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It's late. Far later than she'd ever expected Shauna's wedding reception to drag on. She's not even sure what she's still doing here.
Scratch that.
She knows exactly what she's still doing here.
Free booze has been the one saving grace about being in a room full of people with far too much baggage between them after far too few years.
She had considered skipping the event entirely, but once again, there was that ever so pesky detail in obnoxious neat script font at the bottom of the invitation.
Free booze.
Come to celebrate your teammate marry her dead best friend's boyfriend in a ceremony that's still somehow more about that dead friend than either the bride or groom. Stay to drown your sorrows.
…Or vice versa.
It appeared she wasn't the only one having similar thoughts. The guests--yellowjackets in particular-- trickle over with a startling regularity that even the bar tenders raise an eyebrow at when they think no one sees.
Suddenly there's someone plopping themselves down on her right. She looks over through bleary eyes and smudged eye liner to see a familiar face looking over at her with wide eyes just as unsettling as they've ever been.
"Hi Nat." It's not the usual over the top cheer she directs at most people. This sounds half way to something genuine. It immediately conjures an image of why Nat's hardly spoken to her since a fateful snowy night in the woods.
The secret they're keeping falls right in between them like an uninvited guest at the wedding.
"Misty." Nat grunts curtly. She's hoping that Misty will read a room for once in her life and leave her the fuck alone.
She doesn't. Why can't she ever just…
"Fancy bumping into you here." Misty says like a bad pick up line.
Nat snorts into her whiskey and takes a big gulp.
“Misty, I've been sitting here all night. Or has your eyesight gotten worse?” She kind of feels bad for that dig. Almost. But a twisted little glimmer of satisfaction churns in her gut at the way Misty self consciously adjusts her glasses.
And anyway, it's hardly a miracle. Them meeting here. No, Nat thinks to herself. Misty's timing is as calculated as ever. She sees Nat's lowered inhibitions. Smells blood in the water.
"I'm still pissed at you, by the way.”
Misty actually has the decency to at least appear ashamed for one fleeting moment when she says that. She knows what she did. It's by Natalie's grace that everyone else doesn't.
It would be so easy to tell her to fuck off. Get lost. But apparently she's too many shots deep into the evening to conjure the usual spiteful venom that comes with thinking of Misty and that goddamn transponder. The secret that trapped them in those fucking woods resurrected to offer salvation.
A literal light in the fucking darkness.
Natalie smiles bitterly at the hazy memory pulled from somewhere deep in her mind. A spring day and a search party. The two of them side by side traipsing through the woods. Misty proclaiming herself the light in Natalie's darkness.
And God her life really is one big cosmic joke.
The worst part is that Nat fucking understands why Misty did what she did. The loneliness. The relentless need to belong; to feel important. She gets it perhaps more than she'd like to admit to herself.
It makes it so much more infuriating that she can never quite seem to push her away.
"And yet you're still sitting here." Misty pushes with a pointed glance.
And God damn if she isn't right. So Nat just shakes her head and chugs the rest of her drink and motions for another as resignation creeps in.
"Get me two this time." Nat says to a bar tender as he takes her empty glass. He eyes her with a brief glimmer of concern but nods.
"Are you buying me a drink? I thought you were mad.”
"Hardly." Nat snorts "This is all going on Shauna's tab.”
The bar tender returns moments later with two glasses of wild turkey and when he sets one down in front of Misty, Nat pointedly intercepts it and downs it in one shot.
"Are you trying to give yourself alcohol poisoning?" Misty yelps, facade broken. The chink in her proverbial armor showing clear as day.
It's exactly what Nat was looking for. Something…anything but this constant pretense of disingenuous cheer Misty has perfected throughout the years.
She lets herself smirk triumphantly. She's had more drinks than she can count and her judgement is even more questionable than it normally is. Maybe she's had too many, finally. Because there's something about those wide startled eyes, the flush on her cheeks, even the poodle-like curls of long hair that seem...endearing?
No, no. That can't be right. Her eyes fall to perfectly painted lips still parted in surprise and–
Oh fuck…
In a more sober mindset, she might feel panic about being attracted to someone she tells herself that she loathes. But it's been a long reception and sober is a couple hundred miles in Nat's rearview.
Suddenly she's itching for a fix. Of something –anything – to distract her from the idea of whatever the fuck her brain is doing. Her hands twitch restlessly for the pack of smokes in her jacket pocket.
"you know what?" Nat slurs. "I changed my mind. You can have that drink." She stands from her seat and revels in the disappointment that shines like neon on Misty's face.
"'m going for a smoke.”
And honestly? Fuck Shauna for getting married in winter. The cold seeps into her bones with every drag she takes. Her body's need for nicotine and for warmth wage a war of attrition in the chill of the early morning snow.
Though she supposes it's not all Shauna's doing. Jackie's parents had apparently had quite a bit of input about the event.
Whatever the fuck she and Jeff have going on with the Taylors seems super fucked up if you ask Nat. She's got her own shit though. She's happy not to ask questions.
Regardless, freezing her tits off in the snow is hardly her idea of a good night.
It's the reason she doesn't complain when Misty finds her outside. Shared warmth is a welcome respite. Just like it always has been.
After Jackie, there'd been an unspoken rule that survival would always come first. Before any personal disputes. No one slept cold again after that night. They made sure of it.
Misty watches the snowfall for a bit as Nat smokes, pensively considering it.
"I don't like the cold." She states, matter of fact.
"No one's making you stand out here." Fuck off. Don't fuck off. Leave, but don't go.
It's the relationship they established the moment Nat decided not to tell anyone Misty’s most terrible secret.
Nat can't decide what she wants from Misty and it's infuriating.
"No...I mean..." Misty tries again. Flounders. "It reminds me of back then.”
"Don't." Nat warns through the haze of inebriation.
Don't go there.
Don't dredge up the past.
Don't remember.
Just…don't.
"We said we wouldn't talk about it." Nat reminds her. Some things are better left buried. Six feet under with the bodies they left behind.
"So we're just supposed to pretend none of it happened?" Misty challenges "Like even the boring parts?”
"Misty..." Nat warns again. "You need to shut the fuck up.”
And it's not venom spitting from her mouth. It's not fear of the memories. No, there's something else.
There are people walking the street in their direction just in time for Misty's tirade. And yeah maybe Nat feels like a bit of an asshole because no one's bothered to see if Misty's okay for the last couple of years. Hell, for the most part she seems pretty unfazed by all of it. But she's picked a hell of a moment to decide to dwell on the past and Nat does the first thing that comes to mind as those strangers draw closer.
Her eyes fall to those tempting lips again. She gives only a brief thought to her possible alternatives before coming to a decision.
She swiftly leans in and stops Misty's rambling with her own lips. The taste of bourbon lingers on them.
Interesting, Nat thinks. So she had tried that wild turkey after all.
She's absolutely mortified with herself to realize that she doesn't hate what's happening. Doesn't hate the hand snaking its way into her hair as she explores that tiresome mouth.
Doesn't hate Misty. Can't.
She sighs in resignation against Misty's lips and pulls back to find that Misty is still speechless.
"So that's all it took to stop that mouth?" She grins smugly.
Drunk words. Sober thoughts.
"um..." Misty sputters, looking up at her with wide eyes and Nat shoves back the laughter. Places a hand on her shoulder.
"Misty. Breathe."
And there's that flushed face again. Jesus, when did she get so soft?
“Wait…” A thought occurs as Natalie discreetly looks around the street to make sure they're alone again.
“Was that…was that your first kiss?”
She watches Misty fidget awkwardly for a moment, seemingly deciding about something.
“No.”
She knows she shouldn't ask but what's the old saying about curiosity?
“Then…who?” Nat takes another drag on her cigarette. Actually kinda misses it when the tobacco chases the taste of Misty's lips from her mouth.
“Ben.” What the fuck? “After he died.”
“Jesus Misty.” Nat mutters. Doesn't freak out. Doesn't judge. She finds that she can't. Not for this.
The lighter moment after the kiss all but shatters with the weight of Ben. His suffering. His death. Nat's betrayal in order to bring him peace.
It's all more than either of them are ready for and they stand in tense silence for a long drawn out moment as Misty struggles to find something else to shift the conversation to.
Nat saves her from it, unable to bear the cold any longer.
"I um...I think I'm gonna head out." Nat says turning away from Misty. "You better get back inside before you freeze to death. "
“Wait…Nat!” She's halfway across the street when Misty finds her voice. Turns to let her see the tears threatening to fall. Listens.
Misty flounders. Doesn't know what to say but knows that there is something that should be said here.
“I um…thank you. For the kiss, I mean.”
They stand like that a moment longer.
The corner of Nat's mouth shifts slightly upward. It's as much as she can manage but it's worth gold to Misty, who smiles back happily as Nat turns and disappears into the night.