Chapter Text
Agatha woke up warm.
Which was immediately a problem.
Because she wasn’t alone.
Her brain took a full five seconds to catch up.
And when it did—when she realized exactly where she was, exactly who she was pressed against, exactly how deeply she had just ruined her entire life—
She almost blacked out from sheer emotional overload.
Because she had stayed.
She had fully, completely, undeniably stayed.
And now—
Now she was dealing with the consequences.
Because Rio?
Rio was still asleep.
Still curled into her like it was normal.
Still breathing slow and steady, tucked against her shoulder, like this was something they did all the time.
And Agatha—
Agatha wanted to scream.
Because this was not normal.
This was not something that should be happening.
This was Rio Vidal—casual, infuriating, impossible Rio Vidal—wrapped around her like she belonged there.
And Agatha—who had absolutely no excuse at all—was still here.
She had not left.
She had not moved.
She had absolutely, completely, undeniably stayed.
Her thoughts were an immediate, spiraling disaster.
Did Rio realize how close they were?
Was Rio going to freak out when she woke up?
Was Agatha going to freak out when Rio woke up?
(That answer was already obvious.)
She needed to move.
She needed to get up.
She needed to stop thinking about this before her brain fully collapsed under the weight of its own stupidity.
She should—
Rio stirred.
Breathed in.
And slowly, lazily, blinked her eyes open.
For a second, she just stared.
And Agatha — who had been trying so goddamn hard to pretend like this wasn’t happening — had no choice but to acknowledge it.
So, because her brain was an absolute wasteland of functioning thoughts, she did the first thing that came to mind:
“Morning.”
Rio blinked again.
Her gaze dropped slightly—just for a second—before snapping back up.
And Agatha, fully, completely panicking, realized something very, very bad.
That was a look.
And if Rio was looking at her like that—
It meant Agatha had also looked at Rio like that.
Which meant—
They had both realized.
They had both noticed.
And neither of them were saying it.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them spoke.
They just—existed in the same space, completely unwilling to acknowledge what was happening.
And it was ridiculous.
Because Agatha was still in Rio’s bed.
Rio was still tucked against her.
And every second that passed without one of them addressing it was making it worse.
Then, softly, simply, like she was making a casual observation—
Rio said,
“I think I like you.”
Agatha forgot how to breathe.
Her entire brain just—shut off.
Because what the hell was she supposed to do with that?
She had spent weeks, months, an eternity spiraling over this.
And Rio—
Rio just said it.
Like it was already decided.
Like she had solved for x and reached an unshakable conclusion.
Like it was that simple.
Agatha had no idea how to process this.
So, grasping at straws, floundering for any possible response that didn’t involve her immediately combusting, she managed:
“And how did you reach that conclusion?”
Rio tilted her head slightly.
Completely serious.
Completely unapologetic.
And then—
Like it was the most obvious answer in the world—
She said:
"I actually had a whole meltdown about it a few days ago."
…
…
WHAT.
Agatha wasn’t breathing.
Wasn’t processing.
Because—what.
She rewound the past week in her head at rapid speed.
And then it hit her.
The dinner.
Rio shutting down.
Rio completely overloaded.
The moment where Agatha had thought—
No.
No, Rio had not had a meltdown over work.
Rio had not had a meltdown over some vague, unspoken problem.
Rio had a full shutdown because she realized she liked Agatha and could not compute that information.
And she just—just admitted that.
So casually.
So matter-of-fact.
Like she had just announced the weather.
Like this wasn’t the single most devastating piece of information Agatha had ever received.
Her entire body locked up.
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
And before she could even begin to react—
Rio kept going.
Because of course she did.
“I didn’t fully realize it at the time,” she continued, voice completely even. “But in hindsight, it was obvious.”
Agatha was going to die.
Actually.
Physically.
Emotionally.
Die.
Because she had spent so much time spiraling over Rio—
And meanwhile, Rio had literally crashed and burned over her.
She should say something.
She should respond.
She should not just be sitting here, looking like someone had just drop-kicked her entire understanding of the universe.
But she had nothing.
No words.
No functioning thoughts.
Just—
Oh.
Oh no.
It was silent.
Too silent.
Tension so thick it could have been a physical object.
And then, after a painfully long moment—
Rio’s gaze dropped.
Just slightly.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Agatha’s pulse slammed against her ribs.
Because she knew what that meant.
Rio was thinking about it.
Thinking about kissing her.
And Agatha?
Agatha was thinking about it too.
It should not have taken this long.
They had been circling this moment for weeks. Months. Maybe even longer.
Every unspoken thing, every lingering glance, every near-miss of a touch—it had all been leading here.
And now, finally, finally—
They had run out of ways to stall.
Agatha moved first.
Not by much.
Not enough to fully commit.
Just enough to tip the balance.
And Rio—
Rio met her halfway.
The first brush of contact was soft. Careful. Hesitant.
Like neither of them were entirely sure this was real.
Like they were both still waiting for the other to pull away.
And for half a second, it felt like they might.
Like they could still find a way to walk this back, pretend like nothing had happened, keep pretending like they hadn’t both just completely wrecked their entire dynamic beyond repair.
But then—
Rio exhaled.
Just barely, just enough for Agatha to feel it against her mouth.
And Agatha—who had already been hanging on by a thread—completely lost the ability to think.
Because Rio was so warm.
And so close.
And she was leaning into it now, just slightly, just enough to let Agatha know that this wasn’t a mistake.
And then there was no backing out.
The hesitation snapped.
The distance disappeared.
And suddenly—this was happening.
Rio kissed like she did everything else—like she had thought about it first.
Like she had calculated it, processed it, executed it with precision.
And Agatha—who was trying very, very hard to keep it together—realized she was about to lose completely.
Because this was not careful anymore.
Not hesitant.
Not neutral.
This was Rio fully, completely deciding.
This was Rio deciding on her.
And Agatha didn’t know what to do with that.
So she just—
Let it happen.
Let herself fall into it, let her hands finally move, let her fingers find the edge of Rio’s sleeve, gripping just enough to steady herself.
And it was too much.
And not enough.
And somewhere in the middle of it—
Rio made a noise.
Quiet. Soft. Barely there.
And Agatha was absolutely never going to recover from that.
Because that?
That was a sound of relief.
Like this was something Rio had been holding back for so, so long.
Like this was something she hadn’t known she needed until right now.
And that was it.
That was the exact moment Agatha shattered.
Because she had spent so long trying to talk herself out of this.
Trying to convince herself that Rio didn’t care.
That Rio wasn’t thinking about this the way she was.
And now—
Now Rio was kissing her like she had wanted this just as badly, just as much, just as long.
And there was no taking it back.
It ended too fast.
But also not fast enough.
Rio was the first to pull back.
Only by an inch.
Just enough to look at her.
And Agatha—who had not thought this far ahead—was now in uncharted waters.
Because this had happened.
This was real.
And she had no idea what to say.
Or do.
Or think.
She had nothing.
Just the lingering heat of Rio’s mouth against hers.
Just the way Rio was still close enough to kiss her again.
And just the very, very inconvenient realization that she wanted that to happen.
Again.
And again.
And maybe one more time, just to be sure.
Her pulse was too loud in her ears.
She was definitely still touching Rio.
And Rio—
Rio was still looking at her.
Still watching her.
Still reading every little reaction like she was trying to analyze a new dataset.
Agatha’s entire body locked up.
Because—oh no.
Rio was going to say something.
And Agatha was not emotionally stable enough to handle that right now.
So she did the only thing she could think to do.
She panicked.
“Well,” she blurted, way too fast, way too loud. “That was—”
She stopped.
Because she had no idea what that was.
Rio tilted her head slightly.
Waiting.
Processing.
Then, simply:
“It was good.”
Agatha’s brain exploded.
Her body forgot how to exist.
And before she could say something even more humiliating, Rio added:
“Can we do that again?”
And Agatha, officially, was never going to emotionally recover from this.