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Agatha wandered aimlessly around the house for the better half of the early morning, too restless to return to bed. She found herself glancing towards the door constantly, hoping for it to creak open and reveal an apologetic Rio. She could see it now: her potential beau, dressed like a trim farmhand in corduroy trousers, suspenders and an unbuttoned white shirt, holding a bouquet of fern and sporting a woeful expression. Maybe Agatha had been reading too many cheesy romance novels - Rio’s usual flannel would work, too, though Agatha thought the fern was a nice touch.
The sight of Nicky, clad in Toy Story pyjamas and messy bed-hair, snapped her out of her thoughts. “Morning, hon. How’d you sleep?”
“Okay,” he replied sleepily. “Will Rio take me to see the animals if I shower quickly?”
Agatha’s brow creased a little. “She already headed out, Nicky. I think she’s still a little sleepy from last night - we’ll give her some time to clear her head, yeah?”
Nicholas looked a little disappointed. “‘Kay.”
“I could take you, though,” she offered.
He brightened a little. “Okay!”
After a quick shower and some breakfast, Agatha led Nicky outside, holding his hand as they weaved through the various pens and fields housing the animals. They visited the goats, ponies, cows and chickens, then stopped by the pond a little further downhill to observe the ducks. Agatha plopped down nearby whilst Nicky waddled around, babbling to the ducks as if they could understand him. She snapped a handful of pictures; to her surprise, a dark-haired figure crept into frame, blurred in the background.
“Rio,” Agatha called with a gentle grin. “Made your rounds, yet?”
The other woman seemed to freeze up completely, her eyes widening. “Hey, Agatha. Morning, Nicky,” she managed, before scuttling away like a startled kitten in the opposite direction.
Nicky tilted his head. “Mommy, what’s…?”
Agatha gnawed her lip, deep in thought. “I… I’m not sure, honey.”
***
Agatha spent the morning sprawled out on an empty field with Nicky, soaking up the sun and reading a worn paperback while her son entertained himself with the toys he’d packed. Rio remained outside, too, wandering the sprawling grounds of the ranch. Her paths crossed with Agatha and Nicky a handful of times - each time, she redirected herself without a word.
By noon, Agatha had had enough of this tiresome routine. She headed inside to prepare lunch - with Nicky’s help, she made a small array of jam sandwiches and a bowl of salad. She headed outside, settled Nicholas with a blanket, a drink and a generous serving of lunch. She set the tupperware containing her own food down on the cloth, told Nicky where she was going and headed to the vegetable patch behind the farmhouse, where she found Rio pulling up weeds.
“Willing to take a lunch break?” she asked, trying desperately to sound casual. Rio looked up warily, and Agatha held out the tupperware. “I come bearing sandwiches.”
Rio nodded politely, brushing off her soil-caked hands (something Agatha found far too hot to admit). She headed to the nearest outdoor sink and quickly washed them, then took the tupperware. “Thanks,” she said with a smile, and turned away once again.
Agatha audibly groaned, abandoning all attempts at patience. “Rio, come on, don’t be like this. What’s got you all stand-offish all of a sudden? Did I mess up? I don’t wanna upset you, you know that, but if I have, I need to know. Just tell me what I’ve done wrong.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Rio admitted quietly.
“Then where is this coming from, hm? You’ve had a total personality transplant. You’re… you’re acting like you used to. Back at work.”
“ What? ” Rio asked, looking up finally, the genuine confusion apparent in her voice.
“I don’t know. I always thought you seemed kind of rude,” Agatha remarked lamely.
Rio’s eyes widened, shining with upset rather than offense. “I acted rude?”
Agatha sighed, realising her comment warranted a genuine explanation. “I mean… no, not rude, exactly. More like distant. Aloof. You never spoke to me, at work,” Agatha said. “You always kept to yourself, even though your friends at work seemed to love you. It’s not a bad thing - I didn’t mean to frame it that way. It’s just something I picked up on.”
“Well, I’m autistic,” Rio blurted out after a long, thoughtful pause.
Agatha stared at her, silent for a while, deep in consideration. “What?”
“I’m autistic. Diagnosed when I was a teenager.”
“But you’re so…” her voice trailed off, perplexed.
“Oh, come on, Agatha. Don’t be that guy,” Rio said - a return to sarcasm, at last, accompanied with a classic Rio grin.
“But you’re socially aware! You’ve spent this whole trip bantering with me, bouncing back sarcastic comments like ping-pong balls, like it’s no problem at all,” Agatha replied.
Rio sighed, then pursed her lips for a little while, trying to find the words to elaborate. “You know autism doesn’t equate to a complete lack of social awareness, right? And just because it seems to come naturally to me doesn’t mean it isn’t difficult. Adhering to social cues I’ve never been taught, mentally screaming at myself a thousand times in order to not slip up - it takes a toll. Sometimes I spend entire days just decompressing; that can look like a day watching ghost hunting videos in bed or just sitting around on my lunch break, doing my own thing in silence while the others talk. It’s not a conscious decision I make to spite anybody.”
Agatha nodded slowly. “Okay. That actually makes a lot of sense. I’m sorry I assumed, honey, that wasn’t cool. And I’m sorry for freaking out on you for something you don’t mean to do, especially since it helps you.”
“It’s… it’s okay. Thank you for letting me explain,” Rio asked, nibbling at the sandwich Agatha had prepared.
“Of course,” she said with a gentle smile. “It’s cool that you know yourself so well, that you recognise what helps you regulate or de-stress. I just can’t believe you buy into that ghost hunting crap,” she added in a lightly teasing tone, hoping the banter wouldn't be a setback.
“There’s, like, actual scientific proof!” Rio protested with a laugh. “I’d kill to go ghost hunting. Think I could take Nicky?”
“If you feel like traumatising my son, sure,” Agatha joked, then took a breath. “Look, honey, can I ask what got to you last night? What made you feel like decompressing? ‘Cause if it’s to do with the kiss, we can forget that ever happened.”
Rio sighed, turning a little pink. “It is… related to the kiss. I’m worried that I sprung it on you. I mean, you went along with it but that doesn’t mean anything, you were as tipsy as I was, and I don’t even know if you like girls… I just- I feel like I was getting along so well with you and Nicky, and now I’ve made a total mess of things and probably grossed you out, and...”
Agatha softened at Rio’s rambling state: the crease in her brows, the animated movement of her hands, the adorable little gasps between each word. “It’s okay. Breathe, sweetie.”
“Right. Sorry.” Rio quietened down, attempting to take deep breaths to ground herself a little.
“You didn’t force anything on me. I wanted to kiss you - I’ve wanted that for a little while, honestly. It was a good kiss - your breath was fine, you tasted amazing , you’re good with intimacy, I digress. And for the record, I do like girls.” She made sure to keep her voice gentle, informative rather than judgemental or know-all. “You’re okay, really. And I’d let you kiss me again, for the record.”
“Yeah?” Rio asked, endearingly timid.
“Yeah.”
“I’d kiss you again, too.” And so she took Agatha’s face in her slender hand, her grip gentle but needy, and pressed her lips against the other woman’s. Agatha deepened the kiss, guiding Rio gently, swirling her tongue. She thrummed with a strange desperation to taste the other woman, to memorise every inch of her - from the strawberry-seed buds on her tongue to the pinkish walls of her throat. She pulled away by choice rather than necessity this time, and stayed close to Rio, nipping at her neck with an excitable giggle.
“You know, I could swindle Mrs Davis into babysitting for an evening. You could take me out somewhere nice,” she said. “Or, you know, the closest thing to “nice” around here.”
“Hey,” Rio giggled, gently mussing Agatha’s hair, her fingers tenderly stroking her scalp. “But yeah, okay. I’ll take you out.”
“On one condition, though,” Agatha said. “You’ve gotta teach Nicky to fish. The kid saw your rod in the kitchen, and he’s been begging me to ask all day. So much for ‘alone time’, right?”
Rio smiled. “We’re doing conditions, now? I’m the one taking you out,” she joked. “But yeah, all right. Anything for a date with Ms. Harkness.”