic Nat — cracking jokes when things got uncomfortable, trying to keep the atmosphere comfortable however she could. Being the easiest person to be around, if only you weren't still so completely in love with her.

“It's okay,” you reassured, “you didn't make it weird.”

“Well, sorry anyway. It's not my place to meddle.”

You stayed quiet for a second.

“I set up a profile about six months after the divorce,” you confessed, blushing, smiling embarrassedly at your knees. “And I texted a grand total of three women before freaking out and uninstalling the whole thing. There, now you know.”

Nat's laugh sounded out, not mean-spirited or mocking, just amused.

“What, they weren't your type?”

You sighed.

“It just… felt like work,” you shrugged, honest. “I don't think I could've stood to explain to one more person what a hospitalist does.”

She laughed more freely this time, brows furrowed, eyes meeting yours again.

“You deleted the app because you didn't wanna explain what you did for work?”

“Not that,” you shook your head, searching for the right words. “I just… didn't feel like it. It didn't feel right. I’m already spread thin with Luke and work and managing the house and… dating felt like a chore, you know? Like one more thing to do.”

She nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek, a bit more serious now.

“I know what you mean.”

It was your turn to raise a brow, the question that had been in the back of your mind since the hike earlier threatening to slip right through your impaired filter.

“So… you haven't been dating either?”

She chuckled.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” she mimicked your words from earlier, making you roll your eyes.

“I told you when you asked,” you countered, “only fair you do the same.”

Nat pressed her lips, a smirk on the corner, nodding her head.

“Alright, alright. Since you shared with the class,” she took a deep breath, leaning both hands on her knees, turning her neck to look at your face. “I… haven't. Kinda been focused on other things right now.”

“Other things?”

She nodded again.

“Yeah. Same as you. Work, Luke. Adult stuff, you know.”

“Adult stuff,” you repeated. The question you'd been dying to ask still tickled the back of your throat — you shouldn't, you knew it, but your lips were moving before you had any control over them. “So Lucy is just a friend then?”

Nat’s brows furrowed, curious, confused.

“Lucy?” She snorted. “Where'd you hear that name?”

You looked away, sheepish, already regretting it.

“Uh— I didn't mean to look, it's just…” You cleared your throat. “The notification popped up on your phone and I happened to see it. Which I didn't mean to do. Just figured she might be a girlfriend or something like that.”

Nat laughed, eyes a bit red, landing on the side of your face in a way that was so magnetic you couldn't help but stare back.

“Lucy is my therapist, Y/N.”

You blinked — once, twice, processing. Therapist? How long had that been going on?

You'd suggested it a few times, hinted at it in a way you figured wouldn't offend her, but it'd all been pointless. I'm fine, she'd insist, even when she wasn't, I can manage.

And now she was seeing a therapist?

“Your… therapist?”

Nat nodded, smiling softly, not shying away from the topic as you expected her to.

“Mm-hm,” she hummed, gentle. “My therapist.” As if seeing the question mark all over your face, she kept talking. “I’ve been seeing her for, like, a year now. Maybe more.”

“That's…” You exhaled softly, genuinely proud. “That's great, Nat.”

Her smile didn't fade.

“Yeah. Yeah, she's kind of amazing,” she licked her lips again. “I, uh, just figured it'd be… good. After the divorce. After seeing this version of myself I didn't recognize and all the hurt I caused. Took me a while to get there, but… well. Here we are.”

“I… I'm happy for you, Nat. Really. Couldn't have been easy.”

“Not at first,” she shook her head, “but the payoff is… you know. It's everything. If that's what it takes for me to be a better mom and a better wife then that's what I'm gonna—”

She paused, abrupt, catching herself mid-sentence.

But you'd already heard it.

“A better wife?”

“I didn't mean—”

“But you said it,” you interrupted, not sober enough to shut your mouth and let her off the hook this time. “You said a better wife.”

Nat looked at you, then at the trees, then at the spot behind you. Then at you again. She appeared to be deep in thought, the gears that turned in her head practically visible, and you prepared for her to joke, to deflect, to go with the safe route.

But she didn't, not this time.

“I've been thinking about it,” she said, determined, blurting it out in the same way someone jumps into cold water — all at once, just to make sure they won't back out halfway through it. “A lot. About everything I lost. About what I threw away because I didn't know how to have it.”

“Nat—” you started, but she didn't let you finish.

“Just… let me say it,” she took a deep breath, picking it back up. “I did the stupidest thing in the world, Y/N. I wasn't the person you deserved. I— I ran, and I avoided, and I didn't know how to deal with myself so I figured you wouldn’t either. I should've given you more credit. I should've… I should've fought harder. For you, for our family.”

Your knees trembled, and you were sure you would've fallen if you weren't sitting down. Family. The word Luke had used, the one you'd been suppressing in your mind all weekend long. And there Nat was, saying it like it meant something, like she was finally ready to scream what apparently the both of you had been hiding.

“Lucy's been helping me,” she continued, completely focused on you now. “She's been helping me build myself up piece by piece so I can be the woman you deserve. So I  can honor you, so I can honor Luke, so I can do everything right this time. If you'll still have me. If you'll forgive me for the dumbest thing I ever did in my life.”

Nat brought a hand to cover yours on the couch, bold, shaky. You didn't stop her.

“I wasn't gonna tell you like this. I had this whole— speech worked out in my head,” she chuckled nervously. “In a few months, when I… when I had a more solid foundation, when I worked through some stuff a bit more, I'd ask you to dinner and… I'd do it properly. I had a plan. But then Luke came up with this weekend and you've just been here all the time, and I've been trying so hard not to just—”

Nat finally stopped, breathing heavily as if she'd just run a marathon, but you weren't done.

“Trying so hard not to what?” You asked, needing to know what she was about to say.

She grabbed your hand more tightly, those gorgeous blue eyes staring right into yours.

“To tell you that I love you,” she said, the words landing right in your chest, heart beating so violently you could feel it in every cell. “That I never stopped.”

“Nat…”

“You don't have to say it back. I know it's a lot, I know you weren't expecting me to—”

“Nat, I love you,” you interrupted her, unable to stay quiet as she poured her heart out to you, saying all the words you'd been waiting two years to hear. “I love you, I've loved you for eleven fucking years now. I didn't stop once, not for a second.”

“Y/N, you don't—”

“No, now you let me finish,” you covered her hand with your other one, shifting closer, voice shaking. “I love you more than anything in the world, Nat. I don't— I don't to wait until some new and improved version of you comes along, I want you as you are. You're working on bettering yourself? Don't look for me when you're done. Let me be there through it. I wanna be there for everything, please don't make me wait. Not anymore.”

She swallowed, eyes wet, taking in the words you said like they were all she'd ever wanted to hear. Once you finished, she let out a shaky breath, voice barely above a whisper:

“You sure? Even after I—”

“I’m sure, Nat. It's the only thing I’m truly sure of, that I want you. I want my wife. I want my family.”

“You have me,” she leaned forward, touching her forehead to yours, hands flying to cup your cheeks. “Fuck, Y/N, you've always had me.”

You couldn't wait anymore.

You kissed Nat's lips with a softness that didn't last long, soon turning into hunger, into promises of I love you and I miss you and I need you that didn't need to be said. Her fingers threaded into your hair like that's where they'd always belonged, the overwhelming mix of familiarity and excitement only she was able to give you making your skin burn. Nat didn't waste time, straddling your lap with urgency, hands meeting everywhere they could possibly reach until she finally had enough and rasped:

“Take me to bed.”

You'd be insane if you ever said no to that.

You stumbled into the suite through the sliding glass doors, kissing her again and again, falling into the dance you both knew so well at this point. You undressed her, and she did the same to you, taking her sweet time even with all the anticipation. The clock tattoo on her stomach shined majestically under the low light, and she didn't have to explain its meaning to you — you understood it, it all made sense now.

“You still have yours,” she traced the N on your hip with her fingertips, slowly lowering herself on your body until her lips met it with soft kisses that gradually turned into more.

You did the same to hers — your initial, still black and wobbly and so fucking perfect on her hip just as it was the day you'd promised yourself to her forever.

You were tangled with Nat into the morning, learning and relearning each other all over again, whispering sweet words and muttering soft curses until you were both limp and spent in the queen-sized bed, only moving your muscles in order to smile.

When Luke woke up and found you both in the kitchen, lazily chatting and grinning at nothing in particular over cups of extra-strong coffee, your heart felt full. Nat looked at you with a knowing nod, squeezing your hand under the table, and you knew everything was finally okay.

You had your wife. You had your family.

the keys turning overlaps the typing on your laptop.

“hey,” you utter, a barely-there smile from the older woman greeting you. she’s as gorgeous as she left the house, a boatnecked light ivory silk dress with a simple ivory slingback, hair pulled back in a messy bun, loose strands curtaining her face . the only difference is the frown it leaves you, taking in her stance; slightly uncoordinated balance, drooping shoulders, unpleasant in her updo. “hey, oh hey, you okay?” you shut your laptop and shove it in your tote. “you look…”

the thin curve of her lips turn into a big pout, brown doe eyes blinking at you expectantly.

“...exhausted,” you say, and as if on cue, baran lets out a loud sigh, collapsing against the doorframe. she puts her purse against her face and groans loudly.

“...and clearly frustrated.”

she mumbles something in farsi and kicks off her heels, “these stupid heels!”, watching the disorder and immediately placing them in the shoe rack by the door.

“they’re gorgeous, baran,” you insist, observing her next outburst. the older woman tends to let out her frustrations one at a time, mulling over her emotions and how best to express them. you believe her reluctance is in consideration of your well-being, preventing you from being a vessel of release from her troubles whether it be by work or life or something else. 

the doctor gives you a quick look of irritation before charging onto the wine cabinet, barefoot with heavy footfalls. the hem glides along the flooring like a current.

she whips out a cabernet sauvignon and two wine glasses, setting them on top of the furniture, arranging them in a line. she quickly works through the bottle with a corkscrew, expertly twisting and turning. you’re completely immersed in the movement, her muscles flexing as she bites her lip in concentration, leaving a space of frustration in between furrowed brows. 

you jump when it pops, the sound soothing the older woman to smile.  

baran, ebbing from her flow, tilts her head to you with a slow eye flutter, “how is he? asleep?”

it takes you a second to respond, “yes, completely tucked in in his new sheets,” zeroing in on baran’s tight grip on the bottle, resulting in the flex of her biceps. you clear your throat, “he didn’t finish the pizza so you have six slices waiting for you in the fridge,” a grin blossoming in your face at the memory, snapping you back to sanity. 

baran curves ones side of her lips upwards then pokes the inside of her cheeks. biting her lip yet again as she continues to stare, setting the bottle down in defeat. she groans, as if something is actively trying to take control over her. 

“i don’t have the appetite after tonight,” she admits, “tomorrow for breakfast,” she promises, dejectedly bringing the cure to her problems towards you. 

baran gracefully treads in your proximity, the flow of the fabric levitating her off the earth, gravity controlled like no other. the shade enhances the glow in her clear, olive skin, embracing her figure in the right places. the gears in your head turn a shade greener, noting how it clings to her like a second skin, putting all socialites to shame. jealousy is one of your strongest suits. 

baran’s dress is backless, the light playing with the seduction of every depression and elevation of her back, her muscles toned but softened by the smooth skin. your tongue glides in the backs of your upper teeth as the dip on the low end gapes at you. 

the hairs in your spine shoot up when her knuckles touch your palm, handing you a glass, resistance getting harder by the minute. her scent engulfs your senses, blurring your judgment, leaving you with less control. you can’t want this and so you want more.

you chuckle, “trouble in paradise?” assimilating in baran’s new emotion, never mind the ones she’s causing you. 

she sighs, “far from paradise,” closing her eyes in disbelief.  “it’s been literal hell since the other attending i substituted came back. you know, the one i told you about,” she conceded, taking a swig to her situation, forehead wrinkled in prolonged annoyance and misery. 

“ah,” you utter, partially distracted. 

scanning the movement of her throat as it bobs to the array of baby hairs on her temple where your desire begins and ends—wishing you could place a finger there, feel the pulse. prove it skips a beat when she looks at you. 

baran stares, doe-eyed and all, in a way that almost answers your question. 

you look away, flummoxed, heat pooling in your cheeks. 

the older woman brings her glass forward and you follow, the clink appeasing the former, grinning at the progress of the night. it’s quite monumental to turn baran’s rotten night to almost rotten, but it overpowers the silent prayer you’ve sent out to sustain your bessotted state, distrusting your autonomy with a woman as beautiful as baran. 

you feel your teeth grind as baran envelops her lips around the rim, stain leaving a mark, mixing in the maroon liquid. you’re not the classy type, at least, you’ve never tried to be, so this demonstration is a rare learning opportunity. that’s why you don’t blink, not wanting to miss a second of how much liquid the doctor takes in her mouth, when she swallows, and when she should want more. you’re too focused on baran to notice her eyes lingering on your thighs, watching intently as you squeeze them at her every move. 

she hums, “you like it?” lowering her voice, waiting for your tics to open up to her. 

this is a treacherous indulgence, but the pull is stronger than your agency, finding yourself batting your eyes at her, slowly nodding your head. she takes another sip to hide her smirk. the older woman grimaces, fingers massaging her left calf. as expected, you act on cue, obediently falling into the routine you and the doctor have fostered the past few months. 

baran gingerly places a hand on your thigh, gripping it loosely. you stare at her hand and not her eyes. 

“not today,” she says, coddling your name like a lullaby. you hesitate, unsure what else you’d be useful for. as if baran can read your mind, she licks her lips, blinking her eyes, “it’s okay, you don’t have to. you can just…just stay up here with me…”

she relaxes when you do, keeping an eye for a sudden shift in action. you tend to end up committing to your own whim, and she preferred to be in on it. despite the uncertainty, baran focuses on reassuring you, rubbing your upper back and giving you a soft smile. 

settling into the couch, she sighs, “you don’t know how grateful i am for you to be here…” crossing her legs, the sound of silk giving you butterflies in the stomach. she nudges at your wine glass. you take a sip, afraid, interested, reluctant. nights with the al-hashimis typically end in massages or past midnight conversations about diego and work. you’ve refused a sleepover multiple times even with the insistence on your safety, baran’s concern and doting eyes almost deciding against your boundaries. you hate the idea of giving her more things to worry about; accommodation, extra pay, and a shoulder to cry on.  

“likewise. it’s the highlight of my day,” you half-tease, a brow lift tilting your axis like never before. smug, she asks, “not my son?”

“oh he’s brilliant, of course, but he wouldn’t be a happy child without his amazing mother and…”

this should be like one of those days, but baran is staring at you differently, as if she’s stripping you away from the title, as if she’s scanning what else lies beneath there. 

baran finishes her portion and takes the entire bottle, drinking from the source, her eyes never leaving yours. 

she swipes a speck of red at the side of her mouth then sucks on her thumb. 

you gulp a load of saliva down your throat. 

“be careful now, we wouldn’t want your other clients hearing the best babysitter in town has a preference,”

baran’s lipstick has stained the glass that’s now on the table, transferring the color there, leaving her lips a little less flashy, a little more domestic. subdued. delectable. irresistible. 

she licks her lips and a few of her saliva stays at the flesh, catching the light, illuminating the plumpness. 

“they’ve got to deal with it,” you start, swirling the red in the glass, catching the one second bite of her lower lip, “you’re my favorite.”

it comes out the way you didn’t intend to, shifting the atmosphere completely, the momentum causing you to squirm in the feeling of intimacy, the lines tangling without end. 

baran chuckles, the sound sending a shot of electricity down the middle of your thighs. 

she shakes her head, slurring, “khoda rahmat koneh,” racking her brown doe eyes all over your face, amusement and esteem glowing off of her. 

“what did you just say?”

“chi? ah, i can’t believe you’re in my life right now,” baran acknowledges, dribbling over at her words, giggling as she takes another sip. her eyes dilate.

“is that so?”

“no, not really,” she admits, teasing with her gorgeous smile, doctor doe eyes bright and big as ever. 

you shake your head. 

“you know, if i had you there by my side, i sure wouldn’t be as grumpy as i was the moment the other attending–robinavitch—greeted me at the door–”

“the one you told me about?” 

the doctor groans and puts a hand on her forehead. “yes,” she exasperated. 

“that bad?” you gasp, seeing her pout for a second. “i’m sorry you didn’t invite me,” you chaff, receiving another doe-eyed look you can’t pronounce. baran’s eyes are completely dilated, examining your every move, like you were a set of organs for her to operate on. 

“i would know what to do next time,” she settles. 

baran shifts her attention to your barely-drank red wine. she purses her lips, waiting for your next move. when you don’t—helplessly staring at her—she places the bottle at the coffee table, occupying her hand with yours. she decides then, to help you out, generously drinks half of the liquid, flickering her eyes between your hands and your thighs, lightly quivering. 

you poor thing. 

the older woman shifts closer to you, swirls the red in its carrier, and places her thumb on your chin. she rotates the glass, presses your lips against the stain of her lipstick, red liquid dripping into it. 

fuck. 

you can barely breathe.

“wouldn’t want it going to waste,” she croons. 

fuck. 

“y-yeah, right, of course, i-i’m–”

“you don’t have to apologize,” she counseled, shaking her head.

you feel faint.

you’d be the first to stutter while humming, your body in an extreme fight-or-flight mode response that brainlessly grabs your tote, a chant of a final goodbye about to roll out of your tongue. you could barely register the fact you’ve buried yourself six feet deep the moment you started dreaming about the older woman, forgetting to realize that the only way to make it out alive is whether or not baran wants to provide a helping hand.

baran catches your wrist the moment you stood up, looking up at you like she knew all along an escape route brewed the moment she walked through the door. she tilts her head, “come here,” uncrossing her lap, coaxing you to sit.

you obey instantly, farewell out the door, leaving without you, shaking in its boots.

baran tugs your wrists and you find yourself spreading your legs, bearing your entire weight into her lap. your feel your clitoris pulse at the contact. 

you’re staring at the contrast, silk and cotton-polyester in contact, wondering if it’ll ever get to grinding. if it’ll remain a divide between you and your desires.

baran’s amused to say the least, knowing you’d hide in your shell, timidly casting your head down, waiting until you’re brave enough to face her. she knows you won’t, putting a hand on your shoulder and running it through your arm. you shiver, meeting her brown orbs when she tilts your chin upwards.

“you want this?” she asks, eyes glazed over, holding onto her final restraint, squeezing your hand in the process.

you nod your head. 

she sighs in relief, nudging her nose with your own, breath ghosting over your lips. you could almost feel her, you’re so close. you feel her grin, bowing her head to catch your lips, pressing a kiss on your bottom cusp.

she’s soft, warm, heady with a mix of red wine. 

baran pulls away to see how you are, glee spreading throughout her body as she watches you with eyes closed, going back in for a peck, and then another. and then some more, gliding her tongue inside your mouth with a moan.

you grind into her lap when the noise breaks out, a smile and a sigh between kisses. snaking her hands around your waist as you place yours on her cheeks, clipping the loose strands of hair behind her ear.

baran’s cheeks have blossomed out in a feverish blush, panting as she pulls away, scanning your disheveled state. she gives you a peck before she grabs the wine bottle in her hand, rubbing your thigh. she takes a sip and dives back into your kiss, pulling you closer into her, passing the wine into your mouth, draining it with vigor.

you whine, feeling the liquid in your mouth, tartly sweet and something else that’s just baran.

and then you’re both just hungry. 

you pounce onto her, grabbing the nape of her neck and completely pressing yourself against her, kissing her ferociously, lapping at her mouth with no abandon. baran tightens the grip on your hips and guides them, humping her thigh at a steady pace. she latches onto your tongue and begins to suck it, her vice-grip and the squelch getting you wetter and needier. 

you whine when she pulls away, sending sloppy kisses down your neck, nipping at the flesh, grazing her tongue ‘til she reaches the side just below your jaw. she hums before she sucks at your pulse point, causing your eyes to roll back, your body tingling at the pleasure. 

a long moan draws out of you. 

“that’s it,” baran sighs, your lower lip in between her teeth. 

your sweatpants come off, lifting your hips to be manhandled, knees wobbly, trembling at the idea of being completely undressed by the older woman. she looks absolutely stunning in the disheveled dress you desperately want to take off.

you find her mouth again, hot and heavy, completely mixed with hers and your saliva. you think there’s nothing hotter than that until baran’s rubbing you through soaked panties, moaning as she pushes them to the side. 

“i-i-i can’t w-“

she slips a finger in. 

her slender middle finger, finding the warmth inside your pussy, impatiently needy for your reaction.

“ah!” you yelp, gripping on her shoulders. she brings you closer with a hand on your hip. 

“that’s it,” she says between gritted teeth. 

it’s slow, experimental, precisely stretching you open with one, gauging your tolerance. 

“is this okay?” she asks, putting her forehead against yours, her breath deepening as they mingle with yours. you nod your head with a huff.

baran pushes another finger in. you whine, rolling your hips into her digits, her fingers filling you. 

“let it out. good girl, good girl,” she whispers with a slight growl, clenching her thighs at the image of her fingers disappearing completely in your pussy, rolling out coated with a white string of your cum.

baran chuckles with a moan, licks a stripe of your neck, then murmurs, “you feel so good…”

“…you feel so good,” you pant in return.

she grabs your jaw, causing your eyes to flutter open, dense and glazed over. her breath shatters at the state she’s put you in, drunk and needy with arousal. she swallows your moans with her mouth, shoving her tongue inside, whimpering as you flick around the muscle.

“i’ve waited so long for this. you’re exactly as i imagined you would be,” she confesses in your mouth, can’t get enough. 

“w-what is that?” you cry in between moans, close to the edge. the older woman tightens her grip in your hips, no longer guiding them, allowing them to move at their own accord, feral and wanton to climax. 

“a good, obedient girl.”

your back arches at the title.

“a loud, responsive little thing…”

cries when she flicks a thumb against your clit. 

“…all because of me.”

baran beholds the sight of you: mouth open with a string of moans, eyes clamped shut as the aftershock leaves your body with your cum. she kisses your cheek and whispers praises you could barely make out due to the intensity of the orgasm, her entire palm open onto your back, supporting you.

you slump against her body, responding with an embrace that makes you warm.

you take baran’s face in both hands and kiss her with gratitude, passion, and a request for more.

you tug at her dress, giving her a look of need.

the older woman’s lips curl into a smirk.

“you think i’m done with you?”

baran leads you to the bedroom.

it’s surreal to be finger-fucked by the doctor, but here you are, being dragged with an impatient hand to her sanctuary for more. the place you refused to bring arash to despite protest, aware you’re not worthy enough to step foot inside. it changes tonight. 

baran couldn’t wait to land you on the bed, all over your body once more, sandwiched against the door. breathing you in like she’s in her natural habitat, wet, open-mouthed kisses, ravishing you completely into submission. 

she inhales in the crook of your neck, sighing, “you smell so good,” placing her thigh in between your legs and pushing your pelvis down against it. she pulls your tee off, grunting as your lace bra takes her away her inhibition and restraint. 

she’s starving, this woman, kissing the valley of your breasts, nipping and licking at the exposed skin. you sigh, scratching her crown, her messy bun undone, the ponytail hanging on for dear life. pulling the pad down your breast, baran licks her way down toward the tissue right next to your bud, cooing as you whimper. “you want more, huh?”

you nod your head. 

“what do you want?” she challenges, swiping a finger against your nipple, chuckling in amusement at your obvious shudder. exposed under her gaze, you whine, gripping on her neck. 

“what do you want?”

“your mouth sucking on my—mhm!”

there she goes, burying her face in your tits, bent down at an angle to give you what you need, sucking your nipple as she fondles with your other breast, rolling the bud in between fingers, staring up at you with a content smile. 

her eyes twinkle at the beautiful sight. 

baran detaches her mouth away from your nipple, a string of saliva connecting them. 

“i need more of you. get on the bed,” she orders, raking her eyes at you from head to toe. “walk backwards. slowly. don’t look away from me,” giving you an appreciative nod as you follow her exact order. 

her gaze latches onto you like a leech, calculating every movement, “stop-!”

your ass lands on the mattress, the backs of your knees sending you there. “i’m sorry–“ you start, about to stand up until baran holds a hand. she shakes her head. 

“it’s okay, stay put,” she says, drawing closer to you. 

“take off your dress, baran. i want to see you too,” you plead. 

the older woman sniggers, giving you a look as if she can’t believe you’re exchanging orders, bossing her around without consequence. you tense as she floats closer, still fully clothed, holding all the power. your head buzzes at the sight, at her command, and the aftershocks from the orgasm of her doing. 

“i sag larzan,” she coos, lips pouting in adoration. 

she’s in front of you now, tall and gorgeous, scanning your frame like a predator. dragging her tongue across her bottom lip, smirking at you, ready to pounce. she hums, neatly tucking loose hair behind your ears, tilting your chin up. 

baran unclasps the hook of her dress, the fabric opening down at her torso. she drags it slowly, keeping her eyes on you and your reaction, letting out a silent hum when your mouth opens in admiration. she kicks the discarded dress to the side, leaving only her undergarment, top completely bare. you begin to drool. 

baran’s confidence is inspiring, straightening her posture, slightly pushing out her chest towards you. 

“my eyes are up here,” she husks, her deeper tone snapping your attention back to her face, the one that makes you soak her pristine sheets. 

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, automatically peaking at her hard-rock nipples, stiff and awaiting your mouth. 

“shma npastid? are you?” 

the older woman raises a brow, taking your chin in between index and middle, pressing on the crease, causing your mouth to open. you could only nod your head. 

baran lowers her neck, mouth only a few centimeters separating you. her doe eyes, oh-so-black in dilation, glinting as she weighs her choices, checking in with you silently. you tremble under the intensity of her gaze. piercing through your soul and your bundle of nerves. she makes up her mind in the end, 

pulling spit from her mouth to yours, the action causing you to grind against the mattress, your moan covered by her mouth. pushing her spit deeper, mixing your own saliva with hers. she slowly lays you down the bed, pressing herself on top of you, her biceps propping her up. 

the older woman bats her doe eyes at you, staring at you with such care, “are you still with me on this?” making sure you’re both still on the same page. you nod, speechless. her face softens with concern, almost maternal. “i’m okay. are you okay?”

she furrows her brows, caressing your cheek with a thumb, pressing a kiss on your temple.

she hums in acknowledgment. 

“yes, yes,” she mumbles in your mouth, kissing you softly, languidly caressing your tongue with her own, getting lost in the warmth of your mouth. 

she kisses down your body, gently, as if she’s finally realizing the weight and fragility of it. it makes you weak in the knees because not only is it baran with you, the woman that somehow invaded your dreams every night, but it has been so long since you've kissed someone passionately, with a promise.  

baran pays attention to your other breast this time, flicking your nipple with a loose tongue, tweaking the other, humming when you hit a moan, making a mental note of your tics. 

she nips and sucks a trail at the plane of your torso, caressing your sides with a featherlight touch, sucking the rim of your navel. she grins as you shift at the action, sticking and flicking a tongue in your navel. she’s the first to give this to you it seemed. she grazes her teeth down to the band of your soaked panties. 

the older woman lifts her head up, humming in content. “you’re beautiful,” she sighs and you melt. 

baran grazes her nose along the fabric of your underwear, mouthing at your labia. she huffs, rolling her eyes back as she inhales your scent, tongue swiping at your clothed pussy in the process. you whine, hips bucking, pulling away as to not aggravate you as much, although knowing you’d react this way. 

she presses a kiss at the wet spot. 

“spread your legs,” she exhales, excitedly abiding her wish. 

“good girl,” she moans, licking and sucking at your inner thighs, just relishing in the heat you’re radiating. she tugs your waistband and you lift your hips, the last piece of garment fulfilling your nudity.  

“pashman,” baran exasperates and moans your name, gritting her teeth, holding back from outright devouring you. 

she wants this to last. she wants this imprinted on her mind for months to no end, erasing the ones before you, reshaping her into a better woman. she wants this to be as sacred as yours. she wants this for the both of you. 

baran presses a kiss on your folds, separating them with a swipe of her tongue, the tip landing against your clitoris. you arch your back, gripping the sheets. she flicks it a few times, brown eyes looking up at you, intertwining her fingers with yours. your legs tremble at the stimulation, unable to wrap your head around the fact that she’s in between your legs, fully focused on your pleasure. your blinding, hot, pleasure. 

she nuzzles her mouth against your clit, dragging her tongue across your hole, probing it, letting out a strangled moan as you grip her head with your thighs, sighing in pleasure. you’re so wet, cum dripping down your thighs, mixing the previous orgasm and the cum she’s slurping out of you. 

“you taste so good,” baran mumbles, mouth full of your pussy. you sob, closing in on your climax already, meeting her lips and tongue with the drive of your hips. she moans and it vibrates through your bundle of nerves, setting you off deeper. “baran…” you whimper, grabbing a few locks of hair. 

she grunts and rolls her head back, lapping up at your wet folds, grabbing your thighs and spreading them even more. she pulls away for a second to get a better view of your reactions, slamming two fingers inside your stretched hole. 

“yes?”

you cuss, holding onto her wrist and then back at the sheets, panting out her name. 

“baran, baran, baran..!”

it gets you closer, hips coming off the mattress, just rolling and rocking, the squelch of your juices resounding throughout her bedroom. “you’re close, aren’t you? you need me right now, don’t you?”

you nod your head, an inaudible plea coming out of your mouth, full of saliva and the older woman’s name. baran lets out a strangled moan and dives back into you, “come for me, please, please come in my mouth,” losing herself in your pussy, grinding her core against the mattress. it feels so good, grabbing onto her for dear life, scraping her scalp and hearing her name fall from your lips as you fall apart for her yet again. 

panting through your orgasm, the older woman flattens her tongue and cleans you up, sucking in the remaining juices she has yet to devour. she’s a neat freak, so it only makes sense she keeps your pussy clean as well. 

baran kisses your inner thighs, breathing you in, making her way up your chest and neck, peppering wet kisses and leaving words of praise. “you did so good for me,” she coos, pecking your lips before covering them with a swipe of her tongue, capturing your whimper in her mouth. 

her eyes are twinkling at you. she grins, mouth swollen and wet.

“you made me so wet, did you know that?”

you shake your head, blissed out. “i did?”

“no? you were too drunk with pleasure, weren’t you?”

after nodding your head, she giggles, shifting away, taking off her lace panties. 

“can i use your mouth?” she asks, so cute and so breathless. 

“yes, of course, please-“ you respond, getting up, but baran just pushes you back down. 

“i want to ride your face ‘til i come, koodak,” she purrs, batting her eyes at you. 

“fuck,”

she chuckles. 

“will you give it to me?”

so demanding, so bossy. 

“anything you want,” is your only response. 

she moans and kisses you, before rearranging your position, making sure you’re comfortable in the pillow, gracefully placing herself on top of you, hands grabbing the headboard, tilting her neck downwards to situate herself on your face. 

“okay down there?”

you hum in acknowledgment, grabbing the backs of her thighs, pulling her down. she hisses as her slit gets in contact with your lips, beginning it with a peck. 

the sight of her pussy makes you drool, drenched and ready for the taking. the older woman didn’t lie. she needs this as much as you do. you part her folds with your lips, burying your tongue inside, finding her clit and giving it a good suck. 

“oh fuck,” baran moans, long and drawn out, thighs quivering. you hear the creak of the headboard and know it’s about to be obnoxiously loud. your head roils in complete bliss, mouth drenched in baran’s cum, the consistency thick and intoxicating. “like that?”

baran hums, the dirty talk causing her hips to jerk, sudden and then steady, finding herself a rhythm. she pulls back, sets both palms against the mattress, bearing her weight completely at an angle. she grins when you come up for air, overcome with the urge to give her what she needs. 

it’s electric, giving her what she needs, the older woman’s face constricted in pleasure, sweat building on her forehead, brown hair frizzled out by her need to please as well. baran has a few moles littered across her body, her chest clear of them, bouncing and jiggling at her thrusts against your mouth. 

you slither a hand through her torso, grabbing a tit. she pushed her core harder against your mouth, convulsing at the action, arching her head back as you pinch her nipple and suck on her clit at the same time, examining her every move. she grabs your hand and places it back on her thighs, replacing it with her own, moaning your name as she stares deep into your eyes. 

you moan, the vibration causing her hips to stutter, toppling over back against the headboard, unable to prop herself in the position she was in, about to spill. baran mumbles a few words in farsi, inaudible, only for her own pleasure, placing one hand against your crown, sweat dripping down her forehead. 

you groan, nudging your nose against her clit before pulling it in your mouth, giving it a hard suck, the movement setting her over the edge. 

you keep lapping at her pussy, head constricted in between baran’s trembling thighs, a keen cry releasing from the coiling tension in her abdomen. caressing her skin into the aftermath of her orgasm, your mouth latching onto her until she lets go. 

it takes baran a minute to ride it out, her breathing beginning to even out, halting her movements completely, unlatching herself from your mouth. you swipe the cum off your face with your tongue, a loud hitch of inhale coming from the older woman, whose eyes were on you the entire time. you grin, sheepish, “can’t help it,” honest with a hoarse voice. 

“i’m sure,” she responds sarcastically, situating herself in between your thighs, nuzzling her face in your neck. “are you tired, are you okay?”

you tilt your head to the side so you can see her face. you give her an incredulous look, teasing. 

“my, my. do you want to go again? and here i thought i couldn’t have enough,” 

she grins, eyes wide and adoring. she pinches your cheek. “that’s why i’m offering, because i know you want more!”

“look at you! who doesn’t!” you kiss her cheek. baran tilts her head away and flutters her eyes, cheekbones pointed out of skittishness. she buries her face in your neck again, finding solitude there. 

“okay, but we need a water break,” she settles, mumbling in your neck. 

“i’m sorry, what was that? i couldn’t hear you,” you rib, placing a hand on the back of her head. your laughter fades into a moan as baran licks your earlobe. “you were saying?”

“you’re insufferable,” you settle, watching her face appear in front of you. she’s glowing, mouth swollen by your deeds, baby hairs moist in perspiration. she looks so comfortable, so at home in your arms.