Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a heavy thud as Agatha dropped the entire gift box into the trash. She glared at the crumpled note in her hand, unfurling it to reread it. 

We’ve officially been divorced longer than we were married and you still don’t seem to have been able to move on. Thought you could use the company. XO Ash

“Fuck off,” Agatha growled, tearing the note for good measure before tossing it into the bin as well.

It was just like her ex to send her a vibrator as a fucked up ‘anniversary gift’. Still finding a way to needle her a decade later just as she did every (far too frequent) time they ran into each other. Next time she wouldn’t make the mistake of marrying someone who ran in the same social circles.

Agatha laughed ruefully to herself as she pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge. No, there wouldn’t be a next time. That ship had sailed.

Agatha poured a generous glass of wine and slumped onto the sofa, letting the quiet settle over her. She stared at her glass, swirling it absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting to the few women she’d tried to let into her life since the divorce.

She had tried. Plenty .

She’d picked them so carefully—or so she thought. None of them bore even the faintest resemblance to Ashley, as if that would somehow ensure they’d be nothing like her. There had been the bright-eyed artist who couldn’t handle her sharp tongue, the entrepreneur who saw Agatha’s criticism as personal attacks, and the yoga instructor who’d been disappointingly boring in bed. The twins had been… fun until they had caught on that they shared the same mysterious lover.

Kate was self-hating and closeted. Carolina was… clingy. Emily transferred to her company’s headquarters in Barcelona.

Each of them had fallen apart in their own way under the weight of her edges, her aloofness, and the distance she couldn't seem to bridge. 

Then there were the ones who got weird about the money. Always the same cycle: curiosity, admiration, discomfort, resentment. Agatha could see it coming a mile away, that subtle shift when they realized what she could provide versus who she was. It was a losing game from the start.

She sighed and took a long sip of her wine. Better off alone. At least when she was alone, no one had expectations she’d never meet.

Except Ashley.

The thought of her ex-wife’s smug face and her all-too-frequent passive-aggressive remarks made Agatha’s stomach twist. Ashley thought she had Agatha figured out, pinned like a rare specimen to a corkboard.

It hadn’t started that way. They’d started freshman year as roommates. By fall break they were inseparable. She had been Ashley’s first. And when Ashley asked if she was hers as well, it had been so easy to whisper “yes.”

It was the first white lie. But turns out that those who said nothing solid could be built on a cracked foundation were right.

And with each little lie, Agatha refined her raw edges and shaped herself into someone who she thought would be easier to love.

It hadn’t mattered in the end. If anything all she’d done was prolong the inevitable. For three years they were blissfully happy. Then for the two immediately after college they’d fought constantly. 

Agatha had proposed out of desperation. And a shiny distraction had worked for a time.

They’d married in May and her friends had whispered that it wouldn’t last until July. They were right about the month. They just got the wrong year.

By the ten year mark, Agatha had filed herself into exactly what Ashley “always knew she could be.” And what a bitter and hollow thing that was. 

Their marriage hadn’t fallen apart from lack of love. It had been Ashley who had chosen to seek it elsewhere.

“Admit it. You don’t love me. You just love having someone to take care of.”

Agatha drained her glass, heat prickling at her neck. After ten years of separation, the last thing she wanted was for her ex to believe she still had any shred of power over her.

What Agatha needed wasn’t love or connection. She didn’t need another failed experiment or someone who couldn’t keep up. Even hookups had lost their thrill, she knew exactly what she wanted and enjoyed too much to hand her pleasure over to someone and pray they got it right the first time. 

She didn’t need any of that.

 No, what she needed was a high-profile, jaw-dropping, scandalously gorgeous, and public date—someone who could be on her arm at some gallery opening and charity gala Ashley would inevitably attend. Someone who would stop her ex-wife in her tracks and, for once, leave her speechless. Then she could settle this.

The image brought a sly smile to her lips. Not a partner—no, she wasn’t deluded enough to think she’d find that—but a weapon . Someone who could turn the tables. Someone who could make Ashley realize she’d underestimated her after all this time.

She was long over her, but she wasn’t above being vindictive. That never lost its thrill.

Agatha set her empty glass down. It was a ridiculous idea, she knew. But she couldn’t deny the appeal of it. It wasn’t about revenge—at least, not entirely. It was about finally shaking loose from the weight of Ashley’s shadow.

If Ashley wanted to reopen old wounds, Agatha would make her bleed for it.

She scrolled through the contact list on her phone, searching for someone. Some who could be discreet, who might know how to go about this sort of thing. Agatha paused and lingered over one name. There was only one person who possibly had more connections than she did.

The next afternoon, Agatha stepped into Lilia’s studio. The familiar chaos greeted her—canvases leaning haphazardly against the walls, brushes poking out of jars like wildflowers, and the ever-present haze of incense hanging in the air. A half-finished sculpture stood on a table, leaning to the side at such a sharp angle that Agatha genuinely couldn’t tell if it was purposeful. 

“Agatha,” Lilia said, looking up from a sketchbook with a sharp glance. She was seated cross-legged on a threadbare velvet chair, a charcoal smudging her fingertips. Her grey-streaked hair was pulled into a loose bun, and her glasses perched precariously on top of it. “What brings you here? If you’re looking for new work, you’re out of luck. The muses have been bastards lately.”

Agatha smirked and leaned casually against the doorway. “No art today. I’m here for something else.”

Lilia arched a brow, her expression skeptical. “If you’re about to ask for a favor, I don’t do commissions.”

“No favors,” Agatha said smoothly. “I thought maybe… I’d finally take you up on that Tarot reading you’re always hawking.”

The charcoal slipped from Lilia’s hand. Her eyes lit up with delighted disbelief. “You? Miss pragmatic Agatha wants a reading? Oh, this is rich.”

Agatha shrugged, playing it off. “Maybe I’ve decided to indulge in a little whimsy.”

Lilia set her sketchbook aside and stood, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “Sit. I need my cards.”

Agatha chuckled, letting herself be ushered to a cushioned stool while Lilia dug through a cluttered drawer. “Is this the part where you tell me the cards have been waiting for me all along?”

Lilia snorted. “Hardly. I’ll let them tell you that themselves. They’re usually more persuasive than I am.”

She finally produced a well-worn deck wrapped in a silk cloth, which she handled with gentle reverence. Lilia shuffled the deck. “Focus on a question,” she instructed. “Something specific. The cards aren’t a shrink, you know. They like precision.”

Agatha hesitated, unsure how much of this she wanted to take seriously. She thought of Ashley, the ridiculous vibrator gift, and her own harebrained scheme from the night before. Keeping her tone light, she said, “Hm. I’m feeling sentimental. How about my next romantic connection? What will it be like?” She rested her chin on her hands as she waited.

Lilia’s hands stilled for a moment before she looked up, her expression unreadable. “Close enough. Let’s see what the cards have to say.”

She laid three cards face down on the table between them, her movements slow and deliberate. “Past, present, future,” she said. “Ready?”

Agatha nodded, feeling a flicker of unexpected curiosity.

Lilia turned the first card. The Lovers. She raised an eyebrow, glancing at Agatha. “Interesting. This is your past—deep connection, union, but also choice. Maybe a relationship that defined you, for better or worse.”

“Little on the nose isn’t it?” The image on the card—the intertwined figures, the angel above them—seemed to mock her. Of course. She was already regretting this.

Lilia moved on to the second card. The Nine of Swords. “Your present,” she said softly. “Anxieties, sleepless nights, a mind clouded with worry. You’re carrying something heavy, Agatha.”

Agatha shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of the truth in Lilia’s words. She looked away, feigning disinterest. “Aren’t we all. What else is new?”

Lilia flipped the third card and paused. Her expression grew thoughtful. “The Fool.”

Agatha frowned. “The Fool?” She laughed sharply. “Is that supposed to be me or are you telling me I’m about to fall for some lazy burnout?”

“Don’t be so small-minded. They aren’t literal.” Lilia replied impatiently tapping the card, which depicted a figure walking toward the edge of a cliff with a small dog at their side. “Your future. It’s about new beginnings. Trusting the unknown. Leaping into something without fully knowing where you’ll land. It’s a card of risk, but also potential.”

Agatha stared at the card, her mind whirring. New beginnings. Risks. She thought of her ridiculous plan, of finding someone to shake Ashley’s smug confidence. It sounded foolish, all right. But potential? That was unexpected.

Potential disaster perhaps.

Lilia leaned back, studying her. “So? Does that answer your question?”

Agatha gave a small, bemused smile. “I think it might.” It was placating. Another white lie. She could tell Lilia didn’t believe her. 

“That’s that then,” Lilia said, gathering up the cards. “Now, what else? You didn’t come here just to indulge me.”

She smiled. “No, I didn’t. I came here because… you are a worldly woman. You know all types. I’m looking for, an arrangement.”

“I already told you I don’t do commissions.”

Agatha laughed, “Lilia your work is lovely but there are only so many beads I can allow in my place. I’m here because you know people. And I was wondering if you knew someone that… could accompany me for a night.”

Lilia froze, one eyebrow arching high. She folded her hands in front of her, leaning forward with exaggerated solemnity. “Agatha Harkness,” she said, her voice thick with mock outrage. “Are you telling me you’ve come here looking for an escort ?”

Agatha smirked. “Don’t act so scandalized. Reading people is your job whether you’re selling art or fortunes. You’ve told me before how half the people who walk through that door have all kinds of… interesting arrangements.”

Lilia stared at her for a beat before bursting into laughter, loud and unrestrained. “You’re not wrong. Fine, fine, I’ll bite. What are you looking for, exactly? Clarify the… parameters of this arrangement.”

Agatha leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing casually. “Totally unexpected.”

Lilia raised both brows. “Vague, but intriguing. Let’s start with the basics. You are gay, right?”

Agatha let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Clearly. Next?”

Lilia held up her hands in mock surrender. “Just checking! Some people are more fluid than they let on. Okay, I’m getting a clearer image. You want her to be unexpected. So… no polished society types, I take it?”

“God, no,” Agatha said immediately. “The last thing I need is someone my ex could compare to herself. I want someone who’d make her blink . Someone who’d make her question her entire understanding of me.”

Lilia tilted her head, considering. “Interesting. All right, let’s narrow it down. High heels and gowns, or tattoos and leather jackets?”

Agatha tapped her chin, pretending to mull it over. “Why not both?”

“Ambitious.” Lilia’s grin widened as she drummed her fingers on the table. “Okay, I think I might actually have someone in mind. Young woman came by a few weeks ago, mentioned she does some… occasional “event work” on the side. Classy but not stuffy. Definitely unexpected.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “You think she’d go for this?”

Lilia shrugged. “Can’t hurt to ask. I’ll find out. But whatever it is you’re planning, Agatha, you’d better not embarrass me. My reputation’s on the line here.”

Agatha smiled, already feeling a sense of relief. “Trust me, this is about making a point, not making a scene.”

Lilia snorted. “You say that now, but people who pull The Fool don’t stay on the sidelines for long.”

Agatha stood, brushing her hands off on her pants. “I appreciate it, Lilia. Let me know what she says.”

“Reading’s twenty bucks, but the advice is free. And Agatha?”

She paused, hand on the doorframe. “Yeah?”

“Be careful,” Lilia said, her tone shifting to something softer, more serious. “People lie, but the cards never do. Whatever you’re planning, there’s something big waiting for you around the corner.”

Agatha gave her a small nod, the weight of the moment pressing down just slightly. “Noted.”

As she stepped out into the afternoon light, her thoughts buzzed. Something big? She wasn’t sure she believed in fate—or the cards, for that matter—but a part of her couldn’t help but entertain the notion that Lilia might be right.

That was ridiculous.

The woman, Jen , called her a week later to discuss the details. Despite her business-like, almost bored tone, Jen had a gorgeous voice. Agatha respected the hustle and candidness.

They agreed that she’d join Agatha for a charity gala she had been invited to. She didn’t know if Ashley would be there, but if nothing else it would be a dry run.

Agatha liked a carefully constructed plan. She liked to know what was expected, what role she’d play. 

Get the date, be seen a couple of times, make Ashley squirm, and put this business away. It was a very clear order of operations. A perfect plan.

She thanked her driver Ralph and stepped out of the car, scanning the crowd gathered outside for her date.

“Excuse me,” a low voice called. She snapped her head towards the sound and quickly assessed whoever dared to vie for her time before she’d even made her way inside. Some people had no class.

Pretty, she thought as she took in the lean woman’s figure. She glanced up towards her face, and the sharp comment on the tip of her tongue left as she met the woman’s large brown eyes. “I’m Jen’s friend.” The woman continued before mumbling some excuse about her not feeling well.

Agatha scowled slightly before pasting on a well-practiced smile as she introduced herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a few photographers outside. She had no illusions about her arrival being noteworthy enough to make headlines, but perhaps she’d make an online gallery.

The woman introduced herself as Rio.

Rio. An uncommon name, unexpected, it suited her.

Agatha flicked her eyes between Rio’s lips and her extended hand. She wasn’t what she’d expected, but there was current to her, something that Agatha who’d made her life reading people couldn’t quite figure out.

Not yet, at least.

“Charming.” Agatha hummed, and it was the truth. “Now, be a dear and kiss my hand, won’t you?” 

She smiled as the woman kissed her hand, practiced and composed; exactly on schedule. She ignored whatever feeling flickered annoyingly in her stomach as her soft lips brushed over her hand.

It was easier than she had thought it was going to be, stepping into this space with a striking woman on her arm. But as she prowled through the room, her eyes were keenly searching. 

No sign of her. Just a number of people far too eager to shake her hand, hoping it would buy them her time or money. Every now and then she caught herself glancing out of the corner of her eye at her companion. She was hard to read. Still, nearly stoic. And it was starting to annoy her just a bit though she couldn’t place why.

What was more annoying though was how little of a hubbub Rio seemed to be making. People seemed to just glance over her, speaking directly to Agatha and hardly acknowledging her date’s presence. Something about that irked her. Agatha hadn’t expected a social butterfly and would have hated being upstaged, but she was beginning to wonder if the girl was selectively mute.

“Be a dear and fetch us some more drinks, won’t you?” Agatha asked, hoping that some liquid courage would encourage her to open up a bit. She had no delusions about what it was she was paying for, but she had hoped for a little more conversation.

She turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse of Rio at the bar, her sharp profile etched against the warm glow of the room.

Her date looked the part, and Agatha found herself admiring the bold and low cutout at the back of her dress but was also clearly... out of place. Agatha’s lips twitched in amusement as she watched Rio tap her fingers against the bar.

Artie Jackson, an older man with silver hair and a clearly rented tuxedo, said something inane to her as he clearly noticed he was losing her attention. Agatha turned back to him with a polite smile, feigning interest. She didn’t care much for his conversation—something about stocks or real estate, she hadn’t been paying attention—but it was easy to play the part. She let her eyes narrow slightly, smiling just enough to imply she was engaged.

And yet, her thoughts weren’t on him. They were drawn, again and again, to the girl at the bar.

Agatha caught the subtle movement of Rio glancing over her shoulder, the way her gaze lingered for just a moment too long. Even from across the room, she could sense Rio’s focus, her attention locked on her as if there was no one else in the room.

When Rio finally started back toward her, two champagne flutes in hand, Agatha felt the faintest flicker of triumph. The poor thing. Trying so hard to play it cool.

Rio reached her side, and Agatha didn’t bother with pleasantries. Instead, she took the offered glass with practiced ease, placing her empty one on a passing tray with the kind of precision that said she’d done this a thousand times before.

“Good girl,” she murmured, her voice low and intimate, meant for Rio alone.

She caught the way Rio froze, just for a fraction of a second. It was subtle, the kind of reaction someone else might have missed, but Agatha didn’t miss much. Her lips curved into a sly grin as she swirled her fingers around the rim of her glass.

“Thank you for the conversation,” she said smoothly to the older man, inclining her head just slightly before sliding her arm through Rio’s. The warmth of Rio’s body against hers was pleasing, grounding in a way Agatha wasn’t quite prepared to acknowledge.

Leaning in, she let her lips hover just above Rio’s ear. “I’m starving. Want to get out of here?” she murmured, her voice threaded with conspiratorial amusement.

She felt Rio stiffen, the faintest shiver running through her, and it only made Agatha smile wider.

“Of course,” Rio said, her voice steady, though Agatha didn’t miss the slight rasp at the edges.

“Wonderful.” Agatha slipped a coat check ticket from her pocket and held it out between two fingers. “Go fetch my bag, would you? I need to write a cheque before we leave.”

Without waiting for a response, she pressed the ticket into Rio’s hand and turned back toward the auction table, already moving. She didn’t need to look back to know Rio would follow.

She could see the appeal of this. Having someone who’s job was to make her look good. It was of course a fantasy, but she could see how other people could get tripped up into believing it was true.

Agatha’s pout was perfectly calculated, down to the slight tilt of her chin and the way her lashes fluttered just so. She wasn’t particularly invested in charming the man in front of her—he was hardly a challenge—but the real audience wasn’t him. She could feel Rio’s presence beside her, practically radiating tension, and she was curious about how far she could push her enigmatic companion.

“I know, darling,” Agatha hummed as Rio returned to her side, pretending to fret. “I so wish we could stay, but I have reservations at Natalia’s, so if you just let me know how far off you are from your goal for the night, I’m sure we can make something work.”

The man chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender before sharing how much was left to meet the goal before the night was over.

Agatha caught the way Rio’s eyes widened at the amount, then widened even more as she lifted her pen, tapping it lightly against her lips in mock consideration.

She’s impressed, Agatha thought with a flicker of amusement. Or horrified. Either way, she’s watching closely.

“Hm,” she mused aloud. “Alright, well, how about we call it an even thirty? Since it’s for the children, after all.” She turned her gaze to Rio, letting her lips curve into a slow wink as she signed over the donation Rio didn’t say anything but looked like she’d been momentarily short-circuited.

Agatha tore the cheque neatly, handing it to the man with a practiced, easy grace. “For the children,” she echoed, her tone laced with amused finality.

The man beamed, clearly pleased, and gave a polite nod. “A pleasure as always, Ms. Harkness. Enjoy your evening.” He glanced briefly at Rio, tipping his head. “Miss.”

With that, he was gone, and Agatha turned her attention fully back to Rio, slipping the checkbook back into the bag Rio held. She made no move to take it back, instead brushing her hand lightly over Rio’s arm.

Rio nodded dumbly, trailing after her as they exited the building and stepped out into the crisp night air. Agatha’s car, sleek and polished, awaited them at the curb. Her driver moved swiftly to open the door, but Rio got there first, her hand tightening briefly on the handle as she held it open.

Agatha hummed her approval, her smile softening as she slid gracefully into the seat. She waited as Rio followed, the door closing with a soft thud behind her, sealing them into a quiet, intimate space.

The tension that had followed her through the evening melted away as the car pulled into motion. Agatha stretched her legs slightly, leaning back into the leather with a contented sigh. The rigid poise she’d carried all evening softened, replaced by something more unguarded.

“Have you ever been to Natalia’s?” she asked, turning her gaze on Rio, her tone casual but laced with genuine curiosity.

She’d bargained for a reservation earlier that day, telling herself that even if this was some foolish midlife crisis behavior she’d regret later, at least she’d get a good meal out of the experience.

Rio scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. “Please. That place is way out of my budget. And it’s impossible to get a reservation. The waitlist is months long. And that was before they got their second Michelin star.”

Agatha chuckled softly, the sound warm and effortless. “That’s true,” she admitted. “But it’s easy if you know the right people. I called earlier, and they happened to have a table.”

Rio shot her a look, equal parts disbelief and intrigue. “You’re telling me you know people who can get you a spur-of-the-moment reservation same day?”

Agatha tilted her head, letting her lips curl into a sly smile. “I don’t just know people, darling,” she said, her voice dropping to a silky murmur. “I am the people.”

She caught the way Rio’s mouth twitched like she was fighting the urge to grin. It was endearing, really.

There’s something about her, Agatha thought as she turned her gaze back out the window. Something I can’t quite place. And I intend to find out what it is.

Chapter Text

As the car pulled up to the curb and Rio stepped out first, Agatha let her eyes follow her. She didn’t mean to leer, but her eyes were drawn to the low heart-shaped dip at the back of her dress. For a moment she wondered what it would feel like to let her hand rest right at the line where the dress met her lower back.

Rio turned to her giving her a hesitant smile, “Are you coming,” she asked softly. Agatha blinked once before fixing her face into a smile and holding out her hand. Her date took it and she rose out of the car.

Agatha quickly let go of her hand and led them towards the high rise building. The doorman nodded to her and she walked without hesitation to the elevator. She gestured for Rio to enter first, then stepped inside and pressed the button for the fifteenth floor.

Agatha couldn’t help the faint tug of amusement curling her lips as the elevator doors slid shut. The memory came rushing back, unbidden and sharp. Another night, another dress, another woman.

That woman had been bold— too bold—and when she'd pressed Agatha against this very wall, all heat and urgency, Agatha had let her. For a moment. Before she took control of the situation.

She could still recall the way the elevator had chimed cheerfully at every floor as they fumbled for composure, both feigning nonchalance as the doors finally opened to the restaurant.

Agatha hadn’t been back since. Not because of embarrassment, but because the place had become tangled up in the memory of that date, and the realization that it had felt too transactional, too surface-level. She chuckled to herself. If only she had known then how transactional her next “date” would be.

“What’s funny?” Rio asked, catching the look.

Agatha shook her head, suppressing the thought. “Nothing. Just... memories.”

Rio tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Good ones?”

Agatha hesitated before nodding. “Some.”

The corner of Rio’s mouth quirked up, her smile faint but genuine. She didn’t press for more, which Agatha appreciated.

As the elevator chimed and the doors opened to the restaurant's sleek interior, Agatha took a steadying breath. 

“Nice place,” Rio murmured, her eyes sweeping the room.

Agatha smirked again, this time with a hint of pride. “I’d hope so. I own a piece of it.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “You don’t say.”

“Minority stake,” Agatha clarified, leading the way to their reserved table by the window. The view of the city skyline was breathtaking, and Agatha felt a swell of satisfaction at the way Rio’s face lit up.

As they were led to their table, Agatha felt a familiar rush of satisfaction. The luxury of it all—the polished wood, the ambient golden light, the panoramic view of the city lights twinkling below—was a setting she knew well. This was her domain, her world, and it always felt good to reclaim it, even if just for an evening. But tonight wasn’t about basking in her own power.

Agatha glanced sideways at her date, catching the fleeting hesitation in Rio’s posture. It was subtle, but Agatha noticed—how Rio took in the opulence around her, the way her shoulders stiffened for just a moment before she sat. She was trying to act like she belonged, but Agatha could see the flickers of discomfort.

Agatha’s chest tightened. Is this too much? Did I misjudge what she’d want? Why should I care, it’s a job and a free meal. The thought unsettled her, and she found herself scrutinizing her own choices. But then Marcus approached, his voice smooth and respectful as he placed the wine on their table with practiced ease.

“On the house, Ms. Harkness,” Marcus said with a polite bow of his head. “A pleasure, as always.”

Agatha nodded, offering him a small smile. “Thank you, Marcus.” She waved him off with a casual flick of her wrist. “We’ll take the usual.”

It wasn’t until she caught Rio’s wide-eyed expression that she realized how it all must have looked—her effortless command of the space, Marcus’s deference. For a moment, she wanted to downplay it, to make it feel less overwhelming. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. This was who she was. And she was never dulling those edges again.

“How often do you come here?” Rio asked her tone light but curious.

Agatha smirked, reaching for the wine. “Enough that they know my preferences,” she said, filling Rio’s glass then her own. “I’ll have the salad, as always. You’ll have the pasta. Trust me.”

She waited, watching Rio’s expression shift—her lips parting slightly as if to protest, then pressing together again as she reconsidered. Agatha hid her relief behind another practiced smile.

“Alright,” Rio muttered, lifting the glass to her lips.

Agatha leaned back, letting herself relax just a little as she studied her date. The dim light caught Rio’s profile, and Agatha found herself momentarily distracted by the way she held the glass—careful, deliberate, as if she were afraid of doing something wrong. She’s nervous, Agatha realized, and the thought sent a momentary pang of tenderness through her.

“You’ll see,” she said gently, her voice breaking the moment’s silence. “The food here is exceptional. But sometimes, darling, the company is just as important.”

Rio’s gaze flicked to hers, her expression unreadable. Agatha held her breath for half a second, wondering if she’d overplayed it. But Rio didn’t bristle. Instead, she took another sip of wine, letting the conversation settle into the air between them.

Agatha resisted the urge to fidget. This was unfamiliar territory. She was used to playing this game, the careful push and pull of power and charm, but with Rio it felt different. Less like a game and more like... an invitation.

Don’t ruin this, she told herself, her mind still lingering on Rio’s hesitant steps earlier. She made a mental note to tread more carefully as the evening unfolded, to make sure Rio felt at ease.

But that was ridiculous. It wasn’t an invitation for anything. It was a transaction. That’s all.

The food arrived with the kind of presentation that Agatha had long since come to expect—immaculate, delicate, a work of edible art. The fiochetti set before Rio was no exception, the delicate bundles perfectly presented. But it wasn’t the food Agatha found herself captivated by. She’d seen it all before. But not with her.

She watched as Rio took her first bite, the pasta yielding perfectly to her fork, the sauce clinging to the delicate folds. The moment Rio’s expression shifted—her lips parting slightly, her eyes fluttering closed for the briefest second—Agatha felt something unfamiliar stir inside her. She almost lost her composure entirely when Rio let out a quiet, unguarded hum of approval.

Agatha forced herself to lean back in her chair, settling into a casual posture she’d mastered long ago. A small smile curled at the corners of her lips, and she reached for her wineglass, buying herself a moment to compose her thoughts. Why is she getting to me like this? she wondered, taking a slow sip and using the glass to hide her faintly trembling fingers.

“I told you,” she murmured, her voice calm and assured despite the whirlwind in her chest.

Rio looked up at her, a faint flush on her cheeks, and Agatha thought she might actually combust. “Yeah, you weren’t kidding,” Rio said with a small laugh, her voice a little rough around the edges. “This is amazing.”

“Mm,” Agatha replied, setting her glass down with deliberate precision. “I never kid about food.” She let her gaze linger on Rio for a moment longer than necessary. There was something magnetic about the way she seemed so unguarded, so unpretentious as if the lavishness around them didn’t faze her in the slightest.

“So,” she said, leaning forward slightly, her smile turning sly. “What is it that you do when you’re not playing dress-up for charity galas?”

She was truly curious. When she’d imagined a woman in Rio’s line of work, she’d pictured someone flirty and eager, playing a part, laughing too hard at jokes that weren’t funny. Agatha imagined that’s what most people on her side of these arrangements expected: flattery and compliance.

Neither had ever suited her. Not when she’d played the demure debutante with her ex-wife, not when other women had tried that act with her.

But Rio wasn’t playing. Agatha could tell. There was an easy confidence to the way she sat back, her body language relaxed, yet her hands betrayed the faintest fidgeting—a tap of her thumb against her glass, a quick adjustment of her napkin. Nervous, but not overly so. Aloof, but not distant.

And her gaze. Agatha was accustomed to being stared at with a kind of glassy-eyed adoration or transparent calculation. Rio, though, looked at her with genuine curiosity. There was no desperation to please, no attempt to measure up, just... interest. It was disarming.

Agatha found herself wondering: if they’d met as strangers, in another life, would she still be this captivated? Or was she falling too deep into her own game, blurring the lines between intrigue and something more dangerous? She pushed the thought aside.

Rio leaned forward slightly, her posture casual, her tone unbothered as she replied, “I’m a bartender. I used to study journalism, but... dropped out a few credits shy. Guess it didn’t suit me.”

Agatha’s eyebrows lifted slightly. She hadn’t expected that. “A journalist huh?” She tilted her head, letting her voice take on a teasing edge. “A little too much truth-seeking for your taste?”

Rio laughed, low and throaty, and Agatha’s pulse skipped. God, that laugh.

“Yeah, I guess,” Rio said, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “The truth didn’t exactly pay the bills. Bartending does. It’s a decent gig. I like talking to people, and the tips are good enough usually to keep me afloat.”

There it was again—that balance. Rio’s voice was warm, her words tinged with self-awareness, but there was nothing self-pitying in her tone. She didn’t offer excuses or explanations, didn’t seem to care if Agatha judged her for it.

“Hmm, I imagine so,” Agatha mused aloud, leaning back in her chair. I imagine they like you too she thought. “People always enjoy the company of someone who knows how to make a good drink, don’t they?” She certainly did.

Rio shrugged, brushing off the comment as if it didn’t matter. “You’d be surprised how much of the job is just listening to people’s problems.”

“I think I’d like that, actually. Someone who listens but doesn’t insert themself into my business. It’s... rare.” It was about ten degrees more vulnerable than she intended and she studied Rio closely. “But I’m more curious about you. Really curious,” she said, her voice almost velvety now. “It’s not every day I meet someone like you.”

Rio tilted her head, watching her with that same steady curiosity that had thrown Agatha off balance earlier. “What do you mean?” Rio said, her tone casual but her gaze sharp.

Agatha laughed, low and quiet, and picked up her wineglass. “I’m not sure I’ve met anyone who’s as... uninterested in impressing me as you are. Everyone else is so caught up in doing the right thing, saying the right things, you know? But you... you’re not interested in any of that.”  

And why was that? Why wasn’t she interested in her? Something curled in her stomach, it wasn’t a feeling she was familiar with.

There was a beat of quiet between them, and Agatha let herself study Rio again, just briefly. She’s so young, she thought, and yet there was something grounded about her, something steady. And she didn’t flinch under Agatha’s gaze, didn’t scramble to fill the silence like so many others would have.

It struck her then, unexpectedly and with startling clarity, that she was enjoying herself. Not just the performance, the dance of words and veiled truths, but the company itself.

Rio’s smile widened, her confidence growing with the compliment. “Maybe I’m just not as easily impressed as everyone else.”

Agatha felt her chest tighten, a flicker of something she couldn’t quite name rising to the surface. She tilted her head, letting her gaze lock with Rio’s. “Oh, I think you’re impressed,” she murmured, her voice velvet-smooth. She allowed a small, knowing smile to play on her lips. “But I don’t think you want to admit it. And for a journalist, I’m surprised you didn’t do your research.”

Rio’s smirk faded slightly, replaced by something sharper, more curious.

“You have no idea who I am.” Agatha continued, her voice dropping just a fraction.

It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge. And as she watched Rio’s expression shift, somewhere between intrigue and defiance, Agatha realized she was holding her breath.

“No. I didn’t. I wanted to come to my own conclusions,” Rio said softly.

“I like that.” Agatha breathed, “I think we’ll get along just fine.”

Agatha watched Rio, her attention fully fixed on the woman across from her. Every small movement Rio made—the way her lips curved faintly as she chewed, as though savoring not just the flavors but the moment—drew Agatha in.

Rio wasn’t like anyone Agatha had met before. She carried herself with an odd blend of self-assuredness and restraint, like someone who was perfectly comfortable in her own skin but hesitant to step fully into the light. Agatha was used to people fawning over her, bending to her charm, but Rio didn’t fawn. She held her own, sharp and steady. There was a pull in that, something magnetic.

The waiter arrived with another bottle of wine, and Agatha dismissed him with a subtle wave of her hand, her focus unbroken. She leaned back in her chair, swirling her wineglass between her fingers. “You’ve been full of surprises tonight, Rio,” she said, her tone smooth, conversational.

Rio raised an eyebrow as she took a sip of her drink. “Good ones, I hope?”

Agatha let her lips curve into a faint smile. “I’ll reserve judgment. But yes... good ones.”

The quiet confidence in Rio’s smile in response sent a ripple of something unfamiliar through Agatha’s chest. She reached for her own glass, sipping leisurely, masking the moment’s effect.

“So, tell me,” Agatha began again, her voice lighter now, playful. “What’s the most ridiculous drink someone’s ever asked you to make?”

Rio laughed, a low, warm sound that made Agatha’s chest tighten all over again. “That’s a tough one,” she admitted, setting her fork down. “But I think the winner was the guy who wanted a martini... with chocolate syrup at the rim. Called it a ‘Sweet Martini.’”

Agatha’s brow arched in disbelief, her laugh escaping before she could stop it. “A ‘Sweet Martini’? That’s offensive to martinis everywhere. If you have no taste, an espresso martini is right there.”

Rio grinned, leaning slightly forward as if letting her in on a secret. “Right? I tried to talk him out of it, but he was adamant. So, I made it. And you know what? He loved it.”

“That’s tragic,” Agatha said with mock seriousness, shaking her head. “You need to stand your ground, can’t believe you’re catering to that level of taste.”

“Hey, I just make what people ask for,” Rio replied, shrugging. “Even if it’s an abomination.”

Agatha chuckled again, the sound soft, unforced. “You have more patience than I would.”

Rio shrugged again, and for a moment, her smile faded into something softer, more thoughtful. “It’s not so bad, really. I like hearing people’s stories, even the ridiculous ones. Sometimes... I think I might’ve learned more behind the bar than I ever would’ve in a newsroom.”

Agatha studied her, her smile softening. “There’s something to be said for that. People let their guards down with a drink in hand. Maybe you found the truth after all.”

The way Rio’s expression shifted at that—subtle, contemplative—made Agatha’s chest ache in a way she didn’t expect. She took another sip of her wine, the silence between them stretching just long enough to feel intimate without being uncomfortable.

“What about you?” Rio asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet. “If you weren’t... doing whatever it is you do, what would you be doing instead?”

Agatha tilted her head, caught off guard by the directness of the question. She leaned back slightly, considering her answer. “I suppose I’d be doing something similar. I like... control. Order.” She glanced at Rio, her lips quirking upward. “But that’s boring, isn’t it? Maybe I’d open a little café somewhere. Serve terrible coffee and mediocre pastries.”

Rio laughed, shaking her head. “You? A barista? I don’t buy it.”

Agatha’s smile widened just a fraction. “You’re right. I’d be terrible. But it’s a nice thought.”

The moment lingered, warm and unhurried, and Agatha found herself wondering if she was letting herself fall too deep into whatever this was. Was it the game she always played, or was it something more? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

As the evening wore on, Agatha found herself captivated by the way Rio managed to hold her own without posturing, her nervousness never quite eclipsing her steady, quiet confidence.

When the check finally came, Agatha reached for it instinctively, her movements smooth and practiced. “Perhaps, you can buy me a drink next time.” She said offhand, forgetting herself before she remembered that this was what was expected. This was a transaction, not an obligatory first date gesture.

Rio raised an eyebrow, a small, playful smile tugging at her lips. “Next time?”

Agatha’s answering smile was enigmatic, her eyes twinkling. “Don’t ruin the moment, darling.” And with that, she signed the check, sliding it away with a casual flick of her wrist.

For once, she was disappointed at Ralph’s promptness when she stepped outside and saw her car already waiting. She cleared her throat. "Thank you for a lovely evening," she said with a practiced smile. 

"Of course," Rio replied, Agatha thought she caught something else in her voice, but she wasn’t sure. "It was... nice."  

Agatha liked… options. Possibility. The chase was always more fun than the prize. That’s what she told herself, she was just keeping her options open, as her next words tumbled out. "Perhaps we'll see each other around.”

She retreated into her car and pulled the door shut before Rio could see the blush that sprung to her cheeks.

Agatha groaned and leaned her head back against the cool leather seat as the car pulled away.

Agatha's heels clicked sharply against the floor as she entered her home, the sound echoing in the space. She dropped her purse onto the nearest table with a little too much force, the action louder than she intended. The stillness of the house mocked her. It was usually something she relished, but tonight it felt oppressive.

This had been a complete disaster.

She slipped out of her shoes and walked barefoot across the cool floor, her movements uncharacteristically stiff. The whole night replayed in her mind in a relentless loop: Ashley’s absence, her own inability to recover from the curveball, and worst of all— Rio.

Rio, with her disarming honesty. Rio, who didn’t gape at her like some goddess but looked at her with curiosity, even amusement. It was unsettling. And it didn’t help that Rio’s smile lingered in her mind, as persistent as a melody she couldn’t shake.

Agatha made her way upstairs, unbuttoning her jacket and tossing it carelessly. She paused at the edge of her bed, her fingers brushing over the silk duvet.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath, sitting down and pulling off her earrings.

The one rule, the golden rule: don’t mix business and pleasure, don’t fall for unavailable women. Not that she was falling, of course. She scoffed aloud at the thought. Love at first sight was a fairy tale for the hopeless romantics and the fools. But lust? That was real. Undeniable.

The mirror on the wall caught her reflection—her bare shoulders, her sharp collarbone, the faint crease between her brows that betrayed her frustration. She grabbed her silk robe and shrugged it on before climbing into bed, the cool sheets doing little to soothe the restless heat prickling beneath her skin.

For the first time in... years, perhaps, she had gone on a "date" and ended the night alone. Alone. That, above all else, was infuriating.

She thought back to Rio, to the way she smiled, the tiny space between her front teeth, to the way her eyes lingered on Agatha without fear or deference. Agatha wasn’t sure what was more frustrating: the fact that Rio hadn’t seemed fully enraptured by her, or the fact that she’d liked that about her.

She turned onto her side, her cheek pressing into the pillow as she stared at the faint moonlight streaming through the curtains. This was supposed to have been simple. A game. A ploy. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to confront Ashley because the woman hadn’t shown up.

But Rio had been there, with her quiet confidence and maddening contradictions.

Agatha exhaled sharply, annoyed with herself. “I just need to get her out of my system,” she murmured. The words sounded hollow even as she said them.

But as she closed her eyes and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

The dream crept in slowly, a hazy swirl of sensation. Agatha stood in a room bathed in soft, golden light, the edges of her surroundings blurred as though the space itself wasn’t fully real. It was warm here, the kind of warmth that wrapped around her skin like sinking into a hot bath.

She turned, and there was Rio, leaning against the edge of a low counter. Her posture was relaxed, one hand resting lightly on her hip, the other tracing idle circles on the surface beside her. Her hair fell in short loose waves, and her lips curved into a small, knowing smile.

“Back so soon?” Rio’s voice was low, teasing, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes.

Agatha opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, she took a step closer, drawn to Rio like a moth to a flame. Rio didn’t move, her gaze steady and unflinching, watching Agatha’s approach with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

The air between them seemed to thrum with energy, electric and heavy. When Agatha finally stopped, they were close—closer than she’d intended. Close enough to see the faint freckles scattered across Rio’s nose, close enough to catch the faint scent of something warm and earthy, like cedar and sunlight.

Rio reached out, her fingers brushing Agatha’s wrist. The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a ripple through her that left her breathless. Agatha didn’t pull away; she couldn’t. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes locking on Rio’s mouth.

“I thought you liked being in control,” Rio murmured, her voice low and laced with amusement.

The words sent a delicious shiver down Agatha’s spine, and she felt her breath hitch. “Who says I’m not?” she managed to reply, though her voice sounded softer, less certain than she’d intended.

Rio’s smile widened, and she leaned in, her lips brushing against Agatha’s ear as she whispered, “You’re not.”

And then Rio’s hands were on her, one sliding around her waist, the other cupping her cheek. The touch was firm but gentle, steadying her even as her knees threatened to buckle. Agatha let out a soft gasp, her hands finding Rio’s shoulders, the fabric of her shirt warm and textured beneath her fingers.

Rio’s lips hovered just above hers, a tantalizing fraction of space between them. Agatha felt herself leaning in, her body betraying her with its aching need to close the distance.

When their lips finally met, it was slow, deliberate, and utterly consuming. Agatha melted into the kiss, her thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm. Rio’s mouth was soft but insistent, her hands guiding Agatha closer until there was no space left between them.

The kiss deepened, and Agatha felt herself sinking, losing herself in the heat and the heady rush of it all. Rio’s fingers tangled in her hair, and Agatha’s hands slid down to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

It was everything and nothing like she’d expected or experienced before—wild, tender, and utterly disarming.

And then, just as the dream seemed ready to swallow her whole, it began to dissolve. The golden light dimmed, and Rio’s touch faded, leaving only the ghost of warmth in its wake. Agatha reached out, desperate to hold onto the moment, but her fingers grasped only air.

She woke with a start, her heart pounding and her skin flushed. The cool sheets beneath her felt foreign, starkly real compared to the vivid heat of the dream. Agatha exhaled shakily, running a hand through her tousled hair as she tried to steady her breathing.

“Fuck it,” she muttered, sinking back against the pillows.

Getting Rio out of her system was going to be harder than she thought.

But perhaps there was one way... she let her hand drift between her legs.

She stubbornly tried to picture anyone else than her companion for the evening.

She didn't.

Chapter Text

Agatha’s executive office was a testament to the order and perfection she demanded. Clean lines of polished wood and glass framed the space, the air-conditioned chill only amplifying the tension inside.

“You should have called me the moment this hit your desk,” Agatha said, her voice sharp and deliberate. Each word was weighted, measured to slice through the defensive excuses she could see forming in the junior talent manager’s throat. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk, fingers steepled as she locked her piercing gaze on her.

The manager—a fresh-faced thirty-something who had clearly underestimated what it meant to work for Agatha—squirmed in her seat. She fiddled with the edge of the folder she had brought as if its contents might save her. Agatha’s eyes flicked to it, unimpressed.

“I thought—”

“You thought ?” Agatha’s voice was as cold as the marble beneath them. She raised an eyebrow, letting her incredulity hang in the air. “Let me be perfectly clear: You don’t get paid to think. You get paid to execute. And when you don’t know what to do, you say two little words: No. Comment. Then, you pick up the phone and call me. Is that somehow complicated?”

“I didn’t want to bother you with—”

Agatha slammed a hand on the desk, the sharp sound reverberating through the room. “Stop talking,” she snapped. Her tone wasn’t raised—it didn’t need to be. The chill of her voice was more than enough to make the manager freeze.

“Kennedy’s role in this film, the whole project, was already walking a tightrope because of funding concerns,” she continued, her tone lowering to something dangerously quiet. “The last thing we needed was a tabloid circus. But thanks to your initiative, here we are, neck-deep in headlines about our rising star getting caught in bed with the director’s wife. Do you have any idea how bad this makes us look?”

The manager swallowed hard, their her pale. “I was trying to get ahead of it—”

“Get ahead of it?” Agatha interrupted, her lips curling into a humorless smile. “By releasing such a poorly written statement, we might as well have issued an RSVP to the scandal? You would’ve at least made this place some money if you’d offered to sell tickets.” She picked up a printout from her desk, holding it up for effect. “You called it a simple misunderstanding. That’s PR poison. You practically gave them permission to dig deeper.”

Her words hung heavy in the air as she dropped the statement into the trash.

“I’ll do better,” the manager said, her voice faltering but earnest. “I promise. I’ll learn from this. Next time—”

“There won’t be a next time,” Agatha said flatly, cutting her off. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with an air of finality. “You’re done here. Clear out your desk.”

Her face went through a rapid cycle of emotions: shock, anger, humiliation. She opened their mouth to argue, but all that came out was a bitter, trembling: “You’re such a bitch.”

Agatha didn’t even flinch. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her expression as cool and unbothered as ever. 

“Congratulations, that is the first time since you started working here that you’ve said the right thing,” she said with a faint, razor-sharp smile. “I absolutely am. And it’s because I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done. And right now, you’re going to help me by leaving this office. Because if I do things my way, you’re being dragged out by security and trespassed from every building in a half-mile radius of here.”

Agatha picked up the phone from her desk playing with the cord as she reached a finger to rest on her lips in mock contemplation. “Should I call? Or are you at least walking out here with some dignity?” She pouted at the girl across from her.

The woman stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Agatha watched her go without so much as a blink, the silence that followed settling over the room like a weighted blanket.

“Smart girl,” she hummed, hanging up the phone.

Agatha let out a slow breath, leaning back in her chair. The power of firing someone usually left her with a fleeting satisfaction, a sharp reminder of her control over her world. But today, it wasn’t enough.

She spared a glance to the glass walls of her office and was met with far too many eyes staring back. 

That wouldn’t do.

Agatha smoothed her blazer and stepped out of her office, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. The bullpen had gone eerily silent, every head down, every pair of eyes pretending to focus intently on work. It wasn’t the first time her raised voice had carried through the glass walls, but the aftermath was always the same: tension, fear, then newfound vigor and compliance.

She paused at the threshold, her sharp gaze sweeping the room with a practiced nonchalance that still managed to make everyone squirm. “Well,” she said, her tone mockingly sweet. “Did we all enjoy the show?”

A few uneasy coughs answered her. One or two brave—or foolish—souls glanced up, their expressions stiff with apprehension.

“Good.” Agatha clasped her hands together, the motion almost playful. “Because it’s time for a little pop quiz.”

She strolled further into the room, her steps unhurried, though the tension seemed to tighten with each one. “Let’s start with an easy question.” Her gaze settled on a young man sitting near the center of the bullpen. He froze under her scrutiny, his face paling. “Alex, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes, Ms. Harkness,” he stammered, his pen trembling slightly in his grip.

“Wonderful. Tell me, Alex, what is your job here? Not the title—titles are boring. What is your actual job?”

Alex blinked rapidly, clearly scrambling to formulate an answer. “Uh, I... I manage media relations for our clients, ensuring—”

“Stop,” Agatha interrupted, holding up a hand. Her tone was calm, but her words cut through his like a blade. “Your job is to protect our clients’ images. That’s it. That’s all. Protect their image as if your life depends on it. Understand?”

Alex nodded quickly, his face red. “Yes, Ms. Harkness.”

“Good.” Agatha turned on her heel, walking slowly around the room now, her sharp eyes darting to another employee. “Here’s another one: What do you do when you don’t know how to handle a situation?”

A woman near the back cleared her throat nervously. “We, uh... we escalate it to you, Ms. Harkness.”

“Correct! Good job dear, I was beginning to think I’d lost my touch and accidentally hired a room full of rookies.” Agatha’s smile was all teeth, her voice bright and mocking, as though addressing a particularly slow student. “Three little words. Call. Me. Immediately. It’s almost embarrassing how simple it is, isn’t it?”

No one dared respond.

Agatha stopped near the large bay of windows, letting the silence stretch. She crossed her arms, her tone turning colder now. “The Salem Company has its reputation because we are the best. We only hire the best. We are hired by the best. If any of you can’t handle that, then let’s make this easy.”

She turned, her eyes sweeping the room once more. “You can take a three-month severance package today, walk out that door, and go find a nice easy job where being ‘good enough’ is acceptable. No hard feelings.”

She allowed a small, almost careless shrug, letting the weight of her words settle before continuing. “Whoever decides to do so,” she said, her tone now lightly conversational, “should probably stop by Jessica’s desk on their way out and grab the coat she left behind—she’ll need it.”

There were a few awkward shifts in chairs, but no one moved or spoke. Agatha’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Good.” Her voice was smooth now, almost pleasant. “Then I trust I’ve made myself clear. Thank you all for your professionalism .”

The tension in the room didn’t lift as she turned and strode back into her office, the door closing behind her with a decisive click. No one dared speak until she was out of sight, and even then, the murmur that followed was barely audible over the furious sound of keyboards clacking.

She turned away from the glass walls and rubbed her forehead.

She wasn’t due to strike fear in the hearts of her employees for another six months. HR had recently gently reminded her that all of the payouts to quiet wrongful dismissal suits added up. 

But she was having a particularly shitty day.

Agatha had barely slept last night. A bottle of wine, two hasty orgasms, and half a joint hadn’t done it. She’s been up since three, her mind reeling as she considered another deeply infuriating woman she’d dealt with in the last 24 hours.

Ashley. Rio. Jessica, or whatever. Quite a collection of disappointments.

Well, two of them were.

Rio hadn’t been a disappointment. She’d been more than she bargained for. And that was unacceptable. Agatha Harkness was never caught off guard.

She glanced at her watch, 12:15 . Far too early to be having a day as stressful as this.

But, just early enough to take lunch.

Agatha grabbed her coat and strode out of her office, through the frantic buzzing of her employees, and out the door.

When she’d chosen this building for her office she’d scouted the area carefully to ensure there was both a quality coffee shop and a decent bar nearby. Having both close at hand was important to the way she conducted business.

Quickly she chose the less appropriate option, which seemed to be a new habit of hers. As she entered the cocktail bar she quickly slid onto a barstool and deftly placed her black card on the counter.

“Mezcal Old Fashioned. I tip 40% as long as my glass doesn’t get empty,” She said, as the bartender took the card and quickly started to make the cocktail.

Agatha dug a phone from her purse and frowned at it before reaching back into the bag for a different one. While her work phone had not a single unread notification, her personal device had hundreds of unread emails and messages.

She glanced at her inbox, skimming the names. A request for some forms from her tax guy. A reminder that the cleaners were coming tomorrow. Fifteen messages from her group chat of college friends, meaning someone had either died or just wished they had after accidentally misspelling a word which predictably no one was letting them live down.

Her thumb scrolled for a few others before lingering on one new message.

Lilia (Artist - Southside - Pushy): So? How’d it go?

Agatha tapped a quick response.

I think I got played for the fool. Your girl didn’t show. Sent someone else entirely. You know I don’t like when things don’t go as planned

Lilia responded quickly.

You came to the wrong place for certainty. No refunds, Harkness. It’s in my fine print.

Agatha rolled her eyes and set her phone down on the smooth counter with a sharp exhale, her fingers tapping idly. The bartender placed her drink in front of her—perfectly balanced, judging by the aroma—and she nodded her thanks, taking a slow sip. The alcohol burned in all the right ways, grounding her as she let the smoky flavors linger on her tongue.

She glanced back at her phone, debating whether to reply to Lilia’s smug message. Typical. Lilia always had a way of absolving herself of responsibility while still seeming untouchable. They were alike like that. No refunds, Agatha thought with a bitter smile. Of course.

Her mind wandered back to the previous night, to the way things had veered so wildly off script. Agatha had been prepared for Ashley—smug, predictable Ashley. She’d already envisioned how the encounter would play out, how she’d confront her with her usual finesse, but then her feeling thoroughly exposed and humiliated when she saw the woman at Agatha’s side. Instead, Ashley hadn’t even bothered to show, and the woman she’d been counting on, Jennifer , sent her enigmatic little companion instead.

Her.

Agatha felt her jaw tighten at the thought, though the sensation that followed wasn’t anger. Not entirely, anyway. It was something else, something more insidious that she couldn’t quite pin down. She hated that. Agatha Harkness did not get caught up in uncertainty. She controlled situations, manipulated them until they bent to her will.

Except Rio hadn’t bent. She hadn’t fawned or folded under Agatha’s presence, nor had she played the game the way Agatha had expected. Instead, she had sidestepped the entire power dynamic with maddening ease, leaving Agatha feeling... unsettled. And intrigued. She hated that most of all.

Her frustration bubbled to the surface as she stared into her drink. "Ridiculous," she muttered under her breath. A woman she had known for only a few hours had taken up far more space in her mind than she had any right to. Agatha wasn’t even fucking her—hadn’t even considered fucking her.

Well.

She smirked wryly into her glass. That wasn’t entirely true, was it? Her thoughts had strayed there multiple times in the past twenty-four hours.

There was something about the way Rio had carried herself, that quiet confidence that seemed to take up all the space in the room without demanding it. The memory of Rio’s smile—a little crooked, a little mischievous—flashed through her mind, uninvited.

“Ugh,” she groaned softly, shaking her head as if to dispel the thought. Her thumb hovered over her phone again, scrolling back to Amy (Lawyer, Engelwood, Great ass).  

A simple distraction. That was all she needed. Someone uncomplicated. Amy had been good for that, last time. She considered texting her but hesitated, annoyed at herself for hesitating at all.

Instead, she tapped her nails against the counter again, the rhythm uneven. The bartender noticed but wisely said nothing, only refilling her glass with a polite nod. Agatha took another slow sip, her mind still wrestling with the lingering presence of Rio. She had to get her out of her system. She would.

My day is shit. How’s yours?

Amy’s response came immediately as if she’d spent the last month waiting for this text. Agatha smirked, perhaps she had.

Well, this is a surprise. It’s good now, Agatha.

Agatha took another sip of her drink before responding.

Want it to be better? I have an hour.

She loved fucking women like this. Agatha splayed her hand between Amy’s shoulder blades pushing her deeper down into the mattress. It wasn’t because taking someone from behind made it easier to imagine someone else. The woman beneath her whined and pushed her hips back against her hand.

She liked it like this because it made her feel powerful. In control. And importantly she was able to stay dressed and keep her clothes fairly wrinkle-free. Lunchtime quickies were impractical by nature, but she’d be damned if she couldn't fuck and run because she had to trouble herself searching someone else’s apartment for an iron.

The woman beneath her, Amy she reminded herself, cried out against the pillow. The words didn’t process for Agatha. Maybe it was the same refrain of harder or deeper or her name. It didn’t matter. The voice was wrong, she was wrong.

Agatha channeled her frustration into the girl and didn’t ease up until she clenched around her fingers and cried out again. She watched her thighs tremble一the note in her phone was right Amy did have a great ass一and waited for her moans to settle before removing her fingers and wiping them on the sheet. 

Agatha turned to the mirror above the dresser and began to straighten her clothes, not that she’d needed to.

“This was unexpected. I thought you weren’t gonna call,” Amy mumbled lazily as she rolled over in bed and propped her head up on one arm.

“What can I say? I was in a mood.” Agatha murmured, turning to grab her bag.

“I could help you know一”

“No time. You were great though.” Agatha quickly replied, throwing a smile over her shoulder before breezing through her door and back to the office.

The rest of the day was busy. Her lunchtime detour had led to two rescheduled meetings and twenty emails, all marked urgent, waiting for her upon her return.

By the time she finally got home around eight that night, the annoying thrum of her head had twisted into a near migraine. She kicked off her shoes and made her way up to her bathroom.

Agatha drew a bath, lighting a candle and adding two scoops of the bath salts she’d brought back from Japan into the hot water. It burned her slightly as she sank into it. But she grit her teeth and let the feeling pass, even as her skin turned an angry pink.

She finally began to relax, leaning her head back against the cool porcelain of the tub.

The heat of the water seeped into her muscles, coaxing the tension from her body. Agatha closed her eyes, the faint scent of eucalyptus and sea salt curling around her as the steam rose. Her head throbbed less with each passing minute, and for the first time all day, she felt the edges of her mind begin to soften.

She tried not to think about the day, the meetings, or the frustratingly persistent shadow Rio had cast over her thoughts. But the harder she tried to push it all away, the more it slipped back in, like water pooling into a crack.

Her mind wandered, unbidden, to the way Rio had looked at her during their encounter—the quiet amusement in her eyes, the way her lips had curved just slightly at the edges. In her mind’s eye, that smile grew sharper, more knowing, as if Rio could see straight through the polished armor Agatha so carefully wore.

Ridiculous, she thought, though her grip on the word felt tenuous at best.

The water lapped against her as her thoughts grew more vivid, more indulgent. She could picture Rio leaning against the edge of the tub, arms crossed loosely, her presence utterly unbothered by the impropriety.

“Couldn’t even make it a day, huh?” The woman in her dream teased, her voice lilting and playful.

Agatha’s eyes narrowed, imagining the way Rio would smirk. “Excuse me?” she shot back, her tone sharp.

Rio tilted her head, stepping closer, her movements deliberate. “You’re soaking in that tub, thinking about me. Aren’t you?” She paused, her grin widening. “Fucking one of your other girls wasn’t enough to satisfy you?”

Agatha growled low in her throat, rising slightly in the water, skin flushed—not just from the heat. “You’re presumptuous to think you could.”

Rio’s laugh was soft, teasing, and maddeningly assured. “Am I?” She leaned closer, close enough that Agatha could see the way her eyes sparkled with mischief. “What’s more annoying? That you want to sleep with me, or that you want to and you can’t ?”

The words hung in the air, each syllable wrapping around Agatha like a dare. Her chest heaved, her pulse quickening in tandem with her rising frustration. She wanted to wipe that smirk off Rio’s face. She wanted—

Her lips crashed into Rio’s, the kiss forceful, demanding, desperate to reclaim control. Rio responded with equal fervor, her hands sliding up Agatha’s arms, drawing her up out of the bath until there was nothing between them but—

Agatha’s eyes snapped open as her head dipped sideways against the cool porcelain. The water was cold, the candle sputtering weakly against its wick. She sat up abruptly, the dream evaporating into the chilly air, leaving her disoriented and deeply unsatisfied.

Her heart was pounding as if she’d just run a marathon, and she cursed under her breath. The tub had turned tepid, the once-soothing heat now clammy and uncomfortable against her skin.

“Pathetic,” she muttered to herself, pulling the drain stopper and rising from the water. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around her body, shivering slightly as she stepped onto the bath mat.

Rio. Again. The woman was a splinter buried under her skin, a constant irritation she couldn’t seem to pluck free. Agatha scowled at her reflection in the fogged bathroom mirror, her cheeks still warm with the remnants of the dream.

Get her out of your head, she commanded herself, though the words felt hollow. Rio’s teasing voice still lingered.

Agatha sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. She predicted another long night ahead of her.

“Ms. Harkness?” A voice called hesitantly from her door.

“Come in. Don’t hover. Say what you need,” she replied, not looking up from her computer.

“Yes ma’am, uhm, the children’s charity called asking if you’d be attending the auction tonight?” Her assistant, Julie, stepped into the office, gently shutting the door behind her.

“What are they selling?”

“Vintage clothes. It’s for a new arts program, they’re renovating a children’s theater downtown, I have all the details in your calendar invite.”

She looked up at Julie and raised an eyebrow. “You closed the door. What else?”

The young woman blushed faintly, glancing down at the floor. “Uhm. You asked me to review the invitee list for any events you're invited to.”

“Ah. So I assume my charming ex-wife is attending?” Agatha crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.

“That is correct. Should I tell them you’ll not be一”

“No,” Agatha said softly, closing her computer. “Please let the organizer know I’ll be attending with a guest.”

Her assistant nodded but met her eyes with a curious look. That wouldn’t do.

“And I’ll remind you, Julie, that what I appreciate about you the most is your discretion.”

“Of course, Ms. Harkness.” Julie quickly replied, already typing out a message on her phone.

“I need one more thing done.” Agatha mused, tapping her finger under her chin before adding, “Quietly. I need you to find someone for me. There’s a bartender named Rio.”

She knew that Julie wouldn’t ask for clarifications but it was second nature to quickly spin a cover story, “She’s probably early thirties, I met her… a few nights ago. She was good. I’m thinking about hiring her for an event. I need her full contact details.”

The best stories were the ones closest to the truth.

“Right away,” Julie replied before seeing herself out.

Agatha tapped her fingers against her desk in a slow, deliberate rhythm, her mind already several steps ahead of the present. Julie had been efficient as always, leaving the Post-it note with Rio’s number, workplace, and address precisely centered on the desk. Agatha smirked to herself as she picked it up, glancing at the hastily scribbled digits. It was almost too easy.

She unlocked her phone and created a new contact:
Rio (Bartender, Bridgeport. Eyes)

The note she added in parentheses gave her pause, her thumb hovering over the save button. Eyes, she thought. Was that really the defining trait she’d picked for Rio? It was accurate, though, and maybe that was part of the problem.

She shook off the thought, saved the contact, and typed a quick message:

Apologies for the short notice, free tonight at eight?

Without waiting for a response, Agatha flipped to a browser and navigated to her favorite online catalog. If she was going to do this—and she’d already decided she was—Rio would have to look the part. Vintage charity auction or not, appearances mattered. She selected a sleek burgundy suit jacket, tailored and sharp, with a crisp black silk shirt, and fashionable black oxfords. The look was timeless, bold without being ostentatious.

Satisfied, she added a belt and hit the "Send by Messenger" option, adding Rio’s name and the address Julie had found. The outfit would arrive by five.

Agatha leaned back, a slight smile tugging at her lips. It was all falling into place, as it always did. She made a mental note to follow up with Julie about any future guest lists. The last thing she needed was an unpleasant surprise from her ex-wife. Not that she was unprepared—Agatha was always prepared—but some battles were better fought on her terms.

Short notice is fine. Where should I meet you?

Agatha let the message sit for a moment as she considered her reply. The event would be busy and loud and there wouldn’t be enough time to get to know her better there. And Agatha needed to know her better to know how to deal with her

Her fingers moved over the keyboard, before sending the address to a nearby cocktail bar she liked. She then pulled a piece of stationary from her desk and scribbled a note. 

“I just placed a delivery order from Saks. Go there and make sure that this is delivered with the package.” Agatha said as she dropped the envelope off at Julie’s desk. Her brow furrowed for a split second before she gave her assistant a rare smile. “Then take the rest of the afternoon off. Thank you.”

She strode out the door and towards home. Everything was under control. By the end of tonight, she’d have everything figured out. One way or another.

Chapter Text

Agatha showered as soon as she got home and let her hair air dry, after having it up all day she needed a break tonight. Draped in one of her favorite robes, she swiped through the clothes in her closet. She needed to choose carefully. Her last meeting with Rio she’d come from work and was all business. And though she wasn’t going into this interaction seeking pleasure, she at least wanted to be entertained for her money.

Something that would cause a reaction then, while still being appropriate for the event. Her fingers stopped on a rich purple dress. This would do nicely. She smiled as she pulled it on. Her eyes lingered at the slit up the leg and for a moment she entertained the idea of someone else’s eyes following the line up her thigh.

From a stand on her dresser, she lifted a necklace she’d bought herself years ago. She’d bought it a few days after her mother’s funeral. A gold chain with a purple amethyst. Her ex had been flattered that Agatha remembered her birthstone. She hadn’t. She’d just bought it because it was beautiful, purple looked good on her, and she still hadn’t been convinced the charge would clear.

Her mother had always sworn not a penny would come to her. Agatha had fired back she wouldn’t use it if it did. They’d both lied.

Agatha fastened the necklace and admired how it hit her chest just low enough that if someone had a wandering eye they’d follow the path from it down the low valley of her chest exposed by the dress.

She ran her hands through her hair, the least polished part of her appearance. Just messy enough to make it appear that she hadn’t planned every detail as carefully as she had.

As she applied some light makeup she ran herself through tonight’s agenda again. Drinks with Rio, to study her and put her off her game. Attend the auction, and prove that her ex didn’t know her half as well as she thought. Then she’d be done with this business and put both women behind her.

For a moment as she gathered her purse from the kitchen, her eyes drifted to the letter-pressed envelope on her fridge. An invitation to a wedding in a few weeks, Craig had addressed it to Agatha Harkness and Guest. He’d always been an optimist. 

But a few weeks from now she’d be truly free and able to take a well-deserved vacation on a beach with no distractions except the ones she found there. She’d always done well among curious women in wedding parties.

Agatha smirked at her reflection as she smoothed her dress before donning her coat. She looked polished, sexy, and completely in control.

Just as she should.

At the bar, she swirled the whiskey in her glass, as though it could distract her from her growing irritation. The seconds stretched into minutes, each one sharpening her frustration. She glanced at the time on her phone, then back toward the door, though she didn’t let her gaze linger. She wouldn’t give Rio the satisfaction of catching her looking too eager—or worse, anxious.

8:01 she was late. Agatha forced herself to take a deep breath. Lateness was something she didn’t tolerate. She valued her time, and she’d thought that someone getting paid for it would value theirs as well. But the lack of courtesy served as the cool splash of water she needed.

Calm down. You’re freaking out because she’s a minute late. Get a hold of yourself.

Her fingers tapped an impatient rhythm. She was starting to feel ridiculous for thinking this arrangement had been a good idea. Hiring an event escort twice? Foolish. Paying to see the same one twice, after spending three days unable to get out of her head, unable to escape her even when sleeping? Pathetic.

And yet, here she was, dressed to perfection, and caught waiting five minutes past the hour. She didn’t do waiting.

Agatha sipped her whiskey, her grip tight on the glass as though the pressure alone could anchor her spiraling thoughts. Waiting. It was intolerable. In her world, waiting was failure. She was the one who dictated timelines, who decided when and where things happened. Meetings started when she arrived. Deals closed on her terms. She always had the first and last word.

Waiting was a weakness, and Agatha Harkness was not weak.

Her phone sat on the table, face up, mocking her with its blank screen. No heads up, no apology. She refused to look at it again. Instead, she stared at the amber liquid in her glass, swirling it in deliberate circles.

Calm down, she thought, but calm was nowhere to be found. Her mind raced, replaying every foolish decision that had led her here.

Professionally, impatience had served her well. It made her efficient, ruthless. She tolerated no delays, no excuses, and certainly no oversights. People either met her expectations or they were discarded. Personally, it was... messier. It left her dissatisfied, restless. As soon as she wanted something, she wanted it done, resolved, finished. No loose ends. No uncertainty.

Yet Rio was a puzzle that refused to be solved. It gnawed at her, that easy charm, the way her gaze lingered just a second too long, the feeling of being seen in a way she wasn’t used to. It was... inconvenient.

Her phone screen lit up suddenly, and her heart leapt before she could stop it. A spam notification. She swallowed a surge of irritation and glanced at the time: 8:15.

Enough.

She took another slow sip of her drink, her jaw tightening as she unlocked her phone. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, her thoughts a whirlwind of cutting responses. She needed something that would make it clear just how thoroughly unimpressed she was.

“This has been illuminating. I’ll be sure to choose more reliable company next time.”

No. Too cold. Not that she should care. But she wanted something that would require a response. Agatha erased it and tried again.

“I assume the definition of ‘professional’ is looser in your line of work.”

She deleted it. It sounded petty. Too needy. She didn’t do needy.

She was crafting another attempt— “Your lack of respect for my time is astonishing” —when the door swung open, the motion catching her attention in her peripheral vision. Her pulse jumped before she could stop it but she pretended to be absorbed in her drink.

For a split second, she refused to look, determined not to let Rio see her watching the door like a hopeful fool. Then a flicker of movement drew her eye despite herself.

Rio stood there, slightly flushed, her chest rising and falling just enough to suggest she’d been rushing. She wore the suit Agatha had sent, and despite its crisp tailoring, there was a casual energy about her, an ease that seemed impossible to replicate. Her hair was tousled in a way that looked accidental but irresistible.

Agatha’s annoyance should have doubled at the sight of her. Instead, she felt it waver, faltering beneath the weight of Rio’s presence. Damn her for that.

Rio spotted her and smiled—soft, apologetic, and maddeningly unbothered by the tension radiating from Agatha’s table. Agatha raised an eyebrow, setting her phone down with deliberate care as she prepared to greet her guest.

“Sorry I’m late,” Rio said, her eyes meeting Agatha’s shyly.

Agatha tilted her head, fingers stilling against the glass in her hand as she measured Rio with a sharp, appraising gaze. “You are late,” she said curtly, setting the glass down with deliberate care. Her voice was calm, but it carried the weight of someone unaccustomed to being kept waiting. “Punctuality is a rather basic courtesy, wouldn’t you agree?”

She watched Rio wince, her mouth opening to offer what Agatha was certain would be some inadequate excuse. Before the words could form, Agatha pressed on, her tone clipped and cool. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d been stood up. My time is important to me, and I don’t like it being wasted.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. She didn’t tolerate her time being disrespected, but the truth was, she had felt more than irritation—an undercurrent of something far less welcome. Doubt.

Rio started to speak again, but Agatha didn’t let her. “Why are you out of breath?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. She noticed the faint sheen of sweat on Rio’s brow, the slight flush in her cheeks, and the uneven rise and fall of her chest.

There was a pause as Rio hesitated, her cheeks coloring further. “The metro broke down a few stops away,” she admitted, almost sheepish. “I, uh, jogged the last block or two.”

Agatha blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Jogged? Her lips twitched despite herself, a faint crack in her composed exterior. “You ran?” she asked, arching a brow.

Rio shifted, looking self-conscious but resolute. “Yeah. Didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer than I already had.”

That gave Agatha pause. She studied Rio carefully, the other woman’s sincerity evident in the slight hitch of her breath and the casual way she tugged at her collar as if to cool down. She had jogged. In dress shoes, no less. That told Agatha far more than Rio probably realized.

Who does that? she thought, her irritation softening despite herself. She was flattered—genuinely flattered—and that was a rare sensation. No one had ever gone to such lengths to prioritize her. She’d never made such a… physical gesture for anyone either. She didn’t care for getting her hands dirty.

A soft laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. “Well,” she said, her voice smoothing into something warmer, “that’s certainly... dedicated. I don’t think anyone has ever jogged through the city to meet me before.”

Rio scratched the back of her neck, half-grinning, looking more than a little roguish. “Yeah, well, you seem like the type who’d appreciate the effort. Time is money and all that.”

Agatha couldn’t help the small smile that curved her lips. There it was again—that disarming charm, that effortless way Rio managed to cut through her defenses without even trying. “You’re not wrong,” she murmured, her tone lighter now. She gestured toward the chair opposite her. “Sit down before you collapse, though. Perhaps I’ll even forgive you.”

She watched Rio exhale as she sank into the seat, her posture relaxing slightly but her eyes still watchful. The waiter appeared almost on cue, and Agatha raised her hand in a graceful summoning motion.

“Let’s get you something to drink,” she said, glancing at Rio with a trace of amusement still dancing in her eyes. “After all, you’ve earned it. What kind of liquor do you like?”

Rio blinked, momentarily caught off guard, her gaze lingering on Agatha’s hand as it swirled the whiskey glass slowly, the ice clinking softly against the sides. She seemed to scramble for an answer, her eyes darting back to Agatha’s glass as though it held the solution. “Uh, whiskey, I guess,” she said. “Something smooth, not too sweet.”

Agatha inclined her head, her expression thoughtful. “A black Manhattan for her,” she instructed the waiter, her tone leaving no room for debate.

As the waiter disappeared, Agatha turned her attention back to Rio, who had leaned back in her chair, studying her with a mix of fascination and wariness.

“So,” Rio ventured after a beat, “what’s the plan for tonight? Or am I just here to look pretty and follow you around again?”

A faint smile tugged at Agatha’s lips, her amusement returning. “That’s not a bad start,” she said lightly, taking a deliberate sip of her drink. “But no, there is a plan.” She paused, savoring the moment as Rio’s curiosity flickered to life. “I just haven’t decided how much of it you need to know.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, and as Rio’s gaze met hers, Agatha felt that familiar rush of satisfaction. Let Rio try to figure her out. That was half the fun. And a much more familiar playing field.

Rio snorted softly, the sound rough but not unkind. Agatha noticed the flicker of curiosity in her eyes even as she tried to play it cool. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all. Is this a work thing? You still haven’t explained what it is you do.”

Agatha tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint smile that she knew was maddeningly ambiguous. She let the silence stretch for just a moment longer than was comfortable, studying Rio like a puzzle she was deciding whether to solve. Two of her fingers traced the rim of her glass slowly. 

“No, not a work thing,” she said at last, her voice smooth and measured. “Well, I’m always working, but that’s secondary tonight. There’s a charity auction later this evening. A… fashion benefit of sorts. People buying old clothes to benefit new school programs.”

She leaned back slightly, uncrossing and recrossing her legs in a motion that appeared casual but wasn’t. She caught the way Rio’s gaze flicked down, quick but not quick enough, and the corner of her mouth quirked in satisfaction.

Rio let out a low whistle, leaning back in her chair. “Sounds interesting. Anything you’ve got your eye on?”

Agatha’s enigmatic smirk returned as she watched Rio, her head tilting ever so slightly. “Yes,” she said simply, finishing her drink and resting her hands lightly on the arms of her chair as she leaned back.

She let her smirk linger, enjoying the way Rio’s eyes narrowed just a fraction as though she was trying to figure her out. That flicker of intrigue was exactly what Agatha wanted. Keep her guessing. Keep her interested . Keep herself in control.

“But what about you, Rio?” she asked, letting her voice take on a velvety tone, like honey laced with just a hint of heat. “You strike me as someone with an eye for… the unique. Is there anything you’d seek out at an auction like this?”

Rio shrugged, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, her casual posture contrasting with the sharp intelligence in her gaze. “Depends on what’s on offer, I guess. I don’t exactly have a lot of experience with auctions—or, you know, extra cash to throw around on fancy vintage clothes.”

Agatha chuckled softly, her fingers tapping a thoughtful rhythm against her jaw as she watched Rio. “You’re practical,” she said, her tone light but with just enough weight to make it clear it wasn’t a throwaway compliment. “I like that.”

“Practical?” Rio echoed, arching a brow. “Not the most flattering compliment.”

Her smile widened slightly, and she kept her gaze steady. “I meant it as one, though. You’re not the type to be distracted by shiny things—or people, for that matter.” Her tone remained light, as she tested her. Pushing to see where the boundaries lay.

Rio smirked, tilting her head in that easy, self-assured way that made her so deeply annoying. “And what about you? Do you get distracted by shiny things—or people?”

Agatha leaned forward, closing the distance between them just enough to command Rio’s attention. Her voice dropped to a near-whisper, “That depends on the company.”

She caught the subtle blush that crept up Rio’s neck, even as Rio held her ground, refusing to look away. It was a small victory, but one Agatha relished.

“Guess I’ll have to keep things interesting, then,” Rio said, her voice steady but edged with just enough challenge to make Agatha’s pulse quicken.

Agatha’s laugh was quiet but genuine, her amusement flickering in her eyes as she reached for her purse and rose gracefully to her feet. “Shall we?” she said, brushing a hand down her dress to smooth it. “The fashion district awaits, and I wouldn’t want to miss the main event. I’d planned for two drinks here, but someone had to be late.” She tapped her jaw thoughtfully, her words devoid of malice, just a cool, matter-of-fact statement. “I’ll pick you up next time.”

Agatha noticed the slight flush in Rio’s cheeks as she stood and the way she adjusted her collar as if to shake off the tension of their banter.

As they stepped outside, the cool evening air prickled pleasantly against Agatha’s skin, the hum of the city a familiar backdrop. She cast a quick glance at Rio, and allowed herself a small, secret smile. This is going to be fun.

The car ride started in silence, the low hum of the engine filling the enclosed space. Agatha leaned back in her seat, her gaze drifting out the window. Her expression was carefully blank, but inwardly, she was anything but disengaged. She caught Rio from the corner of her eye, shifting in her seat—torn between edging closer to her in the confined space or pressing herself against the door for distance.

It was endearing, really. The woman who had been so self-assured earlier, who wielded teasing charm like it was second nature, was now flustered. Rio was clearly trying to maintain her composure, her jaw tight, her gaze determinedly forward. But Agatha could feel the tension rolling off her, could see the faint flush creeping up her neck. She resisted the urge to smile.

Would it be wise to dial things up further? Probably not. Rio was already off-balance, and Agatha should tread lightly—should keep things smooth and professional. But she couldn’t help herself. She was so close to cracking that composed exterior, and she needed to see what Rio looked like when the façade slipped. To see her truly.

Breaking the silence, Agatha turned to her. “You asked earlier what field I work in,” she said, her voice casual but with enough weight to draw Rio’s attention. “I don’t usually discuss it much—not because it’s a secret, but because it’s... complicated.”

Rio’s eyes flicked to her, curiosity flaring. “Complicated how?”

Agatha took her time responding, adjusting the cuff of her coat in a deliberate, unhurried motion. “I work with people who like their business to remain discreet. They come to me when they need... solutions. Creative ones.”

“That’s vague as hell,” Rio said, a half-smile pulling at her lips.

Agatha laughed softly. “And intentional,” she admitted. “But if it helps, think of me as a problem-solver.”

“A problem-solver,” Rio repeated, “For rich people, I’m guessing. PR and stuff?”

Her smirk returned, sharp and deliberate. “Generally, yes.”

Rio’s lips parted, clearly ready to ask more questions, but the car slowed to a stop. Agatha turned her attention forward, the timing almost too perfect to be coincidental.

The sleek, modern building in front of them gleamed under the streetlights. The marquee above the entrance read Vintage for the Arts, its bold, elegant letters commanding attention. A red carpet stretched across the sidewalk, lined with velvet ropes and flanked by patrons draped in designer elegance. Their laughter and conversation floated on the cool evening air, a symphony of sophistication.

Agatha turned to Rio, catching the flicker of interest in her eyes before she could hide it. Her own voice took on a teasing lilt as she said, “Let’s make an entrance, shall we?”

Rio stepped out first, visibly steadying herself before turning and offering her hand. Agatha took it with practiced ease, her movements graceful and fluid as if she’d done this a thousand times before. But her focus wasn’t on the crowd or even the red carpet—it was on the faint tension in Rio’s grip, the telltale sign that she was still trying to grasp for some control.

Inside, the auction was already in full swing, the air buzzing as the wealthy engaged in friendly competition. The string quartet in the corner added an unnecessary but appreciated layer of elegance. Everything was a touch excessive, a little too perfect, but Agatha couldn’t deny that it set the scene well.

Rio leaned closer as they weaved through the crowd, her voice low. “So, what’s the plan now?” Agatha held back a shiver as she felt her hot breath near her cheek.

Agatha didn’t answer right away. She took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, savoring the weight of Rio’s expectant gaze, before handing it to her with a slight smile. Her eyes glimmered with amusement, maybe a hint of mischief. “Just follow my lead,” she said, her tone as much a promise as an instruction.

When they reached their seats, Agatha pressed a small numbered placard into Rio’s hand. “Hang on to that,” she said, the smirk curling her lips again. “You won’t need it, but we’re all playing parts here.”

Rio looked down at the placard, her brows furrowing in confusion, and for a fleeting moment, Agatha thought she might laugh. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, satisfied. Tonight was going to be... entertaining.

The moment Agatha looked towards the front of the auction hall, she saw her. Her . The familiar curve of her shoulders, the way her silvery blonde hair caught the light, the poised tilt of her head—Agatha would recognize her anywhere. Her ex-wife.

Agatha’s lips curved into a slow, vicious smile. Oh, this was too perfect. The universe rarely handed her gifts like this, and she wasn’t about to squander it.

Her gaze flicked briefly to the item being wheeled onto the stage—a vintage leather motorcycle jacket, sleek and striking. Not her style at all, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was exactly the type of thing her ex would have loved, the kind of thoughtful, extravagant gift Agatha used to buy for her.

And there was no way in hell she was letting her have it.

Rio, seated beside her, faded into the background of Agatha’s awareness as she turned her full attention to the auctioneer. The room buzzed faintly with murmurs and movement, but for Agatha, the world had narrowed to the stage and the woman in the front row.

She saw the paddle rise, effortlessly confident. Of course, her ex didn’t hesitate; she never had when it came to getting what she wanted. The auctioneer’s voice called out the bid, but Agatha was already lifting her paddle in response, the motion smooth and deliberate.

“Two thousand,” the auctioneer announced.

Her ex raised her paddle again without so much as glancing back. Typical. Agatha’s lips twitched.

“Three thousand,” the auctioneer called.

Agatha’s paddle went up, her smile growing colder. The subtle shift in her posture—back straight, shoulders squared—was deliberate, signaling that she wasn’t just playing.

Rio, ever observant, leaned toward her. “You really want that jacket, huh?”

Agatha didn’t look away from the stage. Her voice was steady, cool. “It’s not about the jacket.”

Rio frowned slightly, puzzled but seemed to know better than to press further.

The bids climbed, higher and higher. Each time her ex raised the paddle, Agatha responded without hesitation, her expression composed, almost indifferent. Inside, though, she could feel the old anger stirring, not raw like it once was but sharp enough to drive her forward.

“Eight thousand,” the auctioneer declared, his tone practically giddy now. “Do I hear nine?”

Agatha lifted her paddle immediately, her eyes locked on the blonde head in the front row. The other woman’s hesitation—so small it might have gone unnoticed—did not escape Agatha.

“Nine thousand five hundred,” the auctioneer said. “Ten thousand? Anyone?”

The room had gone quiet, the other attendees sensing the tension and leaning in to watch the drama unfold. Agatha barely noticed. Her paddle shot up again, her intent crystal clear.

“Ten thousand!”

Finally, her ex turned her head slightly, just enough for Agatha to catch the edge of her profile. Their eyes met for only a second, but it didn’t matter. Agatha knew her ex-wife’s tells intimately, and the subtle tilt of her head, the faint narrowing of her eyes, said everything. She wasn’t going to push further.

With a small, almost imperceptible shake of her head, the blonde woman lowered her paddle.

“Sold!” The auctioneer’s gavel struck the podium, his voice ringing out. “To the lovely lady in purple, for ten thousand dollars!”

The applause was polite, scattered, and unimportant. Agatha leaned back in her chair, one leg crossing elegantly over the other as she picked up her champagne glass. The cool satisfaction in her chest bloomed, sharp and sweet.

Rio turned to her, curiosity flickering in her dark eyes. “You really showed her,” she said, her tone light. “So, what’s the deal? Old rival or something?”

Agatha tilted the glass, swirling the champagne, her smirk deepening as she watched the bubbles rise. She met Rio’s gaze for a brief moment before turning her attention back to the stage.

“Or something,” she replied, her tone as smooth and enigmatic as ever.

Agatha’s smile lingered as she sipped her champagne, the satisfaction of her victory a balm to old wounds. Her gaze drifted idly across the room until it caught on a familiar, all-too-curious expression. Her ex-wife was watching. Intently.

Her pale eyes locked on Agatha, brow raised in what could only be a mix of surprise and thinly veiled judgment. Agatha recognized that look—it had often preceded one of Ashley’s scathing critiques, whether about Agatha’s professional priorities or her supposed lack of emotional warmth.

Agatha tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a smile as sharp as a blade. If Ashley wanted to watch, then Agatha would make it worth her while.

A plan formed in her mind, the kind of impulse she might regret later but couldn’t resist in the moment. She raised an eyebrow at Ashley, holding her gaze for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before shifting her attention deliberately back to Rio.

Rio, who had no idea what was about to hit her.

“Excuse me,” Agatha said smoothly, rising from her chair to retrieve her prize. Her movements were poised, her steps unhurried as she crossed to the front of the room. She accepted the jacket from the auction staff with a gracious nod, resisting the urge to glance back at Ashley. The performance required patience. Timing was everything.

When she returned, Rio’s amused grin was waiting for her. “So, what’s the plan now? You gonna strut around in that and show her who’s boss?”

Agatha chuckled softly, sliding back into her seat and brushing a hand over the leather. “I told you, it’s not about the jacket,” she said, allowing herself a moment to savor the weight of Rio’s curiosity.

Rio’s head tilted, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. “Then what was the point of dropping ten grand on it?”

Agatha glanced at her, assessing. Rio’s easy, curious and trusting nature made her the perfect co-star in this little scene. She caught Ashley’s gaze again, and her smile tightened. Perfect.

“What?” Rio asked, her voice tinged with self-consciousness.

Agatha leaned closer, her tone low and intimate. “Play along,” she whispered, her breath brushing against Rio’s ear.

Before Rio could respond, Agatha draped the jacket over her shoulders, smoothing it down with deliberate care. The soft leather contrasted with the warmth of Rio’s skin as Agatha placed a hand lightly on her arm, grounding her for what came next.

She leaned in, pressing her lips to Rio’s cheek with an elegance that belied the turmoil in her chest. Agatha’s pulse quickened, and for a fleeting, unwelcome moment, she noticed the softness of Rio’s skin and the warmth beneath it. The faintest trace of Rio’s shampoo—clean and citrusy—caught her attention, and she tried to ignore how it felt to finally touch her, even if it was all for show.

The room seemed to hold its breath, or maybe that was just her.

Rio, utterly stunned, froze under her touch. Agatha pulled back slightly, her smile softening into something amused, even affectionate. “Good girl,” she murmured, her tone teasing as she adjusted the lapel of the jacket like a finishing touch.

Rio’s cheeks flushed, her voice faltering. “Uh…”

Agatha didn’t give her time to recover, her attention darting back to Ashley. The other woman’s lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing slightly. Agatha’s chest filled with vindictive satisfaction. Gotcha.

Rio finally found her voice, though it was still shaky. “Are you gonna tell me what that was about?”

Agatha leaned back in her chair, resting a hand on Rio’s arm. Her smile sharpened as her gaze flicked once more to Ashley, ensuring her point had landed. It had.

“Just making a point,” she said, her tone breezy as though the entire moment hadn’t been meticulously calculated.

Rio raised an eyebrow, her grin becoming wry despite the lingering pink in her cheeks. “And what point was that exactly?”

Agatha chuckled, swirling her champagne as though the answer were obvious. “Winning.”

She didn’t elaborate, letting Rio sit with her questions while the satisfaction of Ashley’s barely concealed irritation warmed her more than the champagne ever could.

The applause faded into the background as Agatha leaned back in her chair, the rich fabric of her dress gliding smoothly against the seat. She wasn’t truly interested in the auction anymore; her mind was too preoccupied with the ripple effect of her earlier performance. 

Her hand, still resting lightly on Rio’s arm, gave an instinctive squeeze before she withdrew, as though grounding herself in the reality of what she’d just done. She tilted her head, studying Rio, who looked entirely too stunned for her own good.

“Are you hungry?” Agatha asked, her tone casual and even, betraying nothing of her inner turmoil. The question was a calculated pivot, an effort to diffuse the strange intimacy hanging in the air between them.

Rio blinked, clearly still catching up. “Uh, no. I’m good. Unless you are?” She gave a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m just here to follow your lead, remember?”

The answer earned a faint smirk from Agatha. Good girl, she thought, not without a hint of amusement. “Good answer,” she murmured, rising gracefully from her seat. The quiet satisfaction she felt from Rio’s dazed obedience was unearned, and yet it stirred something reckless in her.

She adjusted the elegant drape of her dress. “Let’s call it a night. My car is waiting,” she said, the subtle authority in her voice leaving little room for discussion.

Rio stood reluctantly, and Agatha didn’t miss the way her hand lingered on the edge of the jacket. The hesitation was palpable, almost endearing. She looks good in it, Agatha thought, though the thought felt dangerous in a way she couldn’t place.

“I, uh, think I’ll just catch the bus,” Rio stammered, keeping a safe distance as they made their way to the door.

Agatha paused, turning her head to regard her with raised brows. The image of Rio, draped in a jacket that cost a small fortune, crammed onto a city bus was almost too absurd to process. Her lips twitched in amusement as she let the disbelief bleed into her voice. “The bus? You’re wearing an outfit that costs more than some people’s rent, and you’re going to ride public transit?”

Rio shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “It’s efficient.”

The laugh that escaped Agatha was low, indulgent. “If you insist,” she said with a dismissive wave, signaling Rio to precede her out the door.

The crisp night air hit them as they stepped outside, the buzz of the city a stark contrast to the quiet tension between them. When Rio moved to shrug off the jacket, holding it out like a peace offering, Agatha’s gaze lingered on it for a beat before meeting Rio’s eyes.

“Keep it,” she said, her tone firm and final.

Rio hesitated, her expression shifting between disbelief and discomfort. “What? I can’t—this thing is… it’s worth—”

“I know exactly what it’s worth,” Agatha cut in smoothly, stepping closer. She reached out, her fingertips brushing over the lapel as she adjusted the collar with practiced ease. The move was deliberate, a subtle reclaiming of control. “You look good in it. And when I give someone a personal gift, I mean it.”

Rio’s swallow was audible, her voice a fraction softer. “A gift?”

“Yes, a gift,” Agatha replied, her smile laced with faint teasing. “Not a loan, not a favor. A gift.” Her head tilted slightly, her gaze steady. She could feel Rio’s hesitation, the urge to argue. “Unless you’d prefer to debate it here in the middle of the street,” she added with a touch of impatience.

Rio shook her head quickly, gripping the edges of the jacket as though it might disappear. “No, I—thanks. Really.”

Agatha’s expression softened, and for a fleeting moment, she felt a pang of something soft and unfamiliar. She shoved it aside before it could bloom into something unmanageable. “Good.”

She stepped back, her heels clicking softly against the pavement, and turned toward her waiting car. The amber streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement as she walked away, resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder.

Once inside the car, Agatha exhaled quietly, letting her carefully maintained composure slip for just a moment. Her driver didn’t ask questions; he never did.

Through the tinted windows, she caught a glimpse of Rio standing there, silhouetted under the streetlights. The faint smile tugging at Rio’s lips was almost imperceptible, but Agatha saw it.

Very good, she thought again, leaning back in her seat as the car pulled away. She didn’t dare dwell on what that small, foolish part of her that wished she’d stayed or pulled her into her car with her wanted.

She sent over a payment along with a note Thanks for accommodating me short notice -A

And as she pressed send she prayed this would be the end of it.

The car ride home was quiet, the hum of the tires on the pavement a soothing backdrop to Agatha’s swirling thoughts. She rested her head against the cool leather seat, eyes half-closed, though she couldn’t fully relax. Her fingers absently drummed against the door handle, betraying her restless energy.

She couldn’t stop replaying the way Rio had responded tonight. The way her skin had flushed. The soft inhale she’d heard when she pressed her lips to her cheek. The thought was a dangerous indulgence, and Agatha despised herself for letting it linger.

By the time she stepped into her home, a wave of exhaustion had set in, heavy and unwelcome. She shed her heels by the door, dropped her clutch on the marble entryway table, and made her way upstairs without bothering to turn on the lights. The darkness felt appropriate, a quiet cocoon to wrap herself in as she tried to unravel the mess of feelings tonight had left behind.

The shower was her next destination, a sanctuary where she could strip herself of the evening’s complications. She turned the water on hot—scalding, even—and let it pound against her skin as steam filled the bathroom. Her breath hitched as the tension she’d been holding onto began to unravel. But it didn’t bring the relief she hoped for.

Her fingers worked vigorously, scrubbing at her arms, her neck, and her face as if Rio had been the one to press a faint mark to her cheek instead of the other way around. It didn’t matter. The feelings of the night lingered, maddening and intrusive. 

Agatha scrubbed harder, willing herself to forget the moment Rio’s breath had hitched, the way she’d stiffened and softened all at once when Agatha’s lips had brushed her skin.

She tipped her head back under the stream of water, letting it cascade down her face as she pressed her palms to the cool tiles. We’re over this now. Don’t dream of her, she thought fiercely. Not again.

But of course, she did.

In the dream, Rio stood with her back to her, framed by soft, golden light. Agatha recognized the jacket immediately—the dark leather clinging to Rio’s shoulders, sleeves pushed up carelessly to her elbows. Her dark hair fell in loose waves, the kind of messy that was entirely deliberate. Agatha’s breath hitched at the sight, though she didn’t move at first.

And then, as if sensing her, Rio shrugged the jacket off. It fell in one fluid motion, revealing smooth, sun-kissed skin and the sharp, elegant curve of her shoulder blades. There was nothing else—just her, bared and unashamed, utterly captivating.

Agatha stepped forward, her hand lifting as if drawn by an unseen force. Her fingertips hovered over the ridge of Rio’s spine, and then, slowly, she traced a line down its length. The heat of Rio’s skin burned against her touch, impossibly real for a dream. She felt her own breath quicken, the sharp tug of longing pulling her closer.

“Careful,” Rio said softly, her voice laced with teasing warmth. “You might get burned.”

Agatha froze as Rio turned her head, glancing at her over one bare shoulder. Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief, and a lazy grin curved her lips. Then she winked—slow, deliberate, maddening—and the dream shattered like glass.

Agatha woke with a start, her heart pounding and her skin damp—not with sweat, but with the lingering heat of her dream. The sheets were tangled around her legs, the pillow beneath her head shoved halfway off the bed. She groaned, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes as if she could scrub the remnants of Rio from her mind the same way she’d tried to scrub her from her skin.

“Goddammit,” she muttered, her voice hoarse in the quiet room. The clock on the nightstand blinked back at her—3:42 a.m.—and she knew there was no way she’d fall back asleep now.

This was rapidly spiraling into a large and expensive problem. And for the first time in a long time, Agatha didn't know how to resolve it.

Chapter Text

Agatha entered the conference room with a cup of black coffee in one hand and a leather portfolio tucked under her arm. Her heels had been swapped for a pair of sharp, pointed flats, and a crisp white with a faint pinstripe. It was unbuttoned just enough at the collar to suggest she’d rushed part of her morning routine. Her hair was swept into a messy bun, strands falling loose around her face.

She dropped the portfolio onto the table, her other hand busy pulling a pen from behind her ear. “Alright,” she started, glancing at the pair already seated. “What am I walking into?”

Her voice was calm, but the clipped precision of her words left no room for preamble. Cynthia and Liam, both among her best employees exchanged a glance before Cynthia took the lead.

“We’ve got a problem with the Kowalski campaign,” Cynthia said, adjusting her glasses. “The press is running with a story about falsified data in the environmental impact reports.”

Agatha sat down, as she clicked her pen and began to twirl it idly between her fingers. “And? Is it true?”

“No,” Liam jumped in, a little too quickly. “But it’s not not true, either.” He winced as Agatha’s sharp gaze landed on him. “The data itself is accurate, but the wording in the summary report… it could have been clearer.”

“‘Could have been clearer,’” Agatha repeated, her tone cutting without raising her voice. She rolled up her sleeves and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Let me guess. They cherry-picked a few lines, stripped them of context, and turned them into something sensational?”

Cynthia nodded. “Exactly. It’s clickbait, but it’s gaining traction. We’ve already had three client calls this morning asking for clarification.”

Agatha sighed, chewing absently on the end of her pen as she stared at the screen. “And we have proof the data’s solid? If I push back, this won’t blow up in our faces?”

“Yes,” Cynthia said with quiet confidence. “We double-checked everything. There’s nothing wrong with the data, only the way the report summarized it.”

Agatha’s lips quirked slightly, almost a smile, though not quite. “Good. Then this is salvageable.” She pointed the pen at Cynthia, then Liam. “I want two things. First, a clear, concise statement refuting the allegations. No jargon, no fluff—something even a bored intern skimming social media can understand. Second, I want us to take responsibility for the poor phrasing in the report. Not an apology, mind you; just an acknowledgment that we can always do better.”

Liam nodded, his pen flying across his notebook. “Got it. Statement and acknowledgment.”

“Good,” Agatha said again, leaning back in her chair. She tapped the pen against her lower lip as she thought how best to divide her forces like a general planning a ground manuever. “Cynthia, I want you handling the media response. No interviews until we’ve issued the statement. Liam, you’re going to prep a revised summary report. I expect you to have that ready by close of business today.”

Both of them nodded, though Liam hesitated, his expression uneasy. “Ms. Harkness… are we sure about admitting fault? Won’t that make us look worse?”

Her gaze snapped to him, sharp and unyielding. “No, Liam. Pretending to be perfect makes us look worse. Owning up to minor mistakes and demonstrating how we’re correcting them makes us trustworthy. Got it?”

Liam nodded quickly, though her tone had clearly rattled him. Cynthia shot him a sympathetic glance but didn’t intervene.

Agatha noticed the way Liam fidgeted with his pen and softened, just slightly. “Look,” she said, leaning forward again. “I get it. You’re nervous. This is high stakes. But trust me when I say the only thing worse than admitting fault is letting someone else do it for you. If we own the narrative, we control the damage. Understood?”

“Understood,” Liam said, more firmly this time.

“Good. Now get to work. Thank you for bringing this to me. Remember, I wouldn’t have you both on this if I didn’t think you were capable. Don’t prove me wrong.” She waved them off with the pen, then paused. “Cynthia, leave the slide deck. I want to review it before we go public.”

Cynthia nodded, and the two of them gathered their things, heading out with a renewed sense of purpose.

Once the door closed behind them, Agatha leaned back in her chair, exhaling quietly. She stared at the slide deck on the screen, absently chewing on her pen as she began jotting down notes in her portfolio. The work distracted her, letting her shove aside the tangled thoughts she’d woken up with.

For now, the crisis in front of her demanded all her attention. And for Agatha, there was a reassurance in that—the steady rhythm of solving problems, the satisfaction of guiding her team through fire. Whatever strange, unsettling pull Rio had awakened in her, it didn’t belong here. Not in this room, not in her world. It was the one place she could truly push everything else away.

Agatha clicked her pen, refocusing. There was work to do.

Agatha was deep in thought, scribbling notes in the margins of Cynthia’s printed copy of the slide deck when a soft knock sounded at the conference room door. She glanced up, clicking her pen twice.

“Come in,” she called her voice even.

Julie stepped inside, her tablet tucked under one arm and her expression professional but pleasant. “Got a minute boss?”

“For you, always,” Agatha replied, a rare flicker of warmth breaking through her typical sternness. She gestured for Julie to take a seat.

She certainly had favorites, and Julie was one of them. They both knew she was overqualified for the assistant role and it would only be a matter of time before Agatha needed to find a replacement. But perhaps a title change would keep her around… chief of staff. That could work. Agatha made a mental note to follow up with HR later.

Julie hesitated, staying by the door instead. “I just received a note from HR. Martha’s going to be starting her maternity leave soon. It’s not immediate, but they wanted to give us a heads-up so we can prepare for the transition.”

Agatha stilled, the pen she’d been spinning between her fingers dropping to the table. “Maternity leave?” she repeated as if testing how the words felt coming out of her mouth.

Julie nodded. “She’s about six months along, I think. They’re suggesting she go out in about four weeks to give her some time to rest before the baby arrives.”

Agatha leaned back in her chair, arms crossing over her chest. Her gaze drifted to the window, where the city stretched out beyond the glass. She’d never thought much about children—certainly not for herself. The concept had always felt distant, like someone else’s path, not hers. She’d been too busy chasing success, too fulfilled by the satisfaction of climbing higher, achieving more. Plus she’d never met someone who she felt confident would be a parent to the same standards she would have.

And yet, lately, it seemed like children were everywhere. Martha was the third pregnancy in the office this year as if something was in the water. The idea lodged itself in her mind, uninvited.

“Right,” she said after a moment, snapping herself out of her thoughts. “I’ll need you to put together a brief of Martha’s case load. Let’s identify the most suitable candidates to transfer her work to. We’ll need people who can hit the ground running— our clients won’t tolerate a learning curve.”

Julie jotted notes on her tablet. “Understood. I’ll make sure it’s ready by the end of tomorrow.”

Agatha nodded, then tilted her head slightly, tapping her pen against her chin. “We should probably arrange a small baby shower for her. Nothing extravagant, just something to make her feel appreciated before she goes.”

Julie blinked, caught off guard. “You want to host a baby shower?”

“Not me personally,” Agatha clarified with a faint smirk. “These things make me uncomfortable, and employees never let loose when the boss is around. But I’ll send a nice gift.”

Julie smiled, seeming relieved. “Noted. Do you have any preferences for the gift?”

“Something thoughtful but practical,” Agatha said, her tone brisk. “You’ve got a good eye for these things—choose whatever you think will suit her best. Keep it under five hundred bucks but don’t spend less than two hundred. And use this.” She pulled a sleek, matte-black card from her portfolio and slid it across the table.

Julie picked it up, eyes widening slightly. “That is… generous.”

“Martha’s a good employee,” Agatha said, leaning forward again. “And we’re expecting  her to leave her accounts in top shape before she goes. It’s the least we can do.”

Julie nodded, already typing notes. “I’ll find a venue and put together a budget proposal for the shower. Any dates you’d like me to avoid?”

Agatha waved a hand. “Pick whatever works best for her schedule. Coordinate with whoever is needed.”

“Got it,” Julie said, standing to leave. “Anything else?”

“No. Good work, as always,” Agatha said, reaching for her pen again.

Julie paused at the door, smiling softly. “I’ll keep you updated.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, Agatha sat back in her chair, chewing absently on the pen. a piece of plastic broke off her mouth and she frowned before spitting it out. She never should have given up smoking.

Her ex had insisted. For her health, she’d pleaded. Another concession, for the best but still annoying in times like this.

Agatha pushed the thought of children away, as she always did. But this time it didn’t leave as easily. It lingered.

Shaking her head, she returned to her notes. There was too much to do to waste time on idle musings.

The upscale bistro was bustling but not overwhelmingly loud, the ambiance tailored for exactly this type of power lunch. Agatha arrived right on time, she’d taken the time to fix her appearance and was now wearing a perfectly tailored forest green blazer. She scanned the room and found Mr. Thatcher seated at a corner table. As usual, his suit strained uncomfortably at the buttons, the tie knotted just a hair too tight.

“Agatha, my dear!” he exclaimed as she approached, rising halfway from his seat with an awkward gesture of enthusiasm.

“Mr. Thatcher,” she replied smoothly, extending a hand. Her tone was cordial but neutral. He liked to think they were old friends; she preferred to keep their relationship strictly professional.

Once seated, Agatha placed her order without hesitation—rare steak and frites, paired with a glass of Syrah. Mr. Thatcher fumbled through the menu, eventually settling on a greek salad.

“How have you been?” he began as soon as the waiter departed. “You know, I was just thinking about that last fundraiser we attended together. What was it, three years ago? You wore that lovely red dress—”

“Four years ago,” Agatha corrected, cutting through his meandering. “And I doubt you asked me here for a walk down memory lane. What can I do for you, Mr. Thatcher?”

He chuckled, unperturbed. “Always direct, aren’t you? Fine, fine. I’ll get to it. I’m hosting a fundraiser next month for Senator Calloway. We’d love to see you there. Your presence would mean a great deal.”

Agatha leaned back in her chair, arching a brow. “Senator Calloway,” she repeated, her tone faintly incredulous. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you are aware she’s someone I have no love lost for?”

Thatcher waved a dismissive hand. “Well, you haven’t been friends for some time, but that’s all water under the bridge, surely.”

Her lips quirked into a sharp smile. “Let’s call it what it is, Mr. Thatcher. Calloway wasn’t my friend—she’s my ex-wife. As I believe you should recall.” She took a sip of her wine, letting the statement hang between them.

Thatcher shifted uncomfortably, his laughter coming out forced. “Now, now, let’s not dig up old dirt. The optics of this would be excellent for both of you. And, between us, I know you’ve got expansion plans—breaking into the southeast market, isn’t it? It never hurts to have friends in powerful places.”

Agatha studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. The man was boring, but he wasn’t wrong. At the end of the year, she’d be going after another round of funding, and Thatcher’s support would be critical. She needed to play the game, even if it meant standing in a room full of people she’d rather avoid.

Still, her stomach churned at the thought of being back in that world, feigning polite smiles while Ashley sized her up. And then, like a shadow creeping into the edge of her thoughts, there was Rio.

She toyed with an idea: bringing Rio along, holding her arm, letting her sharp wit and unflappable confidence carry the evening. The thought was both tempting and infuriating. She didn’t want to need Rio for this, but she knew how much her ex-wife would loathe the idea of Agatha moving on with someone so unapologetically unlike her.

One last time, Agatha told herself. One more opportunity to show Rio off, and then I’ll be done. Ashley never needs to know it was just a fling.

Plastering on her most charming smile, she leaned forward slightly. “Mr. Thatcher, I’d be delighted to attend. Send me the details, and I’ll make sure it’s on my calendar.”

His face lit up, and he launched into a monologue about the guest list and the event’s importance, but Agatha was already miles away, calculating her next move. By the time their meals arrived, she’d decided. Rio would come with her. Whether she knew it yet or not.

The next few days passed in a blur, and it wasn’t until the morning of the fundraiser that the realization hit Agatha like a freight train—she hadn’t asked Rio to come. A rare misstep, and one she couldn’t afford now.

The thought soured her coffee as she took a sip. She loathed last-minute arrangements, but this oversight was hers. She had been too preoccupied with finalizing numbers for the southeast expansion and mentally preparing herself to endure a room filled with smiles sharp as daggers. Now, her meticulously planned evening hinged on Rio’s willingness to say yes.

By late afternoon, as the clock ticked closer, Agatha sat in her office, staring at her phone. Her thumb hovered over Rio’s name. She felt an unfamiliar twinge of hesitation. Was this too short notice? Would Rio even care enough to bother?

Finally, with a sharp exhale, she typed:

"Are you free tonight?"

Straightforward. No preamble. She didn’t see the point in dressing it up—it wasn’t her style, and it certainly wasn’t Rio’s.

The minutes ticked by, and for someone who prided herself on her calm under pressure, Agatha found herself tapping her pen against her desk with increasing impatience. She glanced at the clock, then back at her phone. Nothing.

When the reply finally came, she pounced to read it:

"I have a shift."

Agatha frowned at the words, her mind already whirring through contingencies. It wasn’t exactly a refusal, but it wasn’t the answer she wanted either. Her jaw tightened as she typed her next question.

"How much do you make on a shift?"

There wasn’t an immediate response, and the silence irked her. She was already calculating figures in her head. Before Rio could reply, she was ready with a solution.

"I’ll double it. I have an important engagement tonight."

There. Problem solved. If money was the obstacle, she’d remove it. The clean efficiency of the offer soothed her frustration, and she hit send without a second thought.

Easy.

The response came slower than she expected. She stared at her phone, the quiet of her office amplifying the growing tension. Was she too brusque? Too presumptuous? She brushed the thought aside.

When Rio finally replied, Agatha felt a flicker of satisfaction.

"What should I wear?"

Agatha allowed herself a moment of amusement before typing back:

"The jacket."

Simple. Direct. Her thumb had barely moved from the send button when Rio’s reply arrived.

"Just the jacket?"

The audacity of it made Agatha pause, her brows lifting as she stared at the screen. A rush of heat crept up her neck, an unexpected and unwelcome reaction. Her mind flicked to the dream she’d had a few nights ago.

She smirked despite herself, briefly imagining Rio walking into the fundraiser wearing nothing but the jacket. It was a ridiculous thought, but one that lingered long enough to make her shift in her chair.

Agatha considered responding, perhaps some witty retort to put Rio in her place. Instead, she locked her phone and set it aside, letting the silence hang deliberately. If Rio wanted to play games, she’d keep her guessing.

But without a doubt, if she ever were to wear just the jacket, that would be for Agatha’s eyes alone.

She didn’t share.

The house was impossibly large, its grandeur almost garish. Agatha climbed the steps to the door, the clicking of her heels the only sound breaking the stillness outside. Her hand hovered over the handle, but she hesitated, her pulse racing as laughter and soft music spilled from inside. 

She wouldn’t be seen alone. It would look too much like defeat. She drew in a slow breath, centering herself. Soon, Rio would arrive. She would be her shield and give her an edge, both a distraction for herself and a statement to others. Until then, she lingered in the foyer.

Agatha glanced out the window near the door and smiled as she saw her date arriving right on time. She had to admit, the sight of Rio hesitating in the driveway amused her. The woman looked like she was debating whether she belonged here—and Agatha relished the idea that Rio was just a little unnerved. Good. She wanted Rio off balance, just enough to sharpen her reactions. Just enough to keep her honest.

Agatha adjusted her dress and opened the door before Rio could knock. The evening air swept in, cool and refreshing against her skin. She let her gaze linger as Rio approached, sweeping over her outfit with a deliberate slowness. The jacket, thank God, looked perfect on her.

Paired with her t-shirt and jeans she was just on the edge of underdressed in a way that would make the other guests wonder who is she showing up like this?

“Perfect,” Agatha murmured, her voice low but firm, stepping aside to let Rio in. She saw the flicker of uncertainty in Rio’s eyes and felt the faintest satisfaction. That was the thing about Rio—her composure always came with the faintest cracks, and Agatha couldn’t resist exploiting them.

“Decided against just the jacket, hmm?” she added smoothly, letting her tone carry a hint of teasing. She saw the rush of color rise in Rio’s cheeks, and her own amusement deepened.

“Well, you didn’t say if you hated the idea,” Rio countered as she stepped inside, her attempt at casualness almost convincing.

“On the contrary,” Agatha replied, closing the door behind them with deliberate slowness. Her hand brushed against Rio’s arm as she turned, a subtle touch, but one she knew wouldn’t go unnoticed. “This is a very... striking look.”

Rio’s reaction—a slight swallow, a shift in posture—didn’t disappoint. Agatha allowed herself a flicker of amusement before pivoting to survey the house beyond. The noise from the party grew louder as they moved further into the house.

“This your house?” Rio asked, breaking the silence, her tone faintly skeptical as she glanced at the opulent decor.

Agatha let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “God, no. Much too ostentatious. New money.” She gestured vaguely to the lavish furnishings, her disdain thinly veiled. “No, it’s the home of one of my business partners.”

Rio raised a brow, her lips quirking up in a half-smile. “Okay, so it was an emergency for me to come have dinner with your business partner or whatever, because?”

“Aren’t we curious?” Agatha responded, arching a brow. She paused for effect, knowing how to dole out information in just the right increments. To keep the woman hanging on her every word. Just how she liked it.

“Because I expect my ex-wife to be here. I don’t particularly feel like dealing with that alone. Or sober.”

At that, Rio straightened slightly, her casual air faltering. “Ex-wife?”

“Yes,” Agatha said evenly, keeping her tone neutral even as a familiar bitterness edged at the corners of her mind. She noted the flicker of curiosity in Rio’s eyes and decided to let it linger unanswered for a moment longer.

“So... who is she?” Rio finally asked, hesitating just enough for the question to land awkwardly between them.

Agatha’s smile turned razor-sharp, her eyes glinting with something that wasn’t entirely pleasant. “You’ll see,” she said simply, her voice cold and final.

She adjusted the strap of her clutch and turned toward the hallway leading to the main event. “Tonight is a fundraiser,” she continued, her tone softening to what she hoped was neutral tone. “Hosted by my investor who also happens to be a rather enthusiastic supporter of my ex-wife’s campaign.”

Rio blinked, processing that. “Your ex-wife is…a politician?”

“State Senator Ashley Calloway,” Agatha said, letting the name roll off her tongue with just the right amount of disdain. Her gaze flicked toward Rio, gauging her reaction. “I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

Rio choked on a laugh, her brows lifting in surprise. “Uh, yeah.” She tilted her head, clearly intrigued. “Why are you here in support if she’s your ex? Couldn’t you just—”

“Skip it?” Agatha interrupted smoothly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I could, but it would be... unwise. The host, Mr. Thatcher, happens to be one of her largest campaign donors. And also, inconveniently, a key investor in one of my ventures. It’s not exactly a choice.”

Rio shook her head, her mouth curving into a wry smile. “Mixing work and pleasure—that sounds messy.”

Agatha’s laugh was low and sharp, tinged with bitterness. “You have no idea.” She turned her gaze back to Rio, letting it soften just slightly. “But don’t worry. You’ll do just fine tonight. Thatcher is easily charmed, and Ashley...” She trailed off, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “She’ll take note that I didn’t show up alone.”

Rio’s grin was unexpected and disarming. “Glad I can help you make a statement, I guess.”

Agatha studied her for a moment, her expression unreadable before she tilted her head. For a moment she tried to weigh how vulnerable she should be. But despite her mental reminder it’s just business nothing more, she couldn’t stop the next words from falling past her lips. “You’re more than a statement. Trust me on that.”

Rio shifted, tugging at the hem of her jacket as though it would ground her. “Wow. Subtle, huh?”

Agatha smirked. “It’s not meant to be subtle,” she said plainly, offering her hand. Her eyes glinted with something both daring and inviting. “Come on. Try not to look like you’re about to bolt.”

Rio hesitated, her reluctance written in the faint tension of her shoulders. Agatha’s fingers brushed lightly over Rio’s as she took her hand, feeling the faint tension in her grip. It didn’t surprise her—this wasn’t Rio’s kind of scene.

It wasn’t hers either. She wished she could teleport them anywhere else. She had some ideas. But they both had work to do here.

Even the brief contact meant to ground her date steadied Agatha as well in a way she hadn’t expected. She led her through the house toward the garden, head held high, each step purposeful. As they reached the back, her smile slid into place like armor. No one would guess at the flicker of nerves she tamped down.

The garden was lively, bustling with around fifty well-dressed guests who moved in small clusters. Agatha swept her eyes over the scene with practiced precision, cataloging the familiar faces, the calculated laughter, the surface-level charm. It was a dance she knew well, one she could perform blindfolded. She leaned in close to Rio, voice pitched just low enough to make it seem like an intimate aside for anyone watching them.

“Smile a little, darling. You’ll give them the wrong impression. Try to look like my date and not a hostage,” she teased.

She felt Rio stiffen beside her before forcing a smile, her lips curling just enough to show effort. Agatha smirked faintly. Even when uncomfortable, Rio managed to hold her own, though the faint twitch of her jaw gave her away. Agatha guided her through the crowd with ease, exchanging polite nods and murmurs with a few acquaintances, her movements deliberate.

Stopping at the drink cart, she picked up two glasses of punch and handed one to Rio. “Stick close,” she murmured, her tone light but with an edge of seriousness. “Thatcher likes to talk, is dreadfully boring, and I’ll need someone to keep me entertained.”

Rio arched a brow, her voice dry. “Is that what I’m here for?”

Agatha tilted her head slightly, the barest glint of mischief in her eyes. “That and to look devastatingly attractive, which you’re already doing. So, well done.”

Rio sipped her drink, and Agatha caught the faint flush that crept up her neck. She hid her amusement behind her own glass, the game of toying with Rio’s reactions an unexpectedly delightful distraction.

“And your ex? Where’s she in all this?”

Agatha’s amusement dimmed at the question, her smile tightening imperceptibly. She gestured with her glass toward the center of the garden. “Over there.”

She didn’t need to look to know where the senator stood; she’d clocked her the moment they arrived. Ashley’s presence radiated authority, her sharp laugh carrying even over the din of conversation. Agatha let her gaze drift to the cluster of people surrounding her ex. Her tailored emerald dress stood out like a jewel, the cut elegant but designed to command attention. She’d always looked good in green.

Agatha snorted softly. Envy, jealousy, pride - they both carried these sins. It’s what had made them such a deadly combination when things were good, and had also been the wedge that had forced them apart.

Rio’s attention followed hers, and Agatha glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, catching the subtle flicker of recognition that crossed her face.

“I’m guessing none of this was a coincidence,” Rio said, her tone soft but pointed.

“But of course,” Agatha replied smoothly, draining her glass and setting it on a nearby table. “I’m never caught on the back foot.”

Ashley’s gaze flicked toward them, and Agatha tensed just slightly, her practiced smile slipping for only a heartbeat. Their eyes met, and Ashley’s expression didn’t falter, but her smile thinned as her gaze darted between Agatha and Rio. The silent acknowledgment was charged, laced with questions that neither would ask aloud.

“Well, this should be fun,” Agatha muttered under her breath, her voice low enough that only Rio could hear.

Before Rio could reply, Thatcher appeared, all smiles and bluster. Agatha adjusted seamlessly, her polished charm slipping back into place as she greeted him. “Mr. Thatcher,” she said warmly, gesturing toward Rio. “This is Rio, my guest for the evening.”

Thatcher’s attention lingered on Rio longer than Agatha liked, but she kept her expression neutral as he offered his hand.

“Charmed. And what do you do, miss?”

Rio hesitated, just a moment too long, and Agatha smoothly stepped in before the pause could stretch. “She’s in the hospitality industry. Very talented.”

Rio’s polite smile twitched closer to amusement as she shook Thatcher’s hand. He immediately launched into an anecdote about the event, his voice a dull hum in the background as Agatha’s attention drifted.

Ashley was still watching.

When their eyes met again, Agatha knew what was coming. The senator’s movements were deliberate, her steps unhurried but purposeful as she made her way across the garden. She moved with the kind of ease that demanded attention, her silver-blonde bob catching the light as she approached.

Agatha straightened, the edges of her smile sharpening.

“Ashley,” she greeted, her tone crisp, almost cordial.

“Agatha,” Ashley replied, her voice low, practiced warmth lacing her words. Her gaze shifted briefly to Rio, and her smile gained a faint, calculating edge.

Agatha kept her tone steady, even as irritation prickled beneath her skin. “How nice to see you. You always did have a flair for making an entrance.”

Ashley’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Guilty as charged.” She turned her attention to Rio, her gaze sharp and assessing. “And you are?”

Agatha watched Rio square her shoulders.

“Rio,” she said, her voice steady as she extended a hand.

Ashley’s handshake was brief, her smile polite but dismissive. “A pleasure,” she said before shifting her attention back to Agatha. “I was beginning to think Agatha was too busy for these sorts of events. It’s nice to see her out and about again.”

Agatha’s smile didn’t falter, but it lost its warmth. “I make time for what matters.”

Ashley’s smirk deepened, her tone vaguely patronizing. “Well, we’re all capable of firsts, I suppose.” A low blow. So, that’s how she was going to play this. She turned back to Rio, her head tilting slightly. Agatha tensed, unwilling to let her ex pick apart the one person in the room who wasn’t part of this world. Rio hadn’t signed up to be scrutinized and Agatha would not allow it.

“So, Rio, what do you do?”

“She’s in hospitality,” Agatha cut in firmly, her words leaving no room for further questioning.

Ashley arched a brow but didn’t press. Instead, she leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just enough to keep the words private. “You should have let me know you were coming tonight. It would’ve saved us both the surprise.”

Agatha’s tone turned icy. “I didn’t think it was necessary. It’s not as if we’re still coordinating calendars, dear.”

“Indeed.” Ashley straightened, her expression smoothing into polite neutrality. “Well, enjoy your evening. I’m sure we’ll cross paths again before the night is over.”

“Of course,” Agatha said evenly, watching as Ashley sauntered away.

Rio exhaled audibly, breaking the tension. “She’s... intense.”

“That’s one word for her,” Agatha replied, her tone dry. She swirled her glass absentmindedly, her gaze following Ashley. “She’s also tenacious, calculating, and completely unbothered by stepping on people to get what she wants.” 

Rio studied her, the weight of her observation unsettling.

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common,” Rio quipped.

The comment caught Agatha off guard, and she laughed—a genuine, startled sound. “Touché. You might be onto something.”

She hoped Rio wasn’t mentally comparing them too much. Agatha wasn’t entirely like her. She could be good.

Rio’s grin was easy, disarming, and brought her out of that unwelcome spiral. “So, what’s the plan now? Do I just sit here and look brooding while you two have a staring contest?”

Agatha arched a brow, and smiled mischievously. “Don’t tempt me. But no, I think it’s time we mingle. Come on.”

Agatha stood, brushing a wrinkle from her gown with a practiced flick of her fingers before extending her hand toward Rio. The sharp confidence in her posture made it clear she expected no hesitation.

“Lead the way,” Rio said, her voice steadier than Agatha had anticipated.

That steadiness brought a flicker of warmth to Agatha’s smile, the glint of mischief in her eyes sharpening. “With pleasure.”

The garden stretched out before them, a sea of elegant suits and designer dresses, the faint hum of polite conversation layered over soft classical music. Agatha stepped into the fray with ease, guiding Rio through clusters of guests like a seasoned diplomat navigating foreign terrain.

As the evening unfolded, Agatha shifted seamlessly between moments of polite charm and deliberate persuasion, her words chosen with precision. A nod here, a light touch on the arm there—each movement calculated to leave an impression.

“Ms. Harkness, it’s been too long,” one woman exclaimed as Agatha approached, her tone oozing flattery.

“Not long enough, I think,” Agatha replied with a sly smile, her tone teasing but layered with just enough truth to keep the woman guessing. They exchanged the usual pleasantries about art acquisitions and charity events, but Agatha was already planning her exit from the conversation.

As she introduced Rio to a gentleman in publishing, she caught sight of Ashley again across the garden. A subtle tension crept into her shoulders. It wasn’t lost on her that Ashley had deliberately wielded her most polished charm tonight, a performance crafted to remind Agatha—and everyone else—of exactly who she was.

Rio stayed close, quiet but observant, her presence a steadying weight. After a particularly dull exchange with a venture capitalist, Rio leaned in just enough for her words to reach Agatha’s ears alone.

“They’re all so fake,” she murmured, her tone wry. “I’m amazed you can keep a straight face.”

Agatha smirked, her grip tightening slightly on the stem of her glass. “Oh, believe me, darling, that’s why these events bore me senseless. It’s all posturing, endless circles of veiled ambition, always someone angling for something without having the balls to ask directly.”

Rio arched a brow, a spark of amusement in her expression. “You should be the one getting paid to be here.”

A soft laugh escaped Agatha before she could stop it, and she tilted her head to study Rio. “You know, you’d make an excellent critic if you weren’t so earnest. But you’re not wrong.”

They moved on to another group of guests, where a man in finance was recounting a self-congratulatory story about his recent investment. Agatha listened just long enough to offer an appropriate nod of interest before steering the conversation elsewhere.

“I hear you’ve been busy with the Greenway project,” she said smoothly, her voice pitched with just enough intrigue to redirect the group’s focus.

“Ah, yes,” the man replied, puffing up slightly. “It’s shaping up to be our most ambitious undertaking yet.”

Agatha nodded, filing the information away without any genuine interest. She had no patience for the kind of people who thought ambition equated to worth, but she could play the role when it suited her.

Rio, meanwhile, was watching her with a faintly amused expression, clearly entertained by the contrast between Agatha’s sharp observations and the shallowness of everyone else gathered here.

By the time they’d made a lap and reached the drink cart again, Agatha felt the first hints of weariness tugging at her. She sipped her drink, her gaze scanning the crowd for Ashley.

“Looking for someone again?” Rio asked, her voice low enough to keep the question between them.

Agatha didn’t answer right away. Instead, she set her glass down with deliberate precision. “She’ll come to me when she’s ready,” she said at last, her tone light but her eyes hard.

Rio tilted her head, studying her. “She really did a number on you huh?”

Agatha’s lips quirked into a faint smile, but she didn’t answer. That was a little too close to the truth. Instead, she took Rio’s arm again and led her toward another cluster of guests.

By the time the stump speeches began, Agatha had maneuvered them to a corner table near the exit. Her placement wasn’t random—this spot gave her a clear view of the podium without locking her into the spotlight. She sipped her wine, quietly amused by how many people likely mistook her calculated retreat for casual indifference.

But then Ashley stepped up to the microphone.

Agatha felt the faintest flicker of tension in her chest, though her expression betrayed nothing. She leaned back in her chair, swirling the wine in her glass as she listened to Ashley’s smooth, polished tone.

“Before we move on to our next segment,” Ashley began, her voice laced with authority, “I’d like to take a moment to thank all of our wonderful sponsors for their support.”

Agatha’s lips twitched in faint amusement as the crowd murmured in approval, clapping politely when Ashley gestured to a group of high-profile attendees. But the moment Ashley’s gaze landed on her, Agatha knew something was coming.

At least her ex could always be counted on to stab her in the front.

“And, of course, a special thanks to Agatha Harkness of the Salem Company,” Ashley continued, her tone silkier now. “Her contributions to this city and my campaigns over the years are unparalleled, and her work has so positively touched many of us here.”

Agatha caught the faint ripple of laughter that passed through the crowd and noted the curious glance Rio shot her. She knew the laugh well—it was a laugh born of inside jokes and shared stories, the kind designed to alienate an outsider like Rio.

Ashley’s smile sharpened as she delivered the final blow. “Agatha, would you mind coming up and saying a few words? For old times’ sake?”

For the briefest moment, Agatha froze. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass, the pressure making her knuckles whiten. Ashley had clearly been waiting for this—a chance to put her on the spot, to remind everyone that no matter how poised Agatha was, Ashley still knew how to needle her.

Agatha set her glass down with deliberate care and rose to her feet, her face a flawless mask of confidence. The applause greeted her warmly as she made her way to the podium, though she barely heard it over the racing of own thoughts.

She took the microphone and met Ashley’s gaze for a fraction of a second before turning her attention to the room.

“Thank you, Senator Calloway,” she said, her voice cool but steady. She wouldn’t give Ashley the satisfaction of seeing her ruffled. “And thank you to everyone here tonight for supporting such an important campaign. It’s a privilege to be part of a community that values such collaboration and generosity.”

Her eyes swept across the crowd, lingering on Ashley just long enough to send a silent message: You don’t own me.

“Events like this remind us that progress isn’t achieved in isolation,” she continued. “It’s built on partnerships, on trust, and on a shared vision for the future. And that’s certainly worth celebrating.”

The applause swelled as Agatha stepped back from the microphone, a tight smile curving her lips. She returned to her seat with deliberate grace. But inside, her thoughts churned.

“That was charming,” Rio whispered as she sat down.

Agatha didn’t respond immediately. She reached for her glass, draining the last of her wine in one fluid motion. Her jaw tightened as she leaned toward Rio, her voice low and sharp.

“We’re leaving,” she hissed.

Rio blinked. “Now?”

“Yes.” Agatha’s gaze flicked to the stage, where Ashley was basking in her smug victory. “Before I do something I’ll regret.”

Rio didn’t need to be told twice. She stood and followed as Agatha cut a determined path toward the exit, her movements brisk and purposeful. As they stepped outside into the crisp night air, Agatha inhaled deeply, tilting her head back and pinching the bridge of her nose.

Rio hesitated for a moment, then ventured softly, “Are you okay?”

Agatha opened her eyes and exhaled sharply, her laugh humorless. “That woman has been trying to undermine me for years, and I’ll be damned if I let her succeed in public.”

She turned to Rio, her expression softening just slightly. “Thank you for indulging me tonight. I owe you one.”

Rio shrugged, her lips quirking into a small smile as she shrugged. “It wasn’t all bad. It was fun to see you in your element.”

The sincerity of the statement caught Agatha off guard. Her smile in return was brief but genuine. Instead of it bothering her how easily Rio brushed the encounter off, it only endeared her to her more.

Finally, there was someone else who observed the game being played as keenly as she did. Finally, she was accompanied by someone who could keep up. And wasn’t that the reason all her other relationships had failed? But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t go there. This wasn’t real. Rio was just performing her role exceptionally well.

“Let me call the car,” she said, already reaching for her phone.

When the sleek black car arrived moments later, Agatha slid into the back seat, a d Rip dutifully followed.

The silence between them grew heavy as the car pulled away, Agatha’s gaze fixed on the city lights beyond the window. Her thoughts were distant, calculating her next move and the precise counter to Ashley’s underhanded maneuver.

“Well,” Rio drawled finally, her voice breaking the stillness. “Sorry your ex-wife sucks.”

Agatha’s lips twitched despite herself, though she didn’t turn from the window. It was an understatement but she appreciated Rio giving her an opportunity to share only what she was comfortable with. “Most exes do,” she replied coolly. “They become exes for a reason.”

Rio chuckled, and Agatha felt her shift next to her as she leaned back in her seat. “Fair enough. Can’t argue with that.”

Agatha turned her head then, studying Rio with a quiet intensity. Her gaze lingered, curiosity and resolve flickering in her eyes. She wasn’t ready to go home. The only redeeming part of these events was getting to debrief afterward with someone.

That was something she hadn’t had the pleasure of doing in a very long time.

After a moment, Agatha straightened and tapped lightly on the glass separating them from the driver. “Change of plans,” she said smoothly. “Take us to a bar.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A bar?”

“Yes,” Agatha said, turning back to Rio with a faint smile. “And since you’re the expert on... this sort of thing,” she gestured vaguely, “I’ll let you recommend one.” She bit her tongue between her teeth as she tested Rio, eager to see what she came up with, and hoping to gain some insight from her choice.

Rio smirked, her interest piqued. “Depends. What kind of night are you looking for? Somewhere to bitch about exes? Or somewhere where the drinks are strong enough to forget them?”

Agatha laughed, “Why not both?”

Rio shook her head, grinning. “Alright, I know a place.” She rattled off an address to the driver, and Agatha leaned back in her seat, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

The rest of the ride passed in quiet anticipation, the air between them humming with things unspoken. Agatha tried not to dwell on how close they were, how every subtle movement brought them just within the edge of touch. She didn’t dare look at Rio, she wouldn’t be foolish. Instead, she stared out the window, determined to keep her expression unreadable, though the faintest trace of a smile lingered on her lips.

Chapter Text

They arrived at a cozy, dimly lit bar tucked away on a side street. Ralph dropped them off at the curb and Rio took her hand as she led her down the alley to the door. It was the kind of place you only found if you were walking the city which explained why Agatha had never been here before. It was intimate but lively—not too quiet but not so loud they’d have to shout to hear each other. She didn’t quite know why Rio had chosen this place, but it was the kind of setting that invited conversation, perhaps even a bit of honesty.

She wasn’t sure how honest she was ready to be but she hoped to draw some of that out of her companion. Sure it was a bit hypocritical, but Agatha never liked to show her cards too early.

While Rio headed to the bar, Agatha slipped into a booth at the back. She tried not to think about Ashley’s lingering smirk, the way she’d looked down her nose at Rio, or the way it had taken every ounce of her restraint not to throw her drink in her ex’s face. Coming here was meant to be a distraction, a way to siphon off the restless energy buzzing under her skin. 

But as she glanced toward the bar, watching Rio effortlessly charm the bartender with a casual grin, she wondered if this evening would do more than distract her. She allowed herself a moment to admire Rio. The way she rested an elbow on the bar, her hip cocked. She could almost hear the playful banter she was prone to fall into so easily.

For some reason, the thought of Rio sharing a joke with someone else made her bristle. And the way the bartender laughed and playfully shooed her away stung more than it should. Agatha quickly decided she’d handle ordering the next round. She didn’t linger on why that felt like an imperative.

When Rio returned, setting their glasses on the table, Agatha raised hers in a mock toast, a smirk playing at her lips. “To exes,” she said dryly.

Rio snorted, her laugh warm and unrestrained as she clinked her glass against Agatha’s. “Exes.”

The weight of the evening began to ease, the jagged edges of her frustration. For the first time all night, she let her shoulders relax. Across the table, Rio was watching her with that curious stare, as if trying to puzzle something out. Agatha wondered what Rio saw when she looked at her now—was it what Agatha presented, what she wanted and expected her to see, or something rawer, more exposed?

She wasn’t sure which she hoped it was.

“So,” Rio said, leaning back in her seat, her tone casual but probing. “Was it worth it?”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. “Was what worth it?”

“Going tonight. Dealing with her. Buying a ten-thousand-dollar jacket to make her jealous or whatever.”

The corner of Agatha’s mouth quirked up, and she let the question linger in the air, running a finger along the rim of her glass. The answer felt obvious. However, voicing it felt like admitting something she wasn’t quite ready to face. “Ask me again after the next drink,” she said, her smile faint but knowing.

When the next round arrived, Agatha slid Rio’s glass toward her with a dramatic flair showboating just a little. Yet, as she lifted her eyes to meet Rio’s, she felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—a vulnerability she wasn’t accustomed to feeling in situations like these. Maybe it was the setting, or the drinks, or the fact that Rio was proving harder to compartmentalize than Agatha had anticipated.

“Your turn,” Agatha said, her voice light but sharp enough to cut through the quiet. “Tell me something, Rio. Something real about you. Who are you? How’d you end up here?”

The question hung between them, and Agatha watched as Rio hesitated. She recognized the instinct to deflect—it was one she’d carried and acted on herself more times than she cared to count.

“What, like bartending? Or the whole... accompanying you to awkward fundraisers for money thing?” Rio’s wry smile was a shield, one Agatha could see straight through.

Her lips curved faintly, but her gaze remained steady. “Both. Either. Start wherever you like.”

Rio sighed, tapping her fingers against the table. There was a tightness in her posture, a reluctance Agatha couldn’t quite decipher.

“Well, bartending was easy enough to fall into,” Rio said finally, her tone measured. “Flexible hours, decent tips, no one really asks too many questions.” She shrugged, but Agatha noticed the way her shoulders tensed, as if she was bracing for judgment. “As for the other thing... I guess it started because I needed the cash. But, uh, Jen—my friend—she made it seem less... weird. Like, it’s just another hustle, you know? No strings, no expectations. Just money for time.”

Agatha leaned forward, her gaze sharp. The words settled uneasily in her chest, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. “And you’re fine with that? No strings, no expectations?”

Rio raised an eyebrow, her discomfort slipping through the cracks in her composure. “It works,” she said cautiously, the hint of wariness in her tone unmistakable. “But why are you asking?”

The question struck something raw in Agatha, why was she asking? She’d trained herself years ago to only ask questions she wanted to know the answer to. And suddenly an honest answer to how Rio felt about their arrangement, and the weight of the unspoken do you wish it were something else , was much too vulnerable. 

She straightened, retreating behind the cool, detached facade she’d mastered over the years. “I typically like to know about the people in my life,” she said, her tone turning frostier than she intended. “But if you’d rather keep this strictly business, that’s fine with me.”

Even as she said it, Agatha regretted the words. The flicker of hurt in Rio’s expression was brief, but it twisted something deep inside her. She hated how easily her defenses rose, how quickly she shut down when something—or someone—threatened to push past the walls she’d built.

Agatha instantly realized she didn’t want to treat Rio like anyone else.

She longed to be real with her.

But she couldn’t.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Rio said quickly, her voice softening.

Agatha lifted her glass, taking a deliberate sip as she forced her expression to remain neutral. “It’s fine,” she said, though the tension in her voice betrayed her.

It wasn’t fine, and the silence that followed felt heavy, like a storm cloud hovering just above them. Agatha considered cutting the night short, retreating back to the safety of solitude where she wouldn’t have to navigate this strange terrain.

She felt as if she’d been so busy looking for the edge of the cliff that she hadn’t realized she’d stepped off of it ten paces ago.

Here she was, suspended in the air like a cartoon character.

She could envision the thought bubble “UH-OH” forming above her head.

“So...” Rio began, her voice tentative but warm. “When you say ‘people in your life,’ am I supposed to feel special or just... moderately interesting?”

It caught her off guard amusement broke through Agatha’s icy exterior. “That depends,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Do you want to feel special?”

She was falling, down over the cliffside. A dramatic “YEOW’ in a word bubbled trailing behind her as the ground came rushing towards her. When she landed, surely a trio of Rios would dance in a circle above her head.

Rio’s soft laugh caught her off guard, and for a moment, Agatha let herself relax.

“I’ll let you figure that one out,” Rio said, her grin widening. “I think you already know.”

Did she?

Agatha studied her carefully, the tension in her chest loosening as she exhaled softly. She nudged her glass toward Rio’s, her voice quieter now. “Truce?”

Rio clinked her glass against Agatha’s without hesitation. “Truce,” she said warmly.

As their glasses touched, Agatha felt a fragile flicker of hope stir within her. Maybe, just maybe, this connection wasn’t all in her head. Maybe Rio felt it too—the pull, the spark that neither of them seemed quite ready to name. 

It wasn’t a certainty, not yet. But for the first time in a long while, Agatha allowed herself to wonder if she’d met her match.

The drinks kept coming, and Agatha let herself sink into the easy rhythm of the night. The sharp edge of her earlier frustration melted away, replaced by the gentle warmth of Rio’s company and the pleasant hum of alcohol in her veins. She surprised herself with how much she wanted this moment to last—not just the distraction, but the connection. 

It wasn’t like her to linger.

But there were firsts for everything.

“Alright, Agatha,” Rio said, leaning forward, her eyes dancing with curiosity. Agatha felt her heart flip as Rio said her name. At that moment she’d give anything to hear her say it again. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

Agatha smirked, swirling the last bit of her drink in her glass. “That’s a dangerous question.”

“Come on,” Rio pressed, her grin teasing. “Live a little. We’ve already had...what? Three drinks? Four? You can’t chicken out now.”

Agatha tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Fine. But only if you go first.”

Rio rolled her eyes, but the smile stayed. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” Agatha quipped, setting her glass down. She gestured at Rio to continue, her fingers lightly grazing Rio’s wrist in the process. “Your move.”

Rio sighed dramatically, leaning back in her chair. “Okay, okay. I used to get detention in high school for sneaking snacks into chemistry class. Super not safe for the lab. But I did it every day. Like, not just gum—full-on bags of chips, cookies, a thermos of soup...”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, laughing softly. “A thermos? You really went for it.”

“It was right after gym and I was hungry!” Rio protested, throwing up her hands. “And I was good at chemistry, so it’s not like I was failing.”

Agatha chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Your turn,” Rio said, pointing at her with mock severity. “And it better be good.”

Agatha leaned in slightly, propping her chin on her hand as she studied Rio. “Alright,” she began, her tone playful. “Once, I dated a girl for three months just to get access to her family’s pool. It was the middle of summer, and I was desperate.”

Rio blinked, then burst out laughing. “You did not!”

“I did,” Agatha said, her lips twitching in amusement. “I mean, she was nice enough. But the pool? Damn near Olympic size. Perfect water temperature. It was love at first sight.”

Rio shook her head, still laughing. “You’re unbelievable. Did she find out?”

“Of course not,” Agatha replied with a mock air of innocence. “I have some finesse.”

“Some?” Rio teased, leaning forward now, her grin wide. “From what I’ve seen, you have a lot of finesse.”

Agatha paused at that, her smirk softening. The way Rio looked at her—like she genuinely saw her—sent a flicker of warmth through her chest. “Careful, Rio,” she said lightly, her voice dropping just a touch. “Keep talking like that, and a lady might get ideas.”

Rio blinked, her laughter fading into a more nervous smile, but she didn’t look away.

Agatha let the moment stretch, then shrugged casually and leaned back in her seat, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “Your turn again.”

“Wait,” Rio said, gesturing vaguely. “What kind of ideas?”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, her smile turning mischievous. “You’re the one who asked. You figure it out.”

Agatha felt something shift. The space between them grew smaller—not just physically but in the way Rio leaned toward her, in the way their laughs lingered just a little longer, in the way Agatha’s touches became more deliberate.

It was like no other game she’d played before.

With other women, she’d make her intentions clear: a coy smile, a bold comment, then the invitation that was more challenge than question. Are you going to join me, or what? She’d then lead her quarry to the bar bathroom, her car, or some other second location. 

But with Rio, she didn’t feel the need to hunt her. She just wanted to talk to her. She found herself softening and allowed herself to wonder what it would mean to stay here in this moment just a little longer.

She shifted closer at some point, the scrape of her chair unnoticed over the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses. Rio didn’t move away, didn’t even seem to notice until the distance between them was all but gone. Agatha found herself watching her—how Rio’s lips curved when she smiled, how her eyes crinkled with amusement, how she always met Agatha’s gaze directly as if daring her to look away first. The way that she looked down in her lap when she was trying to hide a blush. The way she poked her tongue into her cheek right before a witty observation or a deadpan joke.

Agatha’s hand brushed Rio’s arm when she reached for her glass, then again when she gestured for another round. It was so easy, so natural, to let her fingers linger a beat longer than they needed to. Each touch sent a pleasant spark through her, a small, indulgent thrill.

She leaned in to murmur a joke about the couple at the booth next to theirs, a couple who clearly had different opinions on how well their (obviously) first date was going. Agatha wasn’t sure why she let herself stay there a moment too long, why she allowed the weight of her presence to press so intimately against Rio’s space. It wasn’t calculation—it was instinct, an undeniable pull.

“What?” Rio finally asked, her voice softer now, more vulnerable.

“Nothing,” Agatha said, her voice dropping to a whisper, though it wasn’t nothing at all. She’d thought about kissing Rio three times already tonight. Now, she was thinking about it again, the idea settling into her chest like a quiet certainty.

But she didn’t move—not yet. Instead, she let herself linger, let the moment stretch just a little longer. She half wanted to see if Rio would close the distance herself. For the first time in years, Agatha wasn’t rushing toward the inevitable conclusion. She was savoring the journey.

“You’re blushing,” she said softly, her voice teasing but warm, meant to coax rather than corner.

“I’m not,” Rio replied quickly, lifting her drink to her lips. But the faint pink spreading across her cheeks told a different story.

Agatha couldn’t help but laugh. She reached out, resting her hand lightly on Rio’s knee. It was an almost casual gesture, one she could have played off as absentminded if it weren’t for the way she began to trace slow, deliberate circles over the fabric of Rio’s jeans.

She felt Rio tense, just barely, before her muscles relaxed under Agatha’s touch. That reaction made something tighten in her chest—excitement, yes, but also something gentler, something tender.

Agatha realized she wasn’t thinking about the next move or how quickly she could escalate things. 

No, she was thinking about the shape of Rio’s lips and the softness of her jaw, wondering how they would feel under her fingers, against her own lips.

When Rio turned to look at her, her expression shifted from surprise to almost… expectancy. Agatha’s pulse quickened. Rio could probably see the vein in her neck jump. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and in that silence, the air between them seemed to hum.

Agatha smiled slowly, letting the tension stretch, but she didn’t pull her hand away. Her thumb continued its lazy path across Rio’s knee, and she watched Rio’s breath hitch ever so slightly.

The tension between them thickened, a charged current that Agatha could feel humming in the air, making her heart race in a way she didn’t entirely expect. She leaned closer, her hand resting lightly on Rio’s knee, and her voice dropped into a husky murmur. “You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden. Something on your mind?”

Rio’s lips parted, and Agatha could see the flicker of panic in her wide, dark eyes. The way Rio’s composure faltered under her touch sent a thrill through Agatha, a rush of power she hadn’t let herself indulge in all evening. When her fingers drifted just slightly higher, she didn’t miss the way Rio’s breath hitched, her eyelids fluttering shut for just a moment.

“Just, uh... enjoying the company,” Rio managed to say, her voice shaky enough that Agatha had to bite back a laugh.

Agatha grinned, letting her hand linger, her thumb tracing a soft line against the fabric of Rio’s jeans. She’d thought about kissing her more than once tonight, and now the idea seemed almost inevitable. Rio leaned in ever so slightly, her posture shifting, and for one electric moment, Agatha thought she might just close the gap herself.

And then her phone buzzed loudly on the table.

The spell shattered instantly, and Agatha sighed, the annoyance clear in her expression as she glanced at the screen. Her jaw tightened as she saw Julie’s name, and she cursed quietly under her breath.

“What?” she snapped as she answered, quickly moving her hand from Rio’s knee.

“I’m sorry to disturb you Ms.Harkness, the revisions to the Smyhte contract just arrived and they’re requesting an immediate signature or they’re going to walk.”

“Did you tell them I’m not signing anything without looking at it?”

“Of course, but they’re insisting this must be completed tonight. I can always email the pdf to you to Docusign?”

Agatha hated technology, and she hated more the thought of bringing her work nonsense into the middle of this encounter with Rio. As much as it pained her, it was better to end the night early than to taint it.

“No. I’m on my way. Give me a minute and I’ll call you back.”

She ended the call and she set her phone down with a sharp exhale, forcing herself to push the irritation aside.

“Trouble?” Rio asked, her voice cautious.

Agatha forced a faint smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

She stood, smoothing her dress and tossing a few bills onto the table. The moment was over, and the disappointment hit harder than she expected. Still, she glanced down at Rio, letting her gaze soften. “But I do have to go. Duty calls.”

Rio nodded, and Agatha could see the disappointment flash across her face, though she hid it quickly. “Well, thanks for the drinks,” Rio said, her tone casual, but not quite convincing.

Agatha hesitated. She didn’t want to leave things like this. She didn’t want to leave her like this. So before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to Rio’s cheek.

It wasn’t like the kiss at the gala. This one wasn’t for show, and Agatha let it linger for just a breath. She wanted it to feel intentional. She felt the warmth of Rio’s skin beneath her lips, the way Rio tensed ever so slightly like she couldn’t believe it was happening.

When Agatha pulled back, their eyes met—just for a second—and Rio’s expression was unreadable, somewhere between surprised and captivated. Agatha smiled fondly at the stain of her lips on Rio’s cheek before picking up a cocktail napkin and gently wiping the smudge away.

“Goodnight, Rio,” she said, her voice soft.

She turned and walked away, forcing herself not to look back, though her heart beat faster with every step.

Agatha left her smile behind as soon as she walked back outside. The cool air hit her, immediately sobering her up. She rubbed her hands together as if the cold alone was what made her restless. It wasn’t.

Her mind replayed the kiss on Rio’s cheek, over and over. The softness of it, the way Rio had frozen for just a heartbeat. Had she crossed a line? Was that too much? She’d thought it would be charming, but now it felt impulsive—maybe even foolish.

She swore under her breath and pulled out her phone.

She stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over Rio’s name in her contacts. What could she even say?

"Hey, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable tonight." Delete. Too stiff. Too formal.

"I feel like I might’ve overstepped—just wanted to check in." Delete. No. She didn’t need to sound like she was spiraling.

"I’m sorry if I came on too strong. That wasn’t my intention." Delete. Definitely not. Agatha didn’t apologize unless she had to, and she wasn’t entirely sure she’d done anything wrong.

Frustrated, she locked her phone and shoved it back into her purse. She needed to stop overthinking this. It wasn’t like her to dwell. She was Agatha Harkness. She handled things.

With a sharp exhale, she hailed a cab and rattled off her address. She slid into the backseat, crossing her legs and tapping her fingers on her knee as the city lights streaked past the window.

Julie answered on the second ring, “Hi there.”

“I need you to connect me to my lawyer.”

There was a pause, followed by a resigned sigh. “Agatha, it’s nearly midnight. He’s probably asleep.”

“Wake him up,” Agatha said flatly. “If I have to spend my night reviewing this godforsaken contract they’ve shoehorned into my deal, so does he.”

“Of course,” Julie muttered, Agatha could hear her stifling a yawn. The late hour made her assistant bold as she teased, “But you owe me for this.”

Agatha smiled grimly. “Add it to the list of accomplishments for your annual review.”

She rolled her shoulders and tried to focus on the task ahead. Just work. Work was reliable. Work didn’t make her question herself. If she poured her energy into this, maybe she’d stop replaying that moment at the bar.

Chapter Text

Agatha’s entire Friday had been spent trapped in the office. She was quickly beginning to think everyone had conspired to pick today to be incompetent just to spite her. 

It started with a botched contract—one she’d specifically flagged as critical—that had somehow been sent to the client with glaring errors. She had been forced to spend her morning cleaning up the mess, only to have a junior associate ask her the same question three different ways, despite her already giving them a clear answer. They’d ended up in tears as Agatha shouted at them to buy a thesaurus if she was so hard to understand. 

A few more petty annoyances, the kind of things that irked her but she usually didn’t react to. An incorrect coffee order, a few minutes of the wifi being down, someone wearing too heavy cologne. By the time the clock hit noon, she was already drained.

She needed to get some air.

The thought of heading home to her empty house was unbearable. Her heels echoed against the pavement as she walked to her car, her mind racing through the options. She could call one of the women saved in her phone—plenty would be thrilled to hear from her. Thrills in bed, playful banter, and fleeting companionship were easy to come by, but none appealed to her right now.

Her thoughts drifted to Rio, and before she could second-guess herself, Agatha had already pulled out her phone.

She wasn’t naïve enough to expect them to pick up where they left off at the bar. That spark, however genuine, was probably dulled by time. But a quiet, even chaste, dinner with Rio felt infinitely more exciting than anything she could share with anyone else. Agatha didn’t need the distraction of passion tonight. 

She wanted the kind of company that left her feeling lighter instead of emptier.

She typed the first message quickly:

It’s been a truly terrible day. Are you free?

Agatha paused after sending it, chewing on her lip as she considered the message. Not quite right, this was personal not business. Rio deserved to know that truth. She tapped out a second clarifying message:

Not for an event, just dinner.

She sent it as well before she could rethink it, and leaned against the door of her car as she waited. She told herself not to get her hopes up. Rio was under no obligation to say yes, and for all Agatha knew, she was busy, or disinterested, or—

As soon as Rio’s message came through, Agatha’s heart sank.

Sorry, not exactly dinner company right now. I’m sick. My roommate has quarantined me.

Agatha frowned at the screen, her mind jumping immediately to concern. Was it just a cold? Something worse? How long had she been sick? Had she gone to the doctor?

Her fingers moved automatically, typing a single word:

Diagnosis?

The sharpness of her reply felt natural, driven by instinct rather than thought. She couldn’t help herself. The idea of Rio suffering alone, too stubborn—or unable—to seek help, gnawed at her.

The response came back quickly:

Haven’t been to a doctor. It’s just a cold I need to sleep off.

Agatha let out a frustrated sigh. Of course. Why was she so stubborn? She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to calm down. Maybe Rio was underestimating how serious it was. Maybe she thought it wasn’t worth it. Or maybe…

Agatha’s breath caught as a painful memory surfaced.

She’d been nine years old, clutching her side so hard her fingers left marks on her skin. “Mom, please, I really don’t feel good,” she’d said, her voice weak.

“You’re fine,” her mother had snapped, not looking up from her magazine. “Stop whining, Agatha. I’m not wasting time or money on you faking it.”

“I’m not—” Agatha’s protest had been cut off by the sharpest stab of pain she’d ever felt. Tears streamed down her face as she doubled over. “It hurts. I’m not faking.”

Her mother had rolled her eyes. “You’re always so dramatic. Just go lie down.”

She’d done what she was told because arguing never got her anywhere. She obeyed because she was a child and still held some trust that her parent would take care of her. 

That illusion would shatter, but not until she was much older.

She remembered, hours later, crawling down the hallway, begging for help as her vision blurred. Her mother’s voice echoed distantly—angry, not concerned—as she passed out cold.

When she’d woken up, she was in the hospital. Alone. A nurse with kind eyes and cartoon characters on her scrubs had sat beside her, holding her hand and explaining in gentle tones that her appendix had burst but that the surgeons had fixed her up. She’d have to stay for a few days, but then she could go home.

Those three days had been oddly peaceful. The nurses had been overly attentive and charmed by the polite young girl in 3A, and the quiet had felt safe. There was one in particular, a woman named Gloria who had a beautiful lilting accent she’d never heard before that was especially kind. She made sure that she always had a warm blanket and helped open her juice boxes.

She’d caught Miss Gloria whispering to another nurse when they both thought she was sleeping. 

“Poor thing. Mother hasn’t been by other than to sign the consent forms.”

“Should we involve child services?”

“Oh no, you don’t know who the mother is, do you? No, no. We can’t prove anything. She is doing just enough. No, Tina, best we can do is love her while she’s here.”

A soft hand had pressed against her forehead, a gentler touch than any she’d experienced before.

The hospital was safe and calm. She didn’t feel like a burden there. 

 But when she finally did go home, there was no comfort waiting for her. Her mother hadn’t welcomed her back with relief or love—just exasperation about the inconvenience of it all. 

Even as a child, Agatha had known that was wrong.

She pushed the memory aside, focusing back on Rio’s message. No doctor. Of course, Rio probably couldn’t afford it. Bartending didn’t exactly come with comprehensive health insurance, and Agatha knew how people without resources were forced to tough it out. The thought made her stomach twist.

She wasn’t going to let that happen.

Agatha picked up her phone again, her movements decisive.

Your address? she typed.

Rio’s reply took a moment longer this time: Why?

Bartenders don’t usually carry great insurance.

Agatha’s thumb hovered over the keyboard. She debated what to say next but decided that directness was best. No games. No dancing around it. She sent another message:

Address?

She technically already knew it from the clothes she had delivered to her, but she wanted to be sure. She also wanted to give Rio the agency to refuse her.

The response came back more quickly than she expected. Agatha exhaled as she read the address. Good. At least Rio wasn’t so stubborn that she’d refuse entirely.

She fired off one last message:

Rest. I’ll take care of it.

She meant it. Whatever Rio needed—medicine, food, anything—Agatha would make sure she got it.

Because no one had ever done that for her.

And she wasn’t going to let Rio feel the way she once had. Not if she could help it.

From the small bag in her glove compartment一packed with extra lipstick, Tylenol, and other odds and ends that she would need en route from one place or another一she pulled a fabric mask and pulled it on before heading up the stairs to Rio’s apartment.

Agatha knocked softly at the door and waited for a response. Impatience mixed with worry as she shifted her weight. She began to knock again, harder this time. Agatha pressed her ear to the door, still hearing nothing, panic rose in her and she began to beat at the door.

“Lady! Quiet down out there!” A man poked his head out of the neighboring apartment to shout.

“Fuck off,” she growled as she kept pounding at the door.

Finally, she heard shuffling behind the door. “Alright, alright!” Rio’s voice rasped, muffled and weak. The door opened a crack, revealing Rio’s pale face, disheveled hair, and eyes glassy with fever. There were still faint lines on her cheek from where her face had been pushed against a pillow.

“Finally,” Agatha said, pushing the door open before Rio could muster any protest. She stepped inside, the sleek lines of her charcoal suit an almost comical contrast to the chaos surrounding her. The apartment was dimly lit, cluttered with clothes, empty bottles, and tissues scattered haphazardly. She handed Rio a spare mask without a word, watching as the other woman fumbled to pull it on.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Rio croaked, leaning heavily against the doorframe for support.

Agatha took in the scene, her sharp eyes scanning the mess with a frown. “I see why you’re sick now,” she said, gesturing broadly. “This place is a biohazard.”

Rio’s scowl would’ve been more intimidating if she didn’t look like she could barely stand. “I’m not in the mood,” she muttered, closing the door behind Agatha.

“Good,” Agatha replied briskly, “We don’t have time for moods. You’re coming with me. You’re going to see a doctor.”

Rio let out a weak laugh that dissolved into a harsh cough. “Yeah, no. No insurance, remember?”

“I heard you the first time,” Agatha said sharply, her anxiety bubbling up in her. “That’s why I’m here.”

Rio squinted at her as if trying to make sense of the words through the haze of her fever. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Agatha stepped closer, lowering her voice but remaining insistent, “that I’m not letting you sit here and rot because you’re too stubborn to accept help. Get dressed.”

“Dressed?” Rio echoed weakly, gesturing to her oversized T-shirt and sweatpants. “I’m fine.”

“You look like you’ve been dragged through hell.” Agatha’s voice softened, “I’m not taking no for an answer. Move.” She knew Rio didn’t have a grasp on the outside temperature and the last thing she wanted was for her to get more sick.

Rio’s shoulders sagged in resignation. Agatha noted the exhaustion in every movement as she trudged toward her bedroom. Agatha resisted the urge to follow and micromanage, instead sitting on the arm of the sofa, her gaze roving over the apartment.

The faint smell of illness lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of unwashed laundry. Agatha’s lips thinned. 

“I didn’t realize I needed couture for a doctor’s visit,” Rio grumbled as she stumbled back into the living room. “I know you care about appearances, butー”

 Agatha arched a brow. “Honey, you already look like death warmed up. You don’t need to wear a spaghetti-stained shirt to prove it,” she snarked, giving Rio an approving once-over. “Better. Come on. We have an appointment.”

She stood and gently took Rio’s arm, steering her toward the door without waiting for an argument. They made their way down the stairs slowly, Agatha adjusting her pace to match Rio’s unsteady steps.

In the parking garage, Rio glanced at the sleek black car waiting for them. “You drove?” she asked, her voice muffled by the mask.

“Yes.” Agatha clicked the key fob to unlock the doors, her tone dry. “Would you believe I’m capable of running a business and operating heavy machinery? I’m multi-talented.” She opened the passenger door for Rio with a flourish, waiting until she was settled before continuing.

“I just don’t care to when I don’t have to,” she added as she slid into the driver’s seat. “Do you have any idea how much time the average person wastes just sitting in traffic? I usually have much better ways to spend my time.” Agatha adjusted the rearview mirror, her tone lightening slightly. “But, I try to give Ralph weekends off. I’m not a total monster.”

Rio let out a faint chuckle, leaning her head against the cool glass of the window as Agatha navigated out of the garage. Agatha allowed herself a brief glance at Rio’s reflection but tried not to fret as she drove them toward the private practice she frequented.

Agatha drove in silence, stealing glances at Rio as the woman’s head lolled against the car window. She was pale, her breaths shallow but even. By the time they arrived, Rio had drifted into a fevered sleep. Agatha didn’t hesitate before stepping out and circling to the passenger side.

“Come on,” she murmured as she gently shook Rio awake. The only response was a groggy mumble. With a sigh, Agatha adjusted her grip and carefully helped Rio out of the car, guiding her toward the sleek, boutique-style office ahead.

The interior was bright and clinical, but far from cold. Nurses moved with quiet efficiency as they took Rio from her, leading her into an exam room while Agatha trailed behind.

Agatha stood back, watching as they collected vitals and asked Rio questions. Most of Rio’s responses were barely coherent mumbles, and though Agatha stayed uncharacteristically quiet, her sharp eyes tracked every movement.

Her mind raced as the nurses spoke amongst themselves. Rio looked so fragile in this space. Was she warm enough? Was she scared? Was this serious?

So preoccupied with her own thoughts, she only processed snippets of the nurse's conversation.

“…temperature is concerning…”

“…hydration is critical…”

“…bloodwork results will confirm…”

She sat rigidly in the small chair near the exam table. Her eyes remained fixed on Rio, whose face was drawn and pale beneath the harsh lights.

When Rio stirred and her eyes fluttered open, Agatha’s head turned immediately, her sharp gaze softening just slightly.

“Agatha?” Rio’s voice was weak, barely audible.

“You’re awake,” Agatha replied simply, standing as she crossed the room.

“What… is this place?” Rio asked, her words slurred as she tried to sit up.

“Somewhere better equipped to deal with your stubbornness than your apartment,” Agatha said, smoothing the blanket that had slipped off Rio’s shoulder.

Rio frowned, her expression as petulant as it could be in her current state. “I told you I didn’t need all this,” she muttered.

“And you were wrong,” Agatha shot back, her voice steady but low. “You’re severely dehydrated, your fever’s high, and you’re on the verge of pneumonia. If I hadn’t intervened…” She stopped short, her lips pressing into a tight line.

Rio let her head fall back, her exhaustion too heavy to resist further. “What is this place?” she asked again, her gaze drifting over the sleek decor.

“A private practice,” Agatha said, her tone clipped. “Discreet. Efficient.”

Rio let out a faint snort. “Of course it is.”

Agatha didn’t rise to the comment, folding her arms as she studied Rio for a long moment. “Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was?” she asked, her voice quieter but no less firm. “Why am I just finding this out? You shouldn’t have been left alone.”

Her voice wavered slightly and she prayed that Rio was too out of it to notice. Only one of them could be in crisis at a time and she didn’t want Rio thinking that she needed to spend her energy comforting her.

Rio shrugged weakly. “It’s not your problem.”

Agatha’s gaze sharpened. Of course, it was. Rio was someone she… cared for. Surely the woman had seen that by now. She’d been so obvious? Hadn’t she?

“Clearly, you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to. I don’t involve myself in things unless I intend to take responsibility for them.”

The weight of her words hung in the air, and though Rio’s eyes dropped to the IV drip at her side, Agatha could tell the message had landed.

“I don’t… know what to say to that,” Rio admitted softly.

Agatha hadn’t anticipated being the blunt herself. But they could discuss it later. Or perhaps she’d be blessed enough that Rio would forget this conversation entirely.

“Then don’t,” Agatha replied. “Focus on getting better. The rest can wait.”

Rio closed her eyes again, and Agatha allowed herself a small exhale of relief. She adjusted her chair to sit closer, pulling out her phone to review emails while keeping an ear tuned to the faint hum of the machines and the steady rhythm of Rio’s breathing.

There was a faint knock at the door and she turned towards it as the doctor entered.

“Good afternoon, I’m Doctor Cadman, we’re going to take your…” she glanced at her clipboard.

Agatha had lied on the intake form, there wasn’t a chance she was leaving Rio alone.

“Wife to have a chest x-ray done. In pre-pneumonia cases, we’re mostly worried about fluid building up in the lungs. I don’t think we’re there yet but if we see anything concerning we’ll need to transfer her to the hospital.”

Agatha nodded slowly.

The doctor smiled softly and put a hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re worried but please trust us. We’ll have her back within an hour. Maybe stretch your legs.”

Agatha didn’t leave her spot on the uncomfortable chair.

When they returned, the doctor confirmed that the x-ray looked good and Rio could be discharged with an antibiotic.

“Now I will stress she needs to be monitored for the next few days…”

“And that won’t be a problem,” Agatha said smoothly, cutting through any of the doctor’s objections or further warnings. The shuffling of papers marked the end of their conversation.

A few moments later, Agatha was at Rio’s side, helping her sit up. Her movements were firm but careful, and Rio leaned heavily against her.

“Where are we going?” Rio croaked, her voice hoarse and faint.

“Home to rest,” Agatha replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Agatha opened the passenger door, helping Rio settle into the seat before retrieving a paper bag of prescriptions and instructions.

She drove in silence, her hands steady on the wheel as the city lights blurred past. She glanced at Rio periodically, her pale face turned toward the window, her breath shallow but steady. Rio looked fragile in a way that Agatha wasn’t used to seeing, and it set her stomach twisting.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. She replayed the moment Rio had swayed on her feet, her skin clammy and her breath uneven, and a fresh wave of determination settled over her.

People she cared about didn’t get left to fend for themselves. Not if she could help it.

The car came to a stop, and Agatha wasted no time. She stepped out briskly, circling to the passenger side and opening the door.

“Come on,” she said softly, coaxing Rio awake with a hand on her shoulder. The woman blinked sluggishly, her exhaustion evident, but Agatha didn’t hesitate. Sliding an arm around Rio’s waist, she helped her out of the car, steadying her as they walked toward the brownstone.

Rio mumbled something as she took in the building’s stately exterior, her voice slurred with fatigue. “This… isn’t my place.”

“No, it’s mine,” Agatha said without missing a beat, her tone calm but firm as she unlocked the door and guided Rio inside.

Her home was a place she usually kept private, a retreat from the world, but none of that mattered now. The polished wood floors and soft lighting seemed worlds away from the dim, cluttered apartment Rio shared with her roommate. For once, Agatha was glad for the warmth and comfort it offered.

“I can’t…” Rio began, but Agatha silenced her with a sharp look.

“You can,” she said firmly, her grip unyielding as she led Rio further inside. “And you will. You’re in no condition to be left alone.”

Agatha’s mind was resolute. She wasn’t giving Rio the option to refuse. Let her call it overstepping or meddling later—Agatha didn’t care. What mattered was getting Rio better. She wouldn’t allow for anything else. She’d deal with the consequences later.

She led Rio into the guest room that had been untouched for years and guided her toward the bed.

“Sit,” Agatha instructed, helping Rio down onto the bed. Her movements were efficient but gentle as she retrieved a glass of water from the bedside carafe and handed it over.

Rio sipped slowly, her bleary eyes watching as Agatha unpacked the contents of a paper bag—medications, a thermometer, a humidifier. Every movement was purposeful, her focus unyielding.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did,” Agatha interrupted, her voice sharper than intended. She paused, drawing in a calming breath before continuing, her tone softer but no less firm. “You’ll rest here until you’re better. No protests.” Please just let me help you she added silently.

Rio didn’t argue, too worn out to muster any resistance. Agatha eased her back against the pillows, tucking the blankets around her. As she did, she caught the faint murmur of Rio’s voice.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” Rio said, her tone weary but tinged with faint exasperation.

Agatha stilled for a moment, her hand hovering near Rio’s shoulder before brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. Her touch was brief, almost hesitant, but her voice was steady.

“Maybe not,” she admitted, her eyes softening as she met Rio’s gaze. “But I want to.”

The words hung in the air, unadorned and honest. Agatha didn’t care how much they revealed or what they might imply. All that mattered was that Rio understood she wasn’t going anywhere.

As Rio’s eyelids grew heavy and she drifted off to sleep, Agatha lingered for a moment, watching the tension ease from her face. This wasn’t an act of obligation, and it wasn’t about proving anything. It was about showing up—because that’s what she deserved.

She adjusted the humidifier and dimmed the lights before settling into a chair by the window. For now, this would have to be enough.

Agatha sat there for a while, her elbows resting on her knees and her hands clasped loosely together. The quiet of the room wrapped around her like a heavy blanket, broken only by the faint hum of the humidifier and the rhythmic sound of Rio’s breathing. 

For the first time, the adrenaline that had carried her through the frenzy of action began to ebb, leaving her with nothing but her thoughts.

She wasn’t one to act without a reason. Agatha had built a life carefully insulated from unnecessary entanglements, from obligations that blurred the lines between need and want. So why, she wondered, had it been so important to her to help Rio? Why had she ignored the boundary she was usually so careful to maintain?

Her gaze drifted to the bed, where Rio lay, her dark hair fanned across the pillow, her face slack with the deep, heavy sleep of someone utterly spent. It would be easy to call her actions practical, to frame it as simple reciprocity. Maybe this was just Agatha evening the scales.

Except that didn’t feel true.

She picked absentmindedly at her cuticle until it bled, a nervous habit she’d thought she’d broken. But the pain of the cut brought clarity. This wasn’t just transactional. Not for her. It hadn’t been for a while now, though admitting that—even just to herself—felt like teetering on the edge of something vast and uncertain.

How could it be anything else, though? They’d met because Agatha had needed something. That was the foundation of their connection. To think it could be more than that, that it might have shifted into something meaningful, felt foolish. Dangerous.

And yet…

Agatha sighed softly, leaning back in the chair. She wasn’t used to feeling out of control, but she’d been off-balance since the moment Rio introduced herself.  Rio had a way of disarming her, of slipping past her defenses in ways that no one else managed. It scared her, how deeply she’d been pulled in without even noticing.

Her fingers tightened against her palm. When Rio was better, they’d have to talk. Agatha wasn’t the kind of person to leave things unspoken, and whatever this was deserved clarity—even if she feared what the answer might be.

But that was for later. For now, Rio needed rest, and Agatha needed time to gather herself.

The quiet was broken by a faint stir from the bed. Agatha straightened slightly as Rio shifted under the covers, her brow furrowing in some half-dream state.

“Where’d you go... Agatha,” Rio mumbled, her voice soft and slurred with sleep.

Agatha froze. Her breath caught in her chest, her eyes fixed on Rio’s face. Did she…?

The moment hung there, fragile and inexplicable. Agatha rose from the chair, crossing the room without thinking. She sank down carefully on the edge of the bed, trying her best not to disturb the woman in it.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice soft and low as she brushed her fingers lightly over Rio’s forehead, smoothing back an errant strand of hair. “I’m here.”

Rio’s features softened under her touch, her body relaxing again as the dream passed. Agatha lingered, her hand hovering for a moment before she gave in to a quiet impulse she didn’t fully understand. She leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to Rio’s forehead.

The gesture startled her, its intimacy unfamiliar and unplanned. But it felt right, and for just a moment, she let herself believe it was enough.

Agatha straightened and pulled the blanket higher around Rio’s shoulders, her touch lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary before she stood. Without another word, she slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

She leaned back against the door and sighed. Distance was better. Distance kept some control.

Rio didn’t need to wake up and see her hovering like a weirdo.

But she couldn’t leave her completely. Because of the doctor’s orders. Nothing else.

So Agatha let herself slip down the edge of the wall until she sat in the hallway with her knees curled up close to her chest.

She shouldn’t be reacting like this.

But she couldn’t imagine any other way to be.

Chapter Text

Agatha stayed at her post outside Rio’s door. She didn’t care about the pain in her hips and back. The only thing that hurt was the way her heart and stomach clenched each time she heard Rio have a coughing fit.

She checked on her several times but each time Rio was sleeping. Agatha was thankful for that. Rio needed rest, and she needed time to shore up her composure and get her story straight. 

She hadn’t done this before. The keeping vigil thing.

Agatha seemed to be having a lot of firsts lately. This was the first time she’d fallen asleep on the floor since college. Around midnight when it was clear that Rio wasn’t going to wake up for awhile nor was she in danger of never waking, Agatha finally relented and went to bed. 

She set her alarm for 4:45. That would give her plenty of time to get up and get some work done. Then she texted Julie, letting her know that she wouldn’t be in the office tomorrow. She received back a message that Julie’s notifications were silenced and her thumb hovered over the “Notify Anyway” option for just a moment before she shook her head.

That could wait.

Agatha changed into pajamas and hesitated by the door. Out of security, she always kept her door closed. She had since she was a child and her room was her one sanctuary in her home. But what if Rio called for her again? 

She left the door cracked.

She got into bed and stared at the ceiling, her mind refusing to settle. The night felt heavy with realizations she wasn’t ready to untangle.

And yet, here she was.

Agatha sighed and rolled onto her side, tugging the blanket up to her chin. Her body was tired, but her mind refused to follow suit. Every cough she’d heard earlier echoed in her ears, a phantom noise she couldn’t shake. Every time she’d checked on Rio, her heart had clenched at the sight of her pale face, even as she felt relief that Rio was sleeping.

Why does she matter so much?

The question floated, unanswered. Agatha thought about Rio’s easy, teasing grin, the way her voice danced when she was proud of a joke. She thought about the way Rio had mumbled her name earlier, soft and unguarded like it was something precious.

She thought about how she had kissed Rio’s forehead.

That part of the night felt like a dream, a strange little moment she couldn’t fully reconcile. It had been instinctual, almost desperate like her heart had bypassed her mind entirely.

Agatha shifted restlessly, punching her pillow into a more comfortable shape. It didn’t help. She knew herself too well to believe she could leave things as they were. 

But that was for later. Just another problem she’d kick down the line to future Agatha. She felt sorry for that version of her.

Agatha’s eyes fluttered shut as exhaustion finally began to overtake her. 

The cracked door stayed open.

Morning came quietly, the faint glow of dawn creeping into Agatha’s bedroom. Her alarm chirped softly at 4:45, and she silenced it with a practiced swipe. For a few minutes, she stayed in bed, letting her body adjust and her mind steel itself for the day ahead.

By 5:15, she was at the kitchen counter, coffee in hand, her laptop humming quietly as she worked through the most urgent emails. Agatha thrived on routine, on productivity, and the steady rhythm of tasks helped ground her. But even as she tackled her inbox with clinical efficiency, a part of her mind remained upstairs, in the guest room, with Rio.

When she’d whittled her work to a stopping point, Agatha poured a second cup of coffee—half to drink, half to have something steady her hands—and made her way upstairs. The door to the guest room creaked faintly as she pushed it open, revealing Rio still nestled under the blankets.

Agatha’s steps softened as she approached the bed, her eyes scanning Rio’s face. The fevered flush from yesterday was fading, replaced by a calm and peaceful expression. Her breathing was steadier now, less labored. Agatha let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

She turned to leave, careful not to disturb her, but the faint rustle of sheets stopped her.

“Stay,” Rio mumbled, her voice groggy and low.

Agatha froze. She glanced over her shoulder, unsure if Rio was awake or talking in her sleep. Her eyes fluttered briefly before closing again, but her face softened in a way that seemed deliberate.

Agatha hesitated only a moment before sinking back into the chair by the bed. If it was what Rio wanted—awake or not—she would do it. She settled in with her phone, switching from emails to approving reports and answering questions she could handle on the fly.

Time passed quietly until a faint buzz broke the silence. Agatha glanced up, startled, as Rio’s phone vibrated on the nightstand. She wasn’t the nosy type, but when the lock screen lit up with several messages from Jen , she leaned closer.

If someone was looking for Rio, they’d need to know she was safe.

Agatha couldn’t help a dry chuckle as she scanned the previews of the messages. Jen clearly had a flair for the dramatic.

Setting Rio’s phone back down, Agatha picked up her own and pulled up her last conversation with Jen. She smirked, remembering how she’d anticipated Jen being her date before she’d been knocked out of orbit by Rio’s arrival.

She tapped out a quick message to Jen:

Hello, this is Agatha. As you are probably aware, your roommate Rio is sick. I took her to the doctor and she’s recovering at my place. I wanted to let you know she’s fine, just needs rest and antibiotics.

She reread it and then deleted it. Too impersonal.

The next version: Hi, Jen, it’s Agatha. Rio wasn’t feeling great yesterday, so I stepped in. She’s doing better now, but she’s staying at my place to recover. Let me know if you want updates.

That one felt stilted, too.

Finally, she settled on something more casual: Hey, Jen, this is Agatha. Just a heads up—Rio is here at my place resting up and doing okay. Let me know if there’s anything urgent she needs from home.

Satisfied, she hit Send and set the phone down, a soft smile tugging at her lips. She glanced back at Rio, who was still asleep, her expression peaceful.

Agatha wasn’t used to doing this—fielding concerned roommates, sitting by sickbeds, or considering anyone else’s needs so intimately. It felt uncharted and unsettling.

But as she looked at Rio, she knew two things for certain: she didn’t mind and she wouldn’t have done it for anyone else.

As Rio began to stir she left the room, returning downstairs to her work. If Jen replied, she didn’t notice, the message just joined the hundreds of unread notifications on her personal phone.

Agatha’s fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, the quiet rhythm blending with the soft strains of her focus playlist drifting through the kitchen. She sipped her coffee absently, half focused on the email she was drafting, half on the sound of the kettle as it began a low hum. The early morning hours always felt like a refuge. Hers alone. A time to catch up, to think, and for today, to keep an ear out for Rio.

She didn’t look up when she heard a faint shuffle from upstairs, but she felt the subtle shift in the air. She’s awake, Agatha thought, equal parts relieved and apprehensive. She kept typing, giving Rio a moment to decide whether to announce herself or retreat.

“She lives,” Agatha said smoothly, her voice slicing through the music without breaking stride. She felt a flicker of satisfaction when Rio replied, her voice slightly hoarse.

“Yeah.”

Agatha glanced up, her sharp eyes taking Rio in at a glance. She was pale but not alarmingly so, and she carried herself with more stability than the night before. Good. She’s better.

She picked up her mug, holding it out as an offering. “You look better. Want some?”

Rio declined, quipping “Not really a coffee person. I like a whisper of espresso with my whipped cream and steamed milk.” 

Agatha raised an eyebrow at her. Her coffee order hadn’t evolved past that of a teenager’s. Of course. They’d need to work on her palette. she thought, amusement flickering. “Tea, then?”

Rio shrugged, and Agatha watched her lean casually against the counter. “If it’s not too much trouble.” Her eyes swept over Agatha, curious. “You look... different.”

Different? Agatha blinked, momentarily thrown. She hadn’t considered what her appearance might convey. Glasses perched on her nose, a sweater chosen more for comfort than style, and hair lazily pinned back. It was a far cry from the sharp-edged presentation she cultivated in her professional life.

She slid her glasses off, folding them neatly beside the laptop. “How so?”

Rio gestured vaguely, her teasing drawing a reluctant smirk from Agatha. “Less ‘I run a secret empire,’ more ‘Oh shoot I’m late returning my library books.’”

Agatha’s lips twitched upward in spite of herself. A librarian. That’s new. Closing her laptop, she walked to the stove, where the kettle had begun its gentle boil. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said dryly, pulling out her tea collection. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” Rio admitted. “Still a little achy, but not like death warmed over anymore.”

Agatha nodded, focusing on the deliberate, grounding task of preparing tea. Better is good. Not perfect, but good enough. She placed a steaming mug in front of Rio, watching as she wrapped her hands around it.

“You told Jen where I was?” Rio asked. Her voice had a defensive edge, as if she were bracing for some humiliation.

Agatha met her gaze calmly. “She was worried. You were in no condition to text her back, so I did.”

She watched as Rio processed this, the faint crease in her brow betraying a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. Agatha was grateful that Rio didn’t press about how she’d known Jen was texting her.

“She’s never going to let me live this down,” Rio muttered, huffing a quiet breath.

This caught her attention but she didn’t press. But if Rio was worried about Jen’s reaction… there was a story there. And foolishly she wondered if that story involved her. If it did…

“That’s what friends are for,” Agatha replied lightly, but there was an undercurrent of truth in her words. She’d sent the text to Jen out of practicality, sure, but also because she understood what it meant to have someone in your corner. The two seemed close like she’d been with her college friends. Before when she trusted more easily and freely.

Before she was Agatha Harkness and was just Agatha.

As Rio sipped her tea, Agatha leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. The young woman studied her, and Agatha felt the weight of that gaze. 

“So,” Rio said, her voice tinged with humor. “Is this what you do when you’re not being the mysterious and terrifying Agatha Harkness? Harbor the sick?”

Agatha couldn’t help the snort of amusement that escaped her. Harbor the sick, indeed. She shook her head and leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with Rio. “Don’t tell.”

And for a brief moment, as they shared an unguarded laugh, Agatha let herself relax. Just a little.

Rio cradled the mug between her hands, staring down at it like it held answers. Agatha watched her carefully, taking in the uncharacteristic quietness in her posture. Normally, Rio had a sharp quip or a teasing grin ready, but now, she seemed subdued and vulnerable in a way that made Agatha’s chest tighten unexpectedly.

“Thanks,” Rio said softly, her voice stripped of its usual bravado. “For everything. You really didn’t have to go this far.”

Agatha tilted her head. It seemed like they were both caught here outside of their comfort zones. “If you’re trying to get out of my hair, don’t bother. Doctor’s orders—you’re staying another day. At least.”

Rio squinted at her, skepticism creeping back into her gaze. “Doctor’s orders? Or yours?”

Agatha smirked, leaning into her practiced confidence, but she knew her eyes likely betrayed her. She didn’t let herself linger on what that meant. “Does it matter?”

With a sigh, Rio shook her head. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

“Good.” Agatha straightened, reaching for Rio’s mug and feeling a strange satisfaction as Rio didn’t protest. She set it aside and softened her tone just a fraction. “You’re due for another round of antibiotics. Take them and go back to bed.”

“I’m fine,” Rio said, but there was no real strength behind it.

“Fine isn’t good enough,” Agatha replied firmly, letting her no-nonsense tone do the work. She pointed toward the stairs. “Go. Rest. I’ll let you know when the food’s ready.”

She caught the way Rio narrowed her eyes, clearly weighing whether to argue before she dragged herself upstairs. Agatha exhaled quietly, listening to the faint creak of the floorboards overhead. Stubborn, she thought, though something was endearing in how Rio’s defiance softened at the edges when she was sick.

Once the sounds upstairs faded, Agatha returned to the kitchen. She was still wrapping her head around the unexpected ease of having someone else in her space, her routines disrupted in ways she didn’t entirely mind.

Scratch that. She didn’t mind at all.

Agatha stood at the stove, stirring the pan with steady, practiced movements. The wooden spoon felt warm and familiar in her hand, grounding her against the swirl of thoughts she refused to unpack. She adjusted her reading glasses, glancing at the clock as she sipped her wine. She’ll probably be up soon, Agatha guessed, and sure enough, she heard faint footsteps a few minutes later.

When Rio entered the kitchen, Agatha felt her presence before hearing her voice. She kept her focus on the stove, letting her guest take the lead.

“You’re cooking?” Rio finally asked her tone a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

Agatha glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t look so surprised. For someone on the edge of pneumonia a day ago you sure have a lot of comments.”

Rio took a step further into the kitchen, her skepticism still obvious. “I just... figured you’d have someone else do it. You know, like... a personal chef or something.”

Agatha huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. She turned back to the stove, her lips quirking at the corner. A personal chef? The satisfaction would hardly be the same. Not a good return on investment. “And miss out on the satisfaction of doing it myself? Hardly.”

As she plated the food, her movements were precise, almost meditative. She slid the first plate onto the counter and reached for another, catching Rio still hesitating at the doorway.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” Rio said, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.

Agatha met her gaze, letting a hint of sharpness slip into her tone to hide the warmth beneath it. “You slept for twelve hours and were still barely conscious this morning, Rio. The least I can do is make sure you’re eating something decent.”

She watched as Rio processed that, her expression flickering between surprise and something quieter and thoughtful. It was a look that made Agatha’s chest ache all over, but this time at least it wasn’t from worry.

Rio moved closer, peering curiously at the plate. “What is it?”

“Chicken marsala,” Agatha replied, placing the second plate down and picking up her wine glass. She sipped slowly, letting the wine warm her stomach as she added, “It’s simple enough, should help you feel human again.”

Rio slid onto a stool, staring at the plate like it might disappear if she blinked. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

Agatha smirked, lifting her glass in acknowledgment. Maybe. But not all surprises are bad. I’m learning that. “Eat. You’ll feel better,” she said, her voice softening.

As Rio hesitantly picked up her fork, Agatha leaned back against the counter, letting herself relax for just a moment. 

Agatha watched Rio pick at her food, her sharp eyes catching every hesitant movement of the fork. She could tell Rio was still slightly uncomfortable, perhaps out of place in this house, this kitchen—this entire situation. 

She hoped it wasn’t the last of those options. 

Agatha sipped her wine, letting the quiet stretch, intrigued by what Rio might say next. She had the home-field advantage which made her more willing to be patient. She wanted to draw Rio out, to see what lay beneath the layers of deflection and self-assuredness. There wouldn’t be a better time to try and suss her out.

"Nice place," Rio finally said, too casually. Agatha smirked to herself, recognizing the attempt to ease the growing tension between them. "I wouldn’t have expected this kind of vibe from you."

There it was again—that edge of hesitation, the way Rio’s voice didn’t quite match her expression. Agatha tilted her head slightly, letting her glass rest on the counter as her lips curled into a small smile.

"Why’s that? Because of my work? Or because of how I usually come off?" she asked, her tone deliberately light.

Rio shrugged, though her discomfort was obvious. "I don’t know. It’s just… more comfortable than I imagined. Less polished and corporate. More… you."

Agatha’s breath caught for the briefest of moments, though her expression betrayed nothing. More me? She wasn’t sure what Rio thought she knew about her, but the observation had landed a little too close. Still, she didn’t look away, studying Rio as though the woman had just handed her a puzzle piece she’d long thought was lost under the sofa.

"Well," she said finally, leaning back with calculated ease. "I might play the corporate game, but I didn’t build this house to feel like a boardroom. Everyone needs somewhere to just… let their hair down." The words felt strange coming out of her mouth, but she was curious to see how Rio would respond.

When Rio blinked in surprise, Agatha felt the faintest tug of satisfaction. She wasn’t often vulnerable, and offering this sliver of herself was a gamble she wasn’t sure she should be taking. Yet Rio’s reaction—the way her walls seemed to lower just slightly—made Agatha feel something she couldn’t quite name.

It made her want to do it again.

"It’s definitely not what I expected," Rio admitted, her voice quieter now.

Agatha resisted the urge to press further, to ask what exactly she had expected. That answer might sting. 

Instead, she let the silence linger for a moment until Rio continued, her voice softening as if she knew how close she was to a soft spot. "But I guess that’s the point, isn’t it? Everyone is a lot more than what they show others."

Agatha arched an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued now. "I’m glad the fever didn’t get to your brain. You’re right," she said, though her tone turned guarded as the conversation veered into uncomfortable territory. "It’s convenient for me. I get to be what everyone expects me to be, and they’ll never see the rest of it. The rest of me."

The words tasted bitter as she said them. She’d never admitted something like this to anyone before, and she wasn’t sure why she had now. Perhaps it was the wine. Or perhaps it was the way Rio looked at her—not with pity or judgment, but with something far more complex.

The awkward silence that followed gnawed at Agatha, and she found herself filling it despite herself. "Don’t get me wrong," she added, her voice quieter. "I’ve built my career, very successfully, by being exactly who people expect me to be. But that doesn’t mean I’m just that. I’m not all business, you know?"

Rio’s hesitation was palpable, and Agatha could feel her teetering on the edge of saying something. She would wait, afraid of what vulnerabilities would escape her if she kept talking.

When Rio finally spoke, her voice was curious. "So, what else is there?"

The question landed heavier than it should have, and Agatha took a moment to consider her answer. Her instinct was to deflect, to redirect the conversation, but there was something about the way Rio was watching her that made her hesitate.

"A lot," she said finally, her voice measured. "I’m sure if you did your research the gossip blogs would tell you all about it."

Rio frowned, the playful glint in her eyes dimming. Agatha noted the shift, felt the weight of Rio’s scrutiny, and resisted the urge to retreat.

"Actually," Rio said after a moment, her voice softer now, "I did look you up."

Agatha’s lips quirked into a faint smile, though her eyes betrayed her curiosity. "Did you?" she asked, tilting her head. "I hope you didn’t waste too much time."

How long did you spend? What did you find?

"I’m still not sure what your company does. I mean, it’s all ‘cutting-edge solutions’ and ‘innovative strategies,’ but what does that even mean? I couldn’t make heads or tails of it." Rio teased.

Agatha laughed despite herself. "Oh, you’re not the first to ask that. It’s one of those things people just nod at in meetings and pretend to understand. Let’s just say I help other businesses become better at what they do. It’s all about optimizing processes, analytics, you know the drill."

Rio raised an eyebrow, her grin returning. "So, you’re still just giving me a bunch of buzzwords?"

Agatha grinned back, feeling the tension ease just slightly. "Exactly. A lady must keep some secrets."

The last thing she wanted to be talking about standing barefoot in her kitchen was work.

The easy moment was short-lived, though, as Rio’s expression turned serious again. "I also read about your divorce," she said quietly, the words cutting through the lighthearted atmosphere like a blade.

Agatha’s grip on her glass tightened, her smile fading. She could feel her carefully constructed walls beginning to rise again. "It’s old news," she replied curtly.

She stood corrected, her failed marriage was the last thing she wanted to talk about.

Rio hesitated, her curiosity clearly warring with her better judgment. "Yeah, but there’s more to that story, right?" she pressed.

Agatha’s gaze snapped to Rio’s, her defenses fully engaged now. "That’s really none of your business," she said sharply, the words final.

That stubbornness that had teetered on endearing before was now infuriating as Rio refused to back down. "Look, you don’t have to tell me everything," she said, leaning forward, "But don’t try to tell me it was as simple as ‘we just grew apart and I went looking somewhere else.’ I know that’s a lie."

So that’s what she read. The public story. But she didn’t believe it. This woman was too clever for her own good.

Agatha set her glass down and tried to be firm without edging into cold, “Let it go, Rio. It really is not your business."

She held her gaze for a moment, not challenging her, just waiting.

Finally, she pushed back from the counter, satisfied that Rio wasn’t going to push more at the moment. But just in case, she tied off the conversation. "Now isn’t the time to talk about this," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "If you’re done eating, you should probably get a shower. I’ll grab you a change of clothes." 

From her room, she gathered fresh towels and rifled through her drawers for a spare set of pajamas. She returned to the kitchen with the peace offering.

 "Upstairs," she said as gently as she could. She could feel the blood rushing in her ears, she needed some space to clear her head. "I’ll be working in my office. Let me know if you need anything."

Agatha left again quickly, though trying to make it not too obvious. She began to tidy up the kitchen half performance and half genuine distraction for herself. As she heard Rio move back upstairs she exhaled softly. Opening the freezer, she stuck her head inside and let the cool air wash over her.

This had been so simple before. Such an easy decision. Only now did she realize how much she’d exposed herself by bringing this woman into her home.

The freezer beeped alerting her she’d held the door open too long.

She shut it, settling instead for pressing her head against the cool metal of the door.

She was in too deep. This was quickly becoming what she would label if it were happening to one of her clients, a crisis situation.

But she’d handle it. Like always.

Just as soon as she figured out how.

Because that was the problem. She didn’t know how to handle a woman like Rio.

Her feet carried her of their own accord to her office where she did all of her deep thinking.

Agatha pulled a pen from a drawer and began to sketch out her response plan just as she would with any case at work.

First the facts. Number one, there was an unescapable power imbalance that had existed from the moment they met. Number two, acting on her affections outright would put Rio in an impossible situation because of that dynamic. Third, bringing a woman into her home to convalesce after only a few interactions was incredibly out of character and risky behavior. Finally, she didn’t regret it.

Agatha surveyed her list of facts before beginning to draft another column labeled ‘Scenarios’. 

1. Let her get better, cut off the arrangement, carry on as you were - as you intended this to go
2. Cut off the arrangement, and see how she responds.
3. Continue the arrangement long enough that it doesn’t look like you got weird after you practically forced her to stay in your house… then cut it off.
4. Continue the arrangement as is 一 Not an option
5. Talk to her about how you’re feeling, radical honesty, she’s surprised you up to this point… what’s once more?

She furrowed her brow before crossing out a few options. Then she began to scribble a risk assessment in the margins. Then a communication plan. She got all the way to starting a cost-benefit analysis before surprising herself as she ripped the paper from the pad and crumpled it.

Rio wasn’t a work problem. Why was she trying to solve her like one?

If anything, the woman had proved that none of her usual plays would work.

She thought back to the cards she’d drawn at Lilia’s.

Again The Fool taunted her.

She’d teased her eccentric friend about it at the time. But there was no questioning now who that card represented.

Agatha groaned and rested her head on her desk. It was going to be another long night.

At least some things remained predictable.

Chapter Text

Agatha worked late into the night, taking care of the more intensive work she hadn’t been able to focus on during the day. Long used to working late into the witching hour, she was attuned to every creak and groan of her house settling. 

Which is how she noticed the exact moment Rio came to pause outside her office door.

She waited a moment to see if Rio would either enter or retreat. But she did neither, so Agatha tossed out a lifeline before they both drowned in their thoughts. 

“Did you actually die in there and come back to haunt me as a ghost?” 

“Uh, no,” came the tentative reply.

Agatha smiled to herself before leaning slightly to the side to catch Rio’s eye through the space where the door was slightly ajar. It was interesting that she’d sought her out at this hour. Not to mention a little endearing that she seemed sheepish about being caught.

“Then why are you hovering,” she teased before gesturing for Rio to come in. “Come on in.” 

She stood from her desk and pulled her old flannel robe around her shoulders. It had gotten chilly without her noticing. Or she just needed another layer of comfort.

It seemed that Rio carried the same uncertainty. Agatha hated hovering, but there was something sweet in the way her guest stood in the threshold, taking in the cluttered space of her office as she fidgeted with her hands.

Whether Rio was disoriented by the late hour, still fighting off fever, or something else she did not know. But she had an immediate instinct to soothe her visible anxiety (and her own which she prayed was not so visible).

So, a joke, keeping it light. A casual chat between two… Unable to finish that thought Agatha leaned into playfulness, at least that was easy.

“You a secret vampire? Can only enter a room where you’re invited?” Agatha teased. You’re welcome here. I invited you into my home, you can sit on the furniture. 

Agatha grinned playfully as Rio rolled her eyes. But the banter worked and she watched her visibly relax.

“I’m not sure why you’re so invested in what I do at two in the morning,” Rio shot back. If only she knew. “But you made it clear you didn’t want me ‘hovering’”

Rio flopped onto the loveseat and Agatha rapidly did some mental calculations on what would be an appropriate distance to join her from.

But the loveseat was small and made that decision for her.

Agatha tucked her legs under herself as she joined her, their knees brushing slightly. She thought she caught a small smile from Rio, but she didn’t pry.

“Feeling any better?”

“Yeah, I一”

Again, instinct won the war against her better judgment, and Agatha leaned forward, placing the back of her hand against Rio’s forehead.

“No fever,” she said softly, as if that had been the sole reason for reaching out. An explanation and a denial wrapped up into one. She was checking for a fever. It wasn’t like she felt compelled to touch Rio every time she was near and this was just an easy excuse to do so. 

She really needed to get her story straight. For both of their sakes.

Realizing she was still touching her , Agatha carefully withdrew her hand watching Rio’s expression as she pulled away. But there were no answers written there, there was too much to read at once. Or she was just too tired to pick up on it.

She stretched back against the arm of the couch, hoping she looked more relaxed than she felt.

“I have an early morning tomorrow,” Agatha started, as she cursed the regrettable meeting that required her to leave. “But you’re welcome to stay as long as you need.” As long as you want. 

If you want.

She paused for a moment. It was important to give Rio a choice here. Despite her own preferences.

“If you do plan on being stubborn and darting out of here, please don’t take the bus.” Too forcefully, too controlling. Agatha quickly tacked on a joke, “There’s no need to infect half of Chicago with whatever you have. I’ll leave Ralph’s number. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

He wouldn’t. Agatha paid him well enough to be sure of it.

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind,” Rio said softly, though they both knew she wouldn’t take her up on her last offer.

Agatha watched as Rio shivered, the motion subtle but unmistakable. She hesitated for a moment, then got up from the sofa to grab a blanket from the basket in the corner. 

Practical solutions. Easy gestures. That was what she should stick to. 

She draped the blanket over Rio, ignoring the way her brow furrowed as she grumbled under her breath.

“You’re so concerned about me infecting others, aren’t you worried I’m going to get you sick?” Rio mumbled, turning her face slightly into the cushions as Agatha leaned over her.

Agatha let out a soft laugh, “No, I don’t let myself get sick. No time. I spend a small fortune on probiotics and boosters to avoid it.”

Rio rolled her eyes, her skepticism evident even through her exhaustion. “I thought you were smart enough to see through that bullshit.”

“Eh.” Agatha shrugged as she sat back down, “If it works, it works. Only one of us is currently curled up in the fetal position on the couch.”

Rio grumbled something unintelligible, curling in tighter under the blanket, and Agatha smiled. She reached up and undid the clip holding her hair in place, shaking it loose.

“Getting sick would give me a good excuse to ditch this wedding I have coming up, though,” Agatha said, the words slipping out casually.

Rio turned her head slightly, her expression expectant, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Normally I’d just decline and send a ridiculously overpriced gift,” Agatha continued, keeping her tone light. “But it’s an old friend, and I don’t really have an excuse not to go.”

Rio hummed softly, fully rolling onto her side. Her feet brushed against Agatha’s knee, a brief, accidental touch that Rio quickly corrected, pulling her legs closer to herself.

She wished she hadn’t. She didn’t mind Rio taking up more space.

“You know, for someone who demands exactly what they want all the time, you sure seem to go out of your way to do other people favors a lot,” Rio observed. It was almost uncanny how easily the woman saw through her.

She couldn’t but smile. “What can I say? I’m a real softie. Don’t tell.”

It would have been so easy to leave it there, to let the conversation drift into the comfortable silence they’d settled into before. But the words were already bubbling up, unbidden, and she found herself speaking before she could stop.

“Before you got sick, I was going to ask if you’d be willing to join me. It would be a full weekend affair, it’s an annoying destination wedding. But I’m happy to take care of the details. If you want, later, we can talk about the cost of your time.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and Agatha felt the weight of them settle over her chest. It wasn’t until Rio blinked and turned her head toward her that Agatha realized what she’d done.

Why had she said that? Just a few hours ago she’d circled option 3 - to let Rio get better and then cut off this entanglement. It was too messy, she needed to protect them both. And yet here she was, inviting Rio to a wedding of all things, this was the opposite of untangling them.

Before she could retract the offer, Rio’s answer pulled her from her thoughts. “Alright… sure, sounds fun,” she said, her voice laced with quiet disbelief.

Agatha forced a smile, her chest tightening as she tried to push down the surge of doubt rising within her. “Perfect,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside her. “We’ll talk about the details later. For now, though, get some rest. You’ve had a long couple of days.”

Rio nodded, her eyes growing heavier by the second. Agatha truly envied how quickly she could fall asleep.

Agatha sat there, watching her for a moment, her thoughts spiraling as the room grew quieter. What was she doing? She’d promised herself to keep this simple, to avoid crossing the line into pressing for something something that would inevitably hurt them both. And yet, here she was, complicating things again, breaking her own rules.

Inviting Rio wasn’t simplifying things—it was the exact opposite. And now, no matter how she tried to rationalize it, she’d absolutely just made her life excruciatingly harder.

As Rio’s breathing evened out, soft and steady beneath the blanket, Agatha carefully rose from the couch. She tiptoed to her room, shutting the door behind her as if sealing away the growing chaos in her head. The moment the latch clicked, she leaned back against the door and groaned quietly, pressing her hands to her face.

“What did I just do ?” she whispered, dragging her hands down her cheeks dramatically.

She had invited Rio to a wedding. Not just any wedding—a destination wedding. On a beach. A beach . The implications of that hit her like a rogue wave.

Beaches meant swimsuits. Swimsuits meant exposed skin. Rio, with her natural tan, toned arms, and infuriatingly effortless confidence, would probably look like she belonged in a magazine spread. Her mind quickly jumped to draw the image of Rio in a swimsuit, laughing easily, her hair tousled by the sea breeze.

Agatha collapsed onto her bed, burying her face in a pillow to stifle her groan. She could barely keep her eyes off Rio now, and that was when Rio was wrapped up in a hoodie and sweatpants, sick as a dog. How was she supposed to survive an entire weekend with her dressed like that ?

And then there was the wedding itself. Weddings were traps. Romantic traps.  

The whole atmosphere would be soaked in sentimentality and expectation, from the tender exchange of vows to the slow, swaying dances under twinkling lights. There would be speeches full of heartfelt declarations and wistful anecdotes about love. And alcohol. Knowing her friends, a lot of alcohol.

Drinks and dancing? Was she a masochist? She could barely share a couch, a car ride, a room with Rio without her pulse jumping; how was she supposed to survive a dance floor? She was going to combust.

Her friends would be there—friends who knew her far too well. They would ask questions. Oh, the questions. Who’s the gorgeous brunette with you? Are you two dating ? What happened to all your I’m too busy for relationships speeches?

They knew her in ways Rio didn’t. They’d reveal more than she was ready for.

How was she going to explain this? Oh, don’t mind her. She’s my… uh… contracted companion? Platonic plus-one? Kind of sugar baby? Definitely not someone I’m currently losing my mind over, thanks for asking.

Agatha rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling as her anxiety mounted. She had wanted to keep things simple, clean, and detached. Inviting Rio to a wedding was not simple. It was not clean. It was definitely not detached. 

It was a complete disaster waiting to happen.

But then, she remembered Rio’s expression when she’d said yes. That quiet surprise, the disbelief. The way Rio had glanced at her like maybe this meant something. And the way Agatha had felt a flicker of relief in return like it had mattered that she’d said yes.

Maybe it did.

Her stomach twisted, and she groaned again, throwing an arm over her face. “Fuck, I’m an idiot.”

The bed felt far too big and too empty, and her thoughts wouldn’t stop spiraling. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and scrolled through her messages, hovering over Rio’s name. She typed out a quick text— Never mind about the wedding! Forget I said anything! Disaster idea. Get some sleep —but she didn’t send it.

Instead, she deleted the draft, dropped her phone onto the mattress, and stared at the ceiling again. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she could handle it. Maybe.

But she was going to need a lot of wine. And a lot of self control.

When morning came, her alarm was far too chipper for how drained she felt. Agatha groaned as she stretched and rolled out of bed. She forced herself into the shower, her composure growing as she walked through her morning routine.

Before stepping into the office, she gathered Rio’s medicine and phone from her bedroom before scrawling a quick note. For once, she accepted her first draft:

DO NOT take the bus. I’m making carbonara tonight if that makes a difference in if you stay. Whatever you do, rest.

She underlined the last word for good measure. Agatha pulled over an ottoman and placed the collection of items on it. She spared one last glance at the sleeping woman on the loveseat. 

Agatha hated to leave her. But she’d already done enough. Some space was what she needed before she made any other rash decisions.

She grabbed her work bag and coffee and strode out the door.

Her day was blessedly busy, keeping her distracted up until the moment she returned home.

Agatha couldn’t help but smile as she entered the living room and caught sight of Rio curled up on the couch, a book in her hands. Seeing Rio so at ease, flipping through pages that held her private thoughts scrawled in the margins, was equal parts endearing and terrifying.

It was sickeningly domestic.

When Rio glanced up and met her gaze, she felt warmth creep up her neck. Pull yourself together, Agatha, she chided internally. “Feeling better?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady as she set down her bag and slipped off her heels.

“Marginally,” Rio replied, her familiar smirk lighting up her face. Agatha knew that look. It was the prelude to teasing. “But I’ve made an alarming discovery.”

“Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she crossed the room, curious despite herself.

“You don’t own a TV,” Rio declared, mock-accusation lacing her tone.

Agatha sighed theatrically, rolling her eyes as if this were a grievous offense she’d heard before. “It’s not my fault you lack imagination,” she retorted after flicking on the disguised screen. The way Rio gawked at the transformation from painting to flatscreen was deeply satisfying.

She relished Rio’s groan of exasperation. “God forbid you just have a normal flatscreen like everyone else,” Rio muttered.

“A big black void would mess up the vibes,” Agatha quipped, heading toward the kitchen to busy herself with dinner. Lilia had told her so. 

She tried to focus on making dinner, but couldn’t stop her eyes from flicking towards Rio now and then. Seeing her settling into the couch and flicking through channels sent a ripple of contentment through her. 

Quickly followed by a little panic. The domesticity of it felt far too natural, far too intimate for two people who weren’t supposed to be close.

Keep it together, Agatha, she told herself as she chopped vegetables. The sizzling pan provided a comforting backdrop to the soft narration from the TV. Some documentary. She supposed Rio had tried to pick the most neutral option possible. Agatha glanced up, eyebrow quirking as she watched a weathered fisherman haul a crab pot over the edge of his boat.

“You ever caught crabs?” she called out, grimacing faintly at the unintended innuendo.

“What?” Rio’s voice carried back, confusion thick in the single word.

Agatha chuckled, gesturing toward the screen. “Ever gone crab fishing? Or have you always been a city kid?”

Rio’s laughed light and amused, drawing Agatha’s attention back to her. “No. Born and raised here and never left. The ocean is creepy as fuck.” Rio raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “Have you ever gone fishing?”

Agatha gave a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “When I turned eighteen I spent a summer in Maine with my dad. It was awful.” The words tumbled out easily, but a flicker of something deeper stirred in her memory, the sharp salt air and the sound of gulls.

“Wait, I gotta know more. You spent a summer on a fishing boat?” Rio’s grin widened, the teasing edge in her tone making Agatha smile despite herself. “Tell me everything . I cannot picture that. You, in wading boots and overalls, oh god please tell me there was an awful neon beanie involved.”

The laughter bubbled out of Agatha before she could stop it, Rio’s enthusiasm momentarily breaking through the bittersweet haze of recollection. She grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses, as she decided how much of the story she was willing to share.

She remembered the way her father had beamed when she’d agreed to spend that summer with him. How he’d been convinced that the rugged Maine coastline and the labor of hauling traps would teach some vague fatherly lesson about resilience. 

What she hadn’t expected was how the trip would illuminate just how wide the gap between them was.

The fishing had been a disaster—her soft hands blistered, her carefully coordinated outfits soaked in brine and mud—but the evenings on the dock had been different. There, with the waves lapping at the shore and a beer clutched awkwardly in her hands, she’d glimpsed a version of her father she rarely saw: nostalgic, almost wistful. 

The way he’d spoken about his childhood, the sparkle in his eye as he recounted boyhood mischief, had softened her irritation. For those moments, he wasn’t the distant, exacting man she’d grown up fearing she’d disappoint; he was simply a person trying to connect.

Agatha reentered the living room, setting the wine and glasses on the table before taking a seat beside Rio. “No neon beanie,” she said as she poured. 

“But there were overalls. And wading boots. I’ll spare you the mental image of the first time I tried to climb onto the boat and fell straight into the water.”

Rio’s laugh exploded, nearly choking her, and Agatha couldn’t help but laugh in return.

Handing Rio her glass, she adopted a mock-serious tone. “Laugh all you want, but that was the moment I knew I would never be built for actual labor. My dad thought the little excursion would build character.” She sipped her wine, her voice wry. “All it built was a deep and abiding hatred for anything involving nets.”

Ropes were still fair play though.

Rio’s grin lingered as she swirled her wine. “So, no fond memories of fresh caught dinners by the sea?”

Agatha leaned back into the cushions, smirking. “Oh, I have fond memories. Just none involving actual crustaceans. My dad, though? He loved it. Said I’d be a disappointment to the family name if I refused to help pull the traps.”

“That’s rough.”

“Not really. I think by the time I went home he was secretly relieved. I was terrible at it.” Agatha chuckled softly, the image of her father shaking his head in exasperation yet offering her a hand up from the dock playing in her mind. “I did like sitting on the dock with him after, though. He’d drink a beer, a couple of times he let me have one, and he’d tell me stories about his childhood. That part wasn’t so bad.”

Rio’s gaze turned thoughtful, her teasing fading into something softer. “You miss him?”

Agatha’s smile faltered as her thumb traced the rim of her glass. “Yeah. He’s been gone a long time, but… it doesn’t get easier. You just go on.”

The words felt heavier than she’d intended, but she didn’t take them back. Her father’s absence, both before and after his death, was a wound that never quite healed, and yet it was a part of her now, as much as those long-ago summers.

She glanced at Rio, caught in the quiet pull of her warm and steady eyes, before straightening up. “Anyway,” she said lightly, letting her voice slip into a familiar tease, “what’s your excuse for never leaving the city? Scared of what’s out there, or just lazy?”

Rio grinned, her expression casual and unbothered. “Neither. Too busy earning a living to go gallivanting off for seaside adventures.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a half-smile. “Sure. But you can’t tell me that you always had a passion for cocktails and small talk. What went down with your three-quarters of a journalism degree? If you’ve only lived here, I’m guessing Northwestern? People who get in there don’t usually flame out.”

Rio blinked, caught off guard, and Agatha savored the moment. “How’d you know about that?”

Agatha leaned back into the cushions, a sly smile spreading across her face. “You mentioned it before. Remember?”

I’m always paying attention. To you.

She could see the flicker of realization on Rio’s face as she recalled the offhand remark. Agatha hadn’t forgotten. She never did when something piqued her curiosity.

And Rio seemed to do it endlessly.

Rio sipped her wine, clearly buying herself a moment to think. Agatha tilted her glass slightly, as she watched her. There was a story here, one layered with more than just career shifts.

But she was more than willing to wait for Rio to tell it.

“Yeah, well,” Rio began, setting her glass down, “it didn’t pan out the way I hoped. I interned at a paper for a while, wrote some pieces, and even got a few bylines. But…” She ran a hand through her hair, her voice trailing off. “The pay sucked, the hours were worse, and it felt like I was running in circles trying to make a name for myself. Eventually, I just… stopped.”

“Stopped?” Agatha asked, the teasing edge softening.

Rio shrugged, her gaze fixed on the wine glass cradled in her hands. “Stopped trying. Stopped pitching. Stopped caring, I guess. I needed something more flexible, something that paid the bills, and bartending fell into my lap. It was supposed to be temporary, but here I am. At the same time, I had… personal stuff going on. I just stopped showing up to class, focused on making money instead.”

As Rio spoke, Agatha felt a strange sense of familiarity creep in. She’d wished she could just stop. So many times.

“Do you miss it? Think about going back?” Agatha asked, her voice quiet. She wasn’t sure if the question was for Rio or herself.

Rio hesitated, the silence stretching. “Yeah,” she admitted finally. “Sometimes. But it feels like… I don’t know, like that ship sailed a long time ago. I’m not sure I’d even know how to get back to it.”

Agatha swirled her wine, her gaze thoughtful. “Maybe it didn’t sail. Maybe it’s just waiting for you to get back to it.”

Rio laughed, but the sound carried more self-deprecation than humor. “That’s easy to say when you’re not the one doing the swimming.”

Agatha smirked, leaning forward to refill their glasses. She laid on the analogy with a grin, knowing it was just over the top enough to soften the mood. “True. But you’re tough. Resilient. You seem like a strong swimmer. You might surprise yourself.”

Rio stared at her, something shifting in her expression. It was that look of someone who got too close to the truth. Who realized that someone else was watching them. Seeing them. The weight of it settled between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.

“Maybe,” Rio said at last, her voice quieter than Agatha had expected.

Agatha raised her glass, clinking it lightly against Rio’s. “To maybe, then.”

“To maybe,” Rio echoed, taking a sip.

Yeah, she’d toast to that. If you couldn’t have the certainty of control, the possibility of maybe was the next best thing.

“What about you? I bet you had your whole life planned out by the time you were five. Successful people like you don’t happen by accident.”

Agatha laughed. It surprised her how easily it came, how Rio had a way of disarming her. It shouldn’t be a surprise at this point based on how frequently she seemed to do it. 

“Not even close. But I’ve always known I wanted to build something important. Make an impact. Turns out that’s a lot harder to do, and takes a lot more out of you along the way, than I thought.”

She let the words linger, watching Rio’s reaction. It felt strange, being honest about herself in this way—unfiltered and without the safety of polished answers she’d rehearsed for years. 

There were still a few omissions. But it was the closest that she’d been to giving the full truth in some time. 

There was something about tonight, the last few days, that invited honesty.

That made the truth not quite so terrifying.

Rio leaned back, stretching out her legs. “You know, for someone who acts like they’ve got it all together and they’re above it all, you’re pretty normal.”

Agatha scoffed, setting her glass down. “Don’t let it fool you.”

Please don’t. I’m a mess. But at least that part of the act still works.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rio said, her smirk widening. “But the falling-in-nasty-fish-water story humanized you a little. I’ll probably stop being scared of you any day now.”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, unable to hide her amusement. “Scared of me? Please. You’re the one who acts like I’m going to kick you out every time you sneeze too loud.”

Rio chuckled, shaking her head. “Nah. I think I’ll stick around for the carbonara at least.”

“Good,” Agatha said softly, the word slipping out before she could think twice. She caught herself, quickly adding, “I was hoping you would.”

It sounded too earnest even to her own ears, and she winced inwardly. She wasn’t supposed to care if Rio stuck around or not. 

But, she did.

There it was. A new awareness. An awareness of Rio, of the warmth in her voice, the sincerity in her eyes. 

Agatha wasn’t used to someone looking at her like that—with something that felt too close to real.

Rio began clearing the dishes despite Agatha’s protests.

“Stay there,” Rio called, waving a hand at her. It was almost laughable, the way Rio said it like she expected Agatha to obey. And yet, Agatha found herself sitting back, watching instead of interfering.

Rio glanced over her shoulder, a sponge in hand. “Seriously. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

Agatha started to brush it off, but Rio continued, her voice growing quieter. “No. I insist. Dishes done, and you have to listen to a sincere thank you. I’m feeling a lot better. And that’s because of you.”

The words hit her unexpectedly, soft and earnest. Agatha felt a pang in her chest, an ache she wasn’t prepared for. “No one’s done something like this for me before,” Rio added, her attention fixed on the plate she was scrubbing.

That sentence broke her heart.

Me neither. She wished she could say it. Maybe she could.

Agatha hesitated, torn between retreating and leaning into the moment. She walked over, setting the empty wine glasses in the sink. Her hand brushed against Rio’s, the contact brief but electric.

Rio glanced up, startled, and Agatha found herself meeting her gaze. For a moment, it was like the world narrowed to just the two of them.

“You don’t owe me anything, you know,” Agatha said softly, the words coming out without her usual shield of sarcasm or teasing. She wasn’t sure what made her say it. Maybe it was the look on Rio’s face, that mix of gratitude and vulnerability that felt too intimate to ignore.

Maybe because it was the closest thing to all the things she wanted to say but wouldn’t allow herself.

“I know,” Rio replied, her hands stilling in the water. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to say it. Thank you.”

Agatha felt her heart stutter, caught off guard by the sincerity in Rio’s tone. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way Rio said them, like they carried more weight than they should, like they meant something. Did they? Could they?

She stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest to shield herself from the way the space between them felt heavy. She restrained herself from doing something foolish.

“Well, now that you’re on dish duty, I guess I can kick back and relax. See? I’m generous like that.”

Rio snorted, rolling her eyes as the tension eased. “Oh, yeah. Very selfless of you.”

“Exactly,” Agatha said with a grin, retreating to the living room. She sank into the couch, stretching her arms out over the back of it. “When you’re done, bring the remote. I’m vetoing the documentary. Climate change bums me out.”

As she waited, Agatha allowed herself a small, private smile. She hated how much she enjoyed Rio’s presence, how easily Rio made her laugh, how natural it felt to let her guard down just a little.

It was dangerous. It was also irresistible.

She didn’t want it to end.

Chapter Text

After vetoing the documentary and flicking through several channels of lackluster options, Agatha finally discovered that Rio did have a flaw.

She was apparently immune to the charms of Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn. And that was a true tragedy. Especially considering that Hepburn was at least 75% of Agatha’s style inspiration.

But Rio had fallen asleep before the movie was even halfway through. For fifteen agonizing minutes, her head had slumped onto Agatha’s shoulder. In a different life, she could’ve wrapped her arm around her and pulled her to rest against her chest or on her lap.

But she was cursed, obviously, so instead she sat still rigid and still until Rio eventually shifted to the other side.

She exhaled softly as she did, and took that as her cue to leave, tidying the wine glasses and taking them with her as she went. Agatha tiptoed upstairs and headed to draw a bath. 

Steam fogged the mirror as Agatha poured lavender bath salts into the water, the scent soothing as it filled the room. She slipped out of her clothes, the roar. She wiped the mirror with her hand and stared at her reflection. Her hair was slightly tousled from where Rio’s head had rested against her shoulder. The feeling of the contact lingered, and now that it wasn’t actively driving her crazy, the memory was warm and maddeningly sweet.

And it was addicting.

She washed her face before sinking into the bath, resting her head against the cold tile.

What was she going to do?

Agatha winced as she felt her chest tighten before erupting in a sharp pain.

That wasn’t good.

She used to have panic attacks frequently. They’d started after her mother’s death. Triggered usually by stress or receiving harsh criticism.

Or when you were lying too much , she thought bitterly.

She rubbed her hand over her chest and closed her eyes. Agatha focused on the smell of lavender, the temperature of the water, the lingering taste of wine. She counted her breaths, focused on the feeling of each inhale and exhale.

She couldn’t keep doing this. If she could not be honest with Rio, she at least had to be truthful with herself.

Agatha wasn’t in love. But she could be. For the first time in years, she could see herself on that path.

She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling as she slowly exhaled again. Despite her best efforts, these feelings, she couldn’t ignore them or logic them away.  Her feelings weren’t going to go away. She didn’t want them to.

The pain in her chest suddenly eased. Clarity. Stark and true, and unable to be hidden away any longer. She had feelings for Rio. Feelings that she wanted to pursue. Fuck the consequences.

Her life wasn’t something to be managed or fixed. It was to be lived.

She closed her eyes and held her breath as she submerged herself under the water. Agatha stayed there until her chest was bursting. When she sat back up it was forceful as she gasped for air, moving so quickly that water sloshed out onto the floor.

“Alright.” She said out loud, “We’re doing this.”

With that certainty, Agatha slept more soundly that night than she had in weeks.

And the next day she stood a little taller and walked with her chin a little higher. She was in such a good mood that the intern who commented on it, “Happy it’s Friday?” didn’t even receive a withering stare.

She spent the weekend online shopping, one of her many vices, but at least this time it was with a purpose. Agatha was on the hunt for an appropriate wedding wardrobe. At this point she knew Rio well enough to know that there was no way the Chicago native had appropriate clothes for the beach, never mind a beach wedding.

Plus, she was ready to admit that she had a vested interest in what the woman wore. Agatha allowed herself to smile as she added a few items to her cart. 

The days passed quickly. Tickets were booked, her own bags were packed, the clothes and another note were delivered to Rio.

Agatha felt immense satisfaction as she checked each item off her mental to do list. She found herself looking forward to this trip. And as she tidied up her office to head to the airport to meet Rio, she added one last item to her to do list.

Before the wedding is over, I will tell her how I feel.

Seeing it written in ink made it more true. And though in doing so, she may be driving a dagger into her own heart, she was not afraid.

Rio had, perhaps not surprisingly, balked more at their first-class seats printed on the ticket than she had at the location. But Agatha had brushed off her protestations about not needing first class. “It’s the only way to travel, darling,” she’d said, settling into the plush first row with an effortless grace. She adjusted her blazer, smoothing it against her shoulders, and reached for the newspaper tucked neatly into the seat pocket.

The hum of the plane was soothing, a comforting backdrop and Agatha let herself enjoy the stillness for a moment, though she couldn’t help glancing at Rio from the corner of her eye.

Rio despite her protests had adjusted quickly. She sat next to her, legs stretched out like she was at home, a picture of reluctant ease. 

Agatha hid a smirk behind her paper. Of course, Rio wasn’t used to this. Her endearing uncertainty about the entire situation only made her more charming.

She turned a page in her paper, pretending to read while Rio fidgeted beside her. She’d been a little antsy since baggage check-in. Agatha briefly wondered if she’d embarrassed her.

The airline employee’s weak protests had been infuriating. Fifty pounds. As if that was enough to account for the necessities of travel. Her outfit for the wedding alone took careful planning—and they expected her to manage with limitations fit for someone who threw things haphazardly into a duffel bag?

Of course, Rio was precisely one of those people who crammed everything in a single duffel bag. They’d have to work on her luggage situation. Next time.

Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line at the thought. She’d only relented when Rio, cheeks flushed, had stepped in to combat Agatha’s impatience with her own exasperation.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Rio had said, and Agatha had wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Not a big deal? Extortion under the guise of policy was absolutely a big deal. Rules were only worthwhile if they were rules that made sense. But then Rio had looked at her with those warm, pleading eyes, and Agatha had found herself muttering something about “extortionate nonsense” as she handed over her credit card.

Agatha could feel Rio’s gaze on her now. She didn’t look up right away, practicing her patience. Sure enough, Rio’s voice broke through a moment later.

“You know, for someone who acts so above it all, you made quite the scene back there.”

Without pausing, Agatha replied smoothly, “I wasn’t making a scene. I was advocating for reasonable luggage policies.”

Rio laughed, and she glanced over the top of her paper, letting her lips curl into a faint smirk as Rio said, “Sure you were. I bet they’ll change the rules just for you.”

“They should,” she countered. “But I doubt they will. Small minds rarely grasp the bigger picture.”

Rio rolled her eyes, leaning back in her seat. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Mm.” Agatha’s smirk deepened as she returned to her paper. The exchange was easy, familiar, fun. She liked it. This was so much better now that she wasn’t overthinking things.

Then the conversation lapsed into silence, and Agatha found herself sneaking another glance at Rio. Her companion stared out the window, the faintest trace of a smile on her lips as she watched the clouds roll by. The sunlight softened Rio’s features, making her look almost dreamlike.

Agatha’s grip on the newspaper faltered. She tried to turn her attention back to the article she wasn’t really reading, but her eyes remained fixed on Rio’s serene expression.

When Rio’s reflection caught hers in the window, her heart jolted. She was caught .

“What?” Rio asked, turning toward her.

Agatha quickly straightened, feigning indifference as she looked back at her paper. “Nothing. Just… making sure you weren’t about to get airsick or something.”

Rio’s raised eyebrow and knowing smirk were a challenge. “Airsick? Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Agatha shrugged, the corners of her mouth twitching against her will. “It’s a perfectly reasonable concern. I haven’t been impressed by what I’ve seen of your constitution. You strike me as not having a strong stomach.”

Rio’s laugh was soft but genuine, and Agatha couldn’t help but feel victorious. Even as she pretended to focus on her newspaper, she let herself relax.

The moment they stepped out of the Antigua airport into the thick island heat, Agatha smiled and deeply inhaled the salty air. The humidity, while oppressive, wasn’t what had her smirking to herself—it was her companion who seemed affected by more than just the change in climate.

Agatha didn’t miss the way Rio’s gaze lingered on her as she shrugged off her blazer, the silk blouse beneath clinging just enough to catch Rio’s attention. She could practically see Rio’s throat bob before she turned away to focus on the passing scenery outside the car window.

She was looking. Good. She could work with this.

Agatha leaned back in her seat, savoring the familiar, heady thrill of being watched, and admired. It had been too long since she’d let herself enjoy this kind of dynamic. She felt safe enough to play a little, her confidence slowly returning. She was determined to have some fun before inevitably opening herself to risk more.

You have to tell her. But there’s no reason you can’t tease her first. Vacations are supposed to be fun.

The resort was just as stunning as advertised: gleaming white sand, brilliant clear waves, and airy bungalows tucked neatly along the shoreline. Agatha couldn’t help but smile again at the way Rio took it all in with a low whistle, awe flickering across her face even as she tried to play it cool. The air here was heavy with romance, a fact that didn’t seem lost on Rio, whose shoulders stiffened slightly as they were led to their bungalow.

Agatha took stock of their room, the sofa, the crisp linens, and the single bed that dominated the space.

She’d of course requested a room with a convertible sofa, just in case, not wanting Rio to feel coerced into anything. Agatha valued choice—Rio’s choice especially. Yet, as she watched Rio’s eyes dart to the bed and linger, her nervous energy palpable, Agatha felt a thrill of amusement. Rio’s unease wasn’t born from repulsion. 

No, she was confident of two things: Rio liked the idea. And Rio was clearly gay panicking in a way that she had been wrestling with for weeks. Agatha could see it in the subtle way Rio’s jaw clenched, in the way her throat bobbed again as she swallowed thickly.

Oh yes, she was going to be very fun.

“Cute place,” Agatha said lightly, breaking the tension. She crossed the room with deliberate ease, heading for her suitcase. “I’m going to shower and get changed.”

Rio nodded stiffly, her eyes flitting back to the bed before she turned away. Agatha stifled a chuckle as she slipped into the bathroom.

When she emerged, she was ready to set the tone. Her swimsuit—a deep black one-piece with a daring neckline—hugged her figure perfectly. She’d chosen it specifically, hoping for a the effect it would have. As always, she’d been successful. The sheer black coverup added a layer of elegance, the delicate fabric skimming her legs as she stepped into the room.

Rio’s reaction did not disappoint.

Agatha paused in the doorway, one hand resting on her hip as she tilted her head slightly, just enough to let Rio know she’d noticed her staring.

“Uh, where should I put my stuff… there’s… there’s only one bed,” Rio stammered, clearly struggling to keep her composure.

Agatha let her lips curve into a knowing smile, stepping closer with a feigned air of concern. “Is that a problem?” she asked, her tone dripping with amusement. Adjusting her oversized sunglasses, she added with mock sincerity, “If it makes you more comfortable, you’re welcome to sleep in the hammock outside.”

Rio blinked, her face flushing as she opened her mouth to reply, but Agatha didn’t give her the chance. Bare feet tapping softly on the wooden floor, she breezed past Rio, her smirk widening.

“Figure it out,” she called over her shoulder as she slid open the glass door. “Hope you packed bug spray. I’m off to feel the sand.”

Outside, Agatha let the warm ocean breeze wash over her as she stepped onto the sand. She allowed herself a satisfied smile. Finally she was getting her groove back. Once she made her mind up about something she was relentless.

And for a moment she allowed herself to wonder how much sooner Rio’s interest would have been clear if she hadn’t been tying herself into knots denying her own.

For now, she’d let Rio squirm. After all, Agatha had resolved to let herself enjoy this trip. And Rio? Well, Rio wasn’t making it hard.

The sun was beaming, warm against Agatha’s skin as she stretched out under the umbrella, her sunglasses shielding her from the glare. The view wasn’t bad either. Watching Rio hover awkwardly by the edge of the shade, clearly unsure where to put herself, was almost too easy.

“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who burns after five minutes,” Agatha teased, her voice lilting with amusement. She tilted her head just enough to catch Rio’s eye, her sunglasses flashing in the sunlight. “Though I suppose a little pink might suit you.”

Anything would suit her. Nothing would suit her better . Agatha was almost scandalized by her own thoughts as the corner of her mouth twitched.

“I’m fine, thanks. Don’t worry about me.”

Don’t deny me that. I like worrying about you, Agatha thought, suppressing a smirk. Rio was fun to tease, her responses shy and genuine in a way that made Agatha want to keep going.

“Too bad,” she said, leaning back lazily. She let the sheer fabric of her coverup slip off one shoulder, a calculated movement that revealed just enough skin to catch Rio’s attention. “I was going to offer to help. Sunscreen’s a two-person job, you know.”

Rio swallowed audibly, her eyes darting everywhere but Agatha’s shoulder. That nervous energy, paired with how desperately Rio was trying to keep her cool, sent a wild thrill through her.

Back in control. As it should be.

“I think I’ll manage,” Rio muttered, her voice a little strained.

Agatha hummed as if considering, though she’d already made up her mind to push just a little further. She stretched, arching her back in a way she knew was distracting before reaching for the sunscreen. “Well, I do need a hand,” she said, her tone casually inviting. She held the bottle out toward Rio, letting her lips curl in a slight, amused smile. “Would you mind?”

Rio blinked, clearly caught off guard, and Agatha could almost see her brain short-circuiting.

“Uh… sure,” Rio finally managed, taking the bottle like it was a live grenade due to explode in her hands.

Agatha bit back a grin as she turned, pulling her coverup off entirely and draping it over the chair. She didn’t need to look at Rio to know the effect she was having; the silence behind her spoke volumes. Settling comfortably, she waited, savoring the moment.

When Rio’s fingers finally brushed against her skin, Agatha felt a pleasant shiver run down her spine.

“So, when’s the wedding supposed to happen?” Rio asked, her voice a little too casual.

Agatha’s shoulders stiffened for a moment before she forced herself to relax. She hadn’t expected the question to come up quiet so soon. Was she about to found out already? “Saturday,” she said, her tone quieter than usual.

Rio didn’t stop, her hands moving carefully over Agatha’s back. “Wait, Saturday? I thought we just got here in time.”

Agatha hesitated, her cheeks heating as she turned her head slightly. “We did. I, uh… might have arranged for us to arrive a little early.”

She could feel Rio freeze behind her, her touch pausing for just a beat before resuming. Agatha resisted the urge to laugh. She could practically hear Rio’s thoughts: Two days in advance is not a little early.

Trying to smooth things over, she added lightly, “I thought it’d be nice to… ease into things.”

Agatha couldn’t resist glancing back, lowering her sunglasses just enough to meet Rio’s eyes. The blush staining Rio’s cheeks was adorable.

“Thanks for this,” she said softly, her voice dipping low for just a moment. “You’re such a sweetheart.”

The way Rio’s breath hitched almost made Agatha laugh, though she didn’t want to push too far. Not all at once.

Rising to her feet, Agatha stretched her arms overhead. She caught Rio’s gaze for just a second before turning toward the water.

“Well, I’m off to cool down in the waves,” she announced, her voice breezy as she began strolling away. She called over her shoulder, “Try not to miss me too much.”

As the sand shifted under her feet and the ocean beckoned ahead, Agatha smiled to herself. Letting Rio squirm was almost too much fun—but if she was being honest, it wasn’t just about teasing anymore. There was something about Rio’s unguarded reactions, her earnestness, that made Agatha’s pulse quicken in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

In a way that felt real.

The water was refreshing, cool and soothing against Agatha's skin as she floated lazily. The faint breeze brushed her face, carrying the scent of salt and sun, and she pushed her sunglasses up to her head, catching sight of Rio hesitating near the shore. She smiled to herself. Finally.

“Well, well. Look who decided to join me,” she teased, tilting her head up.

Rio shuffled a few steps closer, visibly reluctant. Agatha could practically feel the tension rolling off her. It was almost endearing.

“Yeah, so... uh, now’s probably a bad time to mention this, but…” Rio hesitated, her hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of her neck. “I don’t actually know how to swim.”

Agatha blinked, momentarily surprised. Her eyes darted to Rio, who was trying too hard to play it off, and then to the vast expanse of ocean surrounding them.

“Are you serious?” she asked, her voice sharper than intended.

Rio shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “Yeah. Didn’t really come up, you know?”

Her lips twitched as she fought to keep her expression neutral. The sheer absurdity of the admission was almost too much. “Rio, we’re on a beach in Antigua, and now you tell me this?”

Rio gestured vaguely toward the water, her dry tone not completely masking her discomfort. “Well, I wasn’t planning on getting wet. But you seemed so insistent, so here I am.”

She could’ve laughed—would’ve laughed—but instead, Agatha found herself stepping closer. She found herself charmed by Rio’s attempt to humor her.

“Oh no,” she said, arms crossing as her voice turned mischievous, “you’re not getting out of this that easily. It’s never too late to learn.”

Rio arched a skeptical brow and backed up a step. “I don’t know. I feel like this is definitely one of those ‘too late’ situations.”

Agatha didn’t move, didn’t push. Instead, she extended a hand, her voice softening, coaxing. “Come on, you’re not afraid of a little water, are you?”

Her heart stuttered when Rio hesitated, staring at her outstretched hand as if it were some monumental decision. The look in her eyes wasn’t fear—it was something else, something Agatha couldn’t quite place.

“It’s not the water I’m afraid of,” Rio muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” Agatha teased, tilting her head as she leaned in slightly. She’d heard. But she wanted to hear more. She was greedy to collect more confirmations.

“Nothing,” Rio said quickly, her voice strained. But then she sighed, squared her shoulders, and took Agatha’s hand.

The warmth of Rio’s palm against hers sent an unexpected jolt through Agatha, and she bit back a smile as she tugged her forward into the waist-deep water. “Relax,” she said, her tone light but reassuring. “The water’s notoriously calm here. You’ll barely even notice when it gets higher.”

“Higher?” Rio’s wary tone almost made her laugh.

“Trust me,” Agatha said, squeezing her hand slightly. The words came easily, naturally. “You’re not going to drown with me here. Worst case, I’ll save you.”

Rio shot her a skeptical look, but Agatha could see the tension in her shoulders starting to ease.

“There, see?” she said, her tone almost playful now. “You’re practically a natural.”

Rio rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Olympic swimmer material, right here. Missed my calling.”

Agatha couldn’t help it. She laughed, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly. It wasn’t often that someone could surprise her, but Rio had a way of doing just that. Fuck, she was funny. And then—

The wave came out of nowhere, crashing over them with a force that left Agatha momentarily breathless. She felt the surge pull her under for just a second, the water twisting and turning her until she righted herself and broke the surface.

She turned immediately, searching for Rio, her heart lurching when she didn’t see her. Then her hand brushed against something—Rio’s arm—and she didn’t hesitate, grabbing her and pulling her up.

“Rio,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the chaos. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. Just breathe.”

Rio clung to her, her arms wrapped tightly around Agatha’s shoulders, her face a mix of panic and frustration as she gasped for air. Agatha’s grip was steady, her arms strong and unyielding as she held her upright.

“I—” Rio coughed, her voice shaky and raw. “Fuck—I hated that. You said it was calm!”

“Please,” Agatha said with a scoff, though her voice softened. “I wouldn’t let you drown.”

Her arms tightened instinctively around Rio, keeping her close as the waves lapped gently at them now, as if they were apologizing for the earlier chaos.

“Thanks,” Rio said after a moment, her voice weak but sincere.

“Anytime,” Agatha replied lightly, though her heart was still racing. She offered a teasing smirk, trying to ease the tension. “Wouldn’t want you to drown in knee-deep water. You know you could’ve just stood up and you would’ve been fine.”

Rio’s cheeks flushed, and Agatha couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. Her hand moved on its own, brushing a strand of wet hair out of Rio’s face, the simple gesture drawing an obvious shiver from her.

She could hold her like this forever. Her eyes looked so warm in the sunlight. She wondered if her freckles would grow darker after a few days in the sun. She hoped they would. It would make them easier to count, easier to see to place a kiss to each one.

Agatha tilted her head, watching Rio closely, her amusement mingling with something softer, quieter. “Don’t be so dramatic,” she said, her voice warm and teasing.

The proximity was perfect. Agatha could feel Rio’s body pressed close against hers, every shift and movement sending tiny ripples through the water around them. She had done this before, held someone in the ocean, and played the hero for a laugh, but this was different. This was Rio. And it felt like something fragile had been placed in her hands.

She didn’t move. Agatha could sense the tension in Rio’s body, the way her breathing hitched as if caught between conflicting instincts. She let Rio take the lead, holding steady, watching her carefully. Waiting.

Rio’s eyes flickered with hesitation, and Agatha knew she was on the verge of bolting. A part of her wanted to pull Rio closer, to reassure her with touch alone, but she held back. If Rio wanted distance, she’d allow it. Still, she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she watched Rio wrestle with her own thoughts.

Finally, Rio shifted, her legs unwinding in a quick, almost fumbling motion as she let out a forced cough. Agatha loosened her hold without hesitation, though she kept a steadying hand on Rio’s arm, just in case.

“Maybe we try the pool,” she tried lightly, her voice casual but not unkind. “If that’d make you more comfortable. We have a whole weekend. I don’t know that I can teach you how to swim but I think we could manage a ‘how not to drown’ lesson.”

Rio responded with a quick grin, though Agatha could tell it was a deflection. “Nah,” Rio said. “I think a couple of beers in the sun’s more my speed right now.”

Agatha tilted her head, studying her. There was something else hidden in Rio’s words, something Agatha didn’t press on. Instead, she let the faintest smile curl her lips. “Fair enough.”

She released Rio’s arm but let her fingers trail briefly against Rio’s hand, catching it as they began walking back toward the shore. The simple act of holding Rio’s hand felt intimate, grounding, though she wasn’t sure whether it was for Rio’s benefit or her own.

When they reached the loungers, Agatha released her hand and reached for a towel, patting her damp hair dry before slipping her cover-up back on with practiced ease. “I’ll grab us some drinks,” she said lightly, her tone breezy. She didn’t wait for a reply before turning toward the bar.

This was so much better than she could have planned.

Rio was buried in her phone as Agatha returned with their drinks. “Here,” she said, her grin playful, “your liquid courage.”

She couldn’t help noticing the way Rio’s shoulders relaxed, even as she muttered a quiet, “Thanks,” and took a long sip. Agatha watched her, amused at how Rio focused a little too hard on the bottle. She could practically hear the internal scramble to avoid looking at her legs.

Sliding onto the lounger beside her, Agatha tilted her drink toward the horizon. “See? Not so bad once you’re back on land.”

Rio snorted, the sound tugging a laugh from Agatha. “Not so bad,” she admitted, her voice lighter now.

Agatha let the quiet settle between them, content to sip her cocktail and let Rio settle. The rhythm of the waves, the distant murmur of tourists, and the occasional call of a seagull wove an easy atmosphere. She swirled her drink idly, the ice clinking against the glass, while Rio sat beside her, shoulders stiff but softening with each passing minute.

The service here was lavish, almost absurdly so. Attendants drifted by with trays of canapés, perfectly folded napkins, and an endless offer of refills. Agatha played along effortlessly, flashing smiles and cash tips that charmed them into hovering just a little longer. Rio, however, fidgeted every time they approached, her unease both endearing and hilarious.

“You don’t have to look so terrified,” Agatha teased, catching the way Rio awkwardly waved off another tray of appetizers.

“I’m not terrified,” Rio grumbled, taking a larger sip of her beer. “I’m just not used to this whole... being-waited-on thing.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, her smirk deepening. “Clearly.”

By the time Rio reached her third beer, her laugh had become freer, her posture looser. Agatha watched her, fascinated by the shift. The sharp lines of Rio’s usual demeanor softened in the glow of the golden hour, and for a moment, Agatha felt like she was seeing her through a new lens—one not so guarded.

There truly was nothing like sharing booze on a beach.

Stretching out on the lounger, Agatha let her gaze wander to the horizon, the sunlight glinting off the waves in a way that felt almost dreamlike. “You know,” she said, her tone thoughtful, “this isn’t a bad way to spend a day. I could get used to this.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. “You? I’m shocked.”

Agatha laughed, setting her drink down. “What can I say? Even I need a break from being the boss all the time.”

Rio snorted, the sound unguarded. “Is that what this is? A rare glimpse into the downtime of Agatha the Great?”

“Exactly,” Agatha said, her grin sharpening. “You’re lucky to witness it.”

I’m lucky to have you here.

The banter came easily, each jab and retort like a well-rehearsed dance. Agatha couldn’t help the warmth blooming in her chest as Rio’s laugh became less restrained, her usual sharp wit returning as she relaxed.

As the sun dipped lower, casting the beach in shades of amber and deepening blue, Agatha shifted in the lounger, brushing her arm against Rio’s in a way that could be played off as almost casual—almost. Rio’s glance flicked toward her, quick and questioning, but Agatha only raised her glass with a sly smile.

“So,” she said, leaning back and letting her voice drop into a playful drawl, “are we going to take a walk on the beach, or are you just going to keep sitting here pretending not to have fun?”

Rio arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a grin. “Who says I’m pretending?”

Agatha gave her a slow, knowing look. “Please. I see right through your whole ‘I’m too cool to enjoy this’ vibe.”

Rio shook her head, laughing. “Alright, maybe a walk,” she said, standing and brushing sand from her legs. “But I’m not going near the water again.”

“Deal,” Agatha replied, rising with a grace that was entirely deliberate. “Just try to keep up.”

Rio laughed again, shaking her head as they strolled toward the shoreline. The sand was cool beneath their feet, the waves lapping close enough to touch even though Rio was stubbornly keeping her distance. Agatha glanced sideways at Rio, watching the way her guard had slipped entirely, leaving someone lighter, someone freer.

God, she was beautiful. 

And Agatha was so happy she was finally letting herself admit it.

And soon she would tell her. She had to.

Chapter Text

Agatha carried her sandals and drink in one hand as she strolled along the beach, her free hand occasionally brushing against Rio’s arm as they meandered down the shore. There was a soft breeze and she inhaled deeply, the scent of salt and sunscreen filling the air. She felt more at peace than she had in some time. Even in the time before Rio, she’d been carrying a low current of stress for so long that it felt like it was part of her. And now that there was a weight lifted, she could breathe fully.

The palm trees swayed, and she glanced over to Rio watching as the wind caught her hair and slightly lifted the edges of the oversized shirt she wore.

“This place is something else,” Rio murmured, dancing away from the water's edge as a gentle wave rolled in. Agatha smiled and switched places with her so Rio was fully on the beach and Agatha walked between her and the water. “Feels like a postcard come to life.”

As the water lapped over her feet before receding again Agatha smiled. “It is, isn’t it?” She glanced towards Rio, pushing her sunglasses on top of her head. “I always think it’s a little unfair that places like this exist. Like the universe is showing off.”

“You don’t seem the type to be impressed by postcard-perfect views,” Rio said wryly. Her chuckle carried on the breeze.

Agatha smiled as she fixed her eyes on the point on the horizon line where the sun was just starting to dip low. “I’m not,” she said simply. “But sometimes… Sometimes, it’s nice to pretend you’re someone who is.”

It was a thought she’d had frequently. How much easier her life would be, how much happier she could be if she’d been born just a little different. Or if different things had happened to her.

Maybe she’d be fully relaxed in a different life, strolling hand in hand with a lover by the water. Or she’d be watching a partner chase down a couple of squealing kids with cold sunblock in her hands. Maybe in a different life, she was still alone but genuinely content with the fact rather than working so hard to try to be. Perhaps in that universe, she worked less and took more beach holidays. Maybe she hooked up less and made love more. Maybe she was less sharp and more gentle. Or still just as sharp but carried a greater capacity for tenderness.

Maybe, maybe, maybe...

Even imagining these things felt like she was imagining them for a whole other person.

“Is that what it is? Pretend?” Rio asked carefully, breaking her from her thoughts.

Maybe in that different life, she was here with someone who didn’t see her so keenly. But she was glad she wasn't. Not that she knew what it was like to be seen, to experience anything else would be a tragedy.

“Something like that,” she replied gently. 

It wasn't a lie. But not the full truth either. She was tired of pretending.

Each step they took along the shore felt like it brought her closer to the edge. Her heart was a little too aware of Rio’s presence beside her—the occasional brush of their arms, the sound of her laugh, the warmth of her voice.

Agatha had spent so much of her life building walls, polishing appearances, and convincing herself that was the way she had to be. Yet, here she was.

What could she even say? How could she put into words the way Rio had slipped past every defense without even trying? She looked down at her feet as another tiny wave washed over them, cold and fleeting.

She could start simply. “You make me feel like I can breathe.” That was the truth, wasn’t it?

She could joke, tease the way Rio always teased her. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” It might make Rio laugh, maybe give her an excuse to dodge talking about deeper feelings if it all went wrong.

No, she thought, shaking her head slightly. That was the coward’s cop-out. Rio deserved more than that. If she was going to say something, it had to be real. Honest.

Maybe along the lines of, “I didn’t think I’d want this. To let someone in again. Ever. But you make it hard not to.”

Agatha glanced at Rio out of the corner of her eye, watching as she bent down to pick up a shell, brushing the sand off it with careful fingers. It was such a small, unremarkable moment, but it made her chest ache.

She wanted to tell Rio how much she admired her. How clever and resilient she was. How she’d never met anyone who could so easily balance the high wire between uproariously funny and genuine in the same breath. She wanted to tell her that she no longer skipped the overly sentimental songs that occasionally popped up on her Spotify. That she’d spent far too much time wondering what kind of music she liked.

She wanted to say: “I think you’re the first person who has ever seen me and liked what they saw.”

The words sat heavy in her chest, pressing against her ribs as if they were trying to escape.

Instead, she took a deep breath, letting the salt air fill her lungs, and decided to keep walking for now. The words would come eventually—when the moment was right. At least, she hoped they would.

Agatha felt the warmth of the sand shift beneath her feet as she walked, a lazy, languid rhythm carrying her forward. Her attention was firmly fixed on Rio. The way Rio moved, half-awkward and half-comfortable, like she belonged here beside her but didn’t quite know it yet.

“You know,” she said, her voice light with amusement as she glanced sideways at Rio, “you could’ve stayed back at the bungalow and enjoyed the hammock life. No need to humor me. I know you had a deeply traumatizing first ocean encounter.”

Rio’s hesitation made her grin widen. She loved the way Rio took the bait so easily.

“And miss this?” Rio gestured vaguely at the beach, her tone casual but her eyes betraying just a hint of interest. “Please. You’d never let me hear the end of it.”

“Smart girl,” she said aloud, her voice carrying a thread of affection she hoped wasn’t too obvious.

She slowed her pace just enough for Rio to catch up. When Rio was again by her side, Agatha leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice into something soft and teasing, a tone she’d perfected long ago.

“Besides, you seem to be enjoying yourself.”

The way Rio’s brow furrowed, the subtle pink creeping into her cheeks—it warmed her more than the day in the sun ever could have.

“Do I?” Rio said, trying for aloofness but missing the mark.

“Oh, yes.” Agatha let the smirk play on her lips, savoring the way Rio’s defenses wavered. “You’ve got this whole broody, contemplative thing going. Very charming.”

“Charming?” Rio repeated, clearly flustered. Agatha felt a twinge of satisfaction as Rio’s cheeks warmed under the faint glow of the setting sun. “That’s one way to put it.”

Agatha laughed, the sound bubbling up before she could stop it. The way Rio was trying so hard to play it cool was… adorable. She hated that it made her stomach flip, but there was no denying it anymore.

“Don’t worry,” Agatha said, her voice dropping just a touch, almost conspiratorial. “I like broody types. Keeps things interesting.”

Rio huffed a laugh, and Agatha caught the subtle shift in her posture like she was trying to hide her smile. “Glad I can provide some entertainment.”

Agatha stopped as they reached a piece of driftwood half-buried in the sand, running her hand over its surface and testing its stability. Satisfied, she sat down, gesturing for Rio to join her.

She didn’t miss the slight hesitation before Rio finally sat, careful to keep a polite distance. Agatha’s gaze drifted back to the horizon, the water painted in the colors of the setting sun, it looked like an ocean of wine as it reflected the purples and oranges.

It was beautiful. Everything was more beautiful here. Like a postcard indeed.

Rio’s voice broke through, quiet but steady. “You’ve got that look again.”

Agatha blinked, turning to meet her gaze. “What look?”

“Like you’re thinking about something. Something… big.” Rio shrugged, looking away, her voice softer now. “Just noticed, that’s all.”

Agatha studied her for a moment, her chest tightening unexpectedly. Rio always noticed. Even when Agatha didn’t want her to. Especially when Agatha didn’t want her to.

She shifted her weight slightly, leaning back on her hands and letting the breeze play with her hair. “Maybe I am,” she admitted, her tone softer than she intended.

Again Rio was looking at her with that earnest curiosity, and Agatha couldn’t resist turning the tables. She just needed a little more time. She let her gaze linger on Rio, her voice carrying just the faintest hint of challenge.

“What about you? What’s running through that head of yours?”

It was easier this way, pushing the spotlight back onto Rio. Easier than admitting the truth—the way Rio’s presence tugged at her, unrelenting, like a riptide.

“Oh, you know,” Rio said suddenly, her voice carrying that forced casualness Agatha had learned to recognize. “How to avoid stepping on any stray crabs out here. It’s a real danger.”

The corner of Agatha’s mouth lifted before she could stop it. The awkward deflection was classic Rio.

“Always deflecting,” she teased, her eyes narrowing playfully. “One of these days, Rio, I’m going to get a real answer out of you.” Out of both of us.

“Good luck with that, you’re even less of an open book,” Rio muttered.

The horizon finally swallowed the sun. The only sound was the crash of the waves and the rustling of the palms, nature’s quiet symphony. Agatha traced patterns in the sand absently with her foot, her thoughts still caught on the way Rio’s voice had softened earlier.

When Rio spoke again, her voice was quieter, almost hesitant. “Can I ask you something?”

Agatha didn’t respond right away. She let her eyes stay fixed on the water, hoping the ocean would offer an answer she couldn’t find. But she didn’t brush Rio off either, giving her subtle permission to continue.

“Have you ever thought about getting remarried? Or dating again?”

The question landed like a stone chucked into a lake, sending ripples through her carefully constructed calm. She measured her words carefully before responding. “Not really,” she said finally, immediately regretting the edge that crept into her voice.

She could feel Rio hesitate beside her, but the younger woman wasn’t deterred. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Since… you and Ashley split?”

“It has,” Agatha said evenly, her lips pressing into a thin line. A long while.

Rio’s next words made her jaw tighten. “Guess she must’ve done a number on you.”

Agatha stilled, her glass poised midair. She hadn’t expected Rio to be so blunt, and for a moment, the weight of it pressed against her ribs. Then, slowly, she let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing just enough to glance at Rio. “Yeah,” she admitted, the word soft and heavy. “She did.”

It was a rare honesty, it felt good and raw at the same time. Like when you couldn’t help yourself from picking at a scab and just to watch a new drop of blood well up. When Rio offered her an out, saying, “If you don’t want to talk about it—” something in Agatha snapped, surprising even herself.

“No,” she interrupted, her voice firm but calm. “It’s fine. It’s… overdue, maybe.”

The words felt foreign on her tongue like they belonged to someone braver. She took another sip of her drink, letting the warmth dull her sharper edges.

“She had an affair,” she said, her voice steady and detached as if recounting someone else’s story. At this point, it felt like it had been someone else’s life.  “One of her campaign staffers. I found out about it maybe… six months before we split.” Her laugh was bitter, devoid of any humor. “I probably could’ve worked through that. If it had just been… a dalliance. Would’ve hurt like hell, but… maybe.”

She’d offered. She’d pleaded. For the first time in her life, she’d brought up therapy or counseling. Anything that would get them through that storm. Anything to keep herself from becoming unmoored and unanchored. Anything to not be left alone.

Rio’s frown deepened. “But there was more?”

“Oh yeah. Of course, there was more.” The bitterness seeped into her tone as she stared at her glass. The memory of Ashley’s pleading face, her carefully spun lies—it all came rushing back. “I found out she’d been using campaign funds to pay the other woman to stay quiet. I confronted her about it, and she begged me not to go public. Said her career was just starting, and it’d ruin everything if the truth came out.”

The way Rio’s brows shot up was almost comical, but her words were anything but. “And you let her? You let her pin it on you?”

Agatha’s smile was like a grimace. “I didn’t exactly let her. But when the story broke, and it became clear where the narrative was heading…” She shrugged, the gesture light but her voice heavy. “I didn’t fight it.”

“But why?” Rio’s voice rose, disbelief etched into every syllable. “She cheated on you, stole money, lied to everyone—and you took the fall? Why would you do that for her?”

Agatha turned to Rio then, her expression unreadable, her voice quiet but firm. “Because I loved her,” she said simply. “And I thought that was what you did for the people you loved. You protected them, even when they didn’t deserve it.”

Rio’s stunned silence stretched between them, her wide eyes reflecting the faint light of the stars. Agatha turned her gaze back to the ocean, the waves crashing in time with the ache in her chest.

This was why she didn’t talk about Ashley. The truth never sounded noble or heroic when spoken aloud—it only sounded foolish. And yet, she felt relieved to have the truth out between them.

“Agatha…”

She shifted her weight, the cool sand grounding her even as the conversation unsettled her. Her next words came quietly, another confession.

“It wasn’t just for her,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “There were other people’s careers at stake. Staffers who didn’t deserve to lose their jobs. Constituents who didn’t deserve to lose faith in their representative. Ashley was… good at what she did. She was passionate, and she cared about people. The guy she was running against was truly awful, and she had an opportunity to make a real change. I didn’t want my anger and hurt to take all that away from everyone else.”

She could feel Rio’s skepticism before she even spoke. Her scoff came sharp and quick. “So you made yourself the villain instead?”

The corner of Agatha’s mouth twitched. “It’s easy enough to transfer blame to any available woman, isn’t it? An already rich professional fixer, no less. They knew a lot less about me than they did her. I made a convenient scapegoat. The optics were perfect. I truly couldn’t have planned it better myself.”

Rio’s response was immediate, her voice tinged with disbelief. “That’s… fucked up.” Agatha watched her knuckles whiten as her hand tightened around the bottle she was holding, the glass catching the faint light of the waxing moon.

“Maybe.” Agatha’s gaze returned to the horizon, her thoughts following the waves as they crashed and receded with the rising tide. “But it’s done. And Ashley got what she wanted. She’s still thriving, as you know.”

The pause that followed was thick with the unspoken. When Rio finally broke the silence, her voice was quieter, almost hesitant. “And you? Did you get what you wanted?”

Agatha didn’t answer right away. The question sat heavy in her chest, a reminder of all the things she couldn’t bring herself to say. A reminder of all the things she wanted that she hadn’t allowed herself to reach for. Yet. When she turned to look at Rio, the vulnerability that slipped through her voice surprised even her. “Not yet.”

Not until I have you. Or at least try. Soon. I promise.

She watched Rio’s reaction carefully, noting the way her breath seemed to hitch, the way her expression softened as if she didn’t quite know what to do with an Agatha who was painfully honest.

Something shifted in the air between them. Agatha didn’t move, but she could feel Rio’s indecision. When Rio reached out, the touch was tentative, her fingers gently cupping Agatha’s cheek and turning her head to face her.

“I’m really sorry you went through that,” Rio whispered, her voice carrying an earnestness that pierced through Agatha’s remaining defenses.

For a moment, Agatha allowed herself to lean into the warmth of Rio’s hand, her eyes fluttering shut against the surge of emotion. It was comforting, maybe too comforting. Now would be the perfect time to talk to her. But she was too raw, too open, it was too much. Not yet.

The spell broke as quickly as it formed. Agatha straightened, pulling away and standing up in one fluid motion, brushing the sand from her legs as she moved. “Well. It was a long time ago. We’ve both moved on.”

She crossed her arms, pulling her coverup tighter around her, a gesture more to shield herself than anything else. Her tone was steady, her walls firmly back in place.

Rio didn’t press further, though the shift in her expression betrayed her disappointment. Agatha glanced back at her once before heading toward the bungalow, the sound of Rio’s footsteps following close behind.

When they returned to the bungalow, Agatha’s eyes flicked toward the pull-out sofa, now set up with fresh linens and pillows. She raised her eyebrows at the setup, laughing softly at Rio’s expression as she took it in. “You really had me thinking I was sleeping in a hammock,” Rio said, the faintest trace of accusation in her tone.

Agatha rifled through her suitcase for some clothes, not bothering to hide the smug amusement in her voice. “Whoops. Must have slipped my mind to mention it. Unfortunately for you, I like seeing you sweat.”

The truth was, she had enjoyed it—watching Rio try to act unfazed, even as she fumbled through potential solutions to the one bed “problem”. Agatha didn’t need to turn to know Rio was watching her now, her presence a quiet weight in the room.

She felt it before she heard it, the shift in mood as Rio spoke, her voice softer than before. “Agatha.”

Agatha stilled, glancing up from the cover-up she was folding.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Rio continued. “I really am sorry you went through all that. You didn’t deserve it.”

Agatha’s fingers froze, the fabric slipping slightly between them. For a moment, she considered brushing it off—turning Rio’s earnestness into another teasing barb. But something in Rio’s tone made her pause, her defenses faltering. She glanced at her, meeting Rio’s gaze briefly, and then nodded.

“Thanks,” she said simply.

She didn’t linger, didn’t give Rio a chance to pry further. Instead, she turned and headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Only when the latch clicked did she let out a small exhale, gripping the edge of the sink as she stared at her reflection. The soft light reflected the shadows under her eyes.

She changed and splashed some water on her face, taking her time to brush her teeth and settle her heart which felt like it was about to beat out of her chest.

When she emerged a few minutes later, her mask of calm was back in place. Her hair was tied back, and the loose cotton pajamas she’d changed into hung comfortably against her frame. She met Rio’s gaze briefly as she walked past her.

“Lights out?” Rio asked.

Agatha nodded, flipping the switch on the wall lamp. The bungalow sank into darkness, broken only by the faint moonlight streaming through the curtains. “Big day tomorrow. Rehearsal dinner is at six.”

Idly she wondered if she should give Rio a heads up about the friends she would be meeting. But they were best not described but experienced. And talking about them now, when she was already so vulnerable, well who knew what other secrets would come out. She'd taken a big first step tonight, but too many more would send her tumbling into the abyss. She was sure of it.

She settled onto the bed, her body relaxing as she nestled into the plush mattress. Rio’s quiet movements from the pull-out registered distantly, but she didn’t look back. Agatha could feel them even from across the room.

Agatha heard Rio flop onto the pull-out, and listened to her try to get comfortable on the creaky mattress with a mix of amusement and impatience. Surely, they both knew how this night was going to end. A new current hummed between them, and though Rio seemed determined to play innocent, Agatha had little intention of letting her squirm much longer. Someone had to make a move, and Agatha was done waiting.

She let her breathing even out, feigning sleep but kept her ears tuned to the racket of creaking springs. Every time Rio shifted, the sound pierced the quiet like a some sharp scraping glass, testing Agatha’s patience.

The creaking paused, followed by a sigh. Agatha cracked one eye open, watching Rio stare toward the hammock outside as though it offered salvation. She nearly rolled her eyes. The woman was clearly desperate but far too polite—or stubborn—to acknowledge the obvious solution.

Creak.

That did it. Agatha pushed herself up onto one elbow, her voice cutting through the darkness, low and rough with the traces of sleep she hadn’t managed to find. “Rio.”

The girl froze, sounding like a guilty child caught in the middle of mischief. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Just get in here,” Agatha snapped. She didn’t have the patience to sugarcoat it.

There was a pause, and then, incredulously, “What?”

God she was stubborn.

“You heard me.” Agatha shifted, propping herself up further as she glared at Rio’s silhouette. “You’re not going to sleep on that thing, and more importantly, I’m not going to sleep if you keep making a racket all night.”

“Wait, you mean—”

“Yes,” Agatha said, already laying back down, her tone clipped as she pulled the blanket over her shoulders. “Get in the bed, Rio. For god’s sake.”

Rio hesitated. Of course, she did. Agatha could practically see the mental acrobatics from across the room. “I, uh, don’t want to invade your space or anything…”

Agatha groaned audibly and turned over to pin her with an exasperated look. “Rio. It’s a king-size bed. It has space. You’ll be fine.”

That seemed to settle it, though Rio still moved like she was testing her steps across a minefield, slowly sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the pull-out. Agatha listened to the last protesting creak of the couch and smirked faintly to herself. She’d won, though Rio seemed determined to make it as awkward as possible.

Rio hovered at the edge of the bed, her uncertainty so palpable that Agatha could feel it. She rolled her eyes and muttered into her pillow, “You know how I hate hovering.”

Finally, Rio slid in on the opposite side, so stiff and cautious that Agatha almost laughed. Almost. She closed her eyes, willing herself to relax, but Rio’s tension was practically radiating across the expanse of the mattress.

Minutes passed. The night sounds filtered in from outside, soft and rhythmic, but Rio’s tension remained a loud, invisible presence in the room.

“You’re really terrible at relaxing,” Agatha finally murmured, her voice teasing despite the sleep that dragged at the edges of her consciousness.

A quiet, sheepish laugh escaped Rio. “Not used to sharing a bed, I guess.”

Agatha turned her head just enough to glimpse Rio’s profile in the faint moonlight. “Please. You’re not sharing. You’re barely touching the mattress, let alone the bed.”

“Well, I didn’t want to overstep,” Rio mumbled.

Agatha couldn’t help but huff a laugh, settling back into her pillow. “It’s fine, Rio. You can stop holding your breath now.”

I invited you into my bed. I’m the one supposed to be stressed out.

She heard the quiet exhale and felt the subtle shift of the mattress as Rio finally let herself relax. The tension in the air eased, though it didn’t disappear entirely.

“Goodnight, Agatha,” Rio said softly.

Agatha smirked to herself, eyes already closed. “God, here I thought this would make you quieter,” she teased. “Go to sleep.”

Sleep came quickly. And dreams soon followed. Agatha found herself stretched out on soft, cool sand under the glow of a brilliant, full moon. Above, the stars were scattered, the sky an endless expanse.

And then there was Rio.

She was close, propped up on one elbow, her head tilted with a lazy sort of confidence that made Agatha’s heart skip. Her dark eyes glimmered in the moonlight, a teasing smirk painted on her face. Her shirt was unbuttoned, revealing sun-kissed skin and a hint of muscle.

Agatha chuckled to herself as she reached out to brush some of the windswept hair from Rio’s face. “You look like something off the cover of a romance novel,” she teased, her voice warm with affection.

Rio arched an eyebrow, smirking as she leaned closer. “Is that what you’re dreaming about now? Shirtless sailors and forbidden moonlit rendezvous? Are you the siren here to sing sweetly to me and the drag me under?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Agatha’s lips curved into a grin as she looped an arm around Rio’s neck and pulled her on top of her and into a kiss.

Their lips met slowly, lazily, as if they had all the time in the world. Rio’s hand skimmed lightly along Agatha’s side, the touch gentle but deliberate.

It went on for ages, and Agatha was content to stay in this dream forever.

The breeze shifted, and Agatha felt the cool waves start to tickle at her feet. She laughed against Rio’s lips, pulling back just enough to glance down at her toes. “Looks like this is my chance, time to go drown you, my dear,” she murmured.

Rio’s chest rumbled with laughter as she rolled onto her back, stretching out slowly. “You won’t. You like me too much,” she said with a smirk.

Agatha snorted, sitting up and shaking sand from her hair. She grabbed Rio’s hand, pulling her up with an easy strength. “Come on, sailor,” she said, grinning as she led Rio up the beach. “Before we both get swept away.”

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, her dreams always had a nasty habit of ending before the best part. The first thing she noticed was Rio, sprawled out across the center of the bed. She’d managed to claim the better part of the space in her sleep, her limbs tangled in the sheets, one arm stretched out as if reaching for her.

Agatha propped herself up on one elbow, watching Rio’s face. Her features were soft in sleep, her lips slightly parted as a faint, snore escaped. It was cute. She smiled and shook her head as she was betrayed by her foolish heart.

She’d never heard a cute snore before. 

Fuck, she had it bad.

But, based on everything she'd observed today... Rio did too.

And that thought eased her back into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

Agatha woke up first, Rio still snoring lightly in her ear. She froze for a moment as she realized the woman was so close she could feel the soft puffs of warm breath on the back of her neck. She became aware of another source of warmth, at some point Rio had draped her arm over her waist. Warmth surrounded her with one touch of cold, Rio’s bare feet were two blocks of ice lightly touching the back of her calf.

She smiled as she took in the sensations, not just of the feeling of the woman in bed next to her but the steady calm that had settled in her chest. She’d let this linger. For just a moment.

Agatha waited until Rio began to stir and then carefully untangled herself and eased out of the bed. She began to busy herself with putting together a beach bag with everything she considered essential for a day of relaxation before what would be a… busy evening.

She could let Rio sleep the day away. But what would be the fun in that? Agatha picked up the room service menu and lightly tossed it to land on the sleeping woman’s chest. She grinned as the woman was fully woken, and couldn’t help the way her heart skipped as she watched her stretch and grumble.

“Oh! Good, you’re awake!” Agatha teased, putting on a playful mock surprised face as if she hadn’t been the one to forcefully rouse her.

“Barely. Someone’s throwing things.” Rio grumbled, lifting a hand to shield her eyes.

Her hair was a mess, sticking up all over the place. Her face scrunched with sleep and the annoyance of being woken up. Some would have called it endearing. But Agatha in that moment could only think about how Rio had no right to look so beautiful this early in the morning. 

She now understood why famous painters were so drawn to depicting half asleep lovers tangled in sheets. She wouldn’t linger too long on that thought though, or the accompanying one that the women in those art pieces were usually depicted in a lot less clothing than the mismatched shirt and joggers Rio wore.

“Since you’re up, I thought you could order us some breakfast. I’m gonna get a shower!” She called airly, breezing into the bathroom and shutting the door. It was a gift to them both. Rio could steal a few more minutes of sleep if she wanted. And Agatha… could use a moment to cool off.

Agatha emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed, her hair wrapped in a towel and her skin still warm from the shower. The resort’s robe hugged her comfortably, she hadn’t bothered to dry off fully, the heat of the sun would do the rest of the work for her. She paused when she saw Rio sprawled on the bed, looking entirely too smug.

“Breakfast ordered?” she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow as she reached for the beach bag to finish packing.

Rio’s grin was far too self-satisfied. “Sure is. Should be here any minute.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, sensing mischief but not probing further.

When the knock finally came, Agatha gestured absentmindedly without even looking up. “Get that, would you?”

“With pleasure.” Rio practically bounced off the bed like a kid about to open a present.

Agatha glanced up briefly as Rio opened the door, only to freeze when the hotel staff rolled in an absolute feast . Her eyebrows shot up as the trays kept coming—pitchers of juice, stacks of covered dishes, and a fruit platter so absurdly grand it looked like it belonged at a royal banquet.

“What is this?” she demanded, unable to keep the shock from her voice.

Rio dropped onto the couch with a wide grin, spreading her arms like a magician revealing her final trick. “Breakfast. You didn’t tell me what you wanted, so I ordered… a little bit of everything.”

Agatha stared at her, half disbelieving, half amused. “A little bit?” She gestured at the spread, her voice rising a bit in disbelief. “Rio, there’s an entire pineapple on that tray.”

“And a mango,” Rio added cheerfully, spearing a piece of fruit with a fork. “You are buying, right?”

Agatha pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting the laugh that was threatening to escape. It wasn’t just the sheer absurdity of it—it was Rio . This wasn’t the over-the-top indulgence Agatha was used to, the kind she herself might have employed in the past to impress someone. No, Rio had twisted extravagance into a playful, teasing display, and somehow, it was… charming. Annoyingly so.

“You’re impossible,” Agatha muttered, though her lips betrayed her with the faintest hint of a smile.

“I’m thorough,” Rio shot back, the grin never leaving her face as she popped some pineapple into her mouth. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re not curious about the mini quiches. They’re adorable.”

Agatha sighed and sat down across from her. Her fingers reached for a croissant, her faux irritation giving way to the realization that she was starving. “You’re lucky I skipped dinner last night,” she muttered around a bite.

“Lucky? Or brilliant?” Rio quipped, sliding the butter dish closer with a dramatic flourish.

“Let’s not get carried away.”

The whole display was ridiculous and endearing. The French press coffee, the perfectly flaky pastries, even the damn pineapple—somehow it all worked.

By the time she leaned back with a mimosa in hand, Agatha felt herself conceding. “Okay,” she admitted grudgingly. “This was a good call.”

Rio beamed. “You’re welcome. Now, are you ready to hit the beach?”

Agatha’s eyes gleamed as she sat up, a grin spreading across her face. “Only if you’re ready for me to teach you how to swim.”

Rio groaned, her smug bravado instantly fading. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Agatha said, smirking as she grabbed the beach bag and stood. “Come on, water baby. Let’s see if we can get you to float without screaming.”

“I do not scream!” Rio protested indignantly.

Agatha laughed, her voice echoing through the hallway as she headed for the door. “We’ll see!”

Rio followed, muttering under her breath, but her smile was unshakable. Agatha caught a glimpse of it as she glanced over her shoulder, her own smile softening. It was hard to even pretend to be annoyed when Rio wore her delight so openly.

It was going to be a good day, she could feel it.

Agatha tilted her head back against the lounge chair, the pages of her book half-forgotten in her hands as she tried—and failed—to concentrate. She’d settled near the shoreline early, claiming a prime spot for sun and relative quiet from the growing Friday crowd. But as Rio’s silhouette emerged, her focus shattered.

At first, she caught the bold neon green of the sunglasses—a deliberate affront to her taste, no doubt. Then her gaze flicked lower to the light shorts and cropped tee, hanging just-so. 

But what truly did her in was the moment Rio stopped mid-stride and stretched. The shirt rode up, exposing an infuriating expanse of smooth, toned skin, and Agatha felt her stomach flip in a way she hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

It was maddening. Rio wasn’t even trying—no, scratch that, Rio was trying. Agatha knew the woman well enough by now to see this for what it was, a blatant move to provoke a reaction. Rio had fully decided to engage in the teasing game Agatha had started.

She snapped her book shut with a calculated air of disinterest as Rio sauntered closer. The neon glasses perched on her nose and that smug grin made her want to laugh and scream at the same time. “Those are a bold choice,” she said, nodding at them in mock disdain.

Rio grinned as she reached for Agatha’s iced drink. “I figured you’d appreciate the retro vibe,” she teased, sipping without so much as asking permission. “What are you reading? Some heavy drama?”

Agatha snatched her drink back, feigning offense. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s a mystery.”

Rio tossing the garish sunglasses onto her towel before settling on the lounger next to her like she was claiming a throne. “Let me guess: rich people with dark secrets and a dead body in the pool?”

Agatha couldn’t suppress the smirk that tugged at her lips. “Actually, it’s about an annoyingly nosy woman who goes missing on a beach holiday.”

Rio laughed, tipping her head back, giving Agatha an incredibly unhelpful unobstructed view of her neck. She wanted to kiss it. “Of course it is. You’ve got a type.”

Agatha glanced sideways, her smirk sharpening. “And what about you? What’s your type? Of book, ” she clarified, fighting a flush that crept up her neck when Rio’s eyes met hers.

“Hmm.” Rio tapped her chin in an exaggerated display of thoughtfulness. “Stories about bossy brunettes with expensive tastes and a secret soft side.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, even as her pulse quickened. “Careful. That sounds awfully niche.”

“Maybe,” Rio said with an unbothered grin. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

The sun beat down as the hours slipped away, a comfortable rhythm settling between them. Rio’s antics only grew more relentless as the day pressed on. 

Whenever Agatha tried to return to her book, Rio found some excuse to interrupt. She flicked sand onto Agatha’s leg, narrated absurd stories about the other beachgoers with increasing dramatic flair, and even "accidentally" knocked over Agatha’s hat with an errant toss of her towel.

“You’re worse than the seagulls,” Agatha muttered, swatting Rio’s hand away as she reached for her drink yet again.

“But at least I’m prettier,” Rio quipped, flashing a grin so self-assured that Agatha felt the urge to kiss it off of her.

And then Rio stood, stretching with a languid grace that made Agatha’s heart stumble and her mouth go dry. Agatha barely registered her words—something about cooling off in the water—before Rio grabbed the hem of her shirt and tugged it over her head. The breath left Agatha in a rush.

She’d known one of the swimsuits she’d bought for Rio was on the skimpy side—she had provided a more modest option. But god she’d hoped she’d pick this one. Seeing it now though was another matter entirely and the playfully spur of the moment choice to add it to her cart haunted her. She may as well have handed Rio a loaded gun and asked her to kill her outright.

The bikini was all sharp angles and sinfully dark fabric against Rio’s sun-kissed skin. Every movement seemed designed to draw Agatha’s gaze, and she couldn’t stop herself from following the curve of Rio’s shoulders, the line of her back, the toned length of her legs.

When Rio reached for her shorts and peeled them off in one smooth motion, Agatha choked on her drink, nearly spilling what was left of it onto her lap.

“You okay over there?” Rio asked, her voice laced with faux concern as she tossed her shorts onto her chair.

Agatha waved her off, her cheeks burning. “Fine,” she managed, still sputtering. She forced her gaze back to her book, willing herself to focus on the words instead of the image burned into her mind.

Legs. Stomach. Arms. Skin. So much fucking skin. What had she been thinking?

Rio’s laughter floated back to her, infuriatingly delighted. “You should see your face right now.”

“You should find another hobby, besides giving me a hard time” Agatha shot back, refusing to look up.

But Rio wasn’t done. She leaned down, close enough for Agatha to catch the faint scent of sunscreen and saltwater. “Come on,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “I’ll let you teach me how to float again.”

Agatha finally looked up, carefully making sure to keep her eyes on Rio’s even as she felt her resolve cracking. “If it gets you out of my hair for five minutes, fine.” She stood abruptly, grabbing Rio’s arm to haul her toward the water. Anything to escape the heat—both from the sun and from the maddening woman beside her.

Rio let herself be dragged, laughing as she followed. “Careful, Agatha. What was it you told me before? ‘Try not to look like a hostage?’”

“Don’t push your luck,” Agatha warned, though her lips quirked in an involuntary smile.

The waves lapped at their feet, and as Agatha waded in, she couldn’t help but glance back at Rio.

She was in so much trouble.

As the day wore on the beach came alive with noise and color. The shrieks of children playing in the waves, the occasional bark of a dog chasing a Frisbee, and the cry of seagulls circling like opportunistic thieves.

Agatha glanced sideways as Rio toyed with the remnants of her sandwich. "Rio," she warned, her voice low and menacing, "don’t even think about it."

Rio’s grin widened, the corners of her mouth curling mischievously. “Think about what? Feeding the locals? I thought you were all about charity work” She held up a crust teasingly, watching as a gull cocked its head, eyeing the morsel.

“I’m serious,” Agatha hissed, leaning forward. “If you encourage them, they’ll never leave us alone.”

Rio wiggled the snack between her fingers, clearly savoring Agatha’s growing irritation. “Maybe they’re just misunderstood,” she teased. “Have you ever considered their perspective? Why should we feast while they starve? Seems rude.”

Agatha groaned, reaching out to swat at Rio’s hand. But before she could, the gull made its move. With a triumphant squawk, the bird dove, snagging not the crumb Rio offered but the larger half of Agatha’s sandwich in its beak.

“Are you kidding me? Hey!” Agatha exclaimed, leaping to her feet as the gull struggled to lift off. The weight of the hefty sandwich slowed the bird, giving her just enough time to attempt a chase.

What followed was pure chaos. Agatha, usually poised and composed, was now hopping awkwardly through the sand, her wide-brimmed hat bouncing precariously on her head. She flailed her arms, swatting at the air as the gull flapped frantically, the sandwich swinging as it careened through the air.

Rio collapsed back into her chair, doubling over in laughter. “Oh my god,” she wheezed, clutching her stomach. “Agatha, stop—you’re going to scare the poor thing to death!”

“It stole my lunch!” Agatha shot back, her voice a mix of indignation and desperation as she made one final leap, missing by inches.

The gull, perhaps realizing the futility of its heist, dropped the sandwich unceremoniously into the sand before flying off. Agatha skidded to a halt, hands on her hips as she glared after it in equal parts frustration and disbelief. “Fucking sky rat coward!” she shouted after it, ignoring the disapproving stares she got from a passerby.

Rio was still laughing when Agatha returned, red-faced and disheveled. “Did you... did you get it back?” she asked, her voice trembling with mirth.

Agatha plopped into her chair with a huff. “I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

“I regret nothing,” Rio said between giggles, wiping at the corners of her eyes. “That was the most entertainment I’ve had all year.”

“Glad I could amuse you,” Agatha muttered, though the faintest smile tugged at her lips despite herself.

Agatha adjusted her hat and took a steadying breath, determined to salvage what remained of her day. But Rio, clearly still riding the high of the sandwich debacle, wasn’t done. She started narrating the antics of nearby beachgoers, weaving increasingly absurd tales about their lives.

By the fifth time Agatha tried to open her book, only to be interrupted by Rio’s running commentary, she snapped it shut with exaggerated force.

“You know,” she said, fixing Rio with a mock glare, “if you don’t let me have some peace and quiet, I will sign you up for the young adult jet ski lessons. I think you’d fit right in.”

Rio’s laughter was unrestrained as she brushed sand off her legs. “You’d love to see me wipe out in front of a bunch of teenagers, wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Agatha replied, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Rio held up her hands in surrender, still grinning. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you to your riveting tale. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if I come back with a life vest tan line.”

Agatha waved her off with mock exasperation, settling back into her chair as Rio strolled toward the bar. For a moment, she allowed herself to watch Rio walk away, her strides confident and easy. Agatha shook her head, trying to refocus on her book, but the warmth in her chest was hard to ignore.

Agatha smoothed her dress in front of the mirror, a soft smile playing on her lips. She was never above a little vanity, especially not tonight. The coral thread of the embroidery picked up the newly sun kissed tones in her skin, and the cut of the dress—a little lower at the neckline than usual—was undeniably flattering. She’d spent more time than she cared to admit getting the look just right and making sure that Rio’s outfit would coordinate.

It wasn’t just for the wedding reception, not really. No, she’d wanted to see Rio’s reaction.

She finished pinning her hair, a casual updo with just enough imperfection to look effortless, and reached for the faint pink lipstick she’d chosen earlier. It was a shade she’d typically skip, but tonight felt different.

Through the crack in the bathroom door, she could hear Rio pacing. The complaint in her voice was unmistakable, but Agatha caught the playful lilt underneath.

“Sweetheart,” Rio drawled, a teasing edge to her tone, “everything alright in there?”

Agatha smiled to herself, dabbing the lipstick on her lips and blotting gently with her finger. “Almost done,” she called, though she wasn’t sure Rio could hear her over the hiss of the hairspray.

“I’m just saying,” Rio continued, clearly amused and not entirely serious, “I definitely could have grabbed another beer in the time it’s taken for you to一”

Her words trailed off as Agatha stepped into view.

Agatha lingered in the doorway, knowing exactly what she was doing. The soft white dress skimmed her figure, coral stripes accentuating the silhouette she knew would catch Rio’s eye. She turned slightly, giving Rio the chance to take it all in, and finished applying her lipstick with deliberate slowness.

“Ready when you are,” she said, letting her smirk flicker just enough to convey her satisfaction.

Rio scrambled for words, her usual confidence noticeably absent. “Aren’t there rules about not wearing white to a wedding?”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, pleased with the effort Rio was making to play it cool. “Mm. Good thing this is just a reception dinner.” She studied Rio for a moment, enjoying the way her gaze never wavered, before turning to the door with a knowing look.

“That blush is a good shade on you,” she added casually, her voice smooth and teasing.

Rio bit the inside of her cheek, her reaction immediate as her hand reflexively brushed her face. But Agatha knew there wasn’t any makeup to be found there. The flush was real.

Gotcha, Agatha thought, her smirk growing wider as she stepped outside.

The reception dinner was at a breezy seaside restaurant, its patio glowing under strings of warm fairy lights. The salty ocean breeze mingled with the scent of fresh seafood, and Agatha felt a twinge of nervousness as she led Rio toward the host. She had looked forward to this evening for weeks, thrilled at the idea of catching up with her old college friends. But now, with Rio at her side, she felt a strange, new anxiety.

She never brought guests to these gatherings. Her friends were nosy enough as it was, and she knew the second they realized she hadn’t come alone, they’d pounce. She prayed silently that they’d keep their teasing to a minimum—or at least have the decency to rib her in private.

Agatha’s voice was steady as she greeted the host and scanned the tables, her smile softening when she spotted familiar faces on the back patio. “There they are,” she murmured to Rio, her heart fluttering at the thought of introducing her to this part of her life.

“Well look what the tide drug in!” came a familiar, cheerful voice before they even reached the table. Melissa, predictably, was the first to notice her arrival. “Agatha! Finally!”

As Agatha reached the table, a wave of delighted exclamations and beaming faces greeted her. Her dear friends—Melissa, always loud and exuberant; Lucas and Jamie, the inseparable couple; Priya, with her ever-warm smile; had all already begun scanning Rio with open curiosity.

“Sorry we’re late,” Agatha said smoothly, draping her purse over her chair. She forced her tone to stay casual as she added, “My lovely date here was dragging her feet.”

Her words had the desired effect. Melissa’s grin widened, her gaze darting toward Rio. “Is that so?” she teased, her voice dripping with mock innocence.

Rio, as unruffled as ever, smirked and shot back, “I’m sure you all know she’s got a thing for perfection. It’s hard to keep up.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Agatha bit her lip to keep from laughing too hard herself. She nudged Rio playfully, trying to ignore the knowing looks being exchanged around the table.

“This is Rio,” she said, gesturing toward her companion. She introduced everyone in turn, though her words felt a little rushed. Part of her wanted to get it over with, but another part relished the way Rio seemed to hold her own amid the playful chaos.

She shouldn’t have been worried. Of course she fit in more easily here than she did with the stuffy and boring business associates Agatha had introduced her to before.

As drinks were poured and appetizers arrived, Agatha began to relax, the familiar rhythm of her friends’ banter soothing her nerves. But her reprieve didn’t last long.

Lucas leaned forward with a grin that Agatha immediately recognized as trouble. “So, Agatha, do you remember that time sophomore year when you decided to ‘revolutionize’ the campus theater scene?”

Agatha groaned, already laughing. “Oh, no. Please don’t.”

“Wait, wait, what’s this about theater?” Rio asked, her tone genuine.

Melissa was quick to chime in. “Oh, you didn’t know? Our dear Agatha here was a theater major her first two years. Thought she was going to be the next great actress of our generation.”

Rio blinked, her eyebrows lifting in surprise as she turned to Agatha, who gave a sheepish shrug. “It’s true. Briefly.”

Before her mother had threatened to cut off her tuition.

“Briefly?” Priya cut in, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You were obsessed. She directed this experimental production of Macbeth where everyone had to perform with these awful cloaks.”

“Literally bathrobes,” Melissa added, her grin wicked. “Like old raggedy ones, she thrifted herself. It was... a choice.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, her cheeks warming under the scrutiny. “Hey, it got reviewed!”

“It got panned,” Lucas corrected, barely containing his laughter. “The student paper called it ‘an avant-garde nightmare.’”

Rio, who had been stifling her own laughter, finally let out a snort. “So, theater kid. That certainly explains a lot. What made you switch to consulting?”

Agatha leaned back in her chair, her smirk returning as she delivered the line she’d perfected over years of retelling. “Well, I realized I liked performing, but I hated being broke. Consulting seemed like the logical next step. The path to every PR firm is paved with broken theater kid dreams.”

Her friends groaned in unison, their exasperation as rehearsed as Agatha’s punchline. But beneath the laughter, Agatha’s gaze lingered on Rio. For all her teasing earlier, Rio fit in seamlessly, her dry humor and easy charm drawing smiles from everyone around the table.

And Agatha couldn’t help but feel a quiet thrill at how right this all felt.

As the teasing swirled around the table, every person there having their moment in the hot seat, Agatha let herself sink into the easy rhythm of the evening. It felt like slipping back into a familiar skin. She felt like herself, her old self, twenty one and laughing in a Denny’s at two am. Making a scene with her friends as they all showboated and tried to one up each other with ridiculous bits and antics.

She stole a glance at Rio, who had gone quiet, her gaze fixed on Agatha with an intensity that sent a flutter through her chest.

She’s watching me, Agatha realized, a little breathless. Her heart did an embarrassing flip as she tried to focus on the conversation.

“Tell me, Rio,” Jamie said suddenly, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. “How did you two meet?”

Agatha stiffened for a fraction of a second, knowing this would come up sooner or later. But she recovered quickly, sliding into her usual effortless charm. “Blind date,” she said breezily, reaching for her wine glass as if the lie were second nature.

Melissa’s brow shot up, her disbelief palpable. “Blind date? That doesn’t sound like you.”

It’s not. But you’d believe the truth even less.

Agatha tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Well, it wasn’t my idea,” she said, throwing Rio a knowing glance.

Rio, catching on, smirked. “Yeah, a friend set us up. She walked in, saw me, and almost turned around and left.”

Agatha shot her a bemused look, raising an eyebrow. “Not quite. Though I did wonder if they’d sent me to the wrong table.”

The table erupted into laughter, and Agatha felt herself relax. Rio had a way of disarming her friends with her dry humor, and Agatha couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride. She’d made the right call bringing her. This was fun.

As the conversation meandered to safer topics—weddings, babies, distant friends still remembered fondly—Agatha felt the earlier tension melt away. She glanced at Rio, catching her eye briefly. The look Rio gave her was steady and warm, and Agatha found herself smiling back gratefully.

Later, when the dinner plates and the empty collection of wine bottles were cleared, the table slipped into that lazy, post-meal lull. It was her favorite part of these gatherings: the easy camaraderie, the kind of nostalgia that came with decades old friendships.

But her comfort was short-lived.

“Hey, Rio,” Melissa said suddenly, mischief sparkling in her eyes. Agatha tensed immediately, recognizing that grin. Melissa had always fancied herself as a provocateur. And Agatha despite herself had always admired her naughty streak. 

They’d hooked up once a few years ago in the aftermath of one too many bottles of wine shared. It’d been wild and fun but in the end, they both realized their preferences were too alike to be compatible.

“Did Agatha ever tell you about the time she caused a full-blown scene at a house party?”

Agatha groaned, setting down her glass with a little more force than necessary. “It was not a scene.”

“Oh, it was absolutely a scene,” Priya interjected, leaning forward with a wicked grin.

Lucas held up a hand, his expression gleeful. “Wait, wait. It wasn’t just any house party. It was a toga party.”

Agatha sighed dramatically, her cheeks already burning. “Can we not?”

Rio leaned forward, her grin wide and curious. “A toga party? Alright, now I have to hear this.”

“Don’t encourage them,” Agatha muttered under her breath, but it was useless. Her friends were already off to the races.

“So,” Melissa began, ignoring her, “we’re at this toga party, and Agatha’s had a little... let’s call it liquid courage.”

“A lot of liquid courage,” Priya corrected, already laughing.

“She’s out there,” Lucas continued, “absolutely holding court in the middle of the living room. Drunk off her ass, giving this impassioned speech about... what was it?”

“Gender roles in Greek mythology,” Priya supplied, barely keeping a straight face.

“Right,” Lucas said, snapping his fingers. “And then she decides, mid-speech, that she’s going to reenact something. So she climbs onto the coffee table.”

“Which immediately collapses,” Melissa added, practically giddy.

Agatha buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled. “I was making a point!”

“You were making chaos,” Priya shot back, shaking her head. “And if that wasn’t enough, she starts yelling that we’re all uncultured and that she’s leaving. So, naturally, we had to carry her out before she could do more damage.”

Agatha lowered her hands, narrowing her eyes at Priya. “Did me a real favor. You also kept me from making out with that hot Australian exchange student.”

“Oh, you mean the one who had just thrown up in the bushes?” Melissa quipped, her eyebrow arching.

Agatha huffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Details.”

“It took two of us to get her into the cab,” Priya added, grinning at the memory. “And she spent the whole ride whining about how we’d ruined her night.”

Rio was laughing so hard she was clutching her stomach. “I cannot picture this,” she managed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “You, in a toga, yelling about mythology and falling off a coffee table?”

“Believe it,” Priya said with a grin. “It was iconic.”

Agatha shook her head, her cheeks still flushed. But as she looked at Rio, laughing so freely and fitting into the chaos of her world with ease, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something deeper than pride.

She’d let them crack jokes at her expense all night if it kept Rio looking at her like that.

Agatha leaned back in her chair, letting the wine buzz soften her edges as she gave an exaggerated wave of her hand. “Alright, you’ve had your fun. Now it’s someone else’s turn in the hot seat.” She turned to Rio, her lips curling into a sly smile. “How about it? What’s the dumbest thing you’ve done?”

Her friends' laughter rippled around the table, but Agatha’s focus stayed on Rio. She liked teasing Rio, loved the way those gray eyes narrowed slightly before the corner of her mouth quirked up.

Rio shook her head, still laughing. “Oh, no way. I’m not following that act.”

“Come on,” Agatha pushed, nudging her elbow playfully. She leaned closer, her grin growing. “You’ve got to have something.”

As Rio sighed and relented, Agatha felt a small thrill of victory. There was a satisfaction in coaxing Rio into these little moments. 

She listened intently as Rio leaned forward conspiratorially, her voice dropping. “So, when I was a sophomore, my friends dared me to sneak into the campus pool at night. It was supposed to be closed, but I figured, ‘How hard can it be?’”

“Famous last words,” Lucas interjected, chuckling.

“Exactly,” Rio said, laughing along. “I climb the fence, get over just fine, and I’m feeling pretty smug about it. But then I see this flashlight coming toward me. Turns out, campus security does regular sweeps. I panic and decide the best hiding spot is in the water.”

Agatha was already laughing as Priya exclaimed, “No!”

“Oh, yeah,” Rio continued, grinning. “I jump in, fully clothed, and try to hold my breath under the surface. Except I don’t think this through at all because, you know, I don’t actually swim.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Agatha clutched her stomach, tears in her eyes. She could picture it so vividly: Rio, soaked and panicked, her dignity abandoned at the pool’s edge.

“What happened?” Melissa managed, barely containing her laughter.

“I managed to splash my way to the edge before I drowned,” Rio admitted, her face red with mirth. “But the guard had already seen me and was just standing there, looking at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world. He didn’t even write me up. Just said, ‘Go home, kid.’”

Agatha was laughing so hard her sides hurt, gripping the edge of the table for support. “I can’t breathe,” she gasped, trying to collect herself but failing miserably.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rio said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Laugh it up. But at least I didn’t destroy someone’s coffee table.”

Agatha pointed a finger at her, her laughter spilling out in breathless bursts. “Property damage and trespassing, we’ve got all the fun stuff covered.”

For a moment, Agatha let herself bask in the glow of the moment, surrounded by her friends' laughter and Rio's easy charm. There was something grounding about the way Rio fit into the group, as though she’d always been there, teasing and deflecting with that lopsided grin.

Her friends spun tales about her for Rio’s benefit. They were all painfully true but with each one Rio sent her another reassuring smile or put her hand on her shoulder. Each a gentle check in to make sure she wasn’t being pushed too far.

Agatha didn’t know what to do with that. All of her defenses had been built out of a necessity. She’d never had a protector so she’d guarded herself. And now Rio, wasn’t like past lovers fawning over her talent or beauty or status from ten paces back… She was here by her side. As if she’d always been.

Rio took her hand under table and squeezed it twice as Melissa began a new round of instigation.

“So, Agatha,” she began as idly as if she were brining up the weather, “I saw Ashley the other way?”

Agatha froze and gripped Rio’s hand a little too tight before letting it go. Rio kept her hand on her knee. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Melissa continued. “She’s really making waves in the community. I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t switched teams to being a born again Republican to get more votes.”

Lucas whistled, “Ouch.”

Everyone else laughed but Agatha could only manage a grimace as she took her wineglass.

“I’m just saying,” Melissa carried on, “I don’t know how she finds time to run a campaign between yoga retreats and saving the bees.”  

“Or stealing houses,” Priya muttered under her breath, earning a chuckle from Lucas. That had been a low blow, Ashley had known Priya was about to close on a house by the park before stepping in with a hire bid, expecting her to be okay with it because it was “so close to her campaign headquarters”.

Rio glanced at Agatha, who still hadn’t said much. Wanting to ease the moment, she decided to jump in. “Well, to be fair, saving the bees is a pretty big deal. I mean, who else is going to yell at people about it online?” 

Agatha laughed and sent Rio a grateful smile.

“Don’t give them more material,” she chided.

“Why not? She deserves it, after what she pulled. And for the record?” Melissa flashed a wicked grin before gesturing to Rio. “ This? Definitely an upgrade.”

This time Agatha did laugh with the rest of the table, holding up her glass playfully in a teasting toast. She felt herself grow a little pink as she shook her head. “Alright, enough. We’re here for Craig’s wedding, not to rehash my marital history.”

Please, let’s focus on the future and not the past.

“Hey,” Priya teased in a more gently teasing tone, “we’re just saying you traded up. Don’t act like we’re wrong.”

“I mean, who am I to argue with your very smart friend’s sound logic.” Rio piped in holding her hands up.

Agatha rolled her eyes, “Don’t let it go to your head.”

It’s already gone to mine.

“Too late,” Rio quipped to the delight of the table.

“Thanks for that,” she murmured, leaning close enough and speaking low enough that only Rio would hear.

“For what?” Rio asked, raising her eyebrows playfully, “Being your clear and obvious upgrade? Not that that was a high bar.”

Agatha shook her head. “For not letting them push too far.”

For being here. For keeping me safe. For holding my hand.

“Anytime.”

As the conversation drifted into a lull, Agatha caught Priya's expression out of the corner of her eye and immediately braced herself. Melissa was the prankster and instigator of mischief. But Priya was the investigator. She was leaning forward, her chin perched on her hand, the telltale glint of mischief sparking in her eyes. This couldn’t be good.

“Okay, so spill,” Priya said, her tone as casual as a shark circling its prey. “How long have you two been together? Because you’re way too in sync for this to be new.”

Agatha’s stomach gave a little flip, but she didn’t let it show. Years of practice kept her smile easy as she reached for her wine glass. “Not long,” she said lightly, making sure her voice was steady. “We’re just...naturally in tune, I guess.”

She could feel Rio pause beside her, and the faintest hint of tension flickered in the air between them. Agatha hated moments like this—the questions, the probing. It wasn’t malicious, she knew that, but it still felt like trying to walk a tightrope while everyone below shouted advice on how not to fall or look down.

“Uh-huh.” Priya’s eyebrow arched with playful skepticism, and Agatha swallowed a sigh. Of course, Priya wasn’t going to let this drop easily. “And why is this the first we’re hearing of Rio, huh? You’ve been holding out on us, Agatha. I thought we were friends.”

Agatha kept her expression smooth, her smile just a shade sharper than before. “You are,” she replied, letting the words land with practiced ease. Still, she couldn’t stop the flicker of discomfort that pulled at the corners of her mouth. “It’s just been...a busy year.”

Lucas jumped in then, grinning as he leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself. “Busy, sure. But you couldn’t even give us a heads-up? Like, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m seeing someone awesome now. She’s super hot and funny and I’m obsessed with her’? What gives?”

Agatha almost rolled her eyes but caught herself. She set her glass down with deliberate care and fixed Lucas with a stern look. “Okay, first of all, you’re all acting like I owe you a press release. Second of all, maybe I was waiting for the right moment.”

“Uh-huh.” Melissa’s smirk was as insufferable as ever, and Agatha felt a familiar exasperation rise in her chest. “Or maybe you were worried we’d scare her off.”

That one stung more than it should have, but Agatha didn’t let it show. Instead, she fired back, her tone breezy but with a playful edge. “Maybe I am worried,” she said, meeting Melissa’s smirk with a mock-glare. “And on that note, I think we’re calling it a night.”

The table groaned, a chorus of protests rising as Agatha pushed her chair back. She ignored them with practiced ease, gathering her things as if she hadn’t just escaped a small inquisition.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Priya said, pointing a finger at her like she was delivering some kind of verdict. “You don’t get to dodge forever. We’re going to get the full story out of you. If not tonight, then definitely after the wedding.”

“Good luck with that,” Agatha said breezily, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She didn’t bother turning back to see their grins—she could feel them burning into her retreating back.

As they stood, Rio glanced around at the table of grinning faces, shaking her head with a wry smile. “You guys are relentless.”

“You have no idea,” Agatha muttered, just loud enough for the table to hear. The laughter that followed was warm, and familiar, but all she wanted was to be out the door.

“Damn right, we are!” Jamie called after them as they finally made their way outside.

As they stepped outside, the cooler evening air washed over them, and for a moment, she focused on the simple act of breathing. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been until now. Her friends meant well—she knew that—but their playful interrogation had been relentless.

Beside her, Rio broke the silence, her voice easy and warm. “So... that was fun.”

Agatha let out a soft sigh, rubbing her temple. “They mean well. They’re just...a little much sometimes.”

Rio’s chuckle was light, unbothered, and somehow it steadied her. “Yeah, I can see that. But they’re good people. They clearly care about you.”

Agatha couldn’t help the faint smile that curved her lips. “Yeah. They do.”

For a while, neither of them spoke, the hum of the ocean filling the quiet space between them as they walked the half mile back. The rhythm of the waves in the distance was soothing and she caught herself matching her breaths to the timing of them. Agatha glanced at Rio, her gaze softer than she realized. “Thanks for playing along back there.”

Rio shrugged, the grin on her face almost lazy. “Hey, I’m just ‘naturally in tune’ with you, right?”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her mouth betrayed her amusement. As they walked toward their room, she felt Rio nudge her gently.

“So, theater major, huh?” Rio said, her tone playful. “I’m learning all kinds of things about you tonight.”

Agatha tilted her head, her smirk sliding back into place. “Don’t get used to it. Mystique is part of my charm.”

Rio chuckled, “Oh, I’m plenty charmed already. Should’ve guessed it. You have such a flair for the dramatic.”

Agatha didn’t respond, but her lips curved into a subtle smile. It was a quiet moment, unspoken words layered in the space between them, but Rio’s ability to disarm her so effortlessly left her feeling both wary and comforted.

Back at the room, neither of them pretended the pullout bed was anything but what it was. They slipped into the quiet rhythm of getting ready for bed, the wine still warming her veins and making even the smallest movements feel languid.

As they slid under the covers, Agatha noticed Rio keeping a careful distance, her posture rigid as she hugged the edge of the bed. It wasn’t surprising, but it still left an ache in the pit of her stomach that she wasn’t sure how to name.

Later that night, when Agatha stirred in her sleep, she reached out instinctively. Her arm settled over Rio, heavy and unintentional, but steady.

Chapter Text

Lipstick stains covered her shoulders, a combination of perfect imprints where Agatha had placed her lips with purpose, and several Pollock esque smears where she had been less precise, where she had drug lips and tongue and teeth over her. 

Agatha admired her handiwork as she pressed another kiss to the back of her neck. The shade she had worn had long since worn off, so instead she left another mark by softly sucking Rio’s skin, letting her teeth graze lightly.

Rio whimpered and pressed closer back towards Agatha. She pulled her arms more tightly around her waist, pulling Rio’s hips closer towards her. 

There was a thump on the bed behind her and she startled, pulling the sheets defensively around herself as she opened her eyes.

She blinked twice, Rio was standing over the side of the bed, one hand playfully on her hip. “Morning sunshine. Your alarm has been going off for fifteen minutes. And it’s your turn to pick breakfast" She gestured to the menu that had landed on the bed next to Agatha and broken her out of her dream.

Agatha groaned and rubbed her eyes as if she pushed hard enough she could force the lingering dream from her mind. “But you did such a good job of it yesterday,” she grumbled.

“True, but I need a shower. And I’ve learned my lesson, if you go first again I won’t even have enough time to rinse the suds off before the hot water runs out,” Rio called over her shoulder as she slipped into the bathroom.

Agatha groaned again as she fell back onto the pillows. That was the last mental image she needed right now. Though her mind was still catching up, the rest of her body was definitely awake. Hot and flushed and frenetic and it wasn’t even nine am. She didn’t know how she was going to make it to the wedding. 

She was thankful that she’d chosen an outfit for Rio that wasn’t as revealing as some of the other options she’d considered. The suit was stylish but tasteful. The linen would be breathable but thankfully she’d be covered .

Agatha could not allow herself to be distracted by her increasingly inappropriate and detailed lust-driven imaginings. She’d committed herself. Before anything else, she had to be honest with her.

The clock had run out. Today she would tell Rio that this arrangement couldn’t go on. That she wasn’t some Agatha wanted to employ. She didn’t want her company, she wanted her companionship. And whatever came with that.

No more deflections. No more armor. Just the truth. Just her heart tossed out into the ether with a prayer that it wouldn’t have to fall any harder than it already had.

But first, she needed coffee.

“Hey, what kind of wedding is this?”

Agatha paused her routine glancing over to where Rio was assessing her outfit, “What do you mean?”

“Is this, like, a boring straight wedding? Or a gay one?”

Laughter burst from her and she had to put down her eyeliner to keep it from streaking across her face. As if she’d be willing to attend any kind of boring one. “Craig is marrying his husband-to-be, John. Does that answer your questions?”

Rio nodded and grinned puckishly, “Got it. A fun wedding.”

Agatha snorted and returned to touching up her makeup. Yes, it would be fun.

A clipped knock sounded and she rose to get the door. “That’s my cue. We’re doing pictures before the ceremony, just the college group. Don’t take forever, okay?”

She didn’t need to worry. Rio was far less fastidious than she was. She didn’t have to try as hard to be gorgeous Agatha thought idly. The roguish, intentionally disheveled thing worked for her. But she’d said it because it was more acceptable than I’ll miss you, I want you beside me, don’t leave me alone for too long.

“Yeah, yeah. Go relive some memories or whatever.”

Agatha smiled. She wasn’t planning on spending too much time reminiscing. There were more important new moments to live and experience.

“Oh I’m sorry miss, I must have the wrong love shack,” Lucas teased as she stepped outside, and suavely looped his arm in hers, “I didn’t know Rita Hayworth was staying here. Looking good Harkness.”

Agatha rolled her eyes as they walked to rejoin their friends. “Always a gentleman aren’t you.” 

“Don’t you dare! If I were a gentleman I wouldn’t say I’m surprised that I found you dressed and not knee deepー”

Agatha purposefully stomped on his foot. “Do not start!” She warned, but she laughed as their other friends waved them over to a spot in front of some trees. “I’m sure we recall the obscene number of times I’ve walked in on you and Jamieー”

“Which is how I know,” he interrupted, “that we’re lucky you’re gracing us with your presence instead of us just hearing what a good time you, or she,” Lucas added wagging his eyebrows, “is having here.”

“Shut the fuck up or I’m sweeping your knee.” She said with a deadly smile.

Lucas laughed and they joined the rest of the group for a few pictures by ocean.

Agatha had idly thought, like most do, about what her death would be like. She had hoped it would be quick. Preferably a long time from now, but most importantly without suffering. But she wasn’t that lucky.

It was excruciating, it was agony, it was like being burned alive. She was suffocating. She was choking. Every part of her brain was lighting up at once.

From the second she spotted Rio through the crowd, the air was knocked out of her lungs and she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to find it again.

The blazer was sharp—she’d known that when she picked it out—but it was the absolute lack of a shirt underneath that destroyed her. Her eyes betrayed her, shamelessly tracing the sharp edges of Rio’s collarbones, the faint dip of her cleavage framed by black fucking lace, and the sharpest dagger of all, the teasing sliver of toned stomach that peeked out every time Rio stepped forward.

What the fuck is she doing? Agatha thought, a rush of heat flooding her cheeks. Is she trying to kill me? Her thoughts spiraled faster with every step Rio took, her confident stride exuding a reckless confidence that made her even more dangerous.

The lace bra barely concealed by the open blazer sent Agatha’s imagination into overdrive. She could feel the blush spreading over her neck as she fought the urge to down her champagne flute. Lace. Of course, it’s lace. Why wouldn’t it be? She hates me. She wants me dead. Fuck. Say something normal. Anything.

She tried to drown her rising fluster with a slow sip of champagne, but her hand trembled slightly. When Rio’s gaze found hers and her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, Agatha swore her knees might give out.

“Holy shit,” Jamie muttered beside her, breaking through the haze. “Where have you been hiding her?”

Agatha didn’t answer, her mind still too preoccupied with the sheer audacity of Rio’s outfit—and the fact that it was working . The whistles and teasing from her friends barely registered in Agatha’s ears. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat.

“Wow,” Rio said, raising her voice just enough to carry, “You all just come with built-in sound effects? I should hang out with theater dorks more often.”

Jamie grinned, and playfully elbowed Agatha. “Hey, when someone looks that good, you gotta show some appreciation. Am I right?”

Agatha’s mouth went dry as Rio turned her attention fully on her. That intense gaze combined with the sly smile knocked the air out of her lungs.

“I don’t know about all that,” Rio said, her hands sliding casually into her pockets. Oh fuck off completely, Agatha mentally screamed. “But I’ll take it.”

Agatha finally found her voice, though it came out more breathless than she intended. “You look…” She paused, swallowing hard as her eyes flitted over Rio once more. Don’t say devastating. Don’t say sinful. Don’t say hot as fuck. Say something normal! “…incredible.”

Her cheeks burned hotter as soon as the words left her mouth. Smooth. Real smooth.

Craig saved her from further embarrassment by wrapping her in a quick hug. “Okay, everyone settle down,” he said with mock sternness. “Let’s not scare off Agatha’s date before the ceremony even starts. You know John can’t handle being upstaged.”

“Oh, they’d have to work harder than that,” Rio replied with effortless charm, throwing a wink Craig’s way.

Agatha rolled her eyes, hoping that she could act her way out of this one. “You’re all incorrigible,” she said, looping her arm through Rio’s. The contact sent another jolt through her, but she forced herself to play it cool, guiding Rio away from the group.

Even though being alone with her was the worst idea possible right now.

Once they were out of earshot, she looked up at Rio, her voice softer now. “You clean up nice,” she said, hoping her tone sounded more casual than she felt.

“For you? Always.”

Agatha’s breath hitched again, this time with a feeling greater than lust, and she cleared her throat, quickly glancing back toward the crowd. “Come on,” she said, the faintest edge of fluster still clinging to her voice. “Let’s grab a seat.”

As she led the way, she cursed herself inwardly. This is going to be a long night.

She didn’t hear a word of the ceremony. It was probably really lovely.

But every moment, as the couple exchanged their sweet promises, she was either blatantly staring at Rio or desperately trying to make it seem like she wasn’t.

She hadn’t even realized the ceremony had ended until she felt Rio stand next to her and put her hand on her shoulder. She tore her gaze from her navel and looked up at Rio. Oh, she needed to get up right now, looking up at her from this angle was much worse.

“C’mon,” Rio coaxed, offering her hand with a small smile. “The party is starting. And if you don’t stick close, I’m pretty sure your friends are going to take that as permission to interrogate me.”

Agatha swallowed roughly and nodded. “Right.” She took her hand and let Rio lead her towards the large tent set up. Or maybe she was taking her inside. Were they going to the bar?

It didn’t matter. She’d follow her anywhere.

It was easy to be distracted by the buzz of the afterparty. As long as Agatha kept a cold glass in her hand, there was at least one part of her that wasn’t aflame. There was a welcome anonymity in being a guest at someone else’s wedding.

Other than socializing with her friends there was no one here demanding her attention. Not entirely true, there was Rio. But she didn’t demand her attention. She commanded it. 

Her hand was a steady constant on Agatha’s body. On the small of Agatha’s back, on her elbow, for a brief moment it was at her waist as she pulled her closer to whisper a joke about how someone’s grandma was eating up the dancefloor that Agatha didn’t hear well enough to appreciate.

She couldn't keep track of everywhere Rio was touching her. Agatha just kept praying that she wouldn’t stop. It took all of her effort not to pout when Rio excused herself for a moment leaving her standing by a hightop, leaning against it to support herself.

Agatha took a sip of the champagne she clutched like a lifeline, willing the cool bubbles to ground her. Get a grip, she reprimanded herself. And don’t get too drunk . That was a bad idea for a number of reasons. She tried to list them out in her head but was too distracted to complete even her most well practiced rituals.

Rio reappeared, stepping out of the crowd like she was drawn to her by some unseen thread. As if she’d known to return just as Agatha was beginning to spiral out too much. Agatha watched as she briefly scanned the crowd, her eyes landing on her with pinpoint accuracy. The corner of Rio’s mouth lifted in a small, knowing smile, and the rest of the party dissolved into white noise.

Before Agatha could look away—or think better of it—Rio was in front of her again, holding two glasses of something neon and almost offensively colorful.

“Craig says this is his masterpiece,” Rio said, offering one to Agatha.

She hesitated, raising an eyebrow. “It’s pink.”

“Yeah, but he’s very proud of it. He said that ‘something blue’ was passé,” Rio replied with mock solemnity. “And I promised I’d spread the good word.”

Agatha huffed a laugh despite herself and took the glass. The sweetness hit her immediately, followed by a fizzy, tart kick that tingled on her lips.

“Not bad,” she admitted.

Agatha found herself smiling again, more at ease than she’d felt all evening. But that ease was short-lived; the silence that followed was charged, stretching longer than it should have. And Rio wouldn’t stop looking at her. She broke it first, casting around for something safe to say.

“Having fun?”

Rio tilted her head, considering. “I am now.”

Agatha’s grip tightened on the glass, and she dropped her gaze, pretending to study the drink.

“Hey,” Rio said softly, and Agatha dared to look up again. Rio’s expression had softened, her playful smirk tempered by something gentler. “You okay? You’ve been kind of quiet tonight.”

Agatha opened her mouth, but couldn’t find the thing to say. Or the nerve to speak. What was she supposed to say? That she’d spent the entire evening barely holding herself together? That the sight of Rio leaning against the bar earlier had made her stomach flip, or that she hadn’t heard a single vow exchanged during the ceremony because she’d been too busy pretending not to stare at her?

“I’m fine,” she said instead, the words automatic.

Rio didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press. Instead, she tilted her glass toward the dance floor, where couples and clusters of friends swayed beneath the twinkling lights.

“Dance with me,” she said pouting playfully at Agatha.

Danger, disaster, catastrophe. If Agatha stepped onto the floor with her looking like that there was going to be a scene. John would most definitely be upstaged.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” Rio whined, fixing her with a lopsided grin. “One dance won’t kill you.”

No dear, it definitely would.

Agatha shook her head and took a slow sip not trusting herself to speak.

“Suit yourself. I’m here to have fun,” Rio teased with a wink.

Agatha let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as Rio melted back into the party, her absence both a relief and a frustration. She stared into her punch glass, wishing it were something stronger, strong enough to dull the ache she felt every time Rio was close and to extinguish the fire she felt every time she strayed too far.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Agatha startled, nearly spilling her drink as Melissa sidled up to her with a sly grin, her red curls glowing under the fairy lights.

“What?” Agatha asked, trying to sound annoyed but knowing she was already caught.

Melissa tilted her head toward the dance floor, where Rio’s silhouette was unmistakable, moving with effortless grace through the crowd.

“You’re going to lose her if you don’t make a move,” Melissa teased, taking a sip from her cocktail. “And if you don’t, I will. She’s hot.”

A low growl escaped before Agatha could stop it. She clenched her jaw, willing herself to calm down. “Absolutely not,” she bit out.

Melissa’s grin widened, clearly enjoying herself. “Christ, you’re so gone for her. I can’t believe you two haven’t fucked yet.”

Agatha scoffed, trying to keep her expression neutral. “You don’t know that.”

“Please,” Melissa said, rolling her eyes. “I know you, Agatha. You’re wound so tight right now, I’m surprised you haven’t burst into flames.”

Agatha groaned, dragging a hand down her face. Melissa wasn’t wrong. She’d been on edge all night, strung taut by every glance, every grin, every touch of Rio’s hand.

“It’s complicated,” she muttered, glancing toward Rio, who was now laughing with a group of strangers like she belonged with all of them.

“Complicated?” Melissa raised an eyebrow. “What, is she married? Does she have some dark secret? Oh my God—” She gasped dramatically, leaning in close. “Don’t tell me she works for you or something.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched. “No, nothing like that,” she said, her tone exasperated but fond. Well, not exactly like that. “It’s just… there are dynamics at play. I need to be careful. I’m… taking my time.”

Melissa gave her a long, incredulous look before shaking her head. “You’re overthinking this. You always do. For once in your life, stop analyzing and just go for it. ”

Agatha sighed, finishing her drink in one long sip. “I can’t. Not yet.”

Melissa leaned back, giving her a knowing smirk. “Fine. But if you don’t make your move tonight, don’t come crying to me when someone else does.”

Agatha’s eyes flicked back to Rio, her heart tightening at the thought of her laughing with someone else, dancing with someone else, walking away with someone else. And then as if she’d conjured it into existence there was her nightmare playing out in real time.

Some cute little brunette was laughing and leaning in, reaching her hand to brush over the lapel of Rio’s jacket.

Agatha clenched her jaw, setting her glass on the table with more force than she intended.

“I’ll handle it,” she said, her voice low and resolute.

Melissa grinned. “That’s more like it.”

Agatha didn’t respond. Instead, she pushed off the table, her eyes fixed on Rio as she crossed the room.

She told herself she wasn’t glaring, but the way her eyes burned holes into the back of that woman’s shimmering dress told a different story.

Who the hell did she think she was? Leaning in so close to Rio, laughing at something in an exaggerated way, her hand brushing against Rio’s arm like they’d known each other forever. It was ridiculous. 

Rio didn’t even look interested, and that gave Agatha some small relief, but that didn’t stop the brunette from giggling like a fool over her.

Agatha’s chest tightened. Rio deserved better than some random woman pawing at her.

Before she could overthink it, before the jealousy she felt could twist into anger, Agatha was moving, her steps measured but purposeful as she crossed the floor. She didn’t hesitate as she slid between them, planting herself squarely in the brunette’s way.

“Thanks for keeping her company,” Agatha said, her tone cool and sharp as she offered a practiced, polite smile. The kind of smile that was a cold warning rather than a warm greeting.

The brunette’s eyes widened, and for a brief, satisfying moment, she looked startled. She looked scared. Good. Then she gave an awkward laugh, stepping back. “Oh, uh, no problem.” She glanced at Rio once more, clearly hesitant to leave, but something in Agatha’s presence—or maybe her venomous glare—pushed her away. “I think I need a drink.”

Agatha didn’t bother watching her go. Her focus was on Rio, whose lips were twitching like she was holding back laughter.

“Was that necessary?” Rio asked, her tone amused.

Agatha met her gaze evenly, trying to quiet the storm of jealousy still churning in her chest. “She was clearly getting too close.”

Rio tilted her head, that infuriating grin of hers widening. “Jealous?”

Agatha forced herself to remain calm, even as the word struck something raw inside her. “I just thought you might prefer better company,” she replied, her lips curving faintly.

Please don’t make a fool of me.

Rio stepped closer, the buzz of alcohol giving her a boldness that sent Agatha’s pulse skittering. “Does that mean you’ll dance with me now?”

Agatha sighed dramatically, “One dance.”

Rio’s grin softened, losing some of its teasing edge. She extended her hand, the warmth in her gaze enough to make Agatha’s stomach flip. “Deal.”

Agatha hesitated for only a second before slipping her hand into Rio’s. It was warm, steady, and it made her feel something terrifyingly close to safe. The jealousy still simmered, but it was drowned out by the realization that she had Rio’s attention all to herself.

As it should be.

As Agatha placed her hand in Rio’s, the heat of the touch sent a thrill down her spine that she tried to ignore. When the music shifted into a slow song, her heart stuttered before she let out a low groan, trying to play it off. “I’m going to regret this.”

“Not a chance,” Rio said, her voice rich with confidence as she pulled Agatha closer—just enough to make her knees feel weak but not enough to satisfy the ache that needed her so much closer .

The first few steps were, in a word, disastrous. Agatha wanted to blame the awkward shuffle on Rio, but deep down, she knew her anticipation of every movement, her refusal to let Rio take control, was the real issue. Still, she wasn’t about to admit that.

“Ow, watch it,” she snapped as Rio’s foot clipped hers.

“You’re the one stepping all over me!” Rio shot back, the laughter in her voice doing dangerous things to Agatha’s already weak composure.

Agatha glared at her, but it had none of its usual edge. Her hand tightened on Rio’s shoulder, and she caught herself marveling at how solid the muscle there felt. “Maybe if you’d let me lead, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

Rio stopped moving, tilting her head with an expression that was equal parts patience and challenge. “Agatha, you’ve been leading all day—no, all weekend. All… always. Just this once, let me take over.”

The words hit Agatha in a way she didn’t expect, a mixture of indignation and something softer—something that made her heart beat just a little faster. This is what she’d been waiting for right? For Rio to make the first move, for her open the door? She hesitated, her pride warring with her desire to see where this might go, then let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. But if you make me look ridiculous—”

“I won’t. Trust me.” Rio’s tone was gentle, and when she squeezed Agatha’s hand, it sent a jolt of warmth through her.

Agatha fell quiet, her sharp edges softening under Rio’s steady gaze. She let Rio guide her, and as much as she hated to admit it, the rhythm they found together was as intoxicating as it was easy. It was steady, fluid, and grounded in a trust she hadn’t realized she’d already given away.

“There,” Rio said with a smug grin. “Not so bad, is it?”

“Don’t get cocky,” Agatha replied, though the usual bite in her words was absent. Her voice was softer, warmer, and she wasn’t sure if that terrified her more than the way Rio was looking at her.

The world around them blurred. None of it mattered. Not when Rio’s hands were steady on her and their movements had synced so perfectly it felt like they were the only two people left in the room.

Agatha could feel Rio’s gaze lingering on her. It was impossible to ignore the way those dark eyes traced her features like she was something precious, something Rio couldn’t bear to look away from. The intensity of it made her breath catch, and she cursed herself for the way her heart flipped over and over again.

Then Rio leaned in, and Agatha’s pulse thundered in her ears. For a moment, she thought Rio might kiss her. Wanted her to kiss her. Needed her to kiss her.

Their eyes met, and Agatha knew Rio saw more than she wanted to reveal. She saw the vulnerability, the yearning, the delicate razor edge Agatha had been walking between desire and restraint.

Rio’s lips hovered near her temple for a painful moment, the nearness sending a shiver through her, but then she pulled back with a small, almost shy smile. “You’re doing great, by the way.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, trying to rebuild her composure. “I’m a fantastic dancer. It’s your leading that’s questionable.”

Rio laughed, the sound low and warm, and it sent another jolt through her. “Always so humble.”

As the song slowed, so did their movements. Agatha was acutely aware of the way their bodies stayed close, the barest brush of her fingers against the back of Rio’s neck, the part she’d dreamed of claiming as hers, making her stomach twist in delicious agony.

“Rio,” she said softly, her voice betraying the uncertainty and longing tangled in her chest.

“Yeah?” Rio’s voice was low, her gaze unwavering, and its sheer weight made Agatha’s breath hitch.

Agatha hesitated, the words catching in her throat. Whatever courage she’d been summoning was stolen by the abrupt change in tempo as the next song began, upbeat and lively. She stepped back quickly. Not here.

“We’re done. That’s enough dancing for one night.” Her voice was firm, but the lingering warmth of Rio’s touch was already etched into her skin.

Rio let her hands drop, disappointment flickering across her face before she hid it with a shrug. “Alright, if you say so.”

From over her shoulder, she saw the girl from earlier being playfully pushed towards them.

She caught Rio’s wrist, Melissa’s warning echoing, “You’re going to lose her if you don’t make a move.”

Agatha would not lose her.

“Come on. We’re leaving.” She practically growled tugging at Rio’s wrist.

Agatha’s grip on Rio’s wrist was ironclad, her steps quick and purposeful. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, none of them cohesive, all fully centered on Rio.

“Is everything alright? Did I—”

“Stop talking. Let me think,” she snapped, her tone sharper than intended. Agatha barely noticed the look of confusion on Rio’s face; all she could feel was the heat rising in her chest, her pulse pounding in her ears.

When they reached the room, Agatha wasted no time, slamming the door shut with a force that echoed in the small space. She turned, her gaze locking on Rio like a bird of prey zeroing in on its target. For a moment, she hesitated, words tangled in her throat.

Say something. Tell her. Tell her you’re sorry for making a scene. Tell her she drives you insane, and you can’t stand the thought of her smiling at anyone else like she smiles at you.

But instead of speaking, her body moved on instinct, driven by a need she couldn’t name nor stop if she wanted to. She didn’t want to. Agatha shoved Rio against the door, her heart pounding as the distance between them evaporated. She studied Rio’s face, her wide eyes and slightly parted lips, the faint flush coloring her cheeks. She could see how her pulse thrummed in her neck, and Agatha felt her own heart beat in tandem.

“Did I do something—”

Her frustration boiled over, silencing the question before it could fully form. Agatha pressed her lips to Rio’s, the kiss hard, unrelenting, and full of everything she couldn’t bring herself to say. Her hands cupped Rio’s face, desperate to hold her there, to keep her close. She wasn’t gentle—she didn’t know how to be, not now, not with everything she felt clawing its way to the surface.

Is this enough? she wondered as her lips moved against Rio’s, her tongue seeking deeper. Will she understand if I can’t say it? If I just show her, will she know?

Her hands drifted to Rio’s shoulders, brushing over the fabric of her jacket as she searched for the button barely holding it together.

Rio’s hands were still at her sides, and for a brief moment, panic flickered in Agatha’s chest. Is she going to pull away? Does she even—

But then Rio’s fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, and that hunger grew into a consuming need. When the clip fell to the floor and her hair spilled loose, Agatha let out a small, involuntary sound, somewhere between relief and desperate want.

They kissed, Rio was kissing her , until the air around them felt thin. Agatha’s gaze dropped to Rio’s open jacket, and her pulse jumped at the sight of the black lace beneath. The words left her mouth before she could think better of them.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” she growled, her lips trailing a fiery path down Rio’s neck.

Rio’s head fell back against the door, and for a moment, Agatha felt triumphant. She’s mine. For now, she’s mine.

“What the fuck was I thinking?” Rio managed, her voice uneven, breaking into Agatha’s thoughts. “You’re the one who dragged me back here like a jealous—”

Agatha’s teeth grazed her collarbone, and Rio’s words dissolved into a gasp.

“Don’t start,” Agatha muttered, her tone softer now, almost pleading. Her hands gripped Rio’s waist tightly, as if afraid to let go. I need you. Do I tell you or show you? Would either of those be enough? What will make you understand?

Rio’s teasing cut through the haze like a knife. “Is that what this is about? Admit it. You didn’t like the attention I was getting.”

For a fraction of a second, Agatha froze. The truth lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it down, unwilling to expose that part of herself.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she finally said, though she couldn’t place any bite behind the words.

She leaned back, meeting Rio’s gaze. The intensity in those dark eyes was almost too much to bear, the way she saw her was the source of her damning, and yet Agatha couldn’t look away. Perhaps it could be her salvation too.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” Agatha murmured, her voice a mix of frustration and something deeper.

Rio’s grin was maddening. “It’s part of my charm.”

Agatha scoffed as her hands drifted lower, fingers brushing over the fabric of Rio’s pants. She gestured toward the suit jacket. “You waltz in wearing this,” she said, her voice low and accusing, “and expect me to just sit back and watch?”

“You didn’t have to watch,” Rio teased, her hands sliding to Agatha’s waist. “But you did, didn’t you?”

Agatha’s jaw tightened, but the sting of the words melted under the weight of Rio’s touch. I watched because I can’t stop watching you, she wanted to say. Instead, she kissed her again, slower this time, her movements slow and assured.

It wasn’t just hunger anymore. It was everything she couldn’t say—every fear, every longing, every jagged piece of her true self that she didn’t know how to give away. As the kiss deepened, she wondered, Will this ever be enough? Am I enough for her to want to be here? Would she choose me? Could anyone?

Agatha’s head was spinning as she leaned into the kiss, her control shaky and fragile, like a fraying thread she couldn’t let go for fear of it disappearing. Her fingers brushed the lace of Rio’s bra, and she cursed herself for how obviously she was trembling.

When she pulled back, resting her forehead against Rio’s, her words slipped out unbidden, raw and unfiltered. “You drive me insane,” she murmured, barely audible even to herself.

Rio’s soft, playful reply only made it worse. “Good. I think I like you like this.”

Agatha pulled back, searching Rio’s face. She wanted to say something, anything, to break the overwhelming vulnerability closing in on her. But what was there to say? I’m terrified of how much I want you? I don’t know if I can survive you realizing this was a mistake? There’s nothing I want more than for you to want me? 

Instead, she muttered, half-joking and half-truthful, “You’re going to kill me.”

“Maybe,” Rio said, that maddening grin tugging at her lips.

Agatha felt her own smile trying to surface, but it was fleeting, a ghost of what she couldn’t bring herself to admit. She leaned in again, this time more measured, as if savoring the taste of something she knew she couldn’t keep.

When Rio’s hands found her dress on instinct her knee pressed between Rio’s legs, and Agatha’s heart raced impossibly faster. The sounds Rio made, the way she melted under her, sent a thrill of power and tenderness surging through her. She’s letting me have this. She’s letting me take everything.

But the intimate contact terrified her too. What if this is too much?

When Rio groaned, pulling at her lip with her teeth, Agatha almost faltered. The tension between her hunger and her fear pulled even tighter. She pulled Rio closer, gripping her as if holding on could stop her thoughts from spiraling out of control.

She pushed Rio onto the bed with more force than intended, trying to drown out the screams of self-doubt. Don’t think. Just feel. Just let this be enough. Just this once.

Climbing into Rio’s lap, Agatha kissed her with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

“Fuck. Agatha.” Rio’s words sent a jolt through her, both thrilling and grounding her.

But then she heard it: “You’re so fucking beautiful. I never thought—”

Stop. Too much. Too intimate. She couldn’t just say things like that. Not before Agatha could say them first.

Agatha pulled away, the moment shattered. She stood abruptly, smoothing her dress with trembling hands. Her breath came in short, uneven bursts, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel Rio’s confusion, but she couldn’t meet her eyes.

“We… we can’t do this,” she said, forcing the words out like a shield. Say it.

“What? What do you mean?” Rio’s voice was bewildered.

Agatha bit her lip, the sharp sting grounding her for a moment. “I don’t pay people for sex,” she said firmly. She could familiar panic rising in her chest and began to pace, needing to move, to keep herself from falling apart. “That’s not what I do. That’s not what I’m going to do with you.”

“Hey, hey, hey, no!” Rio’s voice broke through her thoughts, sharp and urgent. “This isn’t that. This isn’t like that at all. I don’t—”

Agatha’s chest ached at the way Rio staggered, trying to stand, only to fall back onto the bed. She wanted to reach out, to help her, but she couldn’t trust herself to touch her again.

“I’m paying you to be here, aren’t I?” Agatha snapped, the bitterness in her voice more directed at herself than Rio.

“Then don’t pay me!” Rio shot back, her voice raw. “Agatha, I want this. I want—”

“Rio, you’re drunk,” Agatha interrupted, her voice harsh but her gaze softening as she looked at her. “You’re drunk and you’re young and you don’t know what you want.”

Rio’s frown cut deeper than Agatha expected, a mix of frustration and hurt that made her stomach twist. Hurt she was the cause of. Unacceptable. 

“Don’t start that. Agatha, don’t treat me like I can’t think for myself. And don’t you dare treat me like I’m just another person who wants to be around you because of what you can do for them.”

The words hit their mark square in the center of her soft heart. Cutting deep and making her bleed from her soul. That was the truth wasn’t it? The thing that scared her the most. Agatha froze, her back to Rio, her shoulders tense and trembling. 

What if she’s right? What if I’m just running from this because I’m scared? You can’t pretend she doesn’t want this. That she doesn’t want you.

She took a deep breath, turning to face Rio, her expression carefully guarded. “This is complicated,” she said, her voice quieter now, tinged with exhaustion. “You don’t understand what this looks like from my side…”

“Agatha,” Rio said softly, “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Agatha met her gaze. The sincerity in Rio’s eyes was almost unbearable, cutting through every wall she’d tried to build. This was supposed to be simple, she thought. Why couldn’t I keep it simple?

Agatha crossed her arms, her gaze shifting to the floor. Because I like her too much. Her stomach twisted, torn between wanting to believe Rio and the voice in her head screaming that it was too dangerous. Too complicated. Too good to be true.

She had heard these kinds of things before—flattery wrapped in sincerity, promises of affection that turned sour once the reality of who she was became apparent. People didn’t stay once they saw the whole picture. Once they realized that the Agatha they thought they knew wasn’t neat or easy.

Her chest tightened as Rio moved closer, cutting through the space between them.

“You’re scared, and I get that,” Rio said softly. “I’m scared too. But don’t push me away because you’ve decided what this is for me without asking.”

Scared. The word settled over her like a net. She hated how true it was. Agatha didn’t respond immediately, her eyes lifting to meet Rio’s as her mind raced.

But Rio wasn’t looking at her with judgment or doubt. Her eyes were clear, steady, and so frustratingly open. Even the machine of her own self doubt couldn’t keep up.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Agatha said finally, her voice low. She wasn’t sure who she was directing it towards. “You think this is simple. But it’s not. I’m not simple.”

Rio smiled faintly, and the tenderness in it almost undid her. “Good. I don’t like simple.”

Agatha huffed a soft laugh despite herself, the sound more bitter than amused. Of course she’d say that. She doesn’t know better. She sees you, but not the worst of you. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“So I’ve been told,” Rio replied with that infuriating grin of hers. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress the flutter of nerves in her chest. “Which one?”

Rio stepped closer, her voice dropping, and Agatha’s pulse quickened in response. “Do you want me here? Right now. Do you want me?”

Her breath caught. The vulnerability in Rio’s words sent a jolt through her, and for a moment, she wanted to lie, to say no, to protect herself by building the wall higher. But Rio’s gaze held hers, steady and unrelenting.

This was it. Time to bare the real truth.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Of course I want you. That’s the problem.”

The relief on Rio’s face knocked her off her feet and caught her all at once. She looked so calm, so sure, happy, and Agatha hated herself for denying herself the joy of seeing it sooner.

“Then let’s figure the rest out later. Just… be here with me. Right now.”

Rio’s fingers brushed hers again, and the warmth of that small touch shattered something inside her. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she stepped closer, her arms falling to her sides. “You make it sound so easy,” she muttered.

“It’s not,” Rio said, her hands finding hers with such gentleness it made Agatha’s throat tighten. “But it’s what I want.”

Agatha exhaled shakily, closing her eyes for a brief moment before leaning her forehead against Rio’s. “This is such a bad idea,” she murmured, her voice filled with resignation.

“And you’re still here,” Rio teased, her grin breaking through the tension.

Despite herself, Agatha’s lips twitched, and she let herself close the distance, kissing Rio again—this time softer, slower, as if trying to savor a moment she wouldn’t allow her to believe would last.

But she allowed herself the hope that it would. That this was the first step on a new path. A prayer she wouldn’t fuck it up. Because this woman would be the one to destroy her.

When they finally pulled apart, Rio spoke again, her tone calmer now. “Look, I don’t want you to have any doubts. I don’t want something to happen tonight and then you dwell on it and freak out later. If you want to know I’m sure, that’s fine. We don’t have to do anything right now.”

She believed her without hesitation.

“Just… let’s just go to bed. We can talk more tomorrow. Figure out what’s next. But tonight, just… just be here with me.”

The quiet sincerity in Rio’s voice finally broke the last of her defenses. Agatha sighed, nodding. “Okay.” She straightened, repeating herself more firmly. “Okay. We can do that.”

Rio smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek gently. “Okay. Good. I’m gonna go change.”

As Rio disappeared into the bathroom, Agatha stood there for a moment, her arms wrapping around herself.

There was no going back now. She’d told Rio, not everything, but enough to make her feelings known.

It hadn’t happened as she’d planned. But she’d done it.

And by some miracle, the truth hadn’t undone them both. Because even though she’d been afraid to let herself hope for it, she’d gotten confirmation. Rio wanted more too.

Finally, they were on even footing. And whatever happened next, neither of them was in sole control of.

It was something they’d figure out together.

Chapter Text

It was perhaps her greatest performance yet. 

Agatha Harkness, now starring in the Antigua premiere of The Patient Woman. Critics called it a revelation, remarking that her role of an unbothered woman was outside of type and that she’d seized the opportunity to prove that she was capable of more than playing the fool. 

She hit each mark perfectly, lounging casually against the pillows in the most unsexy grey pajamas she owned. Her prop book was held, and she’d even made sure it was right side up, she had to check twice. I am calm. I am enjoying this book. We are just going to bed. She repeated the mantra as she ran a hand through her hair again still shaking out some of the lingering stiffness from the hairspray.

The bathroom door rattled. Places, and action.

“Everything okay?” Agatha asked lightly, glancing over the top of her book.

“Yeah. Fine.” Rio paused by the door awkwardly for a moment. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Agatha smiled. It had taken her longer to change into joggers and a tank than it had for her to get ready for the wedding. Which could only mean her co-star had mostly likely been giving herself a mirror pep talk not unlike the one Agatha had given herself earlier.

“You tell me.” She challenged.

But this time Rio didn’t play along. She just rolled her eyes and made her way to the bed. 

Agatha remembered to turn a page in her book on cue, even as she watched Rio study the bed with the same focus of an Olympic gymnast preparing for a vault. It was almost comical how she clung to the side as she got in. But before Agatha could tease her, Rio struck first.

“Nice pajamas.”

“What, this old thing?” She drawled, smoothing down the shirt and winking playfully.

“Yeah, sure. Very modest. You definitely weren’t trying to kill me or anything.”

Like Rio could talk. Sure, you could call the tank she was wearing a shirt. But it left her arms completely exposed, which meant Agatha could watch each muscle pull and tense as she rubbed the back of her head. There were two murderers in the room.

How Shakespearean.

Agatha’s smirk widened, her confidence bolstered by the pink creeping into Rio’s cheeks and flushing the tips of her ears. She loved seeing her like this—awkward, flustered, completely out of her element. It was endearing and, frankly, empowering. It was a win she needed. She snapped her book shut, using it as a dramatic pointer.

“Says the woman who spent the night in a suit jacket and that bra. You have no room to talk. I know that I ordered a shirt with the suit. That wasn’t my doing.”

But now that she knew Rio was comfortable with bold looks. Well, it opened a whole new world of wardrobe options to pursue in the future.

Rio grinned, recovering enough to toss a playful barb. “Hey, the look was for me. You just happened to also benefit.”

“Uh-huh.” She certainly had. It was one she hoped she’d benefit again from, and experience fully in the future.

Still, it had been the right call to slow things down. It was one she’d never made before when faced with a dangerously attractive woman, even when she probably should have. But she was breaking lots of patterns and habits lately. It was worth it. 

She’d made it to the last step in her plan. Which meant it was to start a new one. But it could wait until morning. 

Agatha watched Rio out of the corner of her eye, leaning to set the book on the nightstand. The way Rio lay stiffly on her side, staring at the ceiling, radiating hyper-awareness, was painfully transparent. Agatha had to stifle a laugh. She’s adorable, she thought, feeling her chest tighten, she’d called a lot of women a lot of things. Never that though.

She was keenly aware of the space between them, it felt like miles. But she was so focused on the distance that she noticed immediately when Rio started a slow, and either sly or shy, little shuffle towards her.

Agatha tried not to smirk outright as she tracked Rio’s glacial progress. Inch by inch, she edged closer, clearly hoping it was subtle enough to go unnoticed. It wasn’t. At all. 

“Rio.”

The sound of her name startled Rio, and she froze like a possum staring into the headlights of an oncoming semi. Agatha turned her head, letting amusement play across her face.

“For someone who just had her tongue halfway down my throat, you’re being awfully shy.” If she could send Rio reeling on the back foot, perhaps the woman wouldn’t notice Agatha was already on the ground.

“I’m not being shy,” Rio shot back a little too quickly, the words tumbling out in self-defense. “And I’ll remind you, that you started that.”

Agatha’s lips curved into a grin, pleased to have caught her so off-balance. “Guilty,” she admitted easily, then added, her tone more serious, “But just so you know, if you want to be held, you don’t have to sneak your way over. You just have to ask.”

Rio opened her mouth, then closed it, her eyes flicking to Agatha and then away again as she tried to find her footing. “I wasn’t sneaking.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, silently daring her to try that excuse again.

“I wasn’t,” Rio repeated, her voice pitching higher, almost whining.

That did it. Agatha chuckled, low and warm, the sound vibrating in her chest. She reached out, unable to resist teasing her a little more as she tugged Rio gently toward her. “Come here.”

Rio’s body went still for a moment before she gave in, letting herself be pulled in like a feral cat deciding to trust a human touch for the first time.

For a while, they simply lay there, the sound of waves outside blending with the faint rustle of sheets as Rio settled closer. When Rio swallowed, she felt her throat bob against her chest. 

Wanting to comfort her, Agatha’s fingers drifted into Rio’s hair, combing through the soft strands, occasionally brushing over her cheek. The weight of Rio against her felt right in a way she wasn’t quite ready to examine.

Rio tilted her head slightly, glancing up at her with an expression so unguarded it tugged at something deep in Agatha’s chest. She could see the words forming behind Rio’s lips before she spoke.

“This was… a really good night.”

Agatha’s mouth curved into a small, knowing smile. “You don’t say.”

It was the best night.

That earned her a faint huff of laughter from Rio, who relaxed further, her head nestling against Agatha’s chest. As Rio’s breathing evened out, Agatha let her own eyes drift shut, her hand continuing its gentle motions through Rio’s hair.

I should be terrified of this, she thought. But right now, I’m not.

She let herself be lulled by the rhythm of Rio’s breathing, the steady rise and fall grounding her in a way she didn’t expect. Rio pressed into her side, Agatha allowed herself, just for tonight, to feel safe too.

Agatha never slept on her back. She couldn’t. She needed to be on her side, legs curled up, small and safe.

But as long as Rio was here, sleeping on her chest, she wouldn’t move. Even if it kept her up all night. She’d never been a cuddler. That felt much too intimate. But tonight, here, well, there were worse ways to spend a night. 

When Agatha woke the next morning she was still on her back. Rio was snoring softly in her ear. And because Rio brought out the kindest version of herself she wouldn’t even mention the small wet patch where she’d drooled on her.

Not today at least.

Eventually, she pulled herself out of bed, even though the whimper that sounded from Rio made her want to crawl back into it and kiss her apologies to her forehead.

But there was work to be done. Agatha dressed and pulled back her hair so that she could focus, sitting down at the small desk.

As she scratched her thoughts down onto paper, it helped Agatha focus, or at least gave her the illusion of control. Agatha glanced at her phone and turned off her alarm, not wanting to wake her companion yet. She’d been up for an hour, penning and revising lists to make sense of this... shift between them.

Parameters, she’d thought to herself. Structure. That’s what we need. Something clear, something manageable.

But no matter how many times she crumpled up a page and started fresh, it all felt inadequate.

The soft rustle of sheets made her freeze for a moment, her hand stilling over the paper. When Rio stretched and yawned, Agatha couldn’t stop herself from glancing over her shoulder. Her heart did a ridiculous little flip at the sight of Rio rubbing her eyes with one hand.

Focus, Agatha. You're trying to appear composed, not like someone who spent half the night replaying every moment you kissed her. And imagining what could have been after.

“Morning,” she said, injecting what she hoped was a casual air to her voice.

“Morning,” Rio mumbled, her voice husky with sleep. The sound of it sent a shiver down Agatha’s spine, but she fought valiantly to keep her expression neutral.

Rio sat up, her gaze landing on the crumpled pile of papers on the desk. Her eyebrow lifted, and Agatha felt her cheeks heat.

“Been busy?” Rio asked, her tone amused.

Agatha cleared her throat, setting her pen down and swiveling to face her. Right. Composure. Professionalism.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began, carefully measured, as if she were presenting a proposal at work. “If we’re going to… change the nature of our relationship, we need to establish some parameters.”

“Parameters?” Rio repeated, her lips quirking with barely concealed amusement.

Agatha bristled, not because she was upset but because that smile did sinful things to her ability to concentrate. She pressed on. “Yes. For starters, I’m not paying you for anything anymore. That’s non-negotiable for both of us, I think.”

She tried to ignore the way Rio’s grin grew, leaning back against the headboard as if this was the most entertaining thing she’d heard all week. Agatha forged ahead. Just keep talking. Confidence is key.

“I also think we need to take things slow. At least two actual regular dates before we... escalate again.”

Rio’s eyebrows shot up, her grin turning mischievous. “Two dates, huh? Not one? Not three?”

Agatha pretended not to hear the teasing. “And, this one is important—no major decisions while drunk.” She leveled a pointed look at Rio, though the faint warmth in her tone gave her away.

Rio nodded solemnly, though the twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her. “Makes sense. Very thorough. Anything else, or have you drafted an NDA for me to sign too?”

Agatha froze, the pen slipping slightly in her hand. Her cheeks flared crimson, and she fumbled for a response. “No!” She coughed lightly, flipping to another sheet of paper in a show of distraction. “Oh, and no sleepovers.”

The second the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake.

Rio blinked at her, then gestured to the rumpled sheets she was still nestled in. “Agatha, I’m literally in your bed right now.”

Agatha floundered, the heat spreading down her neck. “That doesn’t count,” she said quickly, her voice edging on defensive. “That was before we established ground rules.”

The smirk Rio gave her in return was devastating. “Ah, so this is a retroactive rule. Got it. So we’re also not counting when you nursed me back to health in your home after knowing me for a month?”

Agatha opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to counter that. Her carefully crafted sense of control was unraveling, thread by thread, and Rio seemed to delight in every tug.

God help me, she thought, as Rio’s grin deepened. I am absolutely doomed.

Agatha did her best to shoot Rio a withering look, though internally, she was second-guessing this entire exercise. Despite her reservations, she pressed on. “I’m willing to share some of my wardrobe with you. Jackets freely, shirts occasionally, but never shoes.”

Her voice was measured, clipped, like she was delivering terms in a contract. But Rio’s incredulous expression nearly broke her focus.

“In what world do I want to share your shoes?” Rio asked, bewildered. “Half of them would kill me, and the other half would permanently fuck up my ankles.”

Agatha arched a brow, refusing to let Rio derail her. “Just covering my bases.” Setting boundaries around sharing clothes early was important. She’d never forgive Ashley for making off with her favorite sweater in the divorce. 

She tapped the list with her pen for emphasis, projecting confidence even as a part of her wondered if this was overkill. “And no public displays of affection. At least not until we’ve sorted what this is out.”

The sound of Rio’s laughter caught her off guard. It was loud, unrestrained, and maddeningly contagious.

“You do realize half your friends were wolf-whistling at us yesterday because of how ‘sorted out’ we already looked, right?” Rio said, her grin widening.

Agatha felt the heat rise to her cheeks, a traitorous flush she couldn’t quite hide. They weren’t wrong, but that’s not the point. She stubbornly refused to back down. “This is different. These are preventative measures.”

“Preventative measures,” Rio repeated, her grin settling into something softer but no less amused. She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re something else, Agatha.”

Agatha folded her arms, her pen clutched tightly in one hand. She fixed Rio with a look of mock indignation, though her lips twitched, threatening to betray her. “Am I wrong? I don’t do things without a plan. Well, I did one time, and look where that got me.”

Her gaze softened despite herself, a small, fond smile tugging at her mouth. She didn’t say it aloud, but they both knew what—or rather, who —that one time had led to.

“I’m just trying to be thorough, and you’re being impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” Rio said with a wink. The playful confidence in her tone made Agatha roll her eyes, though a reluctant smile followed close behind.

Rio took a step closer, her fingers brushing lightly against Agatha’s elbow, the touch grounding and deliberate. “Seriously though, I’m teasing you, but I think that all makes sense. Except maybe that last one. People have already seen me around you. I’ve been introduced as your date several times.”

The word date sent a flutter of something uncomfortably warm through Agatha’s chest, though she kept her expression neutral.

“It’s up to you,” Rio continued, her voice quieter but still playful. “I’ll follow your lead in public. But I’m just saying, I think it would be weirder if we never touched.”

Agatha hummed thoughtfully, pretending to weigh Rio’s words while trying not to let her own nerves show. She makes everything sound so simple.

Rio, sensing an opportunity, let her grin turn sly. “Besides, it would help avoid miscommunications—like with that girl who wanted to dance with me last night.”

Her lips pursed as she felt a brief flicker of irritation she hadn’t quite let herself name the night before. “I didn’t care for that,” she said carefully, her tone even.

Rio crossed her arms, clearly delighted by the reaction. Her grin widened as she leaned against the desk with infuriating ease. “Oh, I know. You’re cute when you’re jealous, though.”

She turned, fixing Rio with a sharp look. “I am not jealous.”

“You shoved her out of the way like a linebacker,” Rio said with a mock-serious tone, though her grin was anything but. “I’m just saying it was a little territorial.”

Agatha scoffed, trying to brush the comment off, but her cheeks betrayed her, flushing faintly. “I wasn’t jealous. I just didn’t like someone… you know, bothering you.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, her amusement spilling over. “Uh-huh. Sounds an awful lot like jealousy to me. I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it, though.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes at Rio, her curiosity got the better of her. “Are you the jealous type?”

Rio tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly as she genuinely considered the question. “Not really,” she said after a moment. “But I don’t think I’ve had a reason to be.” She shrugged. “I figure if someone’s with me, they’re choosing to be. And if they’re not? Well, I’m not wasting my time trying to convince them otherwise.”

Agatha studied her carefully, the weight of Rio’s words settling over her. It was such a disarmingly simple life philosophy, but Rio wielded it with a certainty she envied. “Fair enough.”

Rio’s expression softened, her lips quirking into a playful smile as she leaned in and kissed Agatha’s cheek. The gesture was quick, but it sent a pleasant shiver through her. “But I’ve also never been with someone like you before, so I guess we’ll find out,” Rio laughed, her tone light.

Agatha’s cheeks warmed, but she refused to give Rio the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. Instead, she grabbed the nearest stack of papers and lobbed them in Rio’s direction.

Rio ducked effortlessly, laughing as the papers fluttered harmlessly to the floor.

Agatha shook her head, muttering under her breath about insufferable women, but the corners of her lips betrayed her, twitching upward despite her best efforts.

Just as they finished zipping up the last bag, a knock sounded at the door. Agatha barely had time to respond before her friends burst in, their voices filling the room in a whirlwind of laughter and chatter.

“Finally!” Lucas exclaimed. “We almost thought you were going to leave without saying goodbye.”

Rio, sensing she might be outnumbered, grinned at Agatha and gestured toward the patio door. “I’ll give you all some space. I’ll be outside if you need me.” With a wink, she slipped out onto the deck, leaving Agatha to face the full force of her trial.

Agatha barely had time to protest before they stormed into the room. Melissa flopped onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, Jamie leaned casually against the doorframe, and Lucas claimed the desk chair, spinning it backward to straddle it.

The moment the sliding door shut, the teasing began.

“You’ve been holding out on us, Harkness,” Melissa announced, pointing an accusatory finger. “You show up with a date, a date like that , and we’re supposed to act like it’s no big deal?”

Agatha frowned, busying herself with collecting the papers Rio had dodged earlier. “It’s not a big deal,” she muttered, knowing full well it was a lie they wouldn’t believe.

“Sure,” Jamie drawled, crossing their arms with a knowing smirk. “That’s why she’s out there gazing at the ocean like she’s the mysterious love interest in some beachside romance novel.”

“Very Taming of the Shrew vibes,” Lucas added, earning a burst of laughter from the others.

“Enough,” Agatha said firmly, shooting Lucas a glare as she stacked the papers with unnecessary force.

“Oh, come on,” Melissa said, sitting up and tucking her legs underneath her. “You’re not shy about bragging when you’ve had a good time. But you’ve haven’t brought anyone around. Never even mentioned this one.” She raised an eyebrow. “So what’s the deal with Rio? She seems different.”

“She’s not—” Agatha started, then stopped herself, realizing there wasn’t a convincing way to finish that sentence. She sighed, straightening the pile in her hands and setting it aside. “She’s just… not like the others, okay? She’s…”

Jamie leaned forward, their grin widening. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

Agatha shot them a look that could curdle milk. “Don’t.”

Lucas chimed in, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. “It’s okay, Agatha. We all understand. She’s not like the others because you like her.”

Melissa gasped, clutching her chest. “Oh my god, is she special?”

Agatha groaned, rubbing her temples. “I hate you all. Why do I even talk to you?”

“Because you love us,” Lucas said easily, his smirk unwavering. “And because we’re right. Admit it, Agatha. You’re really into her. Down bad. Over the moon. Whatever else the kids are saying.”

“I’m not admitting anything,” Agatha snapped, though her cheeks betrayed her by turning pink.

“You don’t have to. The color in your cheeks says it all.”

Melissa leaned closer, her expression softening. “Seriously, though, Agatha. She seems really great. You don’t bring people around, and you definitely don’t keep quiet about them if it’s just casual. So if she’s different… that’s not a bad thing.”

Agatha hesitated, glancing toward the door where Rio had disappeared moments earlier. “She is different,” she admitted quietly. “But I don’t know what that means yet.”

Jamie grinned, clapping their hands together. “It means we’re meeting her again, and soon. Preferably over drinks, so we can ask her all the embarrassing questions you’d never let us ask sober.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched in a reluctant smile. “You’re not meeting her again unless you all learn how to behave.”

Lucas laughed. “But darling, we’ll all be dead by then.”

As the teasing continued, Agatha found herself torn between exasperation and a quiet, growing warmth. Her friends were impossible, but they weren’t wrong. Rio was different. And the way they had noticed so quickly only confirmed what Agatha had until recently been too cautious to admit to herself.

“Y’all are all too nice!” Melissa interrupted with a dangerous grin. “We all saw you drag her off the dance floor last night. All of us. The way you two were looking at each other—come on, what happened?”

Agatha groaned, “Oh god, Melissa. It wasn’t like that. We were just…”

Before she could finish that thought Rio’s voice cut through the room as she and Pryia stepped back in off the balcony. “What’s going on in here?” She teased.

Agatha reclined on the couch, trying to look relaxed, but her heart sank the moment she saw the mischievous glint had not faded from Melissa’s eyes. 

“Oh, nothing,” Melissa said with faux innocence, leaning back casually. “Just having a little discussion about you and Agatha’s dance floor antics last night.”

Agatha froze, her stomach doing an uncomfortable flip. Her friends might as well have tossed a lit match onto all the crumpled papers on the floor.

She let out a long, dramatic sigh and leaned her head back against the armrest of the couch, staring at the ceiling like it might open up and swallow her whole freeing her from this new layer of hell. “This is ridiculous,” she said flatly, trying to cut them off before they could get started. “Can we please move on? It’s not like you’re going to get any juicy details out of me.”

That was the wrong thing to say. She knew it instantly when her four so-called friends turned as one to look at Rio instead, their eyes practically sparkling with opportunity. Jackals, all of them.

Agatha clenched her jaw, praying Rio wouldn’t indulge them. Rio shrugged, clearly amused. “Sorry, kids,” Rio said, her tone light and teasing. “She says no. And as much as I hate to disappoint any of you, I have a seven-hour flight with this one. And I already downloaded two movies, so I don’t want to spend that time getting chewed out.”

“Well,” Jamie said, leaning forward with a grin so smug it should’ve been illegal, “at least we’ve got the confirmation we needed.”

Agatha sat up slightly, narrowing her eyes. “What confirmation is that, darling?” she asked, her voice sweet but with an edge of warning.

“Whether she kept you on a tight leash or if it was the other way around.”

Rio snorted with laughter, and Agatha couldn’t help the little eye roll that followed. Still, despite herself, the corners of her mouth twitched upward. She shook her head, trying to keep her composure. “Alright, enough,” she said firmly, holding up a hand like she was calling a truce. “I swear, I can’t take any more of this. This is why I can only handle seeing you guys once a year.”

“C’mon, don’t you wanna know what we concluded?” Jamie pressed.

“Mm, save it for next time,” Agatha said with a breezy wave of her hand. She stood, brushing invisible lint from her shirt as if to end the conversation by sheer force of will. “We’re late for the airport.”

Her friends laughed, but they didn’t push further. The teasing simmered down as they exchanged quick hugs and goodbyes. Despite her embarrassment, Agatha felt a flicker of warmth as she stepped away with Rio.

As they headed for the car, Rio bumped her shoulder lightly. “You okay?” she asked, a soft laugh still lingering in her voice.

Agatha sighed but smiled, shooting her a sidelong glance. “I’ll survive,” she said. “But next time, you’re sitting in the hot seat alone.”

Rio grinned, leaning in closer. “Deal. But only if you promise to dance with me again.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but her heart skipped a beat. “We’ll see.”

But she would—many, many times, every time Rio asked—because when she asked, Agatha couldn’t deny her anything.

As they boarded their flight and settled into their second row seats, Agatha leaned back with a sigh, glancing sideways at Rio. She was already adjusting her armrest, and fiddling with the movie options on the screen in front of her.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Agatha said quietly, her voice barely rising above the hum of the plane.

Rio turned her head, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve thanked me three times already.”

“Well, I mean it,” Agatha insisted.

Rio smiled, soft and a little teasing. “True, but it was worth it to see you terrorize both seagulls and unsuspecting women on the dancefloor.”

Agatha groaned, pressing a hand to her face. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Rio said, her grin widening.

Agatha let her hand fall to take Rio’s as she met her eyes. Brown eyes were criminally underrated, every time she looked at her she just felt so warm. It gave Agatha the courage to press on.

“I don’t expect us to figure everything out right now,” Agatha began carefully, her fingers brushing the edge of the tray table. “We don’t have to label… whatever this is. But there’s one more thing I want to add to my list of terms.”

Rio tilted her head, her grin fading into something softer. “I’m listening.”

Agatha took a breath. “I want to be exclusive.” The words surprised her as much as they seemed to surprise Rio, but once they were out, she knew she meant them. “I’ve uh, haven’t been, not since my marriage, but you’re… different.”

Rio didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Agatha blinked, caught off guard by the ease of Rio’s response.

“Yeah,” Rio said with a shrug, though her eyes held a sincerity that anchored Agatha. “I wasn’t planning on seeing anyone else anyway. So, that’s cool. It’s good. Good idea.”

Agatha felt the corners of her mouth tug upward. She tried to school her features, but the smile won out. “There you go again making everything sound so simple.”

Rio gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “That’s because it is.”

The rest of the flight passed in a slow and easy haze as they lost all sense of time. They started watching a show together, sharing earbuds even though Agatha had an extra pair tucked in her carryon bag. Rio made it halfway through the second episode before falling asleep, her head tilting slightly to the side.

Agatha glanced at her, warmth spreading in her chest. Carefully, she reached for her phone and opened her contacts. Scrolling to Rio’s name, she tapped to edit it. A small smile played on her lips as she deleted the previous details (Bartender, Bridgeport, Eyes), instead adding a heart and a suit jacket emoji next to Rio’s name.

Satisfied, she locked her phone and tucked it away. 

Chapter Text

Agatha wasn’t a superhuman immune to post-vacation blues. After spending four days in a paradise of both location and company, the sting of watching Rio walk away from her car and towards her apartment felt especially sharp. Each time she’d watched her walk away, sunglasses allowing her to admire the view shamelessly, she’d known that Rio would return to her side within minutes. Back to her, picking up whatever banter they were in the middle of with ease, as if she’d never left.

It wasn’t that Agatha was afraid of Rio leaving . After their talk, she felt a certainty that she’d be seeing her again she hadn’t allowed herself to hope for. But based on how her office quickly descended into chaos whenever she stepped away, she was certain that it would be at least a few days before she saw her.

Days. Plural. Each one made up of 1,440 minutes. It was a cruel amount of time to wait, especially since she’d already lost track of the minutes since she kissed Rio just before boarding the plane. So who could blame her for being a little selfish?

“Rio!” Agatha leaned out the car window and waved her back. She was just as hopeless as the smile she couldn’t contain as Rio dutifully came bounding back towards the car. As soon as she was back in reach, Agatha leaned further out the window and hauled her in by the collar for a quick kiss.

Better.

“What was that for?” Rio asked, glancing around as if part of her still anticipated the gesture to be part of some performance. Not realizing the simpler, more selfish explanation.

“For the road,” Agatha replied, eyes wandering Rio over again. She knew her expression must be ridiculous. She was lovestruck enough that she didn’t care. The quickness with how quickly Rio had jogged back when she called and the way her breath caught during even the shortest kisses was enough to tame any self-conscious part of her.

To love fully was to love freely.

For perhaps what was truly the first time, she was allowing a small part of herself to believe that a world where she could be loved and not just tolerated existed. Fully and freely.

Agatha wasn’t ready to call what she felt love just yet. But damn did that four-letter word keep popping up in her mental vocabulary a lot lately.

She tore her gaze away from Rio in the rearview. If she crashed into a parked car because she couldn’t look away, she wouldn’t get a chance to pursue that thought, or any others, because she’d die on the spot of humiliation.

Her phone buzzed just as she made it home, and for half a second she let her heart hope it was already Rio messaging her. She’d already mentally drafted a teasing, “Miss me already, or just the free cocktails?” when she glanced down and saw it was from Jamie.

She juggled her keys in one hand and her phone in the other as she headed up her front steps. Agatha allowed herself to be disappointed for just a moment, but as she opened the message that faded quickly.

Hey, A. I know we went all in on busting your balls this weekend. But you know it’s because we love you. Happiness looks good on you, Harkness. And before you send back a rude emoji, see for yourself.

Following the text was a picture that caught her off guard, and she dropped her keys before they reached the lock. It was a candid of her and Rio. 

That stupid revealing suit jacket showed off her chest as Rio stretched her arm around her. She zoomed in and noticed that there was a small mole under her collarbone she hadn’t noticed that night; seeing as she’d been entirely preoccupied trying not to stare at her like a woman starved.

But what caught her eye even more was the matching expressions they both wore. They were both laughing, bodies and faces angled in towards each other. Agatha examined the photo closely. Even her most critical eye couldn’t find any flaw in the version of herself she saw. She looked happy, younger than she’d looked or felt in ages.

Even the lines on her face were softened by her laughter, making it seem as if they’d been formed by a hundred moments just like this, products of a joyful life.

She zoomed in on herself, looking for any subtle microexpression she may have missed in the moment. But there were none, just pure adoration pouring off of both of them. A fleeting moment now captured and made permanent.

Agatha would have to send Jamie a proper thank you note, maybe a whole damn gift basket. In sharing one image, they’d saved her from any chance of hours spent overthinking the wedding. Not that instead spending hours reopening the photo to smile at it like a teen with a crush was much better. But it was certainly more fun.

It almost had her ready to google “how to change iPhone wallpaper”, a task she’d never gotten around to. But that would be a bit much.

Still, Agatha frequently returned to the photo as she went about her evening. They looked good together. It felt good. 

As she soaked in the tub that evening, she realized that even if it would be a few days before she could see Rio, there was no reason no to continue to chase that feeling.

Without thinking too hard about it, she sent Rio a quick message.

Home and finally relaxing without fear of someone whining about all the hot water I’m using.

Rio’s response came immediately as if she’d been staring at her phone waiting for a message.

Can I ask? Is your water bill higher than my rent? Be honest.

Agatha laughed, the sound echoing off the tile.

Most likely. But money well spent.

She placed her phone down thinking that would be the last of it. But another response came quickly.

Pics or it didn’t happen.

Her cheeks immediately flushed and she wondered briefly if this was what it felt like to be on the other end of the scandalous comments she loved making. But before she could consider how she’d reply, a new flurry of text messages arrived.

Disregard!

Jen sent that!

I know that sounds fake as fuck but I had my hands full!

Agatha laughed at the panic she felt emanating from the messages. But whether she believed the story or not, she wasn’t going to make her suffer. Well, much.

Shame. Tell Jen if she wants tasteful bath photos, she has my number

Two more texts quickly arrived.

Don’t encourage her!

But also… if you’re offering…

Agatha wished she could see Rio’s reaction when she received the photo of just her hand surrounded by a mound of bubbles, flipping her off.

The office was mayhem as predicted, but she considered herself lucky that her unread email inbox hadn’t hit triple digits. Julie has once again proven her worth and was ready at seven am Monday with a prioritized list of all the items that needed her attention.

“... and as long as you sign off on the release by end of day, we should be all caught up.” Julie concluded, setting the folder with her notes on Agatha’s desk. 

Agatha nodded, tapping her pen against her chin for a moment. “Great. Take a seat why don’t you?”

Julie’s brow furrowed, and Agatha realized she was worried so she quickly continued.

“You’re not in trouble. The opposite. You’re doing great work. And it’s come to my attention that neither your title or salary reflects that. So I’d like to correct that.”

“Oh!” Julie fidgeted slightly in her chair but was obviously pleased, “Well, that’s great! I’d heard that your assistants usually didn’t…” She trailed off, and Agatha chuckled at her conscious attempt to avoid offending her after just receiving a compliment.

“Last? No, they usually don’t. Which tells me that you’ve outgrown this role. So I’d like to offer you a promotion to my Chief of Staff. You’ve got a good eye for analysis, you’re persistent, and I want you to get more exposure to the strategic side of our operations.”

Agatha gave her a rare proud smile, the promotion wasn’t just because of her good mood, she’d seen competence in Julie and nurtured it. Now it was time to see where she’d grow from here. “Take some time to think it over, and come back to me when you decide what feels right salary wise.”

Julie sputtered for a moment, “You’ve always done right by me. I trust your judgement一”

“And I trust yours.” Agatha smoothly interrupted, smiling gently. “You need to get comfortable asking for what you’re worth. No one else is going to do that for you.”

Julie nodded and smiled before standing up. “Well, thank you. I’ll uh, think it over and get back to you.”

“Wonderful. I’ll also need you to work on finding your replacement. And until then, I may need you to still take care of some odds and ends.” Agatha paused as she remembered one of the tasks she needed to delegate. “Actually, can you get me the number for a good florist?”

Julie whipped out her tablet and nodded, “On it boss, just tell me who are they for, and what’s the occasion, I’ll take care of it.”

Agatha felt her cheeks turn pink and she hoped that Julie didn’t notice. “Oh. Just the name and number is fine… I’ll handle this one.”

Her assistant definitely saw her blush as she glanced up with a curious expression. But she quickly recovered and nodded with a smile. “Of course, I’ll just check some reviews and send that your way.”

“Thanks, Julie, you can shut the door on the way out,” Agatha said quickly, pretending to become engrossed with her email.

But as soon as Julie sent the link to a boutique florist, her afternoon was lost to scrolling through dozens of arrangements. She settled on purple irises and a brief note “Just to make coming back to reality suck less -A”

She made it until Wednesday before the craving to hear Rio’s voice got the better of her. Agatha sat on the edge of her bed, her phone in her hand, staring at Rio's name on the screen. She hesitated for just a second before pressing call. 

Her heart gave an unfamiliar flutter as she listened to the ringing on the other end.

"Hey," Rio's voice came through, warm and easy, and Agatha couldn't help but smile. She hadn’t expected her to answer right away. "How's it going?"

"Hey, you," she replied, her tone softer than she'd intended, but she didn't mind. "I just wanted to check in... It’s been crazy here, but, uhm, I’ve missed you."

The words felt bold as they left her mouth, but they were true.

She heard Rio chuckle softly, the sound sending a rush of warmth through her. "Yeah? Miss me, huh? That's a pretty bold statement."

Agatha laughed lightly, feeling a little more at ease. "I know, right? But I mean it."

"Well, I missed you too, obviously," Rio replied.

There was a pause between them—not awkward, just quiet. Agatha cleared her throat, leaning back against her headboard. "So, listen, I’ve got an idea," she said, aiming for casual but not entirely succeeding. "Are you free Friday night?"

Rio's voice perked up with interest. "I could be. Let me check my schedule…" The exaggerated tapping on the other end of the line made Agatha roll her eyes. "Hmm, would you look at that, it looks like I have a spot blocked for a date with someone incredibly attractive and out of my league."

She laughed, further relaxing on the bed. "I’m glad to hear that. I was hoping that was the case," she said, "I’ll pick you up then."

"Oh, you’ll pick me up, huh?" Rio teased. "What’s the plan? Should I wear something fancy? Do I need to check the dress code for this exclusive date you’ve got planned?"

"You can wear whatever you want," Agatha shot back, enjoying the banter. "But just know that I’ll look good regardless. I mean, you’re the one who’s got to figure out how to keep up with me."

Rio let out an exaggerated gasp, and Agatha could practically picture her silly grin. "Oh, you seriously think I have a shot of keeping up with you? That’s a lot of pressure, Agatha."

"Yeah, well," she replied, a grin tugging at her lips, "you knew what you were getting into."

Rio's laughter softened into something warmer, her voice quieter now. "I know. I’m looking forward to it."

The sincerity in her tone caught Agatha off guard for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “Good, now, as for the outfit—” she paused, letting the moment stretch just a bit before playfully continuing, “I actually do think you look great in most everything you wear. Just promise me I never have to see those god-awful neon glasses again.”

Rio laughed but it was soft and sweet, "You’re lucky I’m so fond of you, Agatha. Really lucky."

"I know," she replied, her grin widening, though her voice stayed steady. "So, I’ll pick you up around 7?"

"Sounds good to me, I’ll be ready."

"Great," Agatha said, feeling a warmth she didn’t quite have the words for. "I’ll see you then."

“Te veo,” Rio murmured, her tone low and full of promise.

Agatha ended the call, holding the phone in her hand for a moment longer. A quiet smile crept across her face. She couldn't remember the last time she’d actually called to ask about a date. It was almost old-fashioned.

But it was about the gesture. A balance of grand and genuine. Agatha picked up her phone again, she’d need to make a few more calls in preparation.

Agatha stood in the hall of Rio’s building, brushing the flurries from her coat as she waited for Rio to answer the door. A slight nervous energy buzzed under her skin, the kind that always seemed to surface around Rio. When the door finally swung open, Rio’s familiar grin lit up her face, and Agatha felt that warmth unfurl in her chest again easing her nerves.

“Hey!” Rio greeted, stepping aside to let her in.

“Glad to see you didn’t tidy up on my account,” Agatha teased, letting her gaze sweep over the apartment as she stepped inside. The space was comfortably lived-in, a little chaotic, but not as messy as when Rio had been ill.

“Hush. It’s fine,” Rio replied with an eye roll. “We’re not staying, just give me a minute to finish getting ready.”

Agatha leaned casually against the wall, letting her eyes roam over Rio with a slow, deliberate once-over. “Finish? Or are you starting?”

She couldn’t help the faint smirk as Rio’s confidence faltered for just a moment. She adored Rio’s easy confidence, but moments like these—when she caught her off guard—were endlessly satisfying.

Rio glanced down at her outfit, suddenly self-conscious. “Am I not… you said there wasn’t a dress code!”

Agatha’s laugh was soft and fond as she stepped closer, reaching for Rio’s hand. “I’m teasing you. You look great, that green is a good color on you.”

Rio’s grumbling was half-hearted at best, and Agatha rewarded her compliance with a quick kiss on the cheek. As Rio moved to swap her sneakers for boots, Agatha’s gaze lingered on her, affection flickering behind her composed demeanor. There was still something disarming about sharing these small, ordinary moments with Rio.

When Rio finally shrugged on the leather jacket Agatha had bought her, Agatha couldn’t resist teasing her again. “All coming together. You just need an accessory.”

Rio’s curious expression made her heart skip. She loved how easily she could surprise her. Agatha reached into her bag, pulling out the slim box with a small flourish. She’d bought it on a whim a few days ago, unable to pass up buying something that immediately made her think of Rio.

Rio raised her eyebrow as she opened it, and studied the simple classy watch, her expression softening despite herself.

“Agatha. It’s nice, but I thought we agreed on you not buying me—”

“It’s not for you,” Agatha cut in, her tone light but playful. “It’s for me. I’ve really tried, but I can't bear to look at that toy on your wrist for another moment.”

Rio glanced at her beat up watch, still protesting, “What? It’s a classic!”

“It’s also broken,” Agatha added dryly fixing Rio with a raised eyebrow.

“It just needs a battery!”

Agatha gave her a too sweet placating smile and nodded, “Of course dear, so how about you just take this one until you get it fixed.” She knew Rio never would.

Emboldened as she finally accepted the present and let her fasten it to her wrist, Agatha placed a kiss to Rio’s hand, her voice soft. “Shall we?”

As they headed out, Agatha’s thoughts drifted between Rio’s initial reluctance and the way she always accepted these gestures in the end. It made her wonder if Rio understood how much these moments mattered to her.

It wasn’t about how much she spent or trying to change what Rio wore. It was just a quiet affirmation. A way to remind her that she was on her mind.

But as they turned the corner in the stairwell, the sound of footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Agatha immediately clocked the woman heading toward them. She glanced at Rio, noticing her sudden tension even as she smiled, “Hey, Jen.”

The woman, Jen, stopped short and grinned at them. “Hey, Aren’t you going to introduce us officially?” 

Agatha stepped forward with a polite smile, extending her hand. “Agatha. Nice to meet you.”

Jen shook her hand with exaggerated enthusiasm. “I’m Jen. Nice to finally meet you.”

The teasing glint in Jen’s eyes didn’t escape Agatha. She raised an eyebrow as Rio attempted, and failed, to cut off her teasing.

As they stepped outside, Agatha glanced at Rio, her lips quirking into a smile. “She’s heard all about me, huh?”

Rio’s muttered response only made her laugh. She slipped her arm through Rio’s, enjoying the way Rio softened beside her despite herself.

“I think I like her,” Agatha said with a grin, her tone playful.

Rio’s quiet grumble only made her smile grow brighter.

Agatha adjusted her scarf as the wind bit at her neck, her pace brisk as she led Rio toward their destination. She glanced at Rio, taking quiet satisfaction in the way her companion looked slightly puzzled, her curiosity evident.

“Hang on,” Rio said, pointing to the door. “Might have to change plans, I think they’re closed?”

Agatha smirked, amused by Rio’s obliviousness to the way she operated, she should know better by now. “Yes, I can read,” she said lightly, opening the door and gesturing Rio inside.

The polished floors gleamed under soft amber lights, and the air was filled with the faint scent of herbs already at work simmering somewhere. It felt like a sanctuary, separate from the rest of the world—a perfect backdrop for the evening she had planned. Dinner dates were usually held back because they were crowded and loud, but she’d removed the possibility of missing a second of their conversation.

Rio hesitated, her boots echoing softly as they crossed the empty space. “Uh, are we supposed to be here?” she asked, sliding into the booth as Agatha directed her.

Agatha let her coat slide from her shoulders, folding it neatly over the seat. She straightened her blouse and smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s all arranged. I rented the place for the evening.”

She watched Rio’s expression shift from confusion to disbelief.

“You… rented the whole place? For dinner?” Rio’s voice carried the familiar tone of surprise that Agatha loved to draw out

“You gave me the idea, actually,” Agatha replied, her smirk widening. “When you ordered the entire room service breakfast menu. I figured I’d return the favor but on a slightly different scale.”

Rio laughed, and shook her head as she looked around the room, “This isn’t the same.”

“Isn’t it?” Agatha teased, leaning forward slightly, her eyes glinting with humor.

Agatha had been nervous—though she would never admit it—about how this gesture might come across. But seeing Rio’s laughter and her unfiltered reaction made it worth the effort.

When Chef Claus appeared, Agatha greeted him with practiced ease, offering a firm handshake. She felt Rio’s curious gaze on her.

“Ms. Agatha,” Claus said warmly. 

“Thank you for accommodating us tonight,” she replied, her tone perfectly composed as they exchanged pleasantries.

“Okay,” Rio whispered once the chef had disappeared. “How do you know him? Because I’ve for sure seen him on The Food Network .”

Agatha allowed herself a small shrug, enjoying the moment. “We’ve crossed paths over the years. He’s a brilliant chef and was kind enough to help me tonight.”

She didn’t elaborate further, not wanting to derail the evening with stories of her professional connections. Instead, she focused on Rio’s reaction as the first course arrived.

The way Rio’s eyes widened after her first bite of the smoked salmon amuse-bouche made Agatha smile. So easy to please, so genuine in her enjoyment. That was rare.

“This is insane,” Rio murmured, her words muffled as she savored the bite.

“And we’re just getting started,” Agatha said, her voice warm with satisfaction.

As the meal unfolded, Agatha found herself watching Rio more than she ate. The way Rio savored everything, the light in her eyes as she asked about the wine pairings, and even the faint flush of her cheeks—all of it drew Agatha in.

But even as she enjoyed Rio’s company, there was a persistent tug in the back of her mind. Am I doing this wrong? Is this too much?

When Rio finally spoke up during dessert, the question hung in the air like a challenge.

“This is… amazing,” Rio began, her voice earnest. “Seriously. I’ve never been somewhere like this. But I feel like I’m seeing the… public side of you tonight. Like I’m on a date with your ‘hosting a royal gala’ persona.”

Agatha blinked, caught off guard as she realized. She’s already seen you chasing seagulls down a beach. She doesn’t want the polished veneer.

She tilted her head, offering a faint smile. “I suppose I do tend to fall into old habits… I’m used to orchestrating things like this. Big gestures.”

Rio’s response was both gentle and unyielding. “It’s just—well, I really liked the woman who jumped into the ocean to save me. And the one who told me embarrassing college stories while we were barefoot on a beach.”

A soft warmth spread through Agatha as Rio’s words settled over her.

“You like the messy version of me, then?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

“Yeah, I do,” Rio said simply, her sincerity disarming.

Agatha reached across the table, brushing her fingers against Rio’s. “Noted. I’ll try to keep the Michelin-star dinners to a minimum.”

Rio laughed, and the sound felt like sunlight breaking through the clouds. “No, don’t do that. We don’t need to be hasty. Just… maybe let me see what happens when you don’t plan every detail next time?”

Agatha squeezed Rio’s hand, her heart lighter than it had been in years. “Deal.”

As Rio grinned mischievously and declared that she would plan their next date, Agatha smiled. She'd gladly let her.

A few hours later, after they’d politely received the signal that it was closing time, Agatha led Rio through the quiet streets. They walked side by side, their steps in sync, as the echoes of their laughter from dinner lingered in the air.

Rio glanced over at Agatha, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat. "I know I teased you about making a big deal of it, but that was a pretty great date," she said, her voice softer now, the teasing note from earlier tempered by something warmer.

Agatha smiled. "I aim to please." She stopped in front of a set of stairs turning to face Rio. "This is you."

Rio nodded, stepping onto the bottom stair. The soft light from a nearby streetlamp cast a gentle glow over her face, highlighting the curve of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes. "Yeah. Thanks for tonight. I mean it."

Agatha tilted her head up slightly to look up at her, her own smile growing. "You don’t have to thank me. I had a wonderful time too."

Rio hesitated for a moment, then shifted her weight, as if unsure whether to stay or go. Agatha took a step closer, her hand brushing Rio’s arm. "Rio."

She stretched up onto her tiptoes, her free hand resting lightly on Rio’s shoulder, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. The world seemed to still for a moment, the distant hum of the city fading into nothingness.

When they pulled back, Rio’s eyes were half-lidded, her lips parted as if to say something. But before she could speak, the sound of a door creaking open broke the spell.

"Well, well, well," came a familiar voice, brimming with amusement. "What do we have here?"

Both women turned sharply to see Jen standing in the doorway, a mischievous grin plastered across her face.

"Don’t let me interrupt," Jen continued, clearly reveling in their flustered expressions. "Carry on. Or don’t. I’m just on my way out for my hot date." She teased.

Rio groaned, running a hand through her hair as Agatha straightened, smoothing the front of her coat. 

Jen stepped around them calling out cheerfully, "Goodnight, lovers! Don’t catch a cold!"

Agatha chuckled as Jen disappeared down the street, leaving them alone again. She turned back to Rio, her expression soft. "I should let you get inside. Your immune system hasn’t impressed me."

Rio smiled, her cheeks still slightly flushed. "Probably a good idea."

They exchanged one last look, the kind that held promises of more nights, preferably without interruptions, and Rio turned to climb the stairs. At the top, she glanced back. "Goodnight, Agatha."

"Goodnight, Rio," Agatha said, her voice quiet but warm.

As she walked to her car, Agatha’s thoughts drifted over the evening, her lips curving into a small, private smile. She considered her next move and pulled up the pinned tab in her browser. Two bouquets in one week—was that too much? 

She decided it wasn’t. Some gestures, she reasoned, were worth the risk of being over the top.

Chapter Text

The next week passed with Agatha incessantly pressing Rio for details about the date she was planning, and Rio gleefully refusing to give her a single hint. Throughout the week she pestered her, trying several different angles to try and squeeze some information out of her. But to no avail.

Is it a tour of your favorite greaseball burger joint? Should I bring Tums? 

Dinner isn’t the main event. But, maybe.

Agatha added a travel bottle to her purse just in case.

I really wish you’d give me some indication of what to wear, I wouldn’t want to be overdressed.

You’re never overdressed, you just make everyone else look underdressed. But wear whatever you consider to be casual.

That evening, Agatha had spent more than an hour laying outfits on her bed trying to bridge the chasm between her idea of casual and what Rio’s would be. She settled on a cream cashmere sweater and dark speckled wool trousers. Casual was just another word for comfortable, right?

I need you to know I have a weak right ankle and refuse to wear rented shoes, so if you’re going for the “fun activity” angle and bowling is your thing, do let me know so I have time to find an appropriate excuse.

More of a mini golf girl myself.

Absolutely not.

Saturday morning, as she caught herself spiraling again, Agatha finally caved and called in a reinforcement. She sprawled out on her stomach across her bed, her phone pressed to her ear as she picked at the loose threads on her quilt. 

“Okay, before you say anything, I already know I’m behaving like a fourteen-year-old, so let’s just skip the judgment and cut straight to the support.”

Melissa’s laugh crackled through the line. “Oh, no, no, no. This is way too much fun for me. You, nervous about a date? This is comedy gold. I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.”

Agatha groaned, rubbing her temple. “I said support, not gloating. Are you capable of offering that, or should I hang up and call someone else?”

“I’m here, I’m here,” Melissa said quickly, though she was obviously biting back a laugh. “Tell me everything. Why are you so worked up about this? You were married for god's sake. You’ve been on tons of dates.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t involve this level of... me not knowing what is going to happen,” Agatha admitted, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. “I hate surprises. You know that. Not even good ones.”

Melissa hummed thoughtfully. “So you’re spinning out because Rio won’t tell you the plan. Got it. But... hasn’t she surprised you a bunch already? And haven’t those been good?”

Agatha paused, biting her lip. “I guess.”

“ You guess? ” Melissa countered, her voice incredulous. “Come on, Agatha. You’ve got to have noticed how she just… hangs on to your every word. I couldn’t even tell you what color her eyes were because they were on you the whole time. She seems attentive, in tune with you. I really don’t think she’d plan anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

Agatha sighed, the tension in her chest loosening slightly. “That’s what I keep telling myself. But I can’t stop obsessing over every possible scenario.”

“Because you like her,” Melissa said with a knowing grin in her voice. “You really like her. And that’s freaking you out. And making you into a total lovelorn sap. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Agatha rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. So, what are you really nervous about? Is it that she’s unpredictable? Or...” Melissa’s tone turned sly. “Have you still not fucked yet and you’re nervous about that?”

Agatha sat up so fast she nearly dropped her phone. “Melissa! ”

Melissa laughed, delighted. “Oh, I hit a nerve, didn’t I? You’re worried the date’s going to end with you fumbling around and—”

“I will hang up on you!”

“Okay, okay!” Melissa relented, still chuckling. “Fine, I’ll behave. But listen, you’re overthinking this. That girl obviously likes you, and from what I’ve seen, she’s got great instincts. Just... try to enjoy the ride, okay?”

Agatha fell back against her pillows with a sigh. “Easier said than done.”

“I’m serious. Let her surprise you,” Melissa said warmly. “It might be one of the good ones.”

Agatha smiled faintly, holding the phone closer as she let her breathing slow. “Thanks, Mel.”

“Anytime. Just promise to call me tomorrow with all the details.”

“Goodbye, Melissa,” Agatha said firmly, ending the call before her friend could tease her any further.

She set the phone aside, exhaling deeply. “Let her surprise you,” she murmured to herself, the words circling her thoughts. Maybe, just maybe, Melissa was right.

Rio hadn’t disappointed her yet. And maybe it was wishful thinking, but Agatha didn’t know that anything she did would.

Agatha sent one last text.

Now I’m getting nervous. You’re not planning to murder me and dump you in the river are you?

No way! I’d miss you too much. See you at 2!

She laughed and shook her head before beginning to get ready. She felt like an aerialist flying on a trapeze without a net for the first time. Time to let go and put in the faith that she’d be caught on the other side.

At two on the dot, Agatha opened the door, already armed with a tease. “Wow! Look who’s on time. Must be nice having a watch that works.” She leaned against the doorframe with an air of mock casualness despite the fact she’d spent an embarrassingly long time deliberating over her coat and scarf combination. “Give me a second to grab my keys.”

Rio laughed easily, leaning in with her usual confidence, both hands tucked in the pockets of her jacket, a forest green turtleneck peeking out from underneath. “Just your house keys. Don’t need your car keys.”

Agatha tilted her head, a slight crease forming in her brow. “I assumed I’d be driving. You’re not here to whisk me away on the handlebars of your bicycle, are you?” She stepped closer, peering past Rio at the stoop, half-expecting some ridiculous surprise.

When Rio’s grin widened, smug and infuriatingly charming, Agatha felt both intrigued and mildly apprehensive, the same feeling that had been stuck in her chest for over a week. “Nope. Better.”

Her arms folded instinctively as her skepticism grew. “You’re worrying me.”

“We’re taking the L,” Rio said, her voice light with mischief.

The words hit her like an unexpected draft despite how bundled up she was. Agatha blinked twice, her expression immediately flattening into a firm line. She had to remind herself to temper her reaction—no need to be dramatic. But the thought of braving transit? In winter? When she had a perfectly good and comfortable car? 

“I am absolutely not.”

Rio cocked her head, mock surprise evident in her tone. “You’re too good for public transit?”

Agatha exhaled sharply, smoothing her coat as she tried to quell her inner diva. “No,” she said slowly, like explaining something to a child. “But if I have other options available, I can think of at least three, why would I want to?”

“You have three cars?” Rio asked, incredulously, her teasing grin mocking her.

“Not literally,” Agatha replied. “My car, Ralph, Uber Black—make that four, I’d put a cab over the L.” The words came out smoothly, though her mind lingered on how Rio would likely find this endlessly amusing. And sure enough, Rio rolled her eyes with theatrical flair.

“You’re something else,” Rio said, her breath visible in the cold. “Come on, Agatha. It’s an experience. It’s a rite of passage.”

Agatha arched a brow, her lips twitching into a smirk despite herself. “Rite of passage? What’s next, getting a hot dog from a street vendor and eating it in a park during a snowstorm?”

She was rewarded with Rio’s laugh, the kind that made her stomach flip over itself. “Now you’re getting it. But seriously, trust me. It’ll be fun.”

Rio stepped closer, and the warmth of her presence in the winter air was oddly disarming. “Unless you’re scared,” she added, her voice dropping into that playful murmur Agatha both loved and resented.

Agatha scoffed, her lips parting with a quick rebuttal. “Of public transportation? Hardly.” She hesitated, letting a flicker of humor enter her tone. “Of freezing to death while waiting for it? A bit more likely.”

Rio chuckled, and before Agatha could protest, she felt a gentle tug on her scarf. The kiss was quick and soft, sending a surprising warmth through her. It was entirely unfair for Rio to distract her like this. As if one kiss was the pass to anything she wanted.

Unfortunately, for Agatha, it was.

“Relax, your royal highness,” Rio teased, her voice as light as her touch. “I’ve got it all planned. Besides, you’ve got that fancy coat—shouldn’t you be perfectly insulated? Come on, I’ll even buy your fare. How’s that for chivalry?”

Agatha sighed, playing up her reluctance though she couldn’t keep the fondness out of her voice as she relented. “Fine, but only because you’re cute.”

The pleased flush on Rio’s cheeks was unmistakable, and Agatha felt a small thrill of satisfaction.

“And because I’m incredibly charming,” Rio quipped as they descended the steps.

Agatha hummed thoughtfully. “Debatable,” she said, though the faint smile on her lips betrayed her. As their hands brushed, she thought about how Rio’s confidence could make even braving the L seem oddly appealing. Maybe.

It was not appealing.

The train ride had been every bit as unpleasant as Agatha had anticipated—a cacophony of bodies, erratic movements, and questionable personal hygiene choices. But she’d played along gamely resolved not to let it ruin the evening.

She sidestepped a harried woman clutching an unruly bouquet of decorative branches, murmuring a polite apology even though the branches had nearly smacked her in the face. She waited, arms folded, while Rio helped an elderly woman with a pushcart down the stairs, her patience rewarded by Rio’s easy grin when she rejoined her. Chivalrous indeed. And Agatha valiantly kept her nausea in check as the train lurched violently from stop to stop, swaying on her feet with each jerky movement.

Still, there was one redeeming facet about the whole ordeal, the proximity in which it brought Rio to her.

After she’d stumbled on their first departure, Rio had stepped in behind her, her hand steadying her by the waist. The firm pressure, the warmth of Rio’s body pressed close—it was grounding, reassuring. She found herself leaning into it slightly, even as she feigned indifference. That part of the trip wasn’t bad at all.

Agatha didn’t complain further as they disembarked and began weaving through the chilly downtown streets, though she did let her skepticism start to show.

When The Art Institute came into view, flanked by its iconic bronze lions, her step faltered. The sight was unexpected, and her earlier irritation dissipated like a stubborn cold fog burned away by the sun.

“I haven’t been here in ages,” she said, the surprise softening her voice more than she intended.

It had been at least a year or two since she’d been at a charity function held here. And the last time she’d been just for pleasure? She couldn’t remember.

Rio smirked, pulling two tickets from her jacket pocket with a flourish. “For the record, I thought this was better than the hot dog-in-a-park idea.”

Agatha’s laugh bubbled up, warm and genuine, as she tilted her head to appraise her date. “Well done, you.”

She shouldn’t have been worried. Rio was ever considerate and charming. Of course, she’d planned something she knew Agatha would enjoy.

Inside, the museum’s hushed atmosphere enveloped them, the polished floors echoing softly with the measured rhythm of their steps. Agatha looped her arm through Rio’s, the gesture instinctive and natural, as if they’d walked together like this dozens of times.

Agatha stood just inside the entrance to the first gallery, her arms loosely crossed as her eyes wandered over the paintings. 

“I’ve got to say,” Agatha began, her tone light and teasing, “I didn’t peg you for someone who enjoys museums. Seems like too much being still for your liking.”

Rio smirked, barely turning her head. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Oh, you’ve proven that,” Agatha replied, stepping closer to her. “But really, what’s the story here? Did you secretly minor in art history, or are you just trying to impress me?”

Rio chuckled, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets. “Neither. My mom used to paint. Nothing fancy—mostly flowers. She liked to bring me to museums sometimes, so I guess I got used to it.”

Agatha blinked, caught off guard by the genuine softness in Rio’s voice. She could suddenly picture a younger version of her being gently tugged through galleries by her mother. “That’s… unexpectedly wholesome,” she admitted. "Was she any good?"

Rio shrugged, but there was a faint smile on her lips. “No. But she told me being good wasn't the point. It was about doing it because she wanted to. She wanted me to ‘appreciate culture.’ What she got was a kid who spent more time escaping to the gift shop than looking at the art.”

Agatha laughed, her amusement warm. “Well, that’s still better than my art phase. I took a whole appreciation class in college.”

“Yeah?” Rio asked, glancing at her with curiosity.

“Oh, yes,” Agatha said with a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over her heart. “It was a formative experience.” She paused for effect, letting her smirk grow. “Not because I remember anything about art, mind you. But the professor—Dr. Carter—was distractingly gorgeous. I appreciated her quite a bit. She always wore these perfectly tailored blazers and had this commanding way of talking about brushstrokes.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Commanding, huh?”

“Completely,” Agatha replied, her voice dropping into a mock-serious tone. “I still have no idea what makes a balanced composition, but I could write you an essay about her hands with plenty of citations.”

Rio laughed, the sound warm and rich echoing off the walls. “That sounds about right for you.”

“Hey,” Agatha said with mock indignation, her eyes sparkling with humor. “I may have been a terrible student, but I can still appreciate beautiful things.” She flicked her eyes over Rio and gave her a cheeky grin.

Rio’s gaze softened as she caught Agatha’s meaning. “You’re pretty charming when you talk like that, you know.”

Agatha’s smirk widened as she stepped closer. “So I’ve been told.”

Rio shook her head, reaching out to take Agatha’s hand. “Come on,” she said, her thumb brushing over Agatha’s knuckles.

They wandered through gallery after gallery, but it was the Impressionist wing that gave them both pause. She stopped in front of Monet’s Water Lilies, her gaze tracing the tranquil brushstrokes, the blending of light and color.

“Let me guess,” she said, turning her head just enough to catch Rio’s profile. “You saw Ferris Bueller’s Day Off as a kid, didn’t you? The museum scenes made quite an… impression?”

Rio’s sheepish grin confirmed her suspicions. “Guilty as charged. But in my defense, I’ve always had a thing for hard-to-get girls with amazing hair.”

Agatha arched a brow, unable to suppress her amusement. “Amazing hair?”

Rio nodded solemnly, though the growing grin betrayed her. “Uncontrollable, wild. Drives me crazy.”

Agatha leaned in slightly, lowering her voice into a soft, teasing murmur. “Oh? And do you have a thing for women with expensive taste and a penchant for the dramatic, too?”

Rio laughed, the sound warm and deep, like a fireplace on a winter’s night. “Absolutely.”

Agatha let herself be drawn into the kiss, their lips meeting slowly, deliberately, as if they were in their own private gallery.

For a moment, she forgot the faint scent of old varnish and the soft sound of distant footsteps. She forgot her usual reservations about public displays of affection. This felt different. With Rio, everything was.

The sudden clearing of a throat behind them jolted her back to reality. Agatha pulled away, her cheeks flushing as she glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes registered the all-too-familiar figure of her ex-wife standing just a few feet away. 

Her stomach twisted—not in the sharp pang of anger she once might’ve felt but in the dull, irritating weight of annoyance.

“Well, well,” Ashley said, her voice cutting through the gallery’s hushed atmosphere like a blade. “Imagine my surprise, running into you here, Agatha.”

Agatha straightened her posture, her face smoothing into cool indifference. It wasn’t worth a scene, especially not with Rio here. She wasn’t going to let Ashley ruin her night. “Ashley.”

Rio moved closer, her presence grounding Agatha. She felt the warmth of Rio’s shoulder brushing hers and was struck by how calm she felt.

Ashley’s eyes darted briefly to Rio before snapping back to Agatha, her lips curling into a thin smile. “It’s been a while. I see you’re still keeping busy.”

Agatha’s jaw tensed, but her voice remained calm, detached. “I could say the same for you. What brings you to the museum? I didn’t realize you left your house unless it was for a photo op.”

She couldn’t resist at least a small dig.

Ashley’s smile sharpened, her eyes gleaming with that familiar magnetic energy Agatha had once fallen for—and now found entirely exhausting. “Cute. I have a reception here later. But I thought I’d take a few quiet moments to reconnect with the classics. A bit like seeing old friends, wouldn’t you agree?”

The barb hung in the air, and Rio bristled beside her, shifting as though ready to speak. Agatha gave her a small shake of her head, subtle but firm. It wasn’t worth it.

“Enjoy reconnecting, then,” Agatha said curtly, her voice clipped but calm. “We’re finished here. With this wing.”

She turned without another glance, walking away with Rio at her side. She felt Ashley’s gaze lingering like the unpleasant residue the subway had left on her boots, but she didn’t care.

As they moved into the next gallery, Rio pulled Agatha closer to her side. Agatha sighed softly, her fingers grazing over the back of Rio’s hand—a quiet reassurance meant for both of them.

“Rio,” Agatha said gently, tilting her head to catch her gaze. “She’s not worth it.”

Rio’s jaw tightened, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. “I don’t like the way she talks to you. Like she’s better. She isn’t.” Her voice was low, simmering with barely restrained anger.

“She’s not better,” Agatha said lightly, shrugging as if to dismiss the whole thing. “That’s just the sad part—she thinks she is. But you know better. So do I. She’s not worth it.”

Rio stopped in front of a small painting of a ship caught in a storm. Her gaze lingered on it before flicking back to Agatha. “I still don’t get it. She cheated on you, was fucking embezzling funds, and somehow you ended up taking the blame? And now she still gets to waltz in and act like she’s doing you a favor by even saying hello?”

Agatha shook her head, bemused by Rio’s indignation. She was so fiery when it came to protecting her, and it was… charming, honestly. But she didn’t want Rio to lose focus on their night. “It’s not as complicated as you think. She’s just the kind of person who can’t stand not having the upper hand. It’s why I just walked away. That’s how I won, Rio.”

Rio let out a sharp breath, her gaze fierce. “She owes you,” she muttered, her words biting. “She knows she does. And she still treats you like garbage.”

Agatha laughed softly, catching Rio’s eye with a steadying look. “She’s bitter. And I’m sure she hates that I’m happy.” She leaned in, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Really, she’s given me the perfect excuse to remind myself how lucky I am to have upgraded.”

Rio’s tense expression softened, a reluctant chuckle breaking through. “You’re too good at spinning things.”

Agatha’s smile widened, her voice dropping to a warm murmur. “It’s not spinning when it’s the truth.”

Rio’s thumb brushed over her knuckles again, and she shook her head, her tone softening. “She doesn’t deserve to have even a second of your time.”

“She doesn’t,” Agatha agreed, squeezing Rio’s hand. “But you do. So, come on—there’s a Degas in the next gallery I’ve been dying to see. Let’s not let her ruin the date, hm?”

Rio nodded, allowing Agatha to tug her along. As they wandered through the gallery, the encounter with Ashley faded into the background. Agatha wasn’t going to let her ex distract her from the one person she wanted to focus on tonight.

The restaurant Rio had picked was a surprise, tucked into a quiet street that Agatha wouldn’t have given a second glance to otherwise. Inside was a chaotic mix of mismatched furniture and shouts between the line cooks. It wasn’t her usual kind of place, but then, Rio wasn’t her usual kind of date.

Agatha stepped inside, giving the space an appraising look as Rio held the door open for her.

“Very rustic,” she quipped.

She couldn’t help her smile when Rio grinned back, completely undeterred. “Don’t let the looks fool you. They make the best pizza in the city. I know everyone says that about their favorite place. But trust me.”

Agatha didn’t need convincing—Rio had chosen it and so she already knew she’d like it here, despite herself.

As they settled into a booth, Agatha slipped off her coat and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she studied Rio. She looked relaxed and at ease, her fingers drumming absently on the table as she flagged down a server. Agatha smirked, her words cutting through the din between them. “You know, it’s starting to feel unfair. We keep running into my annoying ex, but where are yours? I feel like I’m being deprived of a real bonding experience here.”

The way Rio laughed, unabashed and loud, made Agatha smile again.

“You’d know if you had,” Rio said, her grin lopsided. “I’d probably have a drink dumped on me.”

Agatha leaned back, crossing her arms with a smirk. “So you were a lousy boyfriend?”

She was teasing, but part of her was curious. Rio’s casual confidence made it hard to imagine her fumbling relationships.

“I mean… not always,” Rio admitted, her laugh turning sheepish as she ran a hand through her hair. “But I haven’t been the best partner in the past.”

Agatha tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh? Tell me more. Or is this where you pull the ‘it’s ancient history’ card?”

She watched Rio carefully as she ordered, noticing the subtle shift in her expression when the server left. It was so rare to see Rio anything less than fully composed, and Agatha leaned in slightly, her curiosity outweighing her usual restraint.

Rio’s casual tone faltered slightly. “My last long-term relationship ended when I left school. Wasn’t on good terms, though.”

The way Rio’s gaze darted to the window didn’t escape her. Agatha stayed quiet, giving Rio the space to fill the silence.

“Oh, you know. The usual, we wanted different things,” Rio continued her voice carefully even. “Or maybe I just didn’t know how to give her what she needed because I was caught up with myself. Either way, it didn’t end well. I left, and… that was that.”

Agatha’s brow furrowed, and she searched Rio’s face. That was familiar. Perhaps not unexpected. Sometimes young love did just… grow apart. But there was something deeper there, a hesitation that made her wonder what Rio wasn’t saying. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, you know.” She said gently.

Rio’s laugh was soft, almost disbelieving. “Oh? You’ve known me for what, a few months? You think you’ve got me all figured out?”

“Pretty much,” Agatha said breezily, her smirk returning. “And what I see is someone who cares a lot more than they let on. Probably too much, if I had to guess.”

Like me.

That drew a real smile out of Rio, though there was still a guarded edge in her eyes. Agatha could see the effort it took for Rio to open up, and she didn’t want to push too hard.

“Well. I’ve worked on myself a lot since. Back then, there was a lot… happening at once.”

Agatha was careful and quiet, mindful not to push too hard. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Rio glanced at her, a small, almost self-conscious smile playing at the corners of her lips before she sighed.

“My parents passed away,” she said quietly, and the weight of the words hit Agatha full-on.

“It was… sudden. They were on their first-ever overseas trip. Big milestone for them, you know? They’d always talked about traveling once they retired, and they finally decided to just do it. I should’ve been happy for them.”

Agatha’s heart twisted, her hand instinctively reaching across the table to rest on Rio’s arm. She had known loss, but not like that—not so sudden. “What happened?”

“They were on a bus tour,” Rio said, her voice tightening. “There was an accident. Driver lost control, went off the road.”

Agatha’s breath hitched. She couldn’t imagine carrying that kind of grief. When her parents had each passed, she’d at least known it was coming. She’d had plenty of time to prepare her reactions and to sequester her emotions. “Rio…”

Rio shook her head quickly like she was trying to shake the weight off. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but it’s been a while now. I just… I wasn’t on good terms with them when it happened. We’d fought before they left. Stupid stuff—them worrying I wasn’t taking life seriously enough. I said some things I regret. And then they were gone. Just like that.”

Agatha’s hand tightened on Rio’s arm. She didn’t say anything for a moment, letting the words settle between them.

“That’s a lot to carry,” she said softly.

Rio nodded, her gaze distant. “I didn’t handle it well. I didn’t handle anything well back then. I was a mess. Drinking too much, skipping classes, shutting people out. Amber—my girlfriend at the time—she tried to help. Gave me this big ultimatum to get it together or lose her.”

“And?” Agatha asked, her voice quieter now.

Rio’s laugh was bitter and self-deprecating. “I gave up. Told her it’d be easier if she just left. And she did. Can’t really blame her.”

Agatha studied her. She wanted to tell her that it wasn’t fair, that she’d been too young to have to handle something so massive on her own. But she knew Rio didn’t need pity, perhaps understanding would do.

“You’ve been through a lot,” Agatha said instead, her voice firm. “And maybe you weren’t perfect, but you’re not giving yourself enough credit. You’re here now. You’re showing up.”

I can’t even begin to tell you what it means, how you’ve shown up for me.

Rio’s faint smile met her eyes, softening the edges of her tension. “I’m trying.”

“Well,” Agatha said, letting her smirk return, “you’re doing a pretty damn good job of it. This is pretty damn good pizza.”

The laugh that bubbled out of Rio was warmer this time, and Agatha felt herself relax as the world around them lightened.

“Told you so. It’s the best.”

“I’m glad you’ve caught on,” Agatha quipped, raising her beer. “Because I don’t settle for less than the best.”

Rio met her toast with a soft laugh, and Agatha felt a quiet kind of satisfaction bloom in her chest. Whatever shadows they each carried, if they couldn’t dispel them completely, they could be managed together.

The chill of the night clung to them as they stood outside Agatha’s door, their breath visible and lingering air. Agatha fumbled with her keys, her gloved fingers awkward against the metal. She could feel Rio’s presence beside her, an electric thrum had settled between them ever since dinner.

Agatha huffed, pausing mid-turn. The cold was biting at her skin, and this whole situation was teetering on absurd. “Alright, this is ridiculous. It’s freezing. Do you want to come in for a nightcap, or what?”

Her voice came out a little sharper than she’d intended, maybe it was just the cold making her words crisp, but Rio didn’t seem to mind. 

Leaning casually against the iron railing, Rio tucked her hands into her jacket pockets, a teasing glint in her eyes that warmed Agatha’s cheeks. “A nightcap, huh? Sounds tempting, but I’m pretty sure we agreed on rules. Rules around escalating?”

Agatha turned to face her, one brow arched as a coy smile played on her lips. She didn’t miss the slight hitch in Rio’s breath as their eyes met. “Oh, please. I’m a lady, Rio. I would never put out before at least the third date.”

She definitely had, but this was different. And Agatha was finding that the chase, the anticipation, was its own kind of fun.

Rio snorted, “Yeah? That so?”

“Absolutely.” Agatha flipped her hair over her shoulder, exaggerating the motion for effect. “I have standards, thank you very much.”

“Well, in that case,” Rio said, her voice trailing into mock seriousness as she straightened up, “I guess one drink wouldn’t hurt.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, “Come on, then, before you come down with pneumonia again.”

The warm glow of the entry lights spilled over them as they stepped inside. Agatha shrugged off her coat, hanging it neatly by the door. She caught Rio’s gaze lingering on her, a flicker of something unreadable in those warm eyes. In this light they almost looked bronze. Agatha forced herself to keep moving, heading toward the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll get the drinks.”

“Got anything specific in mind, or is this one of those ‘whatever’s open’ kind of nightcaps?” Rio’s voice carried easily through the room, the teasing lilt making Agatha smile despite herself.

“Please,” Agatha replied, her voice dripping with mock offense. “Do I seem like the kind of person who just has ‘whatever’ open? I’ve got options, always.”

Rio’s laugh came again, soft and rich. “Of course, you do.”

A moment later, Agatha returned with two glasses of amber liquid, handing one to Rio before settling onto the couch beside her. The heat from their proximity was immediate, a welcome contrast to the night outside. “Whiskey. Neat. Figured it was fitting.”

Rio raised her glass, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Fitting for what?”

Agatha met her gaze, feeling a surge of boldness. “For a nightcap.”

They clinked their glasses, the soft sound echoing in the quiet room. Agatha took a sip, savoring the warmth spreading through her chest. She felt Rio’s eyes on her, a weight that wasn’t oppressive but undeniably there.

“So,” Rio began, swirling the whiskey in her glass, amusement gleaming in her eyes, “now that the date’s over, I have to ask: how’d I do? Out of five stars.”

Agatha arched a brow, pretending to consider the question. “You want me to rate the date? Bold of you.”

“I’m confident,” Rio shot back, leaning into the couch with a teasing smirk. “I think I nailed it.”

“Alright,” Agatha said, tapping her chin as though deep in thought. “I’ll give you... four and a half stars.”

Rio gasped, clutching her chest theatrically. “Four and a half? What knocked me down from a perfect five?”

“We took the freezing L instead of my warm car,” Agatha replied smoothly, her lips twitching with suppressed laughter. “That’s a half-star deduction.”

Rio chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Just honest,” Agatha quipped.

“Okay, Miss Honest,” Rio said, “While we’re on the subject of milestones... what date are we talking for a solid make-out session? Third? Fifth?”

Agatha nearly choked on her whiskey, laughter spilling out of her as she set her glass down. “Oh, so now you’re worried about policies? Very formal of you.”

Now. Now is good. Fuck the “policies”. They were a stupid idea.

“I like to know where I stand,” Rio teased, her grin widening. “I’m just trying to be a respectful date.”

Agatha leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a softer, more teasing tone. “Respectful, huh? Well, if you must know...”

She let the sentence hang in the air, the tension palpable before she tilted her head and kissed Rio. Her hands found the collar of Rio’s shirt, pulling her closer. Rio responded eagerly, her hands threading through Agatha’s hair as though she’d been waiting for this all night.

Maybe she had.

When they finally broke apart, Agatha smirked, though her cheeks were faintly flushed. “Did that answer your question?”

Rio blinked, looking a little dazed but utterly delighted. “Uh, I rate this... five stars. Definitely five stars.”

“Shut up,” Agatha murmured, pulling Rio in for another kiss.

Their kiss deepened, unhurried and deliberate, as though they were etching the moment into memory. As if inspired by the art, they were collaborating on a new canvas. Rio’s hands hovered for a second before finding their way to Agatha’s waist. 

Each brush of her lips lingered on Rio’s, the kiss slow, almost hesitant, as if searching for something just out of reach. It wasn’t just passion—it was something deeper, a question she wasn’t sure how to voice, but felt so clearly in every touch. 

You feel right. This is perfect. I could do this forever. Could you?

Agatha wanted to ask, needed to ask, but didn’t know how. It was hard to pull her thoughts together when every brush of Rio’s body against hers only seemed to draw her closer to insanity. She wondered if she should start seeing a cardiologist.

When Rio’s hand cradled her jaw, Agatha felt herself melt into the touch, her body instinctively leaning forward, needing to be closer. She wove her fingers into Rio’s hair, holding on as if terrified that if she let go, everything would disappear. Each breath was a struggle, a desperate gasp for air only when absolutely necessary.

She was consuming, be consumed. She couldn’t get enough.

It physically pained her to be the one to pull away first. She caught the flush on Rio’s wet lips, the way her hair had been messied from Agatha’s touch. She longed to kiss her again. To see how swollen her lips could get. She wanted to feel them everywhere.

But before she could say as much, Rio’s laugh broke the silence, shaky and uncertain. “Okay... I have to leave right now. Like, right now.”

Agatha tilted her head, watching the way Rio’s voice faltered. But for once, she wasn’t carrying any insecurity, Rio had long kissed that away. Her lips curled into a knowing, smug smile. “Why’s that?”

“Because,” Rio said, her voice low, uneven, “if I stay here any longer, I’m going to break all of our rules. And I’m trying to be the respectful date, remember?”

Agatha just looked at her for a long moment, her fingers playing with the collar of Rio’s shirt absently. She could feel the tension between them, the challenge in her own smile. She knew she could undo Rio, knew that a single word, a single gesture, could pull her deeper.

If she said so, she could have Rio in her bed.

And for a moment, Agatha thought she might. But instead, she leaned in again, pressing her lips softly to Rio’s, before she pulled back.

It wasn’t surrender. Not entirely. It was a choice—a concession, letting Rio go, even if just for now. Sticking to the plan. It would be worth the wait.

Agatha met Rio’s eyes, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. You win this round.”

Rio grinned, though her hands were unsteady as she reached for her coat. “Don’t think I’m not counting down to the third date, though.”

Me too.

Agatha chuckled, as she walked with her to the door. “Good. I like a little anticipation.”

She watched Rio disappear into the night, and Agatha’s breath caught for a moment, a sense of longing stirring in her chest. Third date, huh?

As the door clicked shut behind her, Agatha leaned against the frame, a small smile playing on her lips. She could hardly wait.

Soon she’d have Rio’s hands on her. But until then, she thought as she quickly climbed the stairs to her room, her own would have to do.

Chapter Text

It had been the kind of week that made Agatha question why she still worked at all. She didn’t need to. Her investments were sound. As long as she never exceeded a nine percent withdrawal rate each year they would just keep growing year after year. She had no dependents to worry about leaving behind to and had arranged years ago with her estate planner that any assets upon her death would be distributed among a few of her pet projects and causes.

Savvy financial types always claimed that making your first million bucks was that hardest. After that turning one million to five, or five to ten, it all became a “rounding error” at that point. It was sickening that they were right.

When she’d received her inheritance after her mother’s death, the lawyer had claimed that “as long as you put your money to work for you, you’ll never have to work again.” But then what? The thought of living a life off the money that her mother had always hung over her head had revolted her to the point that as soon as the lawyer left, she didn’t even make it to the bathroom. She’d retched in the kitchen sink.

So no, she didn’t have to work to make ends meet. But she did have to in order to be able to look at herself without disgust. But this week had tested that conviction. The only beacon in a sea of frustrations was knowing that it was Saturday, and she’d get to see Rio after her brunch shift. 

When she’d received her text, “Hey. Hate to ask, but can we raincheck?” she’d felt the clouds come rolling back in, steady as a summer fog in San Francisco.

What’s wrong?

Are you alright?

She responded quickly, Rio wasn’t one to cancel last minute, it meant that she’d likely had a bad day as well. 

It’s nothing serious. Just a really shitty shift. I think I just need to rot on the couch tonight.

Agatha frowned as she noted that this was the difference between them. Rio didn’t have the luxury of not working, the security of being able to say at any point, “Fuck it, I’m done.” Agatha had another advantage too, despite the annoyances of the week, she still liked what she did for work. Primarily because she liked doing things that she was good at.

She wished Rio could say the same. It was deeply unfair that the gulf between her success and Rio’s “barely scraping by” was so wide purely out of circumstance. But if she couldn’t bridge that gap fiscally which she knew Rio wouldn’t allow, perhaps she could do so with her support. Like a partner should.

They hadn’t talked about that word, not explicitly. But Agatha didn’t feel that they needed to. There was an extra windbreaker on the hook by her door, they’d become regulars at the breakfast spot halfway between her office and Rio’s apartment, Rio had even teased her that if she sent any more flowers she’d start selling tickets to Chicago’s newest botanical garden.

So, she replied as a good partner should, offering a lowkey night of reality tv and wine on the couch but with no additional pressure.

It had started that way as they relaxed together teasing about the poor strategy of the players on the screen. Agatha was finishing some revisions on a contract, hoping that by keeping her focus split, Rio would feel free to talk as much or as little as she wanted. She wanted her to feel at home in this house, and if all she wanted was to “rot on the couch” her sectional was certainly more spacious and comfortable.

Perhaps that had been her mistake, bringing her work home with her, letting Rio meet the efficient no no-nonsense side of herself. It was a cruelty that the traits that made her so good at her job were the same ones that infuriated her partners in the past. Apparently, her present partner as well.

Truly, she hadn’t meant anything by it.

Rio had mentioned something about her job being soul crushing. Agatha still in “fix it” mode after a week of solving other people’s problems, had pushed her winning streak a little too far.

“Well, you’ve got what, a semester left of school? Go do that.” She didn’t mean anything by it. It was an observation, not a critique. Rio took it poorly all the same.

“Yeah, okay,” she scoffed.

Agatha felt her posture change and looked up over the rim of her glasses. “What? I’m serious.”

“Well, I’m not. I’m just venting.”

Her next words came out on autopilot, a phrase she’d used with her subordinates at least a dozen times this week to spur them into action. “Venting or whining?”

Fuck. It was the absolute worst thing she could have said. Fine for an employee to hear, but a terrible choice of words for a partner.

Rio gave her no opportunity for a clarification or a retraction.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked, leaning further away as if to brace herself for an incoming teardown.

Damage control. That’s what she needed to do right now. Make it better before it got worse.

Agatha closed her laptop to give her full attention to Rio. She’d be gentle but candid. Rio liked that about her, she’d said as much. 

“It means you’re better than this, Rio. You’ve got a degree in journalism almost finished and instead of getting it done, you’re stuck serving mimosas to people who don’t even say thank you.”

She smiled kindly, but Rio didn’t meet her eyes.

“If you hate it so much, then change it.”

It was an oversimplification of course. But what Agatha meant as a reassurance一 I’m here, I can help, let’s figure this out一 was unfortunately received by Rio as a challenge. Her posture grew defensive as if she needed to shield herself.

“Oh, it’s just that easy, huh? I just waltz back into school like nothing happened, like I didn’t drop out mid-semester after my life went to hell. They’d welcome me back with open arms no questions asked. Sure,” Rio said cooly, her tone harsher than Agatha had heard before.

Agatha took the venom and again tried to distill it into an antidote.

“It is that easy.” I should lay out a plan. She’s just overwhelmed. This is something I can help with. “You reapply, get back in the program, and finish what you started. A semester, Rio. That’s all it would take to get your degree. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

A couple of months is all it would take. In that same amount of time, you’ve totally changed my course for the better. Let’s do the same for you.

Rio remained guarded, poking her tongue into her cheek as if she were shoving away the words she actually wanted to say. “You make it sound like I can just snap my fingers and fix everything.” 

Her voice was rising now, her words rushing together, and Agatha a professional spiraler herself could see the signs of her spinning out.

“What about the fact I can barely make rent as it is? I’d have to cut my hours down to go back, pay for classes, textbooks, everything. Do you think schools just hand out degrees for free?”

Agatha smiled and sighed in relief, thankful that the crux of this issue was easy to solve. If it was simply about money, there was no need for them to dwell on this any longer. She said as much, “If cost is the issue, I’ll cover it. That’s not a problem.”

But rather than relief,  Rio’s eyes flashed in a way she didn’t understand. “Excuse me?” Rio asked cooly.

Agatha blinked. Maybe she hadn’t been clear. She wanted Rio to relax, this was an easy fix, there was no need for her to be coiled around herself protectively so far from where Agatha sat on the opposite end of the sofa.

“I’m just saying, if money’s the barrier, I can handle it. There’s no reason for you to keep punishing yourself when I can help.” If money is keeping you from your happiness then it’s money well spent.

“I don’t need your help.” 

The words hit hard enough they might as well have been accompanied by a slap. But Agatha was undeterred, she knew she could make her see. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re making this harder on yourself. Why? Out of pride?”

Before she could assess further, Rio shot back, “Because I’m not some charity case!”

She stood abruptly and Agatha did too, half afraid she was going to storm out the door.

“You don’t get it, Agatha. You’re at a point where you can just throw money at problems until they go away, but not everyone gets to live like that.”

Agatha flinched, and bit her tongue, taking a moment to gather her composure. 

“That’s not fair, and you know it. I’m trying to help because I care about you. Why is that so wrong?”

Sure, it’s my money but your problems become mine. Why is it wrong to want to use every tool I have to build your happiness?

“Because I don’t want to owe you.” Rio was pacing now, and Agatha was torn between reaching for her and gathering the fragmented bits of her heart that had shattered to the floor. There wasn’t a world in which she imagined debts between them, everything she had to offer was freely given.

That’s what they had agreed upon.

Agatha stood in the center of the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she watched Rio pace. The sharp edge to Rio’s voice cut through the space, but it was the crack beneath the words that stuck in her ears. The admission— I don’t want to owe you —landed like a rock in her stomach.

Her first instinct was to argue, to speak sense into her, but watching Rio rake her hands through her hair like she was barely holding herself together, stopped her. Agatha didn’t know whether to feel pity or frustration, but the latter quickly won out when Rio kept talking.

“I don’t want to feel like I’m only worth something because you decided to fix me. You think I’ve never tried to claw my way out of this mess? Every time I start to, something else drags me back down. And yeah, maybe I don’t have all the answers right now, but I’m figuring it out.”

“Figuring it out?” she shot back, the disbelief rising in her chest. “You just admitted you don’t have a plan. How long are you going to keep spinning your wheels like this?”

The minute the words left her mouth, she regretted them. The defensiveness on Rio’s face was instant, and Agatha knew she’d stepped onto uneven ground. Too harsh, she thought. But before she could temper it, Rio snapped, firing back with a ferocity that matched Agatha’s disbelief.

“Because it’s my life, Agatha. I don’t need you swooping in to save me like some goddamn knight in shining armor. I don’t need you paying my bills and dressing me up so that you can bear to be seen in public with me. I’ve been on my own since even before I was actually alone—I’ve only ever had myself to rely on. You don’t know what that’s like.”

The words stung more than they should have. Is that really what she thinks of me? Still? Agatha’s jaw clenched, a heat rising in her cheeks. Her mind raced, trying to balance the pulse of her own emotions with the weight driving Rio’s outburst. She hated feeling like the bad guy when all she’d wanted was to help.

She hated that it all felt too familiar.

Rio’s final words— You don’t know what that’s like —landed like a kick to the stomach. Agatha opened her mouth to argue, but she faltered. She’d always prided herself on keeping control, on being the someone people, if they wouldn’t love her, could rely on. But Rio had touched something raw as if she’d known exactly where her most tender bruise was hidden.

“You’re partly right, I don’t know what your situation is like,” she finally managed, the sharpness in her voice replaced by something softer. She hated the vulnerability creeping in, hated that Rio’s anger forced her to reveal even this much. “But I do know what it feels like to be fighting a lot of battles yourself. Maybe if you let someone in, just once, you wouldn’t have to do it alone.”

She was trying to meet Rio halfway, but Rio’s frustration came boomeranging back. “That’s rich coming from you. Maybe you’d have an easier time if you weren’t constantly juggling a hundred different versions of yourself and you were just honest with people.”

Her face flushed hot with anger and a touch of humiliation. Out of instinct, her defenses shot up, her voice dropping into the icy tone she used in negotiations when someone crossed the line. “What do you mean by that?”

Rio didn’t hesitate, and Agatha wasn’t ready for the flood of accusations that followed. Each one chipped away at her carefully built armor, leaving her exposed.

“I mean you act like you’ve got it all together, but you’re just as much of a mess as I am. The difference is you’re better at hiding it. You’ve got this big house, your fancy job, and your take-charge attitude, but let’s not pretend you’re actually happy. You keep everyone at arm’s length, Agatha. You swoop in with your wallet and your quick fixes and your stupid charming words because it’s easier than actually being vulnerable.”

Agatha’s nails dug into her arms as she crossed them tighter. Her pulse raced with the urge to retaliate, to throw something equally cutting back at Rio, but she couldn’t. Not because Rio was wrong— God, was she right? —but because it was too much truth all at once. She didn’t know how to answer without falling apart.

But she had to try. This fight wouldn’t end like the others. It couldn’t. Rio wasn’t like them . 

Agatha took a careful step forward, her arms still crossed. “Careful, Rio. You’re treading into territory you don’t understand.”

“Oh, I think I understand just fine,” Rio said lowly. “You’re not doing this for me—you’re doing this to feel better about yourself. So you can tell yourself you’re generous, that you’re helping. But you don’t actually care what I want or need, because it’s not about me. It’s about control. You can’t stand the idea of someone not needing you.”

Then Rio said the thing that finally broke her composure.

“Is that why you still give your ex the time of day? Because you crave the attention even if it’s just in the form of some fucked up power game?”

The words might as well have swept her legs out from under her, and Agatha instinctively stepped back, her eyes narrowing as the initial wave of pain was replaced by the kind of anger that can only be caused by new lacerations into old scarred wounds. Her voice came out steady, but each word was deliberate, a warning: “That wasn’t okay.”

The silence was thick, Rio’s regret written all over her face as she apologized. But it didn’t matter. Agatha drew herself up taller, her stare freezing Rio in place. “Do not go there again.”

She wanted to yell, to scream, to cry about how unfair that comment was, but she didn’t. She’d continue to be honest, it couldn’t possibly hurt more at this point.

“I’m sorry, Agatha一”

“For the record, I do care about you,” she said instead, her voice brittle with restraint. “But I’m not going to stand here and be attacked because you can’t handle the idea of someone giving a damn about you.”

“Giving a damn doesn’t mean steamrolling me,” Rio replied quickly. “You can’t just throw money at my problems and expect me to roll over and thank you for it. That’s not how this works. I’ve had to fight for everything I’ve got, and yeah, maybe it’s not much, but I earned it and it’s mine. I don’t want to be someone’s project. I’m not broken, Agatha.”

Her frustration boiled over, her words rushing out like a dam breaking. How could she be so blind? How could Rio twist everything good she’d offered into something ugly? She didn’t know what was worse—the sting of Rio’s rejection or the fact that she still wanted to fight for her, even now.

“No, but you are stubborn. Stubborn to the point of self-sabotage.” I know because so am I. “ You’re so determined to prove you can do it alone that you’d rather suffer than let someone help you,” she said, her voice trembling now. “That’s not strength, Rio. That’s pride, and believe me, because I know, it’s going to cost you.”

She finally stepped forward, her voice softer now, her eyes searching Rio’s, she let the unspoken words hang in the air between them: You’re worth it. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you let me show you?

Rio’s eyes burned, but she refused to look away. Agatha could see the fire there, could feel it in the air between them. Yet, it wasn’t the kind of fire that warmed—it scorched, threatening to consume them both.

“Maybe it will,” Rio said her voice like a challenge. “But at least I’ll know it was on my terms.”

The words stung, sharp as broken glass, but Agatha forced herself to stay grounded. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she took a slow, steadying breath. This wasn’t about winning; this was about cutting through the walls Rio had built around herself.

Just as Rio had modeled so many times; she could return the favor.

“You’re right,” she said, her voice still trembling with frustration she fought to contain. “You don’t owe me anything. But don’t you dare twist this into some kind of power play. I offered to help because I care about you. Not because I think you’re incapable, and definitely not because I want to control you.”

Her chest ached as she watched Rio look away. Rio’s jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists, and Agatha couldn’t tell if her words had struck a nerve or simply ricocheted off the new barrier between them.

The silence hung heavy, and Agatha sighed, a mixture of exasperation and hurt. “You want to do it on your own? Fine. But don’t punish me for trying to be there for you. That’s not fair.”

She hated the way her voice wavered, the way her emotions bled through despite her attempts to keep them in check. This wasn’t how she wanted this to go, but she couldn’t seem to stop the tide of words from spilling out.

Rio’s response was so quiet, that Agatha almost missed it. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

It was the crack in Rio’s armor, subtle but unmistakable, and Agatha seized it. She let her thoughts pour out unfiltered and ture.

“Like what, Rio? That you’re worth it? That you’re so incredibly strong and resilient and brave when you shouldn’t have had to be?” 

The words rushed out, each one heavy with emotion, but her voice grew steadier as she spoke. 

“Can I say that I think you deserve the world? Am I wrong for wanting to give you everything I have?”

She moved toward Rio, her feet carrying her forward before she even realized it. Her hand lifted, instinctive and gentle, to cup Rio’s cheek. Keeping her touch light, careful.

“Listen to me. None of what has happened to you is your fault. But if you don’t do anything about it, if you don’t let people who love you help you, whatever happens next is.”

Agatha’s pulse hammered as Rio’s eyes met hers, glistening with unshed tears. One wrong move, one wrong word, and Rio might retreat completely.

When Rio finally spoke, her voice was raw, stripped bare. “People who love me? You… YOu don’t mean that.”

The question cut deep, and Agatha swallowed hard, her thumb brushing lightly against Rio’s jaw as she searched for the right response. “Of course I mean it. Do you think I’d be standing here, fighting with you, if I didn’t? I wouldn’t waste my time or yours.”

She saw the disbelief flicker across Rio’s face, followed by the bitter laugh that escaped her lips. “You don’t love me, Agatha. You’re just saying that because you don’t know what else to say.”

The words were a blow, but Agatha didn’t flinch. She straightened her spine, her voice steady and firm as she replied. “Don’t tell me how I feel. You don’t get to decide that for me. You know I… care deeply about you.”

If she’d not ready to hear it, I won’t say it again. But as soon as she is ready, I’m never going to stop.

She hesitated, “I don’t want to fix you, Rio. I don’t think you’re broken. But I do think you’re worth fighting for. And if that’s a problem for you, then maybe you need to figure out why.”

As Rio’s throat bobbed and her gaze dropped, Agatha could see the struggle written plainly on her face. For all of Rio’s strength and stubbornness, this was the source of her fear.

Rio’s voice cracked as she admitted, “I don’t know how to let people fight for me. I’ve never…”

The rest of the sentence hung unspoken, but Agatha understood it all the same. “You’re not,” she said, her voice firm and immediate, as though she could banish Rio’s fears through sheer conviction. “You’re a lot of things, Rio. Stubborn, infuriating, maybe even a little reckless. But you’re not a burden. Not to me.”

Never to me.

The tension between them shifted, no less heavy but less painful. Agatha’s heart ached as she watched Rio wrestle with the weight of her words, and saw the glimmer of something fragile breaking through.

When Rio finally looked back at her, it was with a quiet vulnerability that made Agatha’s chest tighten. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Agatha said softly, letting her hand fall away to give Rio space.

The quiet stretched, but this time, it wasn’t suffocating. It was tentative, like the spring dawn after a long, dark winter. Agatha held her breath, willing Rio to take the first step toward meeting her halfway.

When Rio finally nodded, Agatha felt a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t a resolution, not yet, but it was something. It was a start.

Agatha watched Rio’s shoulders relax ever so slightly. The change was subtle, but Agatha had learned to read Rio’s quiet moments as much as her louder ones. This was progress—fragile, but real.

She let her hand fall away, her fingers brushing the air as if reluctant to lose that small connection. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” Agatha said gently, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “But don’t shut me out, okay? Let me be here for you.”

Her words hung in the air, and she held her breath, hoping Rio would accept the lifeline she was offering. When Rio nodded, her gaze falling to the floor, Agatha felt a flicker of relief. 

“I’ll try,” Rio murmured, her voice barely audible. “I, uh… I shouldn’t have snapped at you. That was... I was out of line.” Her hands fidgeted, curling and uncurling, and Agatha wanted to reach out and still them but held back. “I just—I don’t know how to handle…”

Agatha tilted her head, studying Rio’s face, her heart softening at the sight of her uncertainty. She offered a small, reassuring smile, her voice light. “I’m not one to hold grudges, Rio.”

Rio snorted softly, the sound cutting through the tension. When she looked up to meet Agatha’s eyes, there was the faintest hint of amusement behind the lingering vulnerability.

“You? Not holding grudges? You’re kidding, right? You told me we could never go back to that one breakfast place again because they stopped serving your favorite pumpkin pancakes, which I’ll remind you was a seasonal item.”

The teasing caught Agatha off guard, and she felt the corners of her mouth lift despite herself. She laughed softly, the sound easing some of the weight between them. “Okay, maybe I… hold onto things. But it’s different with you.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, her expression curious but cautious. “Different how?”

Agatha hesitated, the words forming slowly in her mind. She leaned back slightly, holding Rio’s gaze. “A lot of things I thought were true about myself, about how I see the world—they don’t apply to you. You’re... an exception.”

The confession surprised her even as she said it. She wasn’t used to baring herself like this, but with Rio, it felt necessary. Right.

Rio’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Agatha could see the conflict in her expression—the disbelief warring with something softer, something unspoken. “An exception,” Rio echoed quietly, the words tentative, as if testing their weight.

Agatha nodded, her chest tightening at the rawness in Rio’s voice. “I can’t explain it, but... I don’t want to. I like how you make me feel. When I’m with you, it’s like part of myself is waking up again.”

The admission felt like peeling away layers of armor she hadn’t realized she was still wearing. The silence that followed was heavy but warm, and Agatha found herself holding her breath again, watching Rio’s reaction.

Rio let out a quiet breath, a shy smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

The softness in Rio’s expression unraveled something deep inside Agatha, and she felt a surge of tenderness she couldn’t quite contain. She caught the hesitant movement of Rio’s fingers brushing her sleeve, and her heart ached at the uncertainty in the gesture.

“Rio?” Agatha asked, her voice soft, inviting.

“Yeah?” Rio’s reply was barely above a whisper, her gaze locked on Agatha’s.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The words left Agatha’s lips as a quiet promise, one she meant with every fiber of her being. They were possibly the truest she’d ever spoken. She saw the way Rio faltered at the declaration, the way her resolve wavered as she leaned in. When their lips met, Agatha felt her heart stutter, kissing her softly and searching. Trying desperately to kiss away any uncertainty.

“You’re not going anywhere?” Rio asked, her voice barely audible, her vulnerability shining through.

Agatha leaned back slightly, meeting Rio’s gaze with calm certainty. “Not unless you tell me to.” Her tone was steady, but her heart still raced. “But I need you to tell me what you want, Rio. That’s the new standard. I won’t try to guess what you want or decide what you need. You just tell me.”

Rio blinked, her expression caught between hesitation and something like hope. “That simple?”

“It can be. If you tell me what you need, what you want... I’ll meet you there.”

Agatha could feel the hesitation rolling off her in waves, and she wasn’t about to let it linger. She reached for levity, her voice soft but edged with mischief. 

“For the record, I’m still going to treat you well,” she said, her lips curling into a playful smile. “I love buying you things and planning surprises. But I want you to know that none of it is about fixing you or asking you to be someone else. When I do those things, it’s because I want to. It’s because I’m thinking of you. And doing that makes me happy. And you want me to be happy, right?”

She reached out, her fingers brushing Rio’s hand before squeezing it lightly, her smile growing as she watched Rio’s expression shift.

Rio’s soft laugh felt like a reward as it broke through the tension. “Yeah, I do.”

The silence that followed wasn’t strained. Agatha felt the subtle shift in the air between them, a kind of anticipation settling over the moment. 

She let it stretch, her playful smile deepening as she leaned in slightly closer, her voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. “Let’s practice.”

“Practice?” Rio repeated, her brows knitting together in confusion.

Agatha nodded, her voice coaxing but light, like she was daring Rio to join her in this leap. “Yeah. Let’s start now. Tell me what you want, Rio. Right now.”

She could see the way Rio’s breath hitched, her lips parting as though to answer, but the words caught in her throat. Agatha didn’t push; she simply waited.

“I... I don’t know,” Rio admitted, her voice halting, her face turning a shade darker as her uncertainty took hold.

Agatha tilted her head, giving her a gentle, encouraging look. “Take your time.”

After a moment, she swallowed, gathering herself enough to meet Agatha’s gaze. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than usual, “Okay. Then... I want you to take me to bed.”

The words landed, quiet but bold, and that made Agatha’s heart race again. Her eyes widened slightly, the surprise flickering across her face before her expression softened into something warmer and knowing.

That she could definitely work with.

Her lips curled into a slow, inviting smile. “That’s a very good start,” she said, her voice low and steady.

Extending her hand, she met Rio’s eyes with unwavering confidence. “Come on, then.”

For a moment, Rio hesitated, her nerves flickering across her face. But then her fingers brushed Agatha’s, and as she took her hand, the warmth of her touch seemed to steady her. 

She led Rio upstairs, their steps deliberate, her heart buzzing with the same anticipation she could feel radiating from Rio. 

Agatha’s room felt different with Rio in it. She hadn’t prepared for company, and the lived-in mess was suddenly glaring. The guest room always looked perfect, but here, in her space, it was as though her habits and quirks were laid bare under Rio’s gaze. 

She watched Rio take it all in—the warm tones of the bedding, the throw draped over the old chair, the small pile of books precariously balanced on her nightstand, and the always present cluster of abandoned coffee mugs.

Rio’s smile tugged at the corners of her lips as her eyes lingered on the mugs. “All this time you’ve been teasing me about my living conditions, and it looks like you have a few science experiments going on up here,” she said, gesturing to the mess.

Agatha’s laugh came easily, filling the space and making it feel less exposed. “I didn’t expect company,” she said, aiming for nonchalance. She caught Rio’s playful gaze and added, “Besides, it’s controlled chaos. I know exactly which mug is from today.”

The yellow one with the chip at the rim, she’d painted it in college.

Rio’s raised eyebrow didn’t buy it for a second. “Sure you do.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, crossing the room to gather the shirts draped on the chair, but she couldn’t help the small smile pulling at her lips. “Don’t make me defend my system,” she shot back, tossing the shirts into a basket with a little more force than necessary.

When she turned, Rio had claimed the edge of the bed, her hands running over the quilt. Agatha could tell she was studying the details—the faint embroidery, the careful stitching—and for a moment, Rio seemed lost in it.

She moved to sit beside her, her movements slower now, more intentional. She perched lightly on the edge of the bed, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed.

“What do you want now?” Agatha asked softly. She was thankful that her voice came out steadier than she felt.

Rio froze, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. Agatha held fast, letting the question linger. She wouldn’t push, not here, not now.

“I…” Rio began, her voice faltering. She swallowed hard, her eyes finally lifting to meet Agatha’s. “I want… to kiss you again.”

Agatha felt her heart stutter. A slow, gentle smile spread across her face. “Then do it.”

Rio’s hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Agatha’s face. The touch was tentative, and when she leaned in, Agatha found herself holding her breath. The kiss came slowly, cautious, as if testing if Agatha would still allow her this touch.

Of course, she would.

When they parted, Agatha let her fingers linger on Rio’s cheek. Her thumb brushed lightly over her skin as she smiled, teasing gently. “See? You’re pretty good at naming what you want.”

Rio laughed, the sound soft and breathless. “I’m, uh, a little off my game. I didn’t expect that when we ended up here, it’d be like this.”

She hadn’t either. When she’d imagined Rio in her bed, and she’d done so frequently and vividly, not once had she pictured it coming on the heels of an argument. She hadn’t expected to be so gentle, the anticipation being a quiet whisper instead of a livewire.

Agatha hummed, her fingers curling a strand of Rio’s hair around them. “This can be whatever you want it to be,” she said, her voice quiet. “You don’t need to overthink it.”

Rio sighed, flopping back onto the bed, her legs dangling off the edge as she stared at the ceiling. Agatha followed, leaning back beside her.

Her fingers brushed lightly over the edge of the quilt as she stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting in a hundred different directions. She could feel the unspoken apology in the space between them, as though Rio was holding it like something fragile like she wasn’t sure she had the right to forgiveness.

It wasn’t something she even needed to ask for, it had already been given.

“I was kind of an asshole earlier,” Rio muttered, her voice breaking the silence.

Agatha turned her head, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Kind of?” she teased, letting her voice carry the lightness that came easier to her than holding grudges against the woman she was falling in love with.

Rio groaned and covered her face with one hand. “Okay, fine. I was a total asshole.”

The laugh that escaped Agatha was soft, warm, and forgiving. She nudged Rio’s shoulder lightly with her own. “I’ve been called worse, you know.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Rio said, her voice quieter now as she let her hand fall away. Her eyes met Agatha’s, still tinged with guilt. “You didn’t deserve that. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

Agatha studied her, not rushing to respond. The sincerity in Rio’s voice was clear, and that mattered more than the sting of earlier. Finally, she nodded, her smile softening. “I appreciate that,” she said simply, her words offering her forgiveness easily and without fanfare.

Rio’s fingers fidgeted with the edge of the quilt, her gaze dropping for a moment before she spoke again. “I just… you’re not some checklist I’m trying to live up to. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I thought you were pushing me to be something I’m not.”

“I know,” Agatha said, her voice steady, though her throat tightened slightly. “And I’m sorry if I came on too strong. I just…” She hesitated, letting her gaze drift before bringing it back to Rio. “I like doing things for you. I like thinking about what makes you happy and finding little ways to show you. But if it ever feels like too much, just tell me, okay?”

The tension in Rio’s shoulders eased as she nodded, her expression softening. “Okay,” she said, her voice quiet but sure.

Agatha slipped her hand into Rio’s, their fingers tangling together like it was the easiest thing in the world. The warmth of Rio’s touch steadied her, grounding her in the moment. Turning onto her side, Agatha propped her head up with one hand, her gaze drifting over Rio’s face.

“So,” she said, her voice light but carrying a vulnerability she didn’t try to hide. “Now what?”

Rio’s lips twitched into a small, uncertain smile, “I want…” she began, her voice faltering before she steadied herself. She turned onto her side to face Agatha fully, their knees brushing as she searched for the right words. “I don’t want to rush. I don’t want you to feel like you have to kiss it better right away.”

Agatha smiled, the kind of smile that came with quiet understanding. “I can work with that,” she said, her thumb brushing lightly over Rio’s hand.

Rio let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing as the tension in the room shifted. Agatha could feel it too.

“I have an idea,” Agatha murmured, standing up after kissing her cheek.

Rio tilted her head, her expression curious but cautious. “What kind of idea?”

Agatha smiled, trying to keep the mood light. “The relaxing kind,” she said simply. “Anyone who has had a really shitty day needs a bath.”

Rio laughed, pulling back slightly as though unsure if she’d heard right. “A bath? What, like a bubble bath? I don’t think that’s really my thing, Agatha.”

Agatha couldn’t help but roll her eyes, though her smile stayed intact. “Oh, please,” she shot back. “You don’t even know what your thing is because you won’t sit still long enough to find out.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “I can sit still.”

“Sure,” Agatha replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “For maybe two seconds before you start fidgeting.”

Rio opened her mouth to protest, but Agatha raised a finger to cut her off. “Nope. You’re not talking your way out of this. You’ve been tense all night, even before our… disagreement, and it’s not healthy to just… keep it all bottled up.”

Rio sighed, and Agatha saw the way her resolve wavered. “I don’t know,” Rio muttered. “It just feels weird.”

“What feels weird?” Agatha asked as she gently led Rio toward the bathroom, ignoring her half-hearted protests. “Taking a little time to unwind? Letting yourself enjoy something without overthinking it?”

Rio shot her a look, but the faint smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Agatha said, grinning. “Trust me, I’ve got this down to a science. You’ll feel like a brand-new person by the time I’m done.”

Rio exhaled a long breath, relenting at last. “Fine. But if I get all pruney and you don’t think I’m hot anymore—”

Agatha laughed, already reaching for the taps to fill the tub. “Yes, I often find naked women deeply unattractive,” she deadpanned.

She moved around the bathroom with ease, adjusting the water temperature and adding foam to the tub. She picked a scent she knew would be soothing—sandalwood and lavender—and watched as the bubbles began to rise. 

There was a kind of rhythm to the preparation, a care in every motion, this was more than just a bath; it was her way of showing Rio she deserved to bathe herself in gentle warmth.

She stepped out of the bathroom to give Rio privacy, softly closing the door behind her. Her heart twisted as she heard the faint sound of water rippling. She busied herself tidying the next room, the sound of mugs clinking and the shuffle of papers filling the space.

When Rio’s voice called out softly, Agatha froze, a half-folded shirt in her hands. “Agatha?”

Her footsteps paused just outside the bathroom. She pushed the door open slightly, leaning into the frame, her heart hammering. “Everything okay?” she asked, trying to sound casual, though the uncertainty in her voice betrayed her.

Rio’s smile was small but warm, her damp hair clinging to her skin as she leaned back in the tub. “Yeah. I just… I don’t know. I don’t want to sit in here alone.”

Agatha hesitated, one hand brushing against the doorframe. Her gaze flicked somewhere over Rio’s shoulder, not daring to meet her eyes, and definitely not daring to look lower. “I didn’t want to intrude,” she murmured.

“You’re not intruding,” Rio reassured her, her voice soft but steady. “I asked you to come in.”

A small, bashful smile tugged at Agatha’s lips. After a brief pause, she perched carefully at the side of the tub, her hands clasped in her lap, her posture stiff. Her eyes stayed firmly away from the water, focusing instead on a tile crack near her feet.

She’d meant to get that fixed over a year ago.

Rio chuckled softly. “You don’t have to look so nervous,” she teased. “I’m not gonna bite.”

Agatha’s lips curved into a crooked grin, her confidence returning just a little. “I’m just being polite,” she teased back, her voice lighter now.

“Agatha,” Rio drawled playfully, her name stretching in the air. “You’re the one who forced me in here. You can at least pretend you’re comfortable.”

Agatha laughed. “I’m plenty comfortable, thank you very much,” she retorted. Her cheeks heated as she caught Rio watching her with an amused smile.

Rio’s expression softened, her voice turning earnest. “Thanks for this. I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

Agatha’s grin faded into something gentler, her walls lowering slightly. “I figured you could use a little help unwinding,” she said, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

When Rio reached out, her wet fingers brushing against Agatha’s hand, the touch sent a jolt through her. She blinked, her gaze dropping to where their hands met before flicking back to Rio’s eyes.

“Stay,” Rio whispered, her voice quiet but sure. “Just for a bit.”

Agatha’s breath caught, but she nodded, her fingers curling slightly under Rio’s.

“Why do you want me?” Rio asked, and Agatha caught herself considering a hundred answers.

How could I not? How can I describe that what I feel is beyond wanting? Do I want to breathe air into my lungs and blood to move through my heart?

No, some things, aren’t driven by want. Some things, just are.

She took a deep breath and settled for a less overwhelming answer. “I wasn’t sure at first. When we first met… I didn’t expect to end up here. Not even close.”

Agatha chewed the inside of her cheek, she needed to stop before she started to bleed.

“Before you… I’d have this awful reminder of my ex. She’d reached out, out of the blue, on an anniversary of our divorce just to needle me. Hinting that I wasn’t moving on. That I was incapable of it.”

But she was. She had.

“It wasn’t about being hung up on her—I wasn’t. It was how blindsided I’d been by the way everything ended. She cut so deep that it just… made it easier not to trust anyone else that way again. To not give anyone the power to hurt me like that. So I buried myself in work. It was easier. Predictable. Something I could control.”

She took a steadying breath and smiled as Rio brushed her thumb over her knuckles.

“I’d dated people after her,” she shared, letting her voice go a little soft, a little wistful. “But it was never serious. A few flings, some… distractions, really. I didn’t know what I was looking for, and I didn’t have much reason to figure it out. Until a friend told me about this… arrangement.”

She let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. If only Lilia knew the trouble her damn cards had caused.

“They told me you could just pay for a date, like an event escort. They made it sound so casual. And I thought, why not? It wasn’t about wanting anyone. It was about showing my ex she didn’t still have a hold on me. Proving something. And then you showed up .”

Agatha thought back to the moment she’d first met her. That first introduction, the first brush of the hand of a Siren pulling her into her fate.

““Nothing like I’d expected. You didn’t fit any of the boxes I thought I needed someone to fit. You weren’t trying too hard or acting like you had something to prove. You were just… you. And it completely threw me.”

“Why?” Rio asked softly.

“Because for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I had to perform. Or prove anything. You had no idea who I was, no expectations. You made me want to just… be.”

She tried to think back to the last time she’d felt this, it was over twenty years ago. And as she thought about it, the story began to fall out of her. 

“I was so young when I fell in love with Ashley, we were in college. She was so clever and ambitious, the kind of person who made you feel like you were the most interesting thing in the room—when she wanted to.” Agatha laughed and shook her head. “And when she didn’t, well… you learned not to ask for too much.”

Attending a black box performance Agatha had spent a semester on, dinner with friends that weren’t her friends, cutting class for a picnic on a spring day had all apparently been too much. Distractions, Ashley had called them. “Let’s just stay here, you and me,” she’d cajole, and Agatha not knowing better would agree again and again.

“I thought it was true love, and it was in a way. My parents weren’t exactly shining examples of what a good relationship looked like. My dad was aloof, and my mother…” 

She hesitated, wondering if there was room to drown herself in the tub with Rio still in it. 

“My mother was cruel. She had this knack for making you feel like nothing you did was ever good enough. Like you weren’t good enough.”

She needed to get off the topic of exes and mothers if there was any chance of having Rio in bed with her. But as she searched for discomfort in her expression, she only found a patient understanding that pulled the rest of the truth out of her.

“So when someone like Ashley came along, someone who seemed to actually see me… I ignored a lot of red flags. A whole lot of them.” Agatha shook her head, a self-deprecating smile on her lips.

The isolation and criticism was always followed by a grand gesture and a tearful promise to do better. Hurt and comfort. It’d worked for as long as she’d believed you could just love someone enough to make things better.

 “Those things tend to fester, though. Things that are annoying a few months in, well a few years later the cracks just multiply. I learned that the hard way. But I was young. I didn’t know better. I thought if I could just mold myself into someone people wanted—someone they didn’t just tolerate—then I’d be happy. Then I’d be… enough.”

She was almost ready to beg Rio to say something. Rio was in the tub but Agatha might as well be naked too. Yet she couldn’t stop peeling back layers of herself and flinging them in front of her. 

“When my mom passed, she left behind a lot of money.” The bitterness crept into her tone as it always did when she spoke about the topic. “I’d expected nothing from her. I didn’t want anything from her. And yet, there it was.” She gestured vaguely as if to bat away a ghost. “I’ve spent twenty years trying to get rid of it. Giving it away to causes, to people who actually need it. But it’s like this… this shadow that won’t go away.”

She looked at Rio again, let her eyes draw her back from the precipice of “too much”.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? For all her cruelty, she still managed to leave something behind. Something I can’t shake.”

Rio finally nodded, and Agatha watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips before she spoke.

“You’ve done a lot to let go of that. But it sounds like you’ve been carrying it alone for a long time.”

Agatha tried to deflect but Rio wouldn’t let her. So, she reached for the truth once more.

“I don’t want to fuck whatever this is up. And if I’m honest between accidentally implying that I’m in love with you so soon and now dumping my baggage when you’re supposed to be relaxing… I feel like I am.”

Rio’s smile chased off any lingering doubts. “You didn’t fuck anything up. And what you said, I know you were saying that you know, abstractly people love me. It doesn’t have to mean something more than that. Not yet.”

Too late. But whatever you say.

“Not yet.” She echoed, standing to grab a towel for Rio.

Agatha needed a moment to compose herself. A transition between what she had shared and what was to come. 

“Blow out the candle when you’re done. I’ll find you some clothes.”

Chapter Text

Agatha heard Rio emerge from the bathroom and kept her hands busy adjusting the position of the snow globe she’d bought in Key West of all places.

But she could feel the draw of Rio’s eyes on her and was already turning to face her when Rio’s hands caught her face between them.

Rio was only slightly taller than her. But the way she kissed her made it feel like she was towering over her, taking up all the space in the room. She reached for her shoulders, to anchor herself. They were still damp, hot from the warmth of the bath.

Her eyes were still closed, and she was leaning back for another kiss when Rio’s voice, right next to her ear, interrupted her.

“What I want most… is for you to want me. Because I…” Rio stumbled over her words and Agatha opened her eyes to meet her gaze, hoping to give her whatever boost she needed to finish that thought. “Because I want you so badly, Agatha.”

Agatha cupped Rio’s face in her hands, she needed to be positive that Rio’s eyes were locked on hers, that there was no way she could be mistaken or misunderstood.

“I do. You have no idea how much I want you.”

But I’ll tell you anyway. I’ll show you any way you like. Every way I can think of. I’ll do anything to reach you, to make sure you know.

She kissed her desperately. She kissed her pleadingly. She kissed her as if it was their first time, as if it was their last, as if it was the only thing she knew to do.

But it wasn’t enough.

Her hands fumbled at Rio’s towel before she could help herself and she was keenly aware of the exact moment it hit the floor. Her own clothes felt constricting and she pulled at them quickly. Idly she wished she’d worn something more flattering, but with how quickly Rio joined her in removing her clothes it wouldn’t have mattered.

She took Rio’s hand and pulled her down into the bed with her, and finally took the chance to let her eyes wander. 

Of all the things she loved about women’s bodies, and it was certainly a long list, it was the imperfections she cherished. As she rolled on top of Rio she noticed these things. A faded chicken pox scar on her breast, a small prickly patch at her ankle she’d missed while shaving, a tiny bruise on her hip that begged for Agatha’s kiss. 

She wanted it all.

Agatha settled her body on top of Rio’s, tracing her hand down her ribs to settle at her hip.

“You’re beautiful.” She whispered, eyes darting to a bead of water rolling down Rio’s neck. She leaned down to kiss it away, barely restraining herself from licking back up the trail it had fallen. 

Rio whimpered and drew her closer. “You’re like… something out of a dream,” she murmured before pulling her into another kiss.

A tiny part of Agatha hated her for kissing her and keeping her from seeing more of her blush. But she allowed it because the moment she felt her lips against her, she couldn’t imagine anything more important. 

She could feel the goosebumps rising on Rio’s skin and wasn’t sure if it was from the cool air on wet skin or a reaction to her. Either way, she pulled the sheet half over them, and let her hands and mouth warm the rest of her.

Usually, Agatha operated more intently. With teeth and tongue, hands firm and demanding. Taking what she wanted, what she needed. But here and now, all she could focus on was how much she wanted to give.

Rio’s hair was damp as she tangled her fingers in it, easing her up, lifting her head from the pillow just to kiss her more deeply and lay her back down again. 

“I’ve had this dream…” Rio murmured, lolling her head to one side and allowing Agatha to kiss down the column of her neck. “I don’t want to wake up.”

Me either.

“Then don’t,” she whispered. She kissed her again, slipping her knee between her thighs. Here there was no touch of cold. Rio was wet and hot against her and she groaned as she mouthed at her collar, her focus slipping with the distraction.

Kissing Rio was a delight, she could be happy here forever.

But she was greedy and didn’t want to settle for happy. She needed more.

She shifted her lips lower, dipping her tongue into the hollow at her collarbone as she traveled. Both of Rio’s nipples were pebbled firm and she warmed one with her hand and her lips wrapped over the other. She rolled it over her tongue scraping her teeth gently over it. 

As she pulled away she appreciated the darker color but frowned as she noticed that Rio was biting her lip to quiet herself. That wouldn’t do. She wouldn’t rest until all of her senses were consumed by Rio. All that was left was sound and taste.

“Don’t go shy on me. I want to hear you. You sound wonderful. Keep talking to me,” she encouraged, dropping her head to press messy kisses over her other breast.

“I want you,” Rio keened, and Agatha grinned as she felt her tilt her hips up against her, instinctively rocking against her leg. 

“I’m here.” Feeling Rio against her leg wasn’t enough, she needed her hands on her. Two fingers trailed down, following the swell of her ribcage and the dip of her stomach to her thighs where Agatha paused. She let her fingers rest on the impossibly soft crease of her inner thigh.

“Is there anything you don’t like?” Agatha asked softly, it was more efficient than checking off each thing that she wanted to do.

“No. I want everything. I want you. I need you,” Rio whined, letting her legs spread wider as she opened herself up to her.

It was the best thing Agatha had ever heard.

“Good,” she hummed, slipping her fingers to graze over her clit and then pressing lower still. “I want to give you everything you want.”

Everything. Anything.

She pressed two fingers inside her and found herself gasping against Rio’s neck as she felt her immediately clench and try to draw her deeper. It took all of her restraint to keep from pressing deeper, she wanted to savor this after waiting so long. 

Learning a lover’s body was a practice in restraint. It was easy to push, to draw out cries and moans through overwhelming attention. She could command her lovers through words and touch until they were pliant and malleable under her hands. 

But there was a greater reward if she traveled the path of patience. How subtly could she curl her fingers and still get a reaction out of her? Was it a kiss or her tongue that made her tremble more when placed under her jaw? Did she want her teeth to scrape or to bite?

 Was Rio loud when she came? Could she make her be?

She quickly learned that Rio had an impatient steak, and she grinned as she felt her try to pull her deeper.

“Agatha please,” she whined, hand firm on her wrist, “Don’t tease. I need you.”

If Rio had been any other woman, that would’ve been her cue to double down. To prolong her exploration until she was writhing and sweating. She could make her cry before she came. But this was Rio, and for tonight at least, she had no intention of denying her.

“Shh,” she whispered, kissing her gently as she curled her fingers, beckoning her hips closer, encouraging her to move with her. “I’m not teasing. Let me take care of you.” She pressed her fingers fully inside her, starting a slow and steady rhythm. There was no resistance, no friction, just a steady drag of Rio wrapped around her. 

Rio seemed to be trying to curl her entire body around her. One leg had hooked over her waist, and her hands clutched at her back, pulling Agatha close as she raised her hips to meet each movement. 

When Agatha pressed a third finger against her, before she could even ask, Rio moaned and nodded eagerly, her head knocking against her shoulder, “Please.”

Agatha hid her grin against Rio’s neck, inhaling deeply. She still smelled like lavender from the bath, but a sharper note was underneath. They were both starting to sweat. She could taste the salt on her skin. It was delicious.

The taste of her. She needed it now.

Rio protested slightly as Agatha moved away, but was quickly silenced as she trailed her lips down her. When she glanced up at her, she’d propped herself up on her elbows and was staring, pupils blown wide, mouth slightly open.

This was her favorite part. Rio easily allowed her legs to be spread further, and Agatha pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of her thigh. 

“Will you do something for me?” She asked sweetly, glancing up at Rio who was already nodding.

“Anything.”

“Be a dear and hold my hair back.”

It wasn’t because she was afraid of getting messy, she relished it. But she’d much rather have Rio on her face instead of in her hair. She wanted, later, for Rio to be able to lick her clean off her lips.

Her lover seemed to like the idea too, eagerly drawing her hair back as Agatha, without any more preamble, pressed her tongue inside her.

Sight, sound, smell, touch, taste. She had everything. Rio was everything.

And all of her thoughts, desires, and needs collapsed into themselves like a dying star as she was drawn to a singular purpose. The discordant buzzing of her brain came into sharp focus. Her body moved without her direction, she didn’t need to think.

There was nothing else. Just her.

Rio’s hips jerked and there was dull pain as her nose collided with bone. No matter, it just allowed her tongue to work deeper. Her scalp burned as Rio pulled at her hair. Good, show me where you want me.

Vaguely she could hear Rio stuttering a chorus of moans and whines. Her name was repeated like a sacred chant. She sounded desperate, it was divine. She’d tell her so but that would require her to part from her worship here. And that wasn’t happening. Not until Rio forced her away.

There was a new agitation to her partner's movements, and Agatha pressed her hand down against her stomach to hold her in place.

Stay with me my love, I can’t deny you anything.

As Rio’s thighs locked around her head, her heel digging into her back, Agatha replaced her tongue with two fingers and took her clit between her lips. She sucked gently, and couldn’t help but smile around her as Rio confirmed what she had secretly hoped, she was loud when she came.

She couldn’t move her hand away if she wanted to, and continued to gently rock her fingers, letting her palm press against Rio’s clit as she took a selfish moment to look up at her and watch her fall apart.

There wasn’t a word in her expansive vocabulary, she doubted that any language had come up with one, to describe how she looked in that moment.

When Rio cupped her jaw and urged her upward, Agatha allowed herself one more selfish taste before traveling back up her body.

She was calmer now, more at ease than she’d been in ages. Agatha kissed her slowly, she’d already missed the feeling of her lips on her. After a moment, both still needing to catch their breath, Agatha rolled onto her back, and pulled Rio with her, smiling with contentment as she nuzzled her head against her chest.

They stayed like that for a time until she felt Rio’s nose brush under her jaw. She didn’t need to look down to know she was smiling, she could hear it in her voice. 

“I want something else.”

“What’s that?” Agatha murmured, turning her head to catch her eye and sharing a cheeky grin.

“I want you now.” Rio hummed, kissing lightly under her jaw, hitting the spot that always made Agatha whimper, as she let her hand wander down Agatha’s stomach.

“Well, darling. I already told you. I’ll give you anything you want,” she purred, holding Rio’s chin between her fingers for just a moment as she gazed at her. 

That mischievous grin was going to be the death of her.

“And I already told you,” Rio murmured, her voice dangerously low, “I want you to want me.”

“I already do.”

“Prove it,” Rio challenged and Agatha grinned, eager to take the bait as she eagerly rolled on top of her again, straddling her waist. She wasn’t sure that Rio knew what she was encouraging. But this was a game she loved to play.

As Rio reached out to touch her, she caught her hands and pulled them over her head. She smirked as she caught how her eyes widened. 

She enjoyed giving to others, finding what they desired, and delivering just that. But her own pleasure she preferred to take, to demand it. There was nothing better than someone receptive to that, and judging by Rio’s responses she was very keen to allow Agatha to have her way.

“That’s dangerous,” Rio said lowly, licking her lips as she stared up at Agatha.

You have no idea.

“Isn’t it just.” Agatha hummed, eyes wandering over Rio, noting the tension in her body but also noticing that she did nothing to break the light hold on her wrists. She wondered how much she could push her.

She allowed herself to tease her now, leaning and brushing her lips over Rio’s but not allowing her to kiss her. It was her fault for being so pretty when she whined.

Agatha leaned close, nipping at the shell of her ear before she breathed against it, “Well darling, this is about you relaxing. So if you want, you don’t have to move a muscle.” It was a threat and a promise.

One that Rio was all too receptive to. She fell back against the pillows and relaxed against Agatha’s hold. “You’re really used to getting your way, aren’t you,” she whined. Agatha wondered if she realized she was pouting now.

“I get what I want,” Agatha murmured, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip before kissing her again. To reinforce her point, she rolled her hips against Rio, she could feel her arousal spread over Rio’s stomach and for a moment wondered if she could get off just like this. She wondered what it would feel like to taste herself on Rio’s skin.

She rolled her hips again just as Rio’s stomach tensed and Agatha moaned as her clit brushed against her. “Rio,” she whined and the pleading sound surprised her.

As much as she relished having a loud partner in bed, there was always something she held back. She was a sigher more than a screamer. She loved to talk, but as soon as she couldn’t carefully choose her words she usually grew quiet, unwilling to give away too much.

But again Rio was different. She ripped her composure away, leaving her a bare and wanton thing. She didn’t mind.

When Rio planted her feet on the bed and rocked her body up against her, she was nearly thrown off balance. She grabbed the headboard to regain it and groaned as Rio’s hand landed on her hips, encouraging her to spread herself against her skin.

“Fuck Agatha. You look so good. You’re the hottest thing一”

“I usually am,” she choked out, rapidly losing her conscious thoughts. She needed more. She didn’t want to just take from Rio, she wanted to be taken .

She clung to the headboard with one hand, using the other to grab Rio’s and pull her towards her clit. She needed to feel her. She needed her hand on her, in her, whatever, she just needed a touch that wasn’t her own. She needed her touch, none other would ever do.

“Lift your hips a bit,” Rio husked, her voice rough.

She tried to demand more as Rio just stared but it sounded pathetic as she whined her name.

“How many?” Rio asked, dipping one finger barely up to the first knuckle.

“Two,” she was begging now and didn’t care. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t still surprise her. She smirked down at Rio and winked, “We can probably work up to four.”

The moan that ripped from Rio was completely worth it.

Two long fingers pressed inside her and Agatha returned her moan as she sped up her movements, eager for more, deeper, faster, all of her.

“So good. You’re so good. Just like that honey,” she gasped, whining as Rio’s thumb pressed onto her clit. Her hand splayed where Rio’s shoulder met her neck and she let her thumb brush over her throat.

Before she could ask for more, she felt a third finger press inside her and she closed her eyes, letting her head fall for just a moment.

“Agatha,” Rio moaned, forcing her attention back on her. “Don’t look away.” 

Agatha whimpered and nodded, her breath coming in short spurts as she continued the fast pace of her hips. “I’m trying,” she whined, eyes fluttering closed again until a pinch at her nipple forced them open again.

“Hey,” Rio hummed, propping herself up as much as she could with only one hand and Agatha furiously grinding against her. “You don’t have to. Do what feels good.” She stretched and kissed her breast before pulling back and making sure Agatha’s eyes were on her. “I just thought you might like to watch when I put my hand inside you.”

It turned out that Agatha didn’t need the visual, she didn’t need a fourth (or fifth) finger, Rio’s words were enough and too much all at once, and she came with a cry that startled herself. 

She fell forward, catching herself with a hand on either side of Rio’s head as she gasped and continued to roll her hips.

Rio was murmuring something like praise against her chest as Agatha felt her orgasm course through her. She tried to find words but could only gasp, her hand eventually fumbling to catch hold of Rio’s wrist and still her hand.

“I still want more,” Rio whined as her hand was pulled away.

“I… I need a second.” Agatha gasped, her hips still twitching.

Rio pouted for a moment, reaching down to palm her ass and pull slightly.

“Okay, why don’t you take a second up here then.”

Agatha wasn’t thinking clearly and it took a second for her to understand Rio’s meaning.

“Oh, I don't usually一”

“I can beg you for it later,” Rio murmured, wetting her lips as she fixed Agatha with a heady stare, “but that’ll take away from me tasting you. And I really really want that. Don’t you want to give me what I want?”

There wasn’t a world in which she could refuse.

Trying to appear more steady than she felt, she moved to hover over Rio’s jaw. Before she could be caught in self-consciousness, Rio’s hands wrapped her hands around her thighs and pulled her against her mouth.

Agatha keened, leaning back her head as her back curved. She placed her hands behind her on Rio’s thighs to support her as she quickly drew and devoured a second orgasm off of her.

They both fell against the bed, chests heaving as they exchanged punch-drunk grins. Their hands wandered over each other, caressing and clinging, pulling and pushing.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Not if you kill me first.”

They’d kissed languidly, lazily, messily. They’d touched hungrily and gently and carefully. Eventually, once they had both grown still and tired, Rio tapped her shoulder twice.

“Come here, let me hold you?” She asked softly.

Agatha froze at the question, her breath hitching just slightly. It wasn’t that she hadn’t expected Rio to ask. She’d anticipated it in the way her touches lingered on her shoulders, fingers tracing over her spine and shoulders.

But being held had always been more intimate to her than sex. Sex was exhilarating, a give and take, a performance she could perfect. But being still and held, required a surrender from her in the way that sex did not.

For a moment, she wanted to brush it off, to tease Rio with a quip and pull Rio against her instead. She even opened her mouth to say so, but the look in Rio’s eyes stopped her. There was no expectation, no demand, just an invitation. The kind of patience that promised she wouldn’t push, wouldn’t rush. 

She could say no but was rapidly forgetting why she would ever want to.

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of the sheet around them. Agatha exhaled slowly and gave a small nod. She felt Rio’s hand shift, light and gentle as they skated around her waist as she guided her closer. 

Agatha moved cautiously, her limbs stiff and unsure, but Rio was patient. Gentle. She tugged Agatha into her arms and pressed a reassuring kiss against her shoulder.

The moment Agatha settled against her, she felt something shift. Rio’s warmth surrounded her, her arms wrapping securely around Agatha without trapping her. It wasn’t stifling or suffocating; it was grounding, a steady presence that promised she didn’t have to carry herself for a while. Agatha relaxed, exhaling softly.

Her head rested against Rio’s chest, and she could hear the steady thrum of her heart. It was steady and soothing, and she nuzzled her head closer. Agatha let out a quiet breath as felt Rio’s hand start to move in slow, lazy patterns along her back. She tensed slightly at first, but Rio didn’t rush. She just kept tracing soft shapes until Agatha’s body began to fully melt against her.

“This still okay?” Rio murmured, her voice low and careful, as if afraid to shatter the fragile peace.

“Yeah,” Agatha replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… nice.”

Nice wasn’t the word. It felt right . It felt like the nameless thing she’d been searching ages for, afraid that to put a name to it would ruin her chances of finding it. It felt safe, and safe wasn’t something she’d let herself feel in years.

Agatha closed her eyes, her cheek pressed against the curve of Rio’s collarbone. She let her hand rest lightly on Rio’s stomach, feeling the slow rise and fall of her breathing. Her mind wandered back to all the times before she’d convinced herself she didn’t need this—this closeness, this connection, companionship. 

“This is perfect,” Rio hummed, her voice softer than she’d heard it before.

“Yeah,” Agatha agreed, her lips curving into a faint smile. She tilted her head and pressed a kiss just under her draw. “You really are.”

Rio tightened her hold just slightly, and Agatha let herself sink further into her embrace. The world felt quiet, like all the sharp edges had been sanded away. 

She gave herself over completely, feeling the weight of Rio’s arms around her, the steady rhythm of her breath, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel a need or want for anything else.

For once, it was enough to just be.

Chapter Text

Rather than a reprieve, sleep had been an unwelcome chore for Agatha, an annoying biological necessity. A battlefield rather than a comfort. 

Her mother had told her at length how as a baby, she’d been plagued by colic; she’d screamed herself hoarse through the night, her cries echoing through her mother’s exhaustion. As a child, creeping hands of nightmares chased her from her bed, forcing her to crawl into corners and into smaller spaces where she felt less exposed. As an adult, she’d tried to outwit her restless nights with work and sex, anything to wear herself out as much as possible before the inevitable struggle began. 

Sleep was never kind to her; it was a thief that robbed her of peace rather than a shepherd who brought it.

But tonight was different.

Rio’s arms wrapped securely around her, grounding her in a way she didn’t know was possible. The slow rise and fall of Rio’s breath was hypnotic and she put off a surprising amount of heat, her warmth cocooning her in a blanket of security. Long before she woke, Agatha drifted in and out of awareness, her mind floating somewhere between waking and dreaming.

In her dreams—or perhaps it was reality—Rio was there, pressed close against her. Her breath tickled Agatha’s ear as she whispered soft words, too quiet to make out but soothing all the same. She felt Rio’s lips graze her temple, feather-light, and her arms tighten protectively around her.

She couldn’t tell if she was dreaming or merely aware of Rio’s presence even as she slept. Every time her thoughts began to drift or she stirred slightly, the steady rhythm of Rio’s heartbeat brought her back to calm. The quiet low murmurs, the way her hand rubbed slow, comforting circles against her back, it pulled Agatha back under, over and over again.

For the first time in years, her sleep was undisturbed. No night terrors clawed at the edges of her mind. No restlessness dragged her from bed to pace the floor, searching for solace. Instead, she slept deeply, held in a comfort she had craved without realizing could be attainable.

When morning came, sunlight filtered through the curtains, painting soft golden streaks across the bed. Agatha stirred, her body heavy and her mind slow to catch up. As she blinked her eyes open, the first thing she felt was Rio still holding her, her arm slung lazily across Agatha’s waist. 

She felt a gentle kiss press to her shoulder and Rio’s lips lingered there.

There was no rush of anxiety, no leftover weight from restless dreams or looming dread. She felt… calm. Rested . It was a startling realization. Her body didn’t feel sluggish or drained; her mind wasn’t scrambling to catch up with itself.

She shifted slightly, and Rio’s grip tightened instinctively, pulling her closer. Agatha bit back a smile, her heart fluttering at the unconscious gesture. Maybe it wasn’t all a dream after all. Maybe some part of her had been aware of Rio’s presence all night, of her soothing touch and gentle whispers. Maybe that’s why she’d been able to sleep so deeply.

“Morning,” she mumbled, her voice rough with sleep.

Her hair was moved to the side and a pleasant shiver carried over her body as she felt another kiss pressed to the nape of her neck.

“Morning,” Rio said quietly, her voice thick. A few more lazy kisses were pressed to her neck and back before she felt Rio turn, and as if their bodies were drawn magnetically, she rolled with her, turning to lay on her stomach with her cheek on Rio’s chest.

She glanced up Rio’s face was turned toward her, her features softened by sleep, her dark lashes casting tiny shadows over her cheeks. The steady sound of her heart and her warm skin was almost enough to lull her back to sleep.

“So much for no sleepovers,” Rio teased gently, slowly running her fingers through Agatha’s thick hair and scratching at her scalp.

She smirked and shrugged before tilting her chin up to smile at her. “We didn’t exactly sleep much did we?”

Rio laughed, the loudest sound heard in this room all morning, and brushed some hair from Agatha’s face. She was so thankful she did, she wasn’t ready to move yet but she wanted to see her.

Beautiful. She was beautiful in the morning, and she felt herself almost go shy as she considered how they’d ended up here, how right it all felt.

The morning stretched lazily, like the sunlight filtering through the curtains. Agatha stayed nestled against Rio, her fingers idly tracing invisible patterns on Rio’s arm while her feet tangled with Rio’s beneath the sheets. 

She wasn’t keen to move even an inch away; the warmth of their bed and the comforting press of Rio’s body against hers were enough to keep her grounded in this moment. Her mind was quiet and still, even as her hands roamed.

“You’re fidgety this morning,” Rio teased, her voice low and amused. She caught Agatha’s wandering hand, intertwining their fingers. “Should I be worried?”

Agatha smirked, squeezing her hand lightly. “No. No worries here. I just… want to be close to you.”

“Yeah?” Rio cocked an eyebrow, her grin lazy. “I’m never going to complain about that.”

Agatha laughed softly and leaned up to brush her lips against Rio’s jaw. Her gaze flicked to Rio’s face, studying her half-lidded eyes and the easy way she held herself. The thought bubbled up again—the urge to say those three words that felt so heavy, so risky, too much and not enough all at once. But the timing didn’t feel quite right, and she had convinced herself to wait until Rio was ready to return them.

Instead, she decided to show her. She shifted closer, letting her lips trail over Rio’s collarbone before dipping lower. Her lips brushed Rio’s skin, feather-light, as she pressed slow, tender kisses to her breast. 

She watched Rio’s reaction carefully, the way her body tensed and softened under her touch, the way her lips parted on a quiet sigh. It made Agatha’s chest ache in the best way, knowing she could elicit such a response so easily. Being with her felt effortless in a way nothing else in her life ever had.

But then, Rio’s stomach let out a loud, unmistakable rumble.

They both froze for a moment before bursting into laughter. Agatha buried her face against Rio’s shoulder, laughing so hard her sides ached. Rio’s hands came up to hold the back of her head, giggling both at the disruption and Agatha’s reaction.

“Well, so much for that mood,” Rio said, her voice light with amusement. “Guess my stomach has other priorities.”

Agatha propped herself up on one elbow, her grin wide. “What can I say? I must be quite good if you’re already hungry.”

Rio rolled her eyes, but the teasing glint was unmistakable. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Still smiling, Agatha leaned down to kiss her thoroughly, her hand cupping Rio’s jaw as their lips met. The kiss was slow, savoring, a silent promise of more to come. When she finally pulled back, Rio’s expression was soft, her fingers brushing lightly over Agatha’s arm as though reluctant to let her go.

“Take your time,” Agatha said softly. “I’ll make us breakfast.”

Rio groaned in protest, trying to tug her back down, but Agatha only laughed and slipped from the bed. She pulled on a robe, cinching it loosely at her waist. Before leaving the room, she turned back, her gaze lingering on Rio, who was still sprawled in bed, her hair tousled and her eyes warm with affection. Agatha crossed back to her and leaned down for one last kiss, long and lingering. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be downstairs.”

Rio sighed dramatically but grinned. “Fine.”

Agatha chuckled as she made her way to the kitchen. The familiar motions of brewing coffee and tea felt comforting, grounding her in the quiet domesticity of the moment. She brewed a cup of coffee for herself, black and strong, and a cup of tea for Rio. She sliced some ripe peaches and strawberries, arranging them neatly on a plate alongside thick slices of toasted bread slathered with ricotta and tomato and drizzled with olive oil. She added a sprinkle of the good flaky salt.

As she worked, she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, a smile that grew as heard Rio padding down the stairs.

As she set the table, the quiet song of morning routine was broken by the harsh buzz of Rio’s phone on the counter. She couldn’t help herself and glanced at the screen as Rio’s phone lit up and smiled when she saw the name. Jen . Of course. She arched an eyebrow, watching closely as Rio let the call ring out, seemingly unbothered.

“Not going to answer?” Agatha asked, her tone deliberately casual, though her gaze stayed sharp, taking in Rio’s reaction.

Rio shook her head, picking up her mug of tea. “Nope. It’s just Jen, probably asking if we’re out of milk or something. She can wait. I have nowhere else to be.”

The phone buzzed again, this time with a text notification. Agatha watched as Rio picked it up, her brow furrowing slightly as she read the message.

“Oh, shit,” Rio groaned under her breath.

Agatha sipped her coffee, raising an eyebrow. “What did she say?”

Rio hesitated, running a hand through her hair, clearly debating how to respond. “I completely forgot I told Jen I’d meet her and Alice for brunch,” she admitted.

Agatha set her mug down and leaned casually against the counter, her robe tied neatly at her waist. She hated for their morning to end so abruptly, but she’d hate more for Rio to ever feel like she was too demanding of her attention. She was not clingy. Or at least, she refused to be perceived as such. 

“You should go,” she said smoothly, her expression neutral. “You don’t want to leave them waiting.”

But Rio was already busy exchanging a few replies. Finally, she sighed, placing her phone on the counter with a mix of resignation and something like relief. “I feel bad,” she admitted. “But not bad enough to want to leave.”

Agatha let herself smile faintly, keeping her air of casual composure as Rio’s gaze lingered on her even as the selfish creature inside her roared with the victory of being chosen . She could feel the weight of Rio’s attention, the way her eyes traced her skin, but she didn’t acknowledge it, instead taking another measured sip of her coffee.

The quiet click of Rio’s phone broke the stillness. Agatha glanced up in time to catch Rio aiming the device at her. Her brow arched, and she fixed Rio with a knowing look.

“What are you doing?” Agatha asked, her voice calm but edged with amusement.

Rio froze, her mouth opening as though to speak but closing just as quickly. There was a long pause before she stammered, “Uh—”

Agatha tilted her head, setting her coffee down as she regarded Rio with mock incredulity. “Are you…” she began, her tone slow and deliberate, “are you sneaking pictures of me?”

The blush creeping up Rio’s neck was telling. She looked away sheepishly. “I was going to send it to Jen,” Rio confessed, her voice soft. “She said my excuse better be good.”

Agatha studied her for a moment. She could see the worry in Rio’s eyes, the nervous way she fidgeted with her phone, clearly wondering if she’d overstepped. And then Agatha chuckled softly, the sound breaking the tension.

“If you’re going to send a photo of me,” Agatha said, her lips curving into a wry smile, “at least let me fix my hair or something. That one’s hardly flattering.”

Rio blinked, her jaw dropping slightly. “Are you serious?”

Agatha shrugged, reaching for her mug again. “Why not? If I’m going to be part of your ‘very good excuse,’ might as well make it convincing.”

If you’re going to show me off, please paint me in the best possible light.

The relief that washed over Rio filled the room again, and it made Agatha’s smile widen. Rio laughed and played along. “Okay, then. What do you suggest? Vogue pose? Coy smile?”

Agatha smirked, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. “How about we decide after you let me drink my coffee in peace?”

Rio grinned, and before Agatha could react, she raised her phone again and snapped another quick picture.

“Too late,” Rio said, glancing at the screen. “Perfect. You look amazing.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but knew the affection was clear across her face.

Rio’s fingers flew across her phone as she sent the photo. Moments later, the screen buzzed with a reply. 

Rio laughed again, and Agatha raised an eyebrow in question.

“Okay,” Rio said, setting the phone down. “Bought us some time. But you’re going to have to put up with one brunch with Jen and maybe Alice.”

Agatha hummed thoughtfully, sipping her coffee. “Alice,” she said, her tone mild but teasing, “is she a girl friend or a girlfriend ?”

Rio shrugged, her lips twitching into a half-smile. “Beats me. I don’t know if they even know.”

That was familiar.

“Fine,” Agatha said, setting her mug down decisively. “But I’m picking the place.”

And picking up the tab.

Rio’s smile softened, and she stepped closer, wrapping her arms loosely around Agatha’s waist. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Yes, dear,” she teased.

Agatha couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her, leaning into the warmth of Rio’s embrace. She couldn’t recall a better Sunday morning than this.

“So,” Agatha began, slipping into a business-like tone, “you blew off your friends, and I have a rare Sunday with no work to catch up on. Whatever will we do?” She tilted her head, letting a playful grin curl her lips.

Rio’s response was predictably soft, a murmur accompanied by a gentle press of lips to Agatha’s jaw. “Well, I have some ideas.” Always so eager, it thrilled her.

“Wonderful. So do I!” Agatha replied brightly, her grin widening as she saw Rio’s brows furrow ever so slightly.

The estate sale was everything Agatha loved about her rare free days: the thrill of the hunt, the subtle dance of negotiation, and the satisfaction of uncovering treasure where others saw trash. She couldn’t resist a good deal, and today, she had a very specific find in her sights.

Rio, on the other hand, looked mildly horrified, her shoulders hunched and hands shoved firmly in her pockets. The faint creak of the of floorboards of the old house only added to Rio’s discomfort, and it amused Agatha to no end.

She cast a glance at Rio, who was trying her best not to touch anything, and felt the corner of her lips twitch into a smirk. Poor dear. She should’ve known better than to think Agatha’s idea of a day off involved lounging around.

Agatha appraised a stunning Tiffany-style lamp, she felt a surge of triumph. It was perfect, and the seller clearly didn’t realize its value. And there was a perfect spot in her home office for it. She traced a finger along its base, feeling the cool, delicate metalwork beneath her touch, and let out a low, conspiratorial whisper.

“They don’t know what they have.”

Behind her, Rio snorted, her voice dry with skepticism. “And what exactly do they have? Because from here, it looks like a prop from a Hitchcock film.”

Agatha turned, placing a hand on her hip as she gave Rio her most exaggerated look of mock offense. “This, Rio, is a Tiffany-style lamp. Authentic, by the looks of it, though they probably just see it as old junk. A little haggling, and it’s ours for a fraction of what it’s worth.”

She could see the faint amusement tugging at the corner of Rio’s mouth, though the other woman was clearly trying to play it cool. “Wait,” Rio said, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t drag me here for my negotiating skills, did you?”

Agatha laughed softly. “Hardly. I’ve got that part handled.” She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a teasing whisper that she knew would draw a reaction. “I brought you to be the muscle.”

Predictably, Rio rolled her eyes, though the grin she was fighting was hard to miss. “Muscle, huh? What do you think’s going to happen here? Someone’s going to try to wrestle you for that thing?”

Agatha shrugged. “You never know. It’s cutthroat out here.”

“Right. I’ll just stand here looking intimidating, then,” Rio replied dryly.

“Perfect.” Agatha shot her a wink, lifting the lamp delicately and motioning for Rio to follow as she strode toward the seller. Cash was already in hand; the negotiation would be quick. Over her shoulder, she added with a grin, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth your while.”

She didn’t need to look back to know Rio was trailing after her, muttering under her breath in that sweet, good-natured way of hers.

“I really hope that doesn’t involve me hauling that thing all the way to your car,” Rio said, her groan betraying her affection.

Agatha turned slightly, her tone sweet but dripping with smug satisfaction. “Well, now that you mention it…”

Rio groaned again, but her quiet chuckle gave her away. Agatha smiled to herself as they walked toward the seller.

The weeks that followed unfolded in a way that felt both indulgent and familiar and made Agatha’s world feel startlingly whole. 

She continued the dance they’d begun and her dates were, as ever, a touch extravagant. Agatha had always thrived on orchestrating grand gestures, her need for control finding a natural outlet in meticulously planned evenings that sparkled with sophistication. For Rio, she pushed even further. The wine tasting in a hidden cellar had been a particular favorite—Agatha still smiled at the memory of Rio playfully swirling her glass and frowning in mock concentration.

“Tastes like…” Rio had paused, tapping her chin as though deep in thought, before grinning mischievously. “Wine.”

Agatha had laughed, feeling a warmth that had little to do with the vintage in her glass.

The private gallery tour had been the highlight—a quiet, intimate evening where they wandered through exhibits in hushed awe. Agatha had caught Rio staring at a sculpture longer than usual, her expression unguarded and thoughtful. 

When Rio had finally noticed Agatha watching her, she’d shrugged and murmured, “I think I like this one the best. Feels… real, you know?” Agatha had nodded, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, her chest tight with the realization of how much Rio’s thoughts mattered to her.

Rio, of course, had her own ways of grounding their world in something less polished but no less meaningful. She dragged Agatha to dive bars where the beer came in chipped pint glasses and the regulars called Rio by name. At first, Agatha had felt distinctly out of place, her tailored blazers and designer handbags stark against the weathered wood and neon signs but she came to delight in discovering these hole-in-the-wall places through a new lens.

One night, at a particularly grimy bar with live music that was too loud to allow for much conversation, Agatha had leaned in close to Rio’s ear. “You bring all your dates here?”

Rio had grinned, slinging an arm over her chair. “Nah. Just you. Figured you could use something fresh.”

The constant teasing drove Agatha to distraction, but she loved the way Rio’s world felt so alive, so unabashedly real.

As November began to draw to an end, a quiet pattern had emerged—one that Agatha realized she never wanted to disrupt. Rio was spending more time at her house, at least two night a week, each visit leaving subtle traces of her presence behind. Spare boots were tucked by the door, haphazardly kicked off in a way that Agatha had come to find endearing. A sweater, too small to be hers, lay draped over a chair in her living room, and she caught herself brushing her fingers over it absentmindedly when Rio wasn’t around.

The house, once a refuge that was familiar to her if hollow in its solitude, now buzzed with life whenever Rio was around. She filled in spaces that Agatha hadn’t realized were missing, like the lamp that now illuminated the corner of her office with multicolored light.

Agatha, who had always prided herself on her independence, found herself quietly savoring the laughter that echoed through her kitchen, the warmth of Rio’s teasing as she attempted to teach her how to poach an egg.

“This isn’t rocket science,” Agatha had said, laughing as she watched Rio study the egg as if it contained explosives.

“No, but it’s apparently witchcraft,” Rio had shot back, watching as the egg disintegrated into white tendrils in the water.

“Your water’s too hot!” Agatha said, exasperated but biting back a smile.

“Maybe,” Rio quipped, grinning, “or maybe it’s more trouble than it’s worth. I think I’m fine with scrambled.”

Agatha’s laughter had bubbled over before she could stop it, and in that moment, she’d felt a strange, weightless joy. This was what her home had been missing—not just company, but Rio.

It still scared her sometimes, how easily Rio had settled into her life, how effortlessly she’d chipped away at the protections Agatha had spent years building. But for now, Agatha decided, she wouldn’t think about what came next. For now, she would let herself have this—Rio’s laughter, her warmth, and the quiet rhythm of a life she hadn’t realized she wanted.

She allowed herself to begin to picture a life with Rio, not just daydream about Rio’s place in her life. It felt like it could become real.

Agatha nursed her glass of wine, watching Melissa and Rio banter like they’d known each other for years rather than semi strangers who had only met once before. Her friend had been in town for a conference and insisted on meeting up, Agatha had hesitated at first, worried that Melissa’s teasing would be relentless, but Rio had simply grinned and said, “It’ll be fun. She was my favorite from the wedding.”

Melissa was proving to be every bit as merciless as Agatha had expected. The moment she’d clocked the fading hickey just below Agatha’s collarbone, she’d leaned over with a wicked grin.

“Well, well,” Melissa had drawled, gesturing at the mark with her glass. “Looks like somebody’s been busy.”

Agatha, without missing a beat, replied dryly, “Possessiveness is one of the few drawbacks of taking a younger lover.”

Rio had nearly choked on her beer, coughing out a laugh as she gave Agatha a mock-affronted look. “ You’re one to talk,” she’d shot back.

They were thick as thieves before long, Melissa had fit right in, her sharp humor bouncing off Rio’s laid-back charm. Agatha found herself sitting back more often than not, content to watch the two of them trade barbs like old friends. It was disarming, to see how easily Rio fit into her world. She didn’t just tolerate Melissa’s teasing—she thrived on it, meeting every quip with a playful jab of her own.

Melissa leaned forward, her elbow propped on the table and her wine glass dangling precariously from her hand. “So, Rio, tell me—what exactly do you see in our dear Agatha?”

Agatha raised an eyebrow at the emphasis on dear , knowing full well Melissa was setting her up for something.

Rio didn’t miss a beat, her lips curving into that lazy grin that always made Agatha’s stomach do a little flip. “Oh, you know, the usual,” Rio said, leaning back in her chair. “Sharp wit, devastatingly gorgeous in a way that makes it clear how much I’m punching above my weight, an alarming tendency to plan our nights out with the precision of a military operation…”

Melissa snorted, nearly spilling her wine. “Sounds about right.” She turned to Agatha, her expression faux-serious. “You didn’t tell me you’d drafted an itinerary for this relationship.”

Agatha gave Melissa an unimpressed look and rolled her eyes. “If I had, you wouldn’t be on it.”

Melissa cackled, delighted. “Oh, come on. You love me. Admit it.”

“I tolerate you,” Agatha corrected, though her lips twitched in a barely suppressed smile.

Rio, clearly enjoying herself, leaned in. “For the record, I’m pretty sure Melissa’s the fun one in this friendship.”

Agatha gave her an incredulous look. “You’re taking her side?”

Rio shrugged, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “She’s growing on me.”

Melissa raised her glass in triumph. “Finally, you date someone with taste!”

“God help me,” Agatha muttered, shaking her head.

When Rio slipped away to use the bathroom and grab another round, Melissa wasted no time turning her attention back to Agatha, her smile shifting into something sly.

“So,” she began, leaning in conspiratorially, “when are you going to thank me for giving you a push?”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, playing it cool. “I wasn’t aware I owed you any thanks.”

“Oh, please.” Melissa waved a hand. “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be overthinking yourself into oblivion. Admit it—I nudged you toward her at the wedding, and now look at you.” She gestured pointedly, her grin widening. “You’re practically glowing, Agatha. It’s nauseating.”

Agatha rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the faint flush that crept up her neck. She took a sip of her wine to stall, but Melissa wasn’t done.

“Come on,” Melissa pressed, her tone teasing but curious. “What are your intentions, hmm? You both look so… lovelorn. It’s adorable, really.”

Agatha hesitated, feeling a flutter of nerves. She wasn’t used to being put on the spot like this, especially about something so personal. But the wine had softened her, and the words spilled out before she could think better of it.

“I’ve fallen in love with her,” she admitted, her voice quiet but steady.

Melissa’s eyes widened slightly before her grin turned downright wicked. “Oh, really? Go on, then. Tell me everything.”

Agatha sighed, knowing she wouldn’t get out of this without a little more elaboration. She set her glass down, her fingers tracing the rim as she searched for the right words.

“She’s just…” Agatha began, then trailed off, shaking her head with a small, self-deprecating laugh. “She’s incredible, Mel. She makes everything feel… brighter. Easier. Like the world isn’t quite so heavy when she’s around.”

Melissa watched her with an expression that was equal parts amusement and fondness, but she didn’t interrupt, letting Agatha ramble on.

“She’s so kind,” Agatha continued, her voice gaining a touch of warmth. “And funny. God, she makes me laugh more than anyone else ever has. And she has this way of looking at me, like…” She paused, her cheeks flushing deeper. “Like she really sees me, you know? All of me. The good and the bad. And she still chooses me.”

Melissa let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying this rare glimpse of vulnerability. “Well, well,” she teased, leaning her chin on her hand. “I’ve never seen you like this, Agatha. I’m almost tempted to write it down—document the moment you turned into a lovesick fool.”

Agatha groaned, covering her face with her hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

“No, no, don’t stop now,” Melissa teased, though her tone was gentler than before. She reached out to pat Agatha’s hand. “I mean it, though. I’ve never seen you like this. It’s… nice. Suits you.”

Agatha peeked at her from between her fingers, her expression half-suspicious, half-grateful. “You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Melissa said cheerfully, leaning back in her chair.

When Rio returned, carrying a fresh round of drinks, she glanced between the two women, her brow furrowing slightly. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing important,” Melissa said quickly, though her grin said otherwise.

Agatha looked at her with a warning look but said nothing, choosing instead to take a long sip of her wine.

Rio arched an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tension but choosing not to press. She slid a beer across to Melissa and sat back down, her arm brushing against Agatha’s.

Melissa raised her glass, a mischievous glint in her eye. “To Agatha,” she said, her tone dripping with mock sincerity.

Agatha groaned. “God help me.”

“To Agatha,” Rio echoed, raising her own glass with a grin. “And new partners in crime.”

Melissa smirked but said nothing, clinking her glass against Rio’s. Agatha shot her a look that promised retribution, but in that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to mind. Not with Rio smiling at her like that, her eyes soft and warm.

For all of Melissa’s teasing, she wasn’t wrong. Agatha was gone for her and she didn’t care to fight it.

Agatha shot her a look, but Melissa only winked, leaving Agatha torn between exasperation and amusement as Rio settled back into her seat. She leaned closer to steal a fry off her plate, and Agatha couldn’t help but think that Melissa might be right. Love did suit her.

They’d finally agreed on a morning to share brunch with Jen, and Agatha found herself uncharacteristically nervous. Rio had fit in so well in with her friends but Agatha knew that she could be a bit more of an acquired taste. She fidgeted with the edges of her sweater as she waited for them to arrive.

The first thing she noticed as the pair entered was the look on Rio’s face—part fond, part exasperated—and Agatha couldn’t help but smile to herself. Whatever Jen had been saying on the way over, it had clearly gotten under Rio’s skin, but in that familiar, harmless way only close friends could manage. Rio bent down to kiss her cheek, and the casual intimacy of the gesture made Agatha’s heart flutter. 

God, I’m doomed.

She extended a hand to Jen, who met her grip with surprising warmth and a wide grin. “It’s so nice to finally get to meet you,” Agatha said, her tone polite but genuinely curious.

“Likewise,” Jen replied, her smile turning sly as she added, “I’ve heard a lot about you. Too much, possibly. You’ve made quite the impression.”

Agatha shot a sidelong glance at Rio, whose groan confirmed her suspicions. “Oh, have I?” she said smoothly, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“This was a mistake,” Rio muttered as she slid into the seat beside Agatha, her hand raking through her hair.

Agatha and Jen shared a glance, a silent agreement that Rio’s discomfort was too tempting not to exploit. They didn’t need to say a word—Agatha could already tell they’d get along just fine.

Jen had fully embraced her role as Rio’s tormentor-in-chief, and Agatha was more than happy to play along.

“So,” Jen began, her eyes glinting with mischief, “has she taken you to one of her karaoke nights yet?”

Agatha tilted her head, intrigued. “Karaoke? No, not yet.”

“Oh, it’s a sight to behold,” Jen said, leaning forward as if imparting a great secret. “She’s got this move—she points dramatically at the audience during the chorus, like she’s about to throw down a challenge. It’s pure theater.”

Agatha turned to Rio, her brows raised in mock disbelief. “Springsteen? Really? Were you channeling your inner rock star?”

“I was not,” Rio shot back, her tone defensive but her ears unmistakably red. “I was just… feeling the music.”

Jen snorted into her coffee. “Feeling the music, huh? You practically had people holding up lighters.”

Agatha laughed, resting her chin in her hand as she regarded Rio with fond amusement. “I think it’s endearing. Passionate, even.” She paused, a devilish glint in her eyes. “But now I have to see this for myself. It’s been a while, but I happen to love karaoke.”

Rio groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, it’s happening,” Jen said, leaning back with a triumphant grin. “You can’t deprive her of the full experience.”

Agatha’s laughter was warm and rich, drawing a quiet smile from Rio despite herself. “Darling,” Agatha teased, placing a hand lightly on Rio’s arm, “if it makes you feel better, I promise not to point and laugh when you serenade me with Don’t Stop Believin’ .”

Jen nearly choked on her coffee as Rio glared at both of them. “I’m going to regret this brunch forever.”

The conversation drifted to other topics, but the easy camaraderie remained. Agatha found herself studying the dynamic between Rio and Jen with quiet fascination. Their friendship was effortless, built on years of trust and shared history, and seeing Rio through Jen’s eyes only made Agatha adore her more.

When the check arrived, Jen leaned over conspiratorially, her voice just loud enough for Rio to hear. “You know, if she ever acts too cool or confident, just call me. I have so many embarrassing stories.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Agatha replied, her tone dry but amused. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Rio groaned as she shook her head. “Great. My worst nightmare has come true. You two are ganging up on me.”

Jen raised her glass with a grin. “To a successful brunch and to Rio, our favorite victim.”

Agatha clinked her glass against Jen’s, her smile softening as her eyes lingered on Rio. “And to her wonderful taste in friends.”

Rio rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Honey,” Agatha said smoothly, brushing her fingers lightly against Rio’s arm, “I’m always on your side. It’s just more fun from over here.”

Jen cackled again, and even Rio couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head in mock defeat.

As they stepped out into the crisp afternoon air, Rio held the door for both women. She followed Aagatha out and easily took her hand.

Jen pulled out her phone, claiming she had to capture “this historic moment” before leaving. After snapping a quick photo, she hugged both women and left with a wink, calling over her shoulder, “Take her to karaoke! You owe me that much!”

As Rio turned to Agatha with a rueful smile, she muttered, “You realize introducing the two of you is going haunt me forever, right?”

Agatha laughed, slipping her arm through Rio’s as they began to walk. “Forever’s a long time, darling. But I think we can manage.”

Chapter Text

The end of each fiscal quarter, especially year-end, was always a mess. Agatha had long since come to accept that as part of the job. Chaos was inevitable, deadlines mounted like an avalanche, and employees ran around like headless chickens. Usually, she welcomed it—the sharp focus and constant movement drowned out the static hum of her personal life, especially during the holidays when the words togetherness and family rang hollow.

But this year was different. She was different. She had someone—a reason to want to finish work and leave the chaos behind for once.

And yet, her office had chosen this day to descend into a goddamn three-ring circus.

Agatha stalked down the hallway, her heels clicking purposefully against the polished floors. It was nearly noon, and she was already three meetings deep, with nothing but a headache and rapidly mounting irritation to show for it.

Julie, her newly promoted chief of staff, hovered at her office door like an apologetic shadow. “Agatha, HR is waiting for you in conference room B to discuss the—”

“Yes, I know who is waiting for me, Julie,” Agatha snapped as she breezed past her, not slowing her stride. “You don’t need to narrate my day like I’m a contestant on a game show.”

Julie’s lips pressed into a tight line as Agatha swept into the room, dropping into the head seat at the table. She rapidly clicked the pen in her hand as she looked over her HR Director Steve with his stupid crooked tie, laptop open, ready to detail the firm's latest headache.

“Good morning, Agatha,” Steve greeted cautiously.

“It’s not. Let’s get this over with,” Agatha replied briskly, pulling out a notepad she had no intention of using.

Steve cleared his throat. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Jessica Thompson—”

“ Former employee Jessica Thompson,” Agatha corrected sharply, leaning back in her chair with indifference . “What’s she suing us for again? Emotional distress? I’m distressed just hearing about it.”

Steve didn’t look amused. “It’s a serious claim. She says She was let go under undue pressure and unreasonable expectations—”

“That’s rich, coming from a woman who didn’t meet a single deliverable for six months,” Agatha interrupted, her voice clipped. “You’ll forgive me if I’m unmoved by Jessica’s delicate feelings. And I’m certainly not wasting my time mediating hurt egos when I have actual work to do.”

Steve opened his mouth, but before he could get another word in, Agatha stood abruptly. “Handle it, Steve. That’s what HR is for, isn’t it?” She gave him a thin, pointed smile. “File a dismissal, talk to Leslie, and pull her performance records. If you absolutely must , offer whatever it takes to keep her quiet and this off my desk.”

She didn’t wait for his response. Instead, she strode out of the room as quickly as she had breezed in, irritation flaming hot under her skin. Emotional distress? She should counter-sue—this bullshit was eating into the time she could be spending with Rio.

As she approached her office, Julie caught up with her, a folder in hand. “Agatha, Senator Calloway’s office called again—”

“ Again? ” Agatha whipped around, eyes narrowing. “Why are you even telling me this, Julie?”

Julie blinked, taken aback. “Well, I just thought—”

“No, you didn’t think. ” Agatha cut her off, her voice carrying the vicious edge she only used with her more irritating subordinates. “If you had, you would’ve remembered that I don’t want to hear about Senator Calloway or her office . I’ve told you to ignore her calls for weeks now—why would I suddenly change my mind? Do I need to spell that out for you?”

Julie flushed, muttering, “No, ma’am.”

“Good. Then don’t bring it up again.”

Agatha pushed past her into her office, slamming the door harder than necessary. She leaned against it for a moment, letting out a slow breath, willing her temper to settle. Why is everyone so goddamn incompetent today? she thought bitterly. She knew she wasn’t being fair. Berating employees who didn’t meet the mark was one thing, but she was lashing out at everyone like a feral cat caught in a trap. 

She took a deep breath and sent a quick message to Julie.

Thank you for the updates.

It was as close to an apology as she was going to give for now, but she made a mental note to increase the percentage of Julie’s holiday bonus.

By the time her afternoon meetings finished, the entire office tap-danced around eggshells. Whispers buzzed like white noise in the background whenever she passed through the halls. Agatha could feel it— the wary glances, the sudden stiffening of backs, the tension that followed her like the intense pressure right before a storm.

Usually, she wouldn’t care. Being feared, at least a little had gotten her this far. But today, every interaction grated on her patience.

It was almost six when Agatha finally returned to her office. The moment the door was closed, she kicked off her heels. Leaning back against her desk, she let out a long breath, trying to exhale the frustration that had built up all day.

Her phone buzzed on the corner of her desk, breaking the silence. Agatha glanced at the screen, her shoulders softening as she read Rio’s name.

Dinner tonight? Or are you terrorizing your employees late into the night?

Agatha’s lips quirked into something that resembled a smile as she typed back quickly.

Today, they deserve it. What time?

A moment later, Rio replied.

You tell me. Why don’t I come over? Cook at yours, have a night in.

Agatha chewed the inside of her cheek momentarily as she considered her response.

Okay. I’ll let you know when I’m leaving. Fair warning, I’m in a foul mood. I’m trying to leave it here. But if I’m sharp… I don’t mean it.

She knew she could be abrasive and harsh and had a bad habit of carrying her work frustrations home with her, but the last person she wanted to take that out on was Rio. So she’d sit in her office long enough to simmer down before calling the car.

Her phone buzzed with Rio’s reply.

You could use some stress relief. I can help with that. Want me to tell you how?

Agatha laughed and shook her head before tapping the call button.

The phone rang twice before Rio picked up, her voice a slow drawl of feigned innocence. “Well, this is unexpected. Thought you were still working. Miss me already?”

Agatha leaned back in her chair, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “You didn’t think you could get away with sexting me while I’m at the office, did you?”

“Sexting?” Rio gasped, playing it up. “ Me ? I would never . I was just offering to help with your stress.”

“Right. Because your stress relief methods are purely safe for work,” Agatha said dryly, though the hint of amusement in her tone was unmistakable.

“Hey,” Rio said, her voice dropping just a little, low enough to make Agatha’s pulse spike. “ I’m the innocent party here. I can’t help if you’re reading between the lines. Is that where your mind went? I don’t mind.”

Agatha stifled a laugh, running a hand through her hair. “I’m interested in a lot of things, but mixing business and pleasure isn’t one of them. I like to be able to give both my singular focus.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Rio replied smoothly. “I happen to know someone who’s very good at following orders. Thought that might be your thing.”

Agatha exhaled sharply as heat crept up her neck. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m charming, and I think it’s working,” Rio corrected, entirely too pleased with herself. “Come home, and I’ll show you how cooperative I can be. I’ll even cook for you.”

“Mm. Tempting. Though I’m not sure I trust you in my kitchen,” Agatha teased, though the edge of her sharp mood was already starting to dull.

“You’ll be eating out of my hand by the time I’m done.” Rio’s voice dipped, suggestive and warm, the promise hanging between them. “And if that doesn’t tempt you, I’ll make it worth your while… after dinner.”

Agatha bit her lip, momentarily distracted by the mental image Rio had so easily conjured. “I see we’re back to square one.”

“ You’re the one with a filthy mind, Agatha,” Rio said innocently, though Agatha could practically hear the smug grin through the phone.

“Clearly, I’m not alone in that.” Agatha swiveled her chair around to face the window, her gaze catching on the city skyline that had started to blur into dusk.

“Mhm.” Rio paused, drawing out the silence just long enough to make Agatha impatient. Then, softly, “I’m very persuasive when I want to be. Come home to me, and we can help you forget your shitty day. ”

Agatha closed her eyes, letting the warmth of Rio’s voice sink into her. It was infuriating, and maybe a little pathetic, how easily she could be unraveled with just a few well-timed words. Her day, which had felt like an all-consuming frustration only minutes ago, now seemed like a minor hurdle between her and something infinitely better.

There was no denying it. “Fine,” she said, already reaching for her coat. “I’m on my way. You’ll probably beat me there so grab the key out of the planter.”

“Good,” Rio replied, triumphant. “See you soon.”

The work could wait. Her frustrations could wait. Right now, someone was waiting for her .

The day had been shit, but the evening was shaping up to be a good one— a perfect one, really. Agatha loved this kind of routine more than she cared to admit. 

She’d come home, slipped off her heels, and traded her tailored blazer for a well-worn sweater. Rio had already opened a bottle of wine and prepped some of the ingredients. Agatha was eager for a task to keep her hands busy, and soon the smell of garlic and olive oil swirled through the kitchen as she stood at the stove, turning vegetables in the pan with practiced ease.

Rio sat at the counter, wineglass in hand, her teasing commentary flowing already. Agatha didn’t mind. That lopsided smirk she flashed when she teased Agatha made the long day at work seem like nothing more than a bad dream.

“You sure that much garlic isn’t a felony in some places?” Rio quipped, and Agatha rolled her eyes with mock exasperation, fighting a small smile.

“Relax,” she shot back, barely glancing over her shoulder. She gave the pan a pointed stir for emphasis, holding up the wooden spoon like a weapon. “Garlic is a love language.”

Rio’s voice came again, smooth and amused. “I thought that was wine.”

Agatha smirked, flipping the vegetables before answering. “It’s both.”

Something about this normalcy —Rio perched there like she belonged, their easy banter filling the quiet spaces—made Agatha finally exhale and relax. This was her peace. 

And then, the sharp knock at the front door shattered it.

“Were you expecting someone?” Rio’s eyebrow arched, her head tilting toward the sound.

“No.” Agatha frowned, irritation already pricking at her. The knock was too sudden, too heavy, like whoever was on the other side was trying to break into this sanctuary. She gestured toward the door. “Can you grab that? I’m elbow-deep in olive oil here.”

Rio set down her glass with an audible clink and slid off the stool. Agatha barely noticed, focused instead on the pan, the sizzle of garlic and vegetables under the heat. Still, something coiled uncomfortably in her gut—an instinct, maybe, that this wasn’t just a nosy neighbor or solicitor.

Then she heard Rio’s voice, sharper now. “Can I help you?”

Agatha turned her head, frowning. Rio’s tone told her everything she needed to know; this wasn’t good.

“Hello again,” a voice called back, smooth and too familiar. Ashley.

Agatha’s stomach dropped, and the unmistakable sound of heels clicking against her floors made her blood heat. It was unbelievable. She turned fully from the stove, her irritation flashing hot as soon as her eyes landed on Ashley stepping inside like she owned the place.

“Absolutely not,” Agatha snapped, her voice cutting through the room like glass.

Ashley didn’t flinch. She strode in with that same poised confidence that had always grated on Agatha as if everyone was hers to command.

“We need to talk,” Ashley said, her calm tone only fueling Agatha’s fury.

“Excuse me?” Agatha’s voice sharpened as she moved forward, placing herself deliberately between Ashley and Rio. The audacity of this woman, walking into her home uninvited, acting as though she had any right to demand her attention. “What the hell are you doing barging into my house? Get out.”

Ashley crossed her arms, her face serene but unyielding. “You’ve been ignoring my calls. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

The smug calm of her voice only made Agatha’s fists curl at her sides. This woman . “Actually, you did,” Agatha bit out, her tone icy. “You could’ve taken the hint.”

Rio moved closer behind her, and Agatha could feel the tension rolling off her in waves. “You should leave,” Rio said, low and steady—protective.

Agatha would’ve taken a moment to appreciate how right it felt if she wasn’t so actively trying to keep her temper in check.

Ashley’s gaze slid to Rio like she was an afterthought, dismissive in a way that made Agatha’s teeth clench. “I’m not here to cause a scene,” Ashley said, voice smooth as glass. “I just need a moment with Agatha. In private.”

Agatha barked out a humorless laugh, sharp and bitter. “You’ve got some nerve showing up uninvited and demanding my time.”

Ashley didn’t flinch. Her calm was infuriating. “This is important, Agatha. Five minutes.”

Agatha glared, her mind already racing with the hundred things she wanted to say—or scream. She glanced back at Rio, catching her tense and defensive expression. Her frustration softened, just for a moment, at the sight of her. Agatha couldn’t let this escalate—not with Rio here. 

“Rio, can you go flip the chicken?” she asked suddenly, the words leaving her lips before she thought twice.

Rio blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

“Please,” Agatha added firmly, eyes locked on Ashley. She hoped her message was clear , please let me handle this.

As Rio hesitated, Agatha felt a pang of guilt for pushing her out of the moment, but she couldn’t let this turn into a showdown. Ashley was her problem, and she desperately needed to keep Rio out of the middle.

Her jaw tightened as Rio reluctantly moved back toward the stove. Agatha’s attention turned back to Ashley, her temper simmering just beneath the surface.

This intrusion had ruined what should’ve been a calm, normal night—an escape from an already stressful day. She wasn’t about to let that be taken from her.

“Don’t get comfortable. You’re not staying,” Agatha said as she led Ashley into the living room, her tone clipped. She moved to lean against the bookshelf, arms crossed.

Ashley smirked, slow and deliberate, before perching on the sofa's edge. She crossed her legs with practiced elegance, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood as they settled. The faint scrape sent a spike of irritation up Agatha’s spine, but she held firm, refusing to let it show. 

“If you’d answer my calls, or texts, or emails, I wouldn’t be here,” Ashley drawled, her voice dripping with a dangerous mix of amusement and disdain. She scanned the room lazily as if cataloging it for any flaws or weapons to use in her attack. “I’m sorry to interrupt your evening. I didn’t expect you to have company.”

Agatha’s jaw ticked, her teeth grinding as her gaze stayed fixed on Ashley, unwavering. “What do you want?” she snapped, cutting straight to the point. 

She couldn’t stand the way Ashley settled into her home like she belonged there.

“Agatha, please, always business with you.” Ashley sighed dramatically as if she were the wounded party, her voice softening into an affected pout. “I was coming to ask for your help in a work matter. But I can see that you’re distracted.” 

Her sharp gaze flicked upward, locking onto Agatha with practiced precision. “Please don’t tell me you’re losing your edge over this girl. Can I ask, where on earth did you find her?”

The words landed like a punch to the gut, the smug lilt in Ashley’s tone making them even worse. Agatha felt the pit in her stomach drop and coil into something sharp and cold. Did she know? Could she know? 

Her throat tightened instinctively, her heartbeat drumming a little faster in her chest. Stay calm, she told herself. This is what she does. Ashley always made it look like she knew more than she did. Her traps were laid so carefully that one false step could send you tumbling into them.

Agatha forced herself to breathe, her expression sharpening. “You’re unbelievable. I’m not talking about her. Not with you. It’s none of your business.” Her voice came out smooth, despite the pulse of fury carried beneath it. 

But then, she tilted her head, her lip curling into a faint mockery of a smile. “But I can assure you, it wasn’t on whatever college campus you found your latest tryst.”

Ashley’s smirk didn’t falter, but her eyes narrowed just slightly, almost imperceptible. She adjusted, leaning back, her tone light and curious, but the words had a more pointed venom. 

“Well, I was curious. So I did some research. Just because I still care for your well-being, of course.” She paused, watching Agatha with the satisfaction of a cat batting around at a mouse. 

“She isn’t your type. Hospitality you said she worked in. Interesting way to say she’s a dropout working at a shitty bar , I don’t think she recognized me but do tell her I’m sorry that my brunch companions were so clumsy,” Ashley sneered. 

“Not to mention she’s plain looking, vaguely ethnic, I suppose. I’m not sure if you’re aware of how you look together, I’m sure most people think she’s your assistant… Is this your mid-life crisis in full swing?”

The breath was forced from Agatha’s lungs as the words hit their mark, clean and cutting. She froze for the briefest moment, her hands gripping the edge of the bookshelf so hard her knuckles went white. Don’t react.  

Her jaw tightened, her teeth grinding as she fought the impulse to snap, to lunge, to tear Ashley’s smug expression apart. Instead, she let the silence stretch, willing herself to calm down and not let her voice carry over into the kitchen where Rio was most likely keeping an ear out for trouble.

Finally, her voice came, low and lethal. “Watch your mouth.” Each word was deliberate, measured, spoken like a blade pressed to Ashley’s throat. Agatha pushed away from the bookshelf, her movements slow and purposeful as she closed the space between them, looming just enough to force Ashley to look up at her. “The power-hungry, manipulative, frigid type didn’t work out for me , did it? This does. She is everything you’re not. She gives me what you never even tried to.”

For just a second—barely a heartbeat—Ashley’s expression cracked. The smirk faltered at the edges, her eyes flickering with something sharp and wounded. Agatha saw it. But it wasn’t satisfying. Not when the cost of Ashley’s barbs still burned under her skin.

Ashley recovered quickly, her lips curling back into their condescending smirk. She tilted her head, studying Agatha like a puzzle she was still piecing together. “Aggie.”

“Do not fucking call me that.” Agatha’s voice whipped out like a lash, sudden and razor-sharp. “You know I hate it. I’ve always hated it.”

“You’re getting sentimental,” Ashley said, her tone infuriatingly gentle like she was pointing out a flaw. “I never thought I’d see the day.” Her gaze drifted to Agatha’s hands, searching for a tremor, for the slightest slip in her armor. “Maybe I was right. Maybe you are losing your edge.”

Agatha didn’t take the bait, even though her pulse thrummed hot and insistent in her ears. She exhaled slowly, willing her voice to stay cool . 

“And maybe I’ve grown past the need to prove myself. Have you figured out yet that isn’t love? It shouldn’t be work, or a contest, or whatever fucked-up games we put each other through.” 

She paused, her stare pinning Ashley in place. “You haven’t changed at all. It’s pretty pathetic that you still haven’t learned that. Is that why you thought I needed your little anniversary gift? Is that all you have? Because I can assure you, you wouldn’t believe the things you can enjoy in the bedroom when you’re not with someone you can’t fucking stand to look at anymore.”

Ashley arched a brow, though the slight flush creeping up her neck betrayed her. She leaned back into the couch, feigning boredom as she brushed an invisible speck of dust from her skirt. “Hm. Well, you certainly still have your flair for dramatics.” She almost wearily exhaled as though Agatha’s anger was exhausting her. “But let’s skip the posturing, shall we? I didn’t come here to fight.”

Agatha scoffed, her disbelief evident. “You could’ve fooled me.”

Ashley’s grin was quick and sharp. “I came here because I need your firm. Not you, necessarily—you’re clearly too busy playing house—but someone capable enough to take on a case. It’s a matter of work, nothing personal. Just business.”

Agatha crossed her arms again, her skepticism heavy in the way she narrowed her gaze. “And why would I even consider that?” she asked flatly.

“Because there’s money on the table,” Ashley replied, her smile smug and knowing. “More than enough to make up for the inconvenience of this little… house call.” Her gaze flicked to Agatha’s ring finger and then back up. “You’re paying the bills for two now, aren’t you? I can’t see where she’s contributing much.”

“You don’t get to talk about her,” Agatha said, her voice low, steady, and cold enough to cut. “And you certainly don’t get to insult the people I care about while trying to buy my time. If you have an offer, you’ll email my office like anyone else.”

Ashley rose, brushing her skirt back into place with slow, deliberate hands, her smile never wavering. “I already tried that, remember? But you’re stubborn, so here I am.” 

She moved back toward the kitchen, pausing just a moment. “One more thing, Agatha,” she said, sickly sweet and laced with poison. “I know you’ve always prided yourself on control. But maybe you should ask yourself… who’s really in control of you these days?”

Agatha didn’t move. She stood rooted to the spot, her expression hard as stone, even as Ashley’s footsteps receded into the hallway and the door clicked shut behind her. Only then , when silence returned to the house, did Agatha’s hands unclench from their fists. Her palms burned where her nails had dug in, but she barely noticed.

She doesn’t matter, Agatha told herself. Not anymore.

But as she turned to rejoin Rio in the kitchen, the heaviness in her chest remained, sitting like a stone. Already tense, she stepped into the hall but froze as soon as she saw Rio’s face. Her shoulders were stiff, her jaw tight, and something darker lingered behind her eyes, a shadow that didn’t belong there. 

Agatha’s stomach turned. She’d said something to her.

“What did she say to you?” Agatha’s voice was low but insistent.

“Nothing. It’s not important,” Rio muttered. She had turned back to the stove, gripping the handle of a pan like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. The sharp scent of burnt chicken filled the kitchen, and Rio swore under her breath as she flipped it.

Agatha didn’t move, her gaze narrowing. “Rio, what did she say to you? ” She repeated, voice rising. She could feel her pulse speeding up. When Rio didn’t respond, Agatha spun on her heel toward the door, fury curling through her veins. “I swear, whatever she fucking said—”

“Agatha.”

Rio’s voice cut through the anger with such finality that Agatha froze in place. Slowly, reluctantly, she turned her head, catching Rio’s gaze over her shoulder. Her chest heaved with the effort of holding herself back.

“Don’t,” Rio said, softer now. “Will you just come here, please?”

The two of them stared at each other for a long beat, and Agatha couldn’t stand the thick tension , not between them. She turned back, walking across the kitchen to stand just a few steps from Rio. She watched as Rio slid the pan off the burner and drained her wineglass in one long, steady gulp.

“What did she have to say to you?” Rio asked, quieter now, her voice like a tether trying to keep Agatha grounded.

Agatha hesitated, her expression guarded, but she could feel Rio’s eyes on her—studying, waiting. She sighed, dragging her teeth over her bottom lip before answering, “She came here because she wanted something. She only ever needs me when she wants something.”

Rio’s exhale was slow and deliberate as if she were holding something back. “Okay. Can I ask what she wanted?”

Agatha took a step closer, closing the space between them like she could calm the tension buzzing in Rio’s frame. She slid her hands onto Rio’s waist, a small, grounding gesture, and watched as Rio’s shoulders softened just a fraction under her touch.

“Old habits die hard,” Agatha said bitterly, a humorless edge to her voice. “She’s found herself in a bit of a mess.”

“And she wants you to clean it up for her,” Rio finished, the words sharper than she’d probably intended.

Agatha gave a small shrug, her hands tightening against Rio’s sides. “Old habits.”

Rio turned slightly, enough to glance at her, and the weight of the question hung in the air before she even said it. “Are you going to help her?”

Agatha’s brow furrowed at the shift in Rio’s voice, and her tone softened. “It’s work, Rio. Nothing more.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Are you asking me not to?” Agatha murmured, her hand sliding up to rub slow, soothing circles against Rio’s back.

Rio shook her head, shoulders still tense. “I don’t want to be like that. Your work isn’t my business.”

“I haven’t decided,” Agatha admitted. She paused, searching Rio’s face carefully like the answer were written somewhere there. “I told her I’d think about it. I’ve never turned down a client. But… for you, I would. So I want you to tell me what she said to you. And then I’ll decide.”

Rio didn’t respond right away. Instead, her lips pressed together, her expression tight, until finally, she muttered, “If I tell you, you have to promise me that you’re not going to do something that ends up with your mugshot on the cover of the Tribune.”

Agatha’s eyes went dark, her jaw clenching as her hands stilled on Rio’s waist.

“Did she threaten you?” Her voice came low, almost a growl.

Rio turned, frustrated, but not at Agatha. “Of course not. She’d have to see me as an equal to do that.” Rio kicked at the floor. “She implied that she mistook me as the help.”

The words hit Agatha like a slap. Her anger—sharp and immediate—coursed back through her like wildfire. She never should have been gracious. She never should have tolerated this intrusion. “Where are my keys,” she snarled, spinning toward the counter.

“ Nope! ” Rio snapped, moving fast, her arms wrapping around Agatha’s waist and holding her in place. “What did I just say?”

“Let me go,” Agatha hissed, twisting against her, but Rio didn’t budge.

“Agatha, it isn’t worth it.”

“Rio—”

“Baby, please. ”

The name caught her off guard. Her struggle slowed as she glanced back over her shoulder, catching the earnest look in Rio’s eyes. Her chest still heaved with the weight of her anger, but Rio’s hold softened it, pulling her back into focus. She let Rio turn her around, backing her gently against the counter.

Rio kissed her then—soft and deliberate, a kiss meant to quiet the storm. “Thank you,” Rio murmured against her lips. “Stay here with me.”

Agatha huffed, not entirely convinced, but she nodded. “Only because you’re asking.”

Rio kissed her once more before pulling back to deal with the now-beyond-salvageable pan. Agatha crossed her arms, leaning back against the counter as she watched. “That settles it though. She’s crossed a line. She gets nothing from me. Never again.”

Rio didn’t look up as she scraped at the ruined chicken. “This chicken is fucked, though. Pizza and Survivor instead?”

Agatha let the moment go with a soft sigh as if she could breathe out all of the long-held tension. “Let me order. You always conveniently forget to ask for extra mushrooms.”

“No. I don’t forget. I just hate them ,” Rio teased lightly.  

Still, Agatha couldn’t fully shake the tension she carried. Her ex’s voice echoed in her head. The little digs, the insinuations, the doubt. Like always, they had wormed their way under her skin, turning sharp and jagged inside of her. You always choose work. Always the next thing. Always chasing.  

But she wasn’t chasing anything anymore. She had Rio. She chose Rio.

She reached for her, sliding her hands firmly around her waist and pulling her in, claiming her mouth in a kiss that stole Rio’s breath. She made a soft, startled sound that turned into something darker as she kissed back.

There was no hesitation in Agatha’s movements—no careful gentleness this time. Her fingers dug in a little more , her lips were harder , insistent, her teeth grazing the edge of Rio’s bottom lip. 

Her earlier frustration had twisted into something possessive and fierce. She poured herself into it until Rio was pressed against the counter.

Nothing else matters. Just you. Just this.

Agatha didn’t stop. With a strength that surprised herself , she gripped Rio’s thighs and lifted her up onto the marble surface, coaxing a breathless laugh out of her.

“Whoa,” Rio managed, “what’s gotten into you?”

Agatha didn’t answer verbally. She kissed her again, her fingers curling into the fabric of Rio’s shirt, holding her close as though afraid she might slip away. There was nothing soft in her this time—it was raw, rough, the kind of kiss that left them both breathless. 

She bit gently at Rio’s jawline, dragged her lips down the line of her neck, and for a moment, Rio’s teasing smile faltered, her breath catching.

Agatha paused only briefly, long enough to meet Rio’s eyes, her own gaze sharp and wild with intent. “Is this okay?” she asked, her voice low but steady. “Can we put dinner on pause?”

Rio raised a brow, the smile returning, lazy and smug. “Hungry for something else, are we?”

Agatha’s lips quirked just slightly in answer before she dropped to her knees.

Rio’s teasing faltered entirely this time, the smile slipping into something hungry and eager. Her fingers found their way to Agatha’s hair, threading through it as her breathing grew unsteady.

“Agatha…” she said softly, the edge of her voice turning into a breathless sigh.

Agatha looked up at her from where she knelt, and for all the roughness in her earlier actions, there was reverence in the way she touched Rio now, her hands sliding slowly up her thighs. This, was how she would erase the words that haunted her. This was how she would show Rio that there was no doubt, no competition, and no lingering question. 

Rio was hers. And she was Rio’s.

Chapter Text

With strong and steady hands, Agatha pulled Rio to the edge of the counter. Rio leaned back with both hands, dropping her chin to watch. Agatha whined, pressing her entire face between her legs, the rough fabric of her jeans scratching against her nose.

“Baby, please, take them off,” Rio gasped, hand fumbling with the button of her jeans. 

Agatha ground her face against the seam of her pants. Turning her head to the side, she placed a bite on the inside of her thigh. She knew the thick fabric would absorb some of the sharp sting, but she grinned as Rio cried out anyway, likely in anticipation more than anything else.

“Agatha,” she whined again, trying to slip off the counter, but Agatha’s hands felt her firmly in place.

“I heard you. I’ll do it when I’m ready.” Agatha growled, squeezing Rio’s thighs firmly. She glanced up and smiled as saw the hungry desire painted there.

She pushed Rio further against the counter, her hands mapping the toned curves of her thighs. The tension between them had coiled tight, and every breath Rio took tugged at her control. 

She wanted to savor the moment, to stretch it out, but her resolve wavered as Rio’s low, pleading voice cut through her.

"Agatha, please," Rio whispered, her fingers knotting in Agatha's hair, tugging just enough, just at the perfect precipice of too much. Just enough to make her moan, enough to make her want to draw even needier noises from her partner.

Agatha rose swiftly, capturing Rio’s mouth in a kiss that carried no tenderness. Teeth and tongue collided, messy and desperate. She gripped Rio’s jaw in her hand, angling her head to deepen the kiss. She could feel every twitch of her pulse, she could feel Rio’s whimper before she heard it. It was lucky that neither parted with a chipped tooth or bloody lip.

Her free hand remained locked around her waist, pinning her firmly against the counter. Rio groaned into her mouth, her fingers digging into Agatha's shoulders as if anchoring herself to her.

"I want you to be mine," Agatha growled between kisses, her voice low and raw. It wasn’t a question nor a plea.

A declaration.

Rio pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, her pupils blown wide with desire. "Yours," she said firmly, her voice trembling with need. She tilted her head to the side, baring her neck in a deliberate challenge. "Mark me?"

Something primal flared in Agatha, and she dipped her head to press her teeth to the soft skin of Rio’s neck, just above her pulse point. She bit down gently at first, testing, but when Rio gasped and arched against her, she let herself go, sucking hard enough to bruise. A low, satisfied moan escaped Rio’s lips as her nails dragged down Agatha’s back.

"Upstairs," Agatha rasped, barely pulling away from Rio’s skin. "Now."

Rio nodded quickly, her lips brushing against Agatha’s cheek before Agatha stepped back just enough to let her down. But before they could take more than a step, Agatha pulled her against the wall, her mouth finding Rio’s again in another searing kiss. Her hands slipped beneath the hem of Rio’s shirt, nails grazing her sides as she tugged it up and off in one smooth motion.

Rio let out a breathless laugh, her hands immediately moving to undo the buttons of Agatha’s blouse. "You’re not making it easy to get upstairs."

"I don’t like it easy," Agatha replied, her voice rough as she worked the clasp of Rio’s bra, tossing it aside before pressing their bodies together. The heat of Rio’s skin against hers was intoxicating, and for a moment, Agatha felt like she might lose herself entirely.

But that wouldn’t do, not when she still needed so much. Not when the voice in her head was chanting for her to mark, bite, give, take, claim, hold and berating her for not doing so faster.

They stumbled toward the stairs, pausing every few steps as Agatha couldn’t resist pressing Rio against the wall again, kissing her like the world was collapsing around them, like they only had these moments. By the time they reached the bedroom, shoes and jeans were discarded haphazardly along the way, leaving them both in nothing but underwear and the blooming marks Agatha had already begun to leave on Rio’s skin.

She looked pretty in red.

When they finally tumbled onto the bed, Agatha hovered over Rio, her lips brushing against hers in a moment of soft reverence, different from the frenzy that had brought them here. "Tell me if it’s too much," she murmured, her forehead resting against Rio’s for a moment.

Tell me if I’m too much.

Rio cupped Agatha’s face, her thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. "Never," she said, her voice steady despite the hitch in her breath. "I want all of it. I want all of you. Tell me what you need."

“You.”

Her teeth grazed over Rio’s neck, and she smiled against her as she felt her shiver. She nipped again at her, quickly soothing the spot with a gentle kiss.

“Roll over,” Agatha growled, leaning away just enough for Rio to flip to her stomach. She pulled her wrists behind her back, resting one knee between Rio’s thighs to spread them open.

Goosebumps formed down Rio’s back as Agatha traced the back of her hand down her spine. She could feel Rio pressing into her touch, whimpering softly as her hips rocked against her, seeking any friction she could find.

Rio was always responsive, but this was charged with something else. Something desperate and deadly threatened to consume them both.

“Let me hear how bad you want it,” she rasped, trailing wet kisses down her back. Rio wriggled beneath her, but Agatha didn’t give anymore beyond the steady press of her knee between her thighs. She scraped her nails over Rio’s ass, and her lover rewarded her with another needy cry.

Agatha tugged gently at Rio’s hair, urging her to turn her head to the side. “Look at us, look at how good you look,” she whispered.

Rio’s gasp echoed as she noticed their reflection in the standing mirror in the corner of the room. Agatha delighted in seeing her like this: her hair a mess, cheeks flushed, eyes blown wide. She wanted to see more.

Releasing her hold on her hair and wrists, she ran both hands down her body until the hooked the edges of her underwear. They were soaked through, and at another time, she would have enjoyed teasing Rio further, tasting her through them before pulling them away. But she needed to feel her around her fingers more.

She pulled them away and groaned eagerly as Rio lifted her hips further in anticipation. Her gasp as Agatha sank two fingers inside her confirmed this was the right choice. 

Agatha bent over her, rocking against her as she kissed at the back of her neck. “Can you take more?”

"Oh God, yes," Rio panted out, pushing back against Agatha's hand. Suddenly, Agatha withdrew her fingers, making Rio whine in protest. "I want my cock in you." She husked, glancing at Rio's reflection in the mirror to gauge her interest.

Agatha reached over to the nightstand drawer and pulled out a small bottle of lube and a strap-on harness. Rio looked back at her, swallowing hard. "What do you think?"

“Fuck yes," Rio breathed, pushing her hips back again. Agatha smiled, buckling the harness around her waist and carefully sliding the toy into place.

Agatha poured some lube onto her fingers, returning them to Rio's entrance. With one hand on Rio's hip, she slid her slick fingers deep inside. Rio gasped, arching her back at the sudden intrusion. "No need. I'm already ready." Rio whined. 

She smirked and lowered her voice to tease, "Well, you can never be too sure."

Rio spread her legs further, eager for more. Agatha quickly replaced her fingers with the tip of her strap-on, rubbing it against Rio's center. Her focus shifted back to the mirror. "Watch," Agatha commanded.

Rio could only nod, biting her lip as she obeyed Agatha's instruction. She watched their reflections as Agatha guided the head of the toy against her, pushing in agonizingly slowly.

Agatha flexed her hips, rolling them ever so slightly as she filled Rio completely. Rio moaned, gripping the sheets tightly, closing her eyes and dropping her head to the pillow.

Rio trembled, panting out words as Agatha thrust experimentally. "A little faster... please..." Agatha hummed, pulling nearly all the way out before pushing back into her sharply. "Good. Keep telling me what you want."

Agatha obliged, grinding herself against Rio as she thrust harder and faster. Rio responded in kind, eagerly taking each plunge, pushing back to meet her rhythm.

Rio grunted as Agatha gave one powerful thrust, burying herself fully within her. "Yes," she gasped, meeting Agatha's hungry gaze in the mirror. "Just like that."

She slid an arm underneath her, hoisting Rio onto her knees, desperate to take her deeper, to find that spot that made her scream.

"I love watching your face when I fuck you," Agatha muttered, her voice thick with lust. “Your face turns so pink, you're fucking glowing when you give yourself to me. It's absolutely gorgeous."

Rio moaned again, nodding against the pillows, as she tangled her hands in the sheets.

"I wish I could feel you. I bet you're clenching around me. Your body is begging to come. Not yet, though," Agatha growled, changing the angle and slowing her tempo.

Rio gripped tighter at the sheets, and her head thrashed side to side as she let out a frustrated cry. "Agatha... please."

She knew Rio wouldn’t, couldn’t, come yet, not until Agatha included her clit. But she couldn’t give her that yet, not when she looked so delicious underneath her.

"Not yet," Agatha repeated, punctuating each word with a deliberate thrust.

"I think I want to hear you beg," Agatha teased, her breath ragged as she watched Rio's every movement. "Would you, darling?"

She nodded eagerly, her open mouth spreading drool over the pillows. But Agatha craved a verbal answer.

"Rio," she pressed, her voice low and commanding. "Beg for me." 

Rio swallowed hard, her eyes fluttering open to meet Agatha's fiery gaze in the mirror. "Please, Agatha," she rasped. "Make me come." 

Agatha grinned and leaned close to whisper against her ear, "How many times?"

“As many as it takes," Rio moaned.

She was fucking perfect.

"That's a perfect answer.”

Rio couldn’t contain her moans as Agatha resumed her punishing pace. She was whining now, a complete mess, just as Agatha had hoped she would be.

"You feel amazing," Agatha purred. "You sound amazing. I know you're close." She was at her breaking point now too, desperate to hear Rio fall apart. Making her wait any longer would be cruel, and Agatha quickly moved one hand around to rub against her clit. “Come on, angel, let me hear you.”

Rio's eyes squeezed shut, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as Agatha rubbed furiously at her swollen clit. She bucked against Agatha's hand, choking on a scream as her climax ripped through her.

Agatha continued to stroke her even as she slowed her thrusts. As she came down, Rio whimpered and squirmed, trying futilely to get away.

“Too sensitive,” she gasped.

"Not yet, you’re not," Agatha replied firmly. "Roll onto your back, baby." She murmured, slipping out of her just long enough for her partner to comply.

Agatha leaned forward, placing soft kisses on Rio's lips and working her way down her body. 

She paused at her breasts to kiss each nipple softly before continuing downward. As she reached her target, wet and swollen and shining with arousal, she locked eyes with Rio who looked drunk on desire.

Her tongue lapped at Rio, earning another throaty moan. "Hold onto something," Agatha murmured against her, smiling as she felt both of Rio's hands bunch in her hair. She did love a quick learner.

She stayed there, moaning eagerly as she worked her tongue against her, until Rio began to squirm again, bucking her hips against her face.

Agatha pulled away, quickly moving back up to Rio’s face. "Taste how sweet you are," she murmured, leaning down to kiss her greedily as she moved her hand between them to position the toy again.

For just a moment, she waited, taking her time to eye Rio. She looked so good like this, all hunger and instinct.

"Fuck!" Rio gasped when Agatha pushed inside again, this time going all the way in one fluid motion.  "Don't stop," she whimpered, wrapping one hand around the back of Agatha's neck and pulling her closer. 

"Never," Agatha mumbled, kissing at Rio's neck and leaving several new marks there.

Agatha's mouth crashed into Rio's once more, ravaging and devouring, driven by some primal force. She pushed Rio's knees farther apart, driving her full length into her.

Rio lifted her hips to meet her thrusts eagerly, her flushed cheeks streaked with tears. "God, Agatha," she breathed, "You make me feel incredible."

“You are incredible. Always want you to feel like this.”

She could feel her own desire beginning to distract her, and briefly wondered if she could come just like this. Did she need any stimulation beyond how Rio looked and sounded right now?

Maybe if she…

"Put your hand on my throat," Agatha growled, positioning her full weight on top of Rio and increasing the force of each thrust. She took Rio's hand and guided it where she wanted, showing her where to hold.

"Do it," Agatha hissed, staring deep into Rio's eyes. "Choke me while I fuck you." Rio hesitated for a split second before obliging, wrapping her slender fingers around Agatha's delicate neck and pressing lightly.

“That’s my girl. Keep going," Agatha instructed, breathing heavily. "I'll tell you if it's too much." Rio, her pupils blown wide and teeth sunk into her lower lip, nodded slowly.

Agatha grunted, her movements becoming erratic as she pursued her own release. Her hand circled furiously around Rio’s clit and the sight of Rio lost in pleasure, the sound of her moans and their bodies against each other pushed her towards the edge. "Oh god, fuck Rio, please!”

As Agatha came undone, she moaned Rio's name, her hips falling out of rhythm as she collapsed on top of her. Rio was still moaning beneath her, her hips twitching as she babbled Agatha’s name, her arms wrapping around her as if it were possible to hold her more closely.

Only in the silence that followed could they both appreciate how loud they’d just been. Agatha had never liked her neighbors anyway.

Wow," Rio gasped, her chest heaving beneath Agatha's. She stroked a hand through Agatha's sweat-soaked hair as she kissed the side of her neck softly.

“Gonna pull out,” Agatha mumbled against her neck, her heart still threatening to burst out of her. Her lungs weren’t doing much better, forcing air into them seemed to take a monumental amount of effort.

She rolled away long enough to remove the harness before quickly rolling back towards Rio and bringing her flush into her arms. “Are you alright?” Agatha asked softly, brushing Rio’s hair away from her face so she could see her better.

Rio mumbled something against her neck, and Agatha gently pinched at her side.

“Let me hear you,” she said softly, stroking her hand down Rio’s back in soothing circles.

Rio lifted her head and grinned lazily at her. “No words. You fucked them out.”

Agatha laughed and reached to wipe her lover’s face before gently kissing her. “You were wonderful. So beautiful. That was so fucking good.”

“Mhm.” Rio hummed, dropping her head against her chest again.

She smiled and let her lips fall to the crown of her head, kissing softly. “Seriously. You’re so amazing.”

All she wanted to tell her was how much she loved her, but she couldn’t risk it being misconstrued as just a side effect of the intensity they’d just shared. She was beginning to wonder how much longer she could hold out though. How could she deny herself when Rio looked at her like that?

“I’ve got you,” she whispered instead, pulling Rio’s thigh so that they were tangled together.

They stayed like that for a long time, until their breaths settled into a steady and unified rhythm.

“We should clean up,” she mumbled, fingers playing idly in her lover’s hair. She tried to sit up, but Rio pressed more firmly against her as she shook her head.

“In a minute. I want to stay like this.”

How could she deny her that? How could she deny herself? Agatha smiled and nodded, relaxing back against the bed. “Alright. In a minute.”

The warmth between them lingered as the moments stretched, a comforting haze wrapping around their bodies. Agatha’s fingers continued their gentle exploration of Rio’s hair, her other hand tracing idle patterns along her lover’s back.

She wished they could lay like this forever.

Eventually, though, practicality nudged at the edges of her mind. The stickiness on their skin and the faint hum of the clock on the bedside table reminded her that time marched on. With a soft sigh, she tried again. “Alright, seriously this time. We should clean up.”

Rio grumbled against her chest but finally lifted her head, her messy hair sticking up at wild angles. Agatha couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, brushing a stray strand out of her eyes. “Come on, beautiful. Shower with me.”

Rio’s lips curved into a small, lazy smile, and she nodded. “Fine, but only because you’re asking so nicely.”

They untangled themselves slowly, both wincing as stiff muscles protested the movement. 

Agatha stretched, rolling her neck with a satisfied groan as Rio swung her legs over the edge of the bed. They made their way to the bathroom, their hands brushing together.

Once inside, Agatha turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. Rio had complained before that she shouldn’t need a mechanical engineering degree to operate a shower, but since then, Agatha had always made sure to get in first. Rio joined her, and for a moment, they stood together, letting the water cascade over their bodies, washing them clean.

“Turn around,” Rio murmured, gently kissing her shoulder.

Agatha raised an eyebrow but complied, curious. She felt Rio’s hands gather her hair, pulling it back with practiced ease before the cool shampoo met her scalp. “You’re really that obsessed with my hair?” she asked, half-laughing.

“Absolutely. Trust me,” Rio replied, her fingers working the shampoo into a lather with slow, deliberate care. “You’ll love it.”

She loved every other way Rio put her hands on her. Why would this one be any different?

Agatha closed her eyes and let herself melt under Rio’s touch. The sensation of her fingers massaging her scalp was more intimate than she expected, a mix of tender care and sensuality that made her shiver. “You’re surprisingly good at that,” she murmured, her voice a little unsteady.

Rio chuckled. “Told you. I’m good at everything. Now relax.”

And she did. For the first time in what felt like forever, Agatha allowed herself to fully let go. She leaned into Rio’s touch, savoring the moment's intimacy as Rio rinsed the shampoo out and reached for the conditioner. The rhythm of her movements, the gentle pressure of her hands, the way she hummed softly under her breath—it all felt so natural, so safe.

When Rio finally finished, she turned Agatha to face her, her eyes warm and full of something that made Agatha’s chest tighten. “See? Not so bad letting someone take care of you for a change.”

Agatha smiled, brushing her fingers lightly along Rio’s jaw. “Not bad at all.”

After they dried off, Agatha wrapped herself in a robe and reached for her phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up with a few missed messages and notifications, but she ignored them for now. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder at Rio, who ran a towel through her damp hair.

“You still up for pizza? They close in twenty minutes.”

Rio gave her an incredulous look. “Agatha, you can’t be that person. Only assholes place delivery orders at the last minute.”

Agatha laughed, already pulling up the menu on her phone. “Don’t worry. I’ll tip well enough to make it worth their while.”

Rio rolled her eyes but smiled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it,” Agatha quipped, shooting her a wink before placing the order. As she set her phone down, she caught Rio watching her with an expression so soft, so full of something unspoken that her heart stuttered.

It looked almost like love.

The thought whispered through her mind again, unbidden but insistent: How much longer can I keep this to myself? But she tucked it away.

Agatha leaned back against the headboard, pulling the silk robe more snugly around her body as Rio stretched languidly beside her. The delivery notification pinged from Agatha’s phone, and she arched an eyebrow in Rio’s direction, tilting her head towards the door.

“Well, darling,” Agatha drawled, her tone teasing, “I know how you love getting to be chivalrous. I think it’s time for you to fulfill your duty.”

Rio groaned dramatically, flopping back against the pillows. “Agatha, my legs still barely work.”

Agatha smirked, leaning closer. “Oh, come on, darling. Are you sure ? Because if you’re not, I guess I’ll just have to go answer the door.” She let her robe slip ever so slightly, revealing a teasing glimpse of skin. “But, dressed like this? I’m pretty sure I’d make some teenager’s night.”

Rio growled low in her throat, sending a delightful shiver down Agatha’s spine. She surged forward, capturing Agatha’s lips in a heated kiss, her hands gripping the curve of her waist. 

When they finally broke apart, Rio’s voice was a husky murmur against Agatha’s mouth.

“No way am I sharing this view,” she said firmly. “This is just for me.”

Agatha’s lips curled into a smug smile as Rio slid off the bed, grumbling while pulling on a sweatshirt and a pair of joggers. She watched as Rio ran a hand through her hair and padded barefoot toward the stairs, drawing a soft laugh from her.

Too easy.

Once Rio disappeared, Agatha let herself sink back into the pillows, taking a moment to collect herself. Her heartbeat was steadying now, but her cheeks still felt warm. Rio had a way of doing that to her—leaving her breathless with just a kiss or a look.

When Rio returned, balancing the pizza box and two bottles of water from the fridge, she flopped onto the bed with a grin. Agatha watched in quiet amusement as Rio immediately began flicking mushrooms off her slices, pouting slightly with each toss.

They ate in comfortable silence, and the warmth of the pizza and the coziness of the bed made Agatha feel utterly content.

Eventually, as the last slices disappeared, Agatha glanced around the room, her nose scrunching. “Alright,” she said decisively, closing the box and placing it on the bedside table. “We’re moving to the guest room.”

Rio blinked at her, confused. “What? Why?”

Agatha smirked, leaning over to kiss Rio’s temple before teasing, “There’s no way I can fall asleep in a room that smells like pizza and sex with grease and who knows what else on the sheets.”

Rio groaned, “You’re such a princess.”

But dutifully, she followed, and though Agatha loved her obscenely large bed, there was some merit in the way the double bed of the guest room forced them closer together.

Chapter Text

Agatha woke to the sound of her name, Rio’s voice called her low but insistent. Her eyes fluttered open, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. She couldn’t immediately process what was happening, her body taut with unease. The sheets beneath her were damp with sweat, her chest heaving as if she’d run a marathon.

"Agatha," Rio murmured again, crouched by the edge of the bed. Concern etched her features. "You were crying out in your sleep. Are you okay?"

Agatha opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Her throat felt constricted, and her lungs clawed for air that wouldn’t come. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against the mattress, trying to ground herself, but the world felt like it was tilting.

“Agatha?” Rio’s tone sharpened, though her movements remained steady. “Hey, look at me.”

Agatha couldn’t. Her gaze darted around the room, searching for something solid, something real, anything to ground her in reality, a lifeline. Her heart thundered painfully against her ribs. It felt like steel bands were wrapping around her chest, cutting into her ability to breathe. 

She wasn’t safe. She couldn’t breathe. It was too hot. She briefly wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. She couldn’t—

“Okay,” Rio said softly, her calmness cutting through the chaos. “It’s going to be okay. I think this is a panic attack, yeah? Can I hold you?”

Agatha’s nod was barely perceptible, but it was enough. Rio climbed into the bed beside her, keeping her movements slow and deliberate. She wrapped her arms around Agatha’s trembling frame, her touch gentle and steady.

"Is it okay if I stroke your hair?" Rio asked quietly, her voice soft and soothing.

Agatha managed another nod, the tension in her body easing just slightly as Rio’s fingers combed through her sweat-dampened hair. Soft and rhythmic repetitive motion anchored her enough to focus on Rio’s voice.

“Breathe with me,” Rio said, her tone almost hypnotic as she demonstrated a long inhale and a slow exhale. “Slow and steady, just like that.”

Agatha tried to mimic her, but the air still felt too thin. Her chest tightened further as her mind raced. The confrontation from earlier surged forward like a tidal wave, drowning her in anger, shame, and regret. Her ex-wife’s voice echoed in her mind, every cutting word slicing through her, cutting as deeply as intended into old wounds.

And as that wound reopened, echoes of past arguments and judgments filled her head, as if her ex, her mother, every person who had deemed her difficult, unlovable, wretched was in the small room with them now.

You were born evil. I never should have carried you. 

I never should have married you. 

Why are you like this? What’s wrong with you? 

Just be happy for me! 

You’re never going to be happy. 

I hope you’re happy now, Agatha. 

Do you think you deserve this? 

You don’t deserve me. 

The papers are on the counter. 

Don’t make a scene. Don’t embarrass yourself.

“Stop,” she whimpered, pressing her palms hard enough against her eyes to see spots, pulling and stretching her skin as if, with just enough force, she could push these thoughts from her mind. But all it did was spur on an inward reckoning. The only consistent factor in all these interactions was herself. Maybe she was to blame.

How could Ashley come here like that? Why wouldn’t she just allow her peace? It wasn’t fair, Agatha hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d tried to drag Rio into it, and Agatha had fallen for the bait and, at the same time, failed to stand up to her enough. Did Rio think she was too weak to defend her properly, that she was too scared to do so? What would she think about her now?

“Hey, you’re safe,” Rio murmured, pressing a reassuring hand against Agatha’s back. “I’m right here. You’re okay.”

Agatha rolled over, her hands clenching the fabric of Rio’s shirt, grounding herself in the solidity of her presence. She managed to croak out a few words, her voice cracked and raw. “Bathroom... in the medicine cabinet.”

Rio didn’t hesitate. She eased away from Agatha, leaving a lingering warmth where their bodies had touched. Agatha rolled into the spot she had left, pressing her face against her still-warm pillow. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, disappearing into the bathroom.

Time passed slowly as Agatha lay knees against her chest, curled inward, her body shaking. Her breaths came in stuttering gasps, even as she tried to force herself to be calm. But the harder she reached for some small security, the quicker it slipped away. She hadn’t realized she was crying.

When Rio returned, she held out a small pill and a glass of cold water. She knelt before Agatha, her movements unhurried. “Here,” she said softly. “This will help.”

Agatha took the pill with trembling fingers and downed it with the water, the coolness soothing her raw throat. She set the glass down on the nightstand with a clumsy thud and slumped back against the pillows, utterly spent.

Rio climbed back into bed beside her, resuming her earlier position with an arm draped gently over Agatha’s shoulders. She waited for her to move more fully into her arms, not rushing her or pushing too much. “You don’t have to talk about it now,” she said, her voice a quiet murmur. “But when you’re ready, I’m here.”

Don’t go. Please stay. Please.

Agatha closed her eyes, letting the warmth of Rio’s touch and the steadiness of her breathing pull her back from the brink. The tightness in her chest began to loosen for the first time since waking.

Slowly, her breathing evened out, the tremors in her body subsiding as the weight of Rio’s arm anchored her. She hated this vulnerability, the raw exposure of her fragile fractured edges, revealing how easily she could break. But Rio made it bearable. Safe, even. Agatha tucked her head into the crook of Rio’s neck, breathing in the faint scent of her skin.

Rio pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “You’re safe,” she murmured again. “I’ve got you.”

The words unraveled something in Agatha, and before she could stop herself, her fears spilled out. “I’m... I’m scared. I don’t even know of what exactly, but it feels like everything is too much and I can’t keep up. What if, what if I can’t handle this? What if I screw it all up?”

Rio didn’t respond immediately. She simply held her, her steady presence a balm to Agatha’s frayed nerves. Finally, she said, “You’re not going to screw anything up, Agatha. And if you do, I know you’ll make it right. Just like if I fucked up, I know you’d give me the chance to fix it too. I’ve got you.”

Agatha stiffened slightly at the idea of not being entirely self-reliant—it was foreign to her, almost unacceptable. How many times before had she put her trust in another only for it to later be thrown in her face? But Rio’s voice was so calm, so sure, that she couldn’t bring herself to argue. Instead, she whispered, “I hate that you’re seeing me like this. I don’t want you to see this.”

Please don’t leave, don’t hate me, don’t be frightened of what you see. I can be good.

“Like what?” Rio tilted her head to look at her, soft brown eyes filled with nothing but tenderness. “Human? Scared? Needing someone? Agatha, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.”

Agatha swallowed hard, her voice barely audible. “I don’t want to be weak.”

“You’re not,” Rio said firmly. “You’re anything but. Letting yourself feel doesn’t make you weak. It makes you real. I’ve told you I want the real you, always. It’s okay.”

The words settled deep, soothing a part of Agatha she hadn’t realized was aching. She hated how much she needed to hear them, like a child desperate for affirmation, but she also couldn’t deny how much they helped.

She pulled at the neck of Rio’s shirt and wiped her face against it as she took a shuddering breath. Slowly, she counted her breaths, trying to make each deeper than the last. All the while, Rio pressed a firm hand against her back, holding her, shielding her from herself. 

Finally, after a long silence, Agatha asked, her voice steadier now, “How did you know what to do?”

Rio’s expression softened into a sad smile. “I used to have attacks like that. Right after my parents died, they’d hit me out of nowhere. I’d be in the middle of a lecture or trying to study, and suddenly, it was like the room was too hot, and I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was going crazy.” She hesitated, her voice lowering. “It took a long time to figure out how to cope, and even longer to find people who understood how to help.”

Agatha’s chest tightened for a different reason now. The thought of Rio, younger and already burdened with that type of grief, the kind no one should have to bear but too many did, broke her heart. “I hate that this is familiar to you,” she admitted, her voice rough, “but... I’m glad you’re here.”

Rio nodded, her hand running soothing circles along Agatha’s back. “Me too. I’ll do anything I can to help. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Agatha let herself relax further, leaning into Rio’s warmth. For the first time in a long time, the thought of sharing her fears didn’t feel like a burden—it felt like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, but Rio gently shushed her.

“No more of that. Just let me hold you.” It wasn’t scolding or harsh but it was firm in a way that she needed.

Agatha nodded and closed her eyes, focusing on how it felt for her head to rise and fall along with each breath Rio took.

“I hate that… that woman did this to you,” Rio said softly, her voice darker and heavier. “I hate anyone who has made you believe that you don’t deserve gentleness. Because you’re so good.”

Rio’s gaze softened as she leaned slightly closer to Agatha, her voice low but steady. “You’re incredible, you know that? Brilliant, compassionate, driven… and that’s just the start of it. You care so fiercely about more people than you’re willing to let on. I mean, who wouldn’t be enthralled by you? But instead of rising to meet you, she chose to drag you down, and that’s not on you. That’s on her.”

Agatha shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tracing over Rio’s shoulder. “It wasn’t always like that. At first, we were... good. Or I thought we were.”

Her mind drifted back to those early days with Ashley, memories from a time when the world felt smaller and brighter. They’d spent a late-night study session in the campus library, both exhausted and frazzled over midterms. Ashley leaned over with a conspiratorial smile and whispered something about how a fire alarm would be the perfect excuse to leave. Agatha had laughed nervously, it wasn’t often that someone else broke through her focus so effortlessly.

Those first months had been intoxicating. Ashley was magnetic, full of ideas and passion, always pushing Agatha to take risks and step out of her comfort zone. “You’re so smart, Agatha,” Ashley had said once, late at night when they were tangled up on Agatha’s too-small dorm room bed. “You’re going to take over the world someday. And when you do, you better make room for me, too.”

Agatha’s lips twitched faintly at the memory, but its warmth faded as another moment pushed its way forward—the night Ashley proposed. They had gone on a trip to the coast, Ashley insisting on the spontaneity of it. They’d walked barefoot on the beach as the sun set, Ashley carrying on about a student in her 2L cohort who had completely bungled a mock defense scenario, her laughter ringing above the waves. Then, with no warning, she’d dropped to one knee in the sand.

“I can’t imagine my life without you,” Ashley said, her voice unusually soft and vulnerable in a way that caught Agatha off guard. “I need you, and you need me too. Let’s keep building this life together. How about it?”

Agatha had barely gotten the word “yes” out before Ashley swept her into a kiss, spinning her around until they both tumbled into the sand, laughing and breathless. It had been perfect, or it at least had felt that way.

But perfection had a way of fading.

They were at a party. Ashley was radiant, as always, surrounded by people drawn to her sharp wit and easy charm. Agatha had lingered on the edges, tired from work and feeling out of place. Ashley had found her there, a drink in hand and a strained smile on her lips.

“You could try a little harder, you know,” Ashley had said, low enough that only Agatha could hear. “People are watching us, and it wouldn’t kill you to pretend you’re enjoying yourself. You’re embarrassing me.”

It wasn’t a shout, but it cut deeper than if it had been. Agatha had nodded, swallowing down her frustration, because Ashley was right—wasn’t she? She had smiled through the rest of the night, laughed at the right times, and told herself it wasn’t worth making a scene.

Years later, Agatha sat across from Ashley in their shared kitchen. The air between them was thick, with words left unsaid for too long. Ashley’s voice, always so commanding, felt colder, sharper.

“I don’t want to do counseling, Agatha,” Ashley said, her arms crossed defensively. “I don’t want to ‘work through it’ or dig up all the ugly stuff just so we can pretend to put it back together. I just want this to be over. Don’t you? You can’t tell me you’re happy. I know I’m not, I don’t remember the last time I was.”

Agatha had stared at her, stunned, her throat too tight to respond. Ashley had looked at her then, not with anger or even regret, but with exasperation, as if Agatha’s pain was just another inconvenience. “We’ll both be happier this way,” Ashley had added, her tone clipped. “We need to move on.”

The words had carved deep, leaving Agatha hollow. She hadn’t fought back, hadn’t argued, because part of her had already known they were long past the point of return. She was trying to resuscitate a body that had long grown cold.

Agatha’s chest tightened at the memory, its weight mingling with the warmth of Rio’s embrace. She opened her eyes, glancing up at Rio’s face, so steady and earnest.

“I don’t think it started out as dragging me down,” Agatha said quietly. “Ashley had this way of making me feel like I could be more… like I should be more. She pushed me, challenged me, made me feel unstoppable.”

Rio’s fingers traced gentle patterns on Agatha’s arm, patient and listening.

“But somewhere along the way,” Agatha continued, her voice growing softer, “it stopped feeling like she believed in me and started feeling like… like she was disappointed in who I already was. And I guess I started believing her.”

Rio exhaled slowly, her hold on Agatha tightening for just a moment. “That wasn’t love, not the way you deserve it,” she said.

Agatha swallowed, her throat tight. “I want to believe that. I do. But I don’t know how to stop feeling like it’s my fault.”

“That’s because you were giving it everything,” Rio said gently, her protectiveness seeping into every word. “You gave her more than she deserved, Agatha. And when she didn’t appreciate it, she lost the privilege of having you in her life. That’s her loss. Anyone who doesn’t appreciate you, that’s their fault, not yours.”

Agatha looked away, her throat tight. The weight of Rio’s unwavering belief in her was as comforting as it was overwhelming. “I just feel so stupid for not seeing it sooner. I… wasted so much time. And even now, it, she, I’m still affected by it, and I know I shouldn’t be. Not after years. Not when I have you.”

“Hey,” Rio said firmly, her voice cutting through Agatha’s spiral. “Don’t do that. You’re not stupid. You loved someone and trusted them. That’s not a flaw.”

Rio paused for a moment as if debating whether to continue. Then she let out a small huff. “Honestly, though? I fucking hate her. I kind of want to chase her down now and give her a piece of my mind. Or maybe just key her car.”

Agatha blinked in surprise before a weak laugh escaped her. It felt good, even if it was fleeting. “Don’t waste your time. She’s not worth it.”

Rio smiled softly, a hint of relief in her expression at hearing Agatha laugh, even if it was brief. “You’re right. She’s not worth my time. And she’s definitely not worth yours.”

Agatha’s laugh faltered into a shaky exhale, her emotions teetering on the edge. “I know that. But it doesn’t make it easy.”

“It’s not,” Rio admitted, her tone serious now. “But it gets easier when you remind yourself of what you deserve. And Agatha? You deserve so much more than what she gave you. Fuck her.”

Agatha hesitated, the sincerity in Rio’s words settling over her. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she said softly, her voice barely audible.

Rio leaned back and kissed her forehead, threading her fingers through her hair. “It’s not about what we deserve. Love doesn’t have to be something you work for. Yeah, you work at it. But… it should feel right, not like a challenge or a contest.”

Agatha felt a sliver of hope break through the haze of doubt for the first time that evening. Maybe she could start believing that Rio was right.

“I’ve cried all over your shirt.”

“It’s okay,” Rio replied gently, “I was getting hot anyway.” She peeled her shirt away, and Agatha sighed as she burrowed against her. Her skin against her cheek felt even more right.

She opened her mouth to say a hundred things, to say the thing, but all that left her was a soft sigh. Turning her cheek, she pressed a gentle kiss to her neck, just below the spot she had marked earlier when her flurry of emotion had been channeled into passion instead of this.

“Thank you for being here,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to thank me. There’s nowhere else I want to be.”

As Agatha let the words settle, as her breathing finally slowed, she didn’t have to make a choice to allow herself to believe her. She just did.

When she finally slept, it was deep and sound. She was unaware that her partner stayed up long after her breathing had slowed, still slowly trailing her hands through her hair as if weaving threads of protective enchantment around them both.

The smell of coffee drifted through Agatha’s half-dreams, warm and inviting. She stirred, blinking against the soft morning light streaming in through the curtains. When she opened her eyes, Rio was already sitting on the edge of the bed, a steaming mug in one hand and the other brushing a stray strand of hair from Agatha’s face.

“Hey, good morning,” Rio murmured, her voice husky from sleep. Her fingers lingered for a moment on her cheek before retreating, soon replaced by a gentle kiss.

Agatha sat up slowly, the weight of last night still present but softened by the warmth of waking up to Rio beside her. She accepted the mug, their fingers grazing as she did, and took a small sip. “You’re spoiling me,” Agatha said, her voice raspier than usual.

“Good,” Rio replied with a crooked grin. “You deserve it. And it better be after I fought with your stupid fancy coffee machine. Haven’t you ever heard of a Kuerig?”

She immediately wrinkled her nose, “Weak coffee isn’t an acceptable compromise for convenience.”

They sat in easy silence for a moment, the kind that neither felt rushed to fill. Agatha couldn’t help but let her eyes roam over Rio. She was dressed, but her hair was still rumpled and it was anyone’s guess when, or if, she’d bother to tame it.

Rio shifted, breaking the quiet. “I’ve got an early shift, we’re doing inventory today,” she said reluctantly, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the blanket. “I didn’t want to wake you, but I couldn’t just sneak out either. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Agatha’s lips twitched into a smile. “So you decided to bribe me with coffee?”

“Exactly.” Rio leaned in, her tone teasing but her eyes soft. “And maybe a couple of kisses before I go. If it’s not too much trouble.”

Agatha chuckled, setting the mug on the nightstand before reaching out to catch Rio’s hand. She tenderly kissed the back of it, before tugging Rio down to kiss her again.

“I miss you.” Agatha squeezed her hand gently before kissing her again.

“I haven’t even left yet.”

Agatha smiled, shrugging her shoulders. “I always miss you when you’re more than a few feet from me.”

Rio laughed softly and kissed her again, the taste of her toothpaste mixing with the lingering coffee. Unexpected, but not unpleasant.

Agatha leaned around her and reached into her nightstand, fishing out the spare key she’d stashed there ages ago.

When she pressed it into Rio’s palm, her movements were deliberate, slow. She watched as Rio’s eyebrows lifted slightly, her fingers curling around the key as if it were something fragile.

“What’s this?” Rio asked, her voice low, her teasing tone replaced with something quieter, more serious.

Agatha brought Rio’s hand to her lips, brushing a kiss over her fingertips. “It’s for you,” she said simply. “For when you’re done with your shift. Or when you feel like sneaking in with more coffee bribes. Or… whenever.”

Rio blinked, and for a moment, she looked at Agatha like she was something she hadn’t quite figured out yet but wanted to. “You sure about this?”

“Yeah,” Agatha said, her voice steady. “I’m sure.”

Rio smiled then, a slow, genuine thing that made Agatha’s heart skip over. “Okay,” she said softly, slipping the key into her pocket.

“And just checking, you’re sure you can’t stay?” Agatha rarely pouted, but she did this time.

“I wish I could. But duty calls, I need to keep all my shifts. This week I need to book my flight to see my family in New York for Christmas, and my nephews seem to be under the impression that their favorite aunt has a much higher gift budget than she actually does.”

Agatha laughed and finally released her, “Well, far be it for me to be the one who ruins Christmas for them. That’s not the way I want to be introduced to your family.”

Rio kissed her once more before pulling away, but she lingered by the door as if there was something more she wanted to say.

“Do you want me to drive you?” Agatha offered, half sitting up.

“No. Get some rest. But if you’re feeling ambitious later can you see if my Cubs jersey is mixed in with your laundry? I haven’t seen it since the last time I was here.”

Agatha suppressed a smirk. It wasn’t in her laundry. It was tucked away in her dresser, a comfortable chore shirt she’d stolen for when Rio was away.

“Sure, I’ll look for it.”

Chapter Text

Agatha settled into her usual weekend morning routine: coffee, a crossword puzzle, and the latest addition, the soft hum of Rio’s presence. She barely noticed the sound of Rio’s increasingly exaggerated sighs as the younger woman sprawled dramatically across the sectional next to her until she cleared her throat.

“I’m bored,” Rio pouted.

Agatha quirked an eyebrow but didn’t look up, still focused on her crossword. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She felt Rio’s foot poke into her side and swatted it away.

“We should do something fun today. I’m feeling cooped up.” Agatha smirked. Was it that she wanted to leave the house, or was she just miffed that Agatha's full attention wasn't on her? She filled in another clue, hooking her hand as she wrote so she wouldn't smudge the fresh ink.

Again, Rio’s foot nudged her, and she caught it in her right hand, lightly rubbing her ankle with her thumb. “You know what would be fun? If you helped me figure out an eight-letter virtue.”

She glanced up and saw Rio’s tongue poke into her cheek as she considered the question.

“Patience.”

“Oh wow, so you have heard of it,” she teased as she filled in the letters of the puzzle. She tickled her foot once before letting it go.

Rio chuckled and sat up, scooting onto her knees and shuffling over to lay her head over her lap, the newspaper crinkling under her head.

“Who even does crosswords anymore? Who gets a paper delivered?”

“People with taste,” Agatha teased, capping her pen and tucking it behind her ear. “You’re supposed to be timing me.”

“Yeah, I totally forgot about that.” Rio grinned up at her, “I got distracted by how cute you look in your glasses.”

Agatha rolled her eyes fondly and reached down to scratch at her scalp. This was new discovery, she'd avoided wearing her reading glasses around Rio, she hated how they reminded her of her age. But the first time she'd worn them around her, Rio had insisted she kept them on and proceeded to kiss her so thoroughly she'd bent the frame.

After she'd replaced them with a new pair, she'd started to wear them more often. There were a lot of little changes like that in her home now. She kept orange juice in her fridge now, and she'd carved out a space in her pantry for the sugary cereal Rio preferred. After she'd caught Rio wiping the counters with an embroidered linen tea towel, she'd made sure a suitable dish rag was left by the sink, and gone to great lengths to keep calm as she defined the difference between decorative towels and the towels that could be used. An extra tube of drugstore toothpaste sat on her bathroom counter after Rio had proclaimed that her prescription tube was "too gritty."

But she didn't mind any of it, not if these little changes made Rio more at home here or more comfortable sharing this space. If they kept her here, she was even willing to sacrifice her quiet mornings. She'd had years of them to herself, and having company was nice. It felt right.

"You know what you need?" Rio said, her voice casual but her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me, love.” Agatha sighed, already puzzling through what scheme she was about to get roped into. If it was sex, Rio would be leading with gentle kisses to her stomach. They'd already had breakfast: yogurt with sliced almonds for her and thick toast that only existed as a convenient vehicle for a truly obscene amount of marmalade for Rio. So it was likely that whatever her partner had in mind involved her trudging out into the freezing weather.

Yet, without knowing what it was, she knew with certainty that she’d feign protest, Rio would pout, and they’d go do whatever she wanted, her crossword and peaceful Sunday forgotten for something better.

"You need a Christmas tree."

Agatha raised an eyebrow, her mouth twitching into a faint smirk. "I haven’t put up a tree in years." Why bother with the hassle of updating her home to decorate for the seasons when all the days and months blended together?

Rio clasped her hands to her chest in mock despair. "Don’t be a Grinch! It’s Christmas, Agatha. You can’t just ignore it."

Agatha took another sip of her coffee, her voice dry. "It’s the third of December. Besides, they just make a big mess. Needles everywhere, lights that are impossible to untangle. If you’re so insistent, why don’t we order a prelit artificial one? I'll pay for same-day delivery."

Rio’s eyes widened in horror as she straightened up, one hand over her heart. "An artificial one? That’s sacrilege!" She shook her head dramatically. "No way. A fake tree isn’t the same. You have to smell the pine and feel the branches stabbing you as you try to wrestle it into the stand. That’s half the fun!"

Agatha chuckled softly, setting her mug down. "You’re surprisingly passionate about this. I didn’t peg you for a Christmas nut."

Rio grinned, her arms crossing in mock offense. "C'mon even Jen and I have a tree at our place, and it’s pathetic. Looks like the one from Charlie Brown." She glanced at the tall ceilings in Agatha’s house, her tone turning to tease. "You, though? You could get an impressive one. Something that reaches all the way up there."

Agatha rolled her eyes, but the faintest warmth spread across her chest at the thought of a tree filling her home. "Let me guess, you also have your eyes on a tiny Christmas village and a model train?"

Rio shrugged, not missing a beat. "Not yet. But give me time. Traditions are important," she said earnestly, her voice softer now. She met Agatha’s gaze, a sincerity there that caught her off guard. "Even the cheesy ones. Surely you have some that matter to you?"

Agatha hesitated, suddenly feeling a lump in her throat. She thought of her childhood, of the Christmases she’d shared with her ex, all the ones she’d spent on her own after that.

"Not really," she said after a moment, her voice quieter than before.

Rio’s expression softened, and she reached out to touch Agatha’s arm lightly. "Okay. Well... maybe it’s time to start some new ones."

Agatha looked at her, the teasing edge of their conversation giving way as Rio's earnest smile softened any part of her that would bristle at the idea. Rio’s grin returned, her voice lighter again as she added, "And besides, I’ll do all the heavy lifting. You just have to point and boss me around. I know how you like that. It’ll be fun."

Agatha sighed, unable to keep the smile from tugging at her lips. "You’re relentless."

Rio winked. "One of my best qualities."

She wasn't wrong.

Agatha shook her head, laughing softly. "Fine. Let’s go get a tree and reenact whatever Hallmark fantasy you have in mind. The one where the goofy but charming yokel teaches the uptight one the true meaning of Christmas," she teased, waving her hand around for effect, before adding seriously, "But if it sheds all over my floor, you’re cleaning it up. And it's your job to water it, I'm barely keeping the plants in my office alive as it is."

"Deal," Rio said brightly, springing from the sofa to grab her jacket. "This is going to be great. You’ll see."

As they headed out the door, Agatha felt a flicker of anticipation. Maybe Rio was right. Perhaps it was time for some new traditions. She knew resistance was futile when Rio set her mind on something. Just as surely as she knew, she was willing to do anything large or small to bring her joy. What was a few hours spent chasing down a tree if it kept that bright smile on her face?

She placed her glasses and the paper on the end table and let Rio help her into her coat.

The bite of the air temporarily ate into her eagerness as they walked to her car.

“I can’t believe you’ve talked me into this,” Agatha muttered as she adjusted her scarf, her breath puffing in the cold air.

“Don’t be grinchy,” Rio countered with a grin, pulling on her gloves. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Embrace the Christmas spirit! We'll have that heart grown three sizes before the day is done.”

It already has. She wasn't sure how much more it could grow in affection and adoration. But she'd give it a shot, Rio did keep surprising her.

Rio opened the driver-side door for her with a flourish. “The point, darling, is that it’s festive. It’s tradition. It’s—” She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “—an excuse to make out under the mistletoe.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “Mistletoe? Really? That’s your big selling point?”

“Would it make a difference if I wore a mistletoe belt?” Rio asked, waggling her eyebrows as she ran to the other side of the car and slid into the passenger seat.

“Absolutely not,” Agatha said, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her amusement as she started the car.

Rio let out a dramatic groan as Agatha’s fingers deftly twisted the knob, hijacking the radio just as Jingle Bell Rock began to play. The sharp bass line of another station replaced the cheerful melody.

“Nope,” Rio said firmly, reaching over to change it back, her grin mischievous.

Agatha slapped her hand away, laughing. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” Rio protested, mock indignation in her voice. “It’s Christmas! You can’t escape it. It’s, like, a law or something. Focus on the road!”

“Not in my car, it’s not. And don't tell me how to drive, passenger princess,” Agatha’s lips quirked up as she switched to another station. She glanced at Rio smugly. “There. Something tolerable.”

Rio rolled her eyes but stayed quiet, tapping her fingers against the window frame. The silence lasted only seconds before her hand darted toward the dial again. Her grin broadened when Agatha caught it mid-air.

“Don’t you dare.”

“I’m doing you a favor,” Rio teased, leaning closer. “You might actually enjoy yourself.”

“You know what I’ll enjoy? Not having to listen to—” Agatha began but was distracted by needing to merge, and Rio cut her off, her hand slipping free and landing triumphantly on the radio.

“Gotcha,” Rio said triumphantly, scanning the stations until she landed on Feliz Navidad. She beamed at Agatha. “Perfect.”

Agatha groaned dramatically and vented her frustration by swearing at the driver who cut them off. Then, rolling her eyes, she yanked the dial yet again, landing on a station blasting Mean Girls instead.

Rio blinked, the exaggerated indignation dropping from her face as recognition dawned. “Oh, I like this one. Isn’t this off of Brat ?”

“Is it?” She didn’t know, she didn’t keep up with current music. Agatha grinned, leaning back in her seat, one hand firmly on the wheel while the other hovered protectively near the radio dial. “Didn’t know someone wrote an album about you.”

Rio laughed, the energy between them light and infectious, before continuing her relentless teasing about Agatha’s alleged lack of holiday cheer. By the time they arrived, Agatha was more amused than annoyed, though she wasn’t about to admit it.

The tree lot was lit with string lights that twinkled merrily, and fresh pine scent filled the air. Couples and families wandered among rows of trees, their laughter mingling with crunching snow.

“See?” Rio said, nudging Agatha as they walked in. “It’s already magical.”

Agatha arched an eyebrow. “Magical is a bit of a stretch. I see a bunch of overpriced trees, way too many children, and a very questionable hot chocolate stand. I don't think those teenagers have a license for that.”

“Don’t be such a Scrooge,” Rio teased, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward a row of trees. “C’mon. Let’s find the perfect one.”

They strolled through the lot, their boots crunching in the snow. Rio examined each tree with a mix of seriousness and playful critique.

“This one’s too short,” she said, gesturing to a squat little fir. “It’ll look like we’re decorating a bush.”

Agatha smirked. “I thought you were a fan.”

“Oh, definitely,” Rio replied, leaning close with a grin, “but not when it comes to Christmas trees. Standards, sweetheart.”

They moved to the next section, where Rio pulled a tree upright and held it out. “How about this one? Sturdy, a little wild... reminds me of someone I know.”

Agatha crossed her arms, pretending to deliberate. “It’s not bad. But it’s leaning a bit to one side.”

“Oh, so now you’re picky.”

Agatha stepped closer, tilting her head with a sly smile. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. Only the best.”

She turned away, now entirely focused on their agreed task, as she surveyed the trees ahead of them.

But her focus was broken as a snowball hit Agatha square on the shoulder, exploding in a huge puff. All she could do for a moment was blink, shocked by the audacity. Her navy coat was covered with snow, and her gaze slowly shifted to Rio, who was standing a few feet away, her hand still outstretched and her face frozen in an expression of immediate regret.

“Oh, shit, I didn’t think I’d actually hit you!” Rio started.

Agatha bent quickly, scooped up a snowball of her own, and hurled it with unerring accuracy, cutting off any apology. It hit Rio in the chest, scattering across her flannel jacket in a burst of frost. Rio stumbled back a step, her hands instinctively flying up in surrender as laughter bubbled out of her.

“Oh, it’s like that huh,” Rio said, grinning as she crouched to gather more snow.

Snowballs arched through the air, some finding their mark with satisfying thuds while others splintered harmlessly against the ground. 

Agatha's cheeks stung with the cold, but the warmth of her amusement and Rio's laughter in the air made her forget the chill. She dodged and ducked, occasionally darting behind a nearby tree for cover as Rio tried—and often failed—to outmaneuver her.

Then it happened. One of Agatha’s throws veered wildly off course. She watched in horror as the snowball sailed past Rio and smacked a middle-aged man square in the back of his head. The man spun around, his face a mixture of shock and mild irritation.

Rio froze, her hands still clutching a loosely packed snowball. "Oh, no," she muttered before stepping forward with her most apologetic smile. “Sorry about that, sir! Totally our fault. Won’t happen again.”

Agatha, meanwhile, stood rooted to the spot, biting back laughter as the man brushed snow from his jacket and muttered something about "adults acting like children these days." As soon as he turned back to his family, Agatha’s composure broke, and a laugh escaped her that doubled her over.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” Rio asked, turning toward her with a glint of mischief.

Before Agatha could answer, Rio was advancing. She looked like she might retaliate, but Agatha acted first. In one swift motion, she grabbed Rio by the collar and shoved a handful of snow down the back of her shirt. Rio let out a strangled yelp, straightening up and clawing at her coat as the freezing snow slid down her spine.

“Agatha!” she exclaimed, spinning to glare at her. “What the fuck! That’s not fair! That’s against the rules!”

“Rules?” Agatha said innocently, brushing snow off her gloves. “I wasn’t aware we were playing by rules.”

As another customer passed them with a pointed look, Rio gave an exaggerated sigh. “We better get this tree before we get kicked out.”

“Fine,” Agatha said, though she couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “But only because I’d hate for you to miss out on the honor of carrying the tree back to the car.”

Rio shook her head, but her grin gave her away. Agatha wrapped her arm around her, pulling her close to her side as they ventured deeper into the lot, their attention back on finding the perfect tree.

They eventually found it—a tall, full spruce that Agatha paid for with a shake of her head as Rio insisted that they didn’t need help loading it.

The crisp winter air bit at Agatha’s cheeks as she stood near the car, arms crossed, watching Rio secure the tree. It was taking far longer than she’d hoped, mostly because every step of the process involved multiple assurances that her car wouldn’t suffer so much as a scratch. Trying to fit a twelve-foot tree on top of her sedan was certainly one of Rio's more harebrained schemes.

“I’m just saying,” Rio said, grinning as she adjusted the straps, “this wouldn’t be a problem if you drove a Subaru. You know, like a proper lesbian.”

Agatha scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I have no intention of downgrading my taste just to haul trees more efficiently once a year.”

Rio laughed as she leaned her weight into the rope, muscles flexing under her coat as she pulled the knot tight. Agatha had to admit, begrudgingly, that Rio looked exceptionally good in moments like this—focused, strong, and effortlessly self-assured. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from staring too long.

“Alright,” Rio said, brushing her hands off with exaggerated satisfaction. “The tree’s secure, the paint’s unscathed, and I, for one, am delighted.” She winked. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Agatha replied dryly, though she couldn’t stop the faint smile if she tried.

The drive home was surprisingly smooth, though Agatha spent most of it casting wary glances in the rearview mirror as if expecting the tree to come loose at any moment.

Once they arrived, the real challenge began. The tree was heavier and bulkier than either of them had anticipated, and getting it through the narrow front door was an exercise in patience—or, in Agatha’s case, the lack thereof.

“Watch the wall,” Agatha barked sharply as Rio maneuvered her end of the tree inside.

“I am watching the wall,” Rio shot back, her voice strained as she adjusted her grip. “You watch your end! Lift your side a little higher.”

“How tall do you think I am? I am lifting. I told you we should’ve just paid for delivery,” she said harshly as another shower of needles rained down on her.

By the time they finally got the tree upright in the stand, they were both covered in sap and pine needles. Agatha’s cream sweater was dusted with green flecks, and her hands stuck uncomfortably to everything she touched.

Rio leaned against the couch, breathless but grinning. “Well, look at that. We survived. Barely.”

“Speak for yourself,” Agatha muttered, peeling a pine needle off her sleeve. “This is handwash only, you know.”

Rio stepped closer, tilting her head as she looked Agatha over, leaning in to kiss away her annoyance. “Hey, thank you for doing this with me. You were a pretty good sport for someone who complained the entire time.”

Agatha rolled her eyes but didn’t resist as Rio leaned in again, brushing a soft kiss against her lips. Despite herself, she melted into it for a moment, the warmth of Rio’s touch welcome.

“I’ll make us something to warm up,” Rio said, pulling back with a teasing smile. “Go get comfortable. You’ve earned it.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She returned back onto the couch, finally picking up her abandoned crossword. A few minutes later, the scent of whiskey, honey, and spices wafted from the kitchen.

Rio returned with two steaming mugs, handing one to Agatha before settling onto the couch. “Hot toddy,” she said with a grin. “For the incredibly patient woman I adore. Thank you for humoring me.”

Agatha took a sip, savoring the warmth that spread through her chest. “Anything for you,” she said, unable to hold onto even fake annoyance for long.

Rio laughed, leaning back against Agatha with her own mug. “Now, don’t go getting too comfortable—there’s still decorating to do.”

Agatha groaned dramatically, “I am not going near that tree again today. It can wait.”

“Fine, fine. But we still have a few things to do on our holiday fun checklist.”

“Joy of joys,” she said drolly, pursing her lips as she worked out the next crossword clue.

The office was quiet, the kind of stillness that only came during the holiday season when most of her team was on vacation. Agatha leaned back in her chair, scrolling through pages of potential Christmas gifts on her computer. The faint hum of the heater filled the silence, a half-empty cup of coffee sat forgotten on her desk.

She'd already considered and dismissed several overly extravagant and detached options. Buying Rio a new phone to replace her cracked screen was excessive. She’d recently bought her a watch, and Rio wouldn’t wear something too flashy. Briefly, she considered booking a trip for them somewhere, but that could come across as too overbearing. Rio didn’t care about luxury or flash; she appreciated things that were practical and useful, gifts that came from thought rather than cost.

Agatha's cursor hovered over a sleek pair of weatherproof boots—functional, more stylish than Rio would pick for herself, but not so much so that she wouldn't wear them. She added them to her cart along with a durable, minimalist backpack. Certainly an upgrade from the bedraggled one that made her groan each time she saw Rio carry it through her door. 

But even as she hit "purchase," she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was missing. These gifts were fine, thoughtful even, but they didn’t feel personal enough. They didn’t say, "This is for you because I know you." They were gifts you’d give a good friend, not someone you were in love with. It wasn't enough.

Her fingers tapped against the desk in irritation as she reached for her phone. She scrolled through her contacts until she found Melissa’s name and pressed call. The line rang twice before Melissa’s cheery voice answered.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the queen herself. To what do I owe this honor?”

“Spare me,” Agatha said, rolling her eyes but smiling despite herself. “I need your help with something.”

“This sounds promising. Is it work-related or something juicy?”

“Neither. I’m trying to find a Christmas present for Rio, and I’m hitting a wall.”

Melissa let out a laugh, warm and teasing. “Wait, you? Faffing about over a Christmas gift? Agatha, 'I can charm anyone any time' can’t figure out a present for her girlfriend? Oh honey, I live for this.”

“Can you please focus?” Agatha said, her tone clipped, though her lips twitched in amusement.

“Fine, fine. What have you got so far?”

“A pair of snow boots and a backpack,” Agatha admitted. Saying it out loud only reiterated how not enough it was.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Then Melissa whistled and said, “Wow. Practical. Boring.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Agatha muttered, rubbing her temple.

“Don’t get me wrong, those are fine, but you need something personal. Something that screams, 'I bought this just for you because I'm obsessed with you and love you.' You know, like… oh, I don’t know, a ring.”

Agatha nearly dropped the phone. “A ring? Mel, are you out of your mind? It’s way too soon for that.”

Melissa cackled, clearly pleased with herself. “I’m just saying if the thought hasn’t crossed your mind…”

“It hasn’t,” Agatha lied, her face heating. “Besides, proposing on a holiday is tacky and overdone. Even if I was ready for that, which I'm not, I wouldn't do it like that.”

“Oh, come on,” Melissa teased. “It’s romantic. You could slip it into her stocking or tie it to a candy cane or—”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Okay, okay, no ring. You move fast, but not that fast, I got it. What about something sexy? Lingerie, maybe?”

Agatha groaned, her blush deepening. “Again, tacky. And I don't need assistance there. You are absolutely no help.”

Melissa’s laugh rang out again, bright and unrepentant. “Oh, I’m plenty of help. You’re just too uptight to admit it. But fine. Here’s some actual advice. Think about something that only you could give her. What’s a memory, a moment, something you’ve shared that you could turn into a gift?”

Agatha hesitated, Melissa’s words lingering as a seed of an idea began to form. “That’s… not terrible advice.”

“See? I can be useful.” Melissa’s tone was smug. “Still get the other stuff, too. Practical is fine as long as it’s paired with heartfelt. Trust me.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a gift-giving expert. That’s why I called. Bringing up rings though… anything you want to tell me? Someone special on your mind?”

"Come on, Agatha," Melissa teased. "If I suddenly wound up with a gorgeous, mysterious girlfriend, I promise you'll be the first to know.”

Agatha chuckled, shaking her head. “Seriously though, are you seeing anyone? You’ve been quiet lately, and that usually happens when you end up in your ‘seriously, this is the one’ love bubble.”

"Not unless you count my serious commitment to late-night Doordash," Melissa quipped. "But hey, I think I’m rubbing off on you. You’re actually being sappy for once.”

Agatha’s tone became lighter as she ignored the quip, overcome with affection for her friend. "Save it for when I see you again. I'm not taking this type of teasing without a drink in my hand.”

“Actually,” Melissa began a mischievous lilt in her voice, “I was thinking about New Year’s Eve. A little party, like we used to do back in college. Only this time, I know you can afford champagne that doesn’t come in a plastic bottle.”

Agatha laughed, rolling her eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

“Oh, you’ll think about it?” Melissa teased. “Guess I’ll have to recruit Rio to convince you. She seems very persuasive.”

“Don’t you dare,” Agatha warned, though her smile betrayed her.

"Consider it done,” Melissa said with a laugh. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. I've got a parent-teacher conference with Nigel. Apparently, he's been teaching the other kids some 'colorful' language. But seriously, let’s plan something soon. I miss your face.”

“Same here,” Agatha said. “Take care, Mel.”

As the call ended, Agatha lingered for a moment, phone still in her hand. She scrolled idly through her gallery, pausing when she reached the photo from the wedding. Personal, memorable, something only she could give… A quick stop at Michael’s, and she’d be in business.

She poked her head out of the office and caught Julie’s eye. “You know I don’t expect anyone to be in office the week before Christmas. That includes you.”

Julie smiled, “Just making sure there isn’t anything else you need, boss.”

Agatha smiled and shook her head. “I need you to take a break. If I’m telling you you’re working too much, that’s a problem.” Her lips quirked into a small smirk as she added, "You should call up that motorcycle hunk who dropped you off this morning and get out of here. It’s practically a ghost town."

Julie froze for a second, her expression caught between surprise and amusement. It was rare for Agatha to tease her, but there was a playfulness in her demeanor that she rarely shared. She opened her mouth as if to retort, then hesitated, remembering who she was speaking to.

Agatha noticed the pause and arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “Oh, come on. Say what’s on your mind. I can see the wheels turning.”

Julie exhaled, deciding to take the chance. “Well, since you asked... You’ve been happier lately, too. A lot happier. I can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with the pretty woman I saw you with at Scofflaw last week.”

Agatha froze for a moment, caught off guard. She quickly replayed that night in her mind, heat rising to her cheeks. Had Julie seen anything too revealing? She hoped that her employee hadn't noticed the way Rio's hands had played with the edge of her thigh highs all night. And prayed Julie hadn't been one of the irritated patrons they'd passed after occupying the bathroom for twenty minutes. Masking her discomfort with a small laugh, she tilted her head to the side.

“Pretty woman, huh?” she mused, sidestepping a direct confirmation. Her tone was sly as she added, “Maybe we both have our reasons to pack up early today.”

Julie smirked but didn’t press further. “Fair enough. I’ll take the hint.”

Agatha straightened, smoothing her blazer as she stepped back into the hallway. “Thanks for your work today, Julie. Enjoy your evening.” Her voice softened slightly, genuine in its appreciation.

Julie nodded, smiling as she began gathering her things.

As Agatha made her way out of the office, she bundled her coat tighter around herself and pulled out her phone. After a moment of thought, her fingers tapped out a quick text to Rio:

Hey, I wrapped up early. Have any plans for the evening?

Rio’s texts came back just as she got into the car.

Jen and Alice will actually kill me if I skip game night. But you’re welcome to join! Alice has been dying to meet you. 

And if that doesn’t convince you, we’re getting takeout from that Thai place I know you like.

Agatha sent a thumbs up and began to make the trek across town to Rio’s place.

Chapter Text

Agatha finished steaming the milk for the cocoa just as she heard Rio’s key turn in the door. She poured a heavy pour into each mug and stepped into the living room just as she heard Rio laughing over the tree. After a few purchases and a very precarious balancing act, she’d managed to turn it into something worthy of a holiday postcard.

“You really went all out, huh?” Rio teased as she unbuttoned her coat and stamped the snow off her boots.

She felt pretty self-satisfied despite herself. “You’re the one who picked it out and insisted it had to be ‘impressive.’ I just took you at your word when I added the decorations.”

Rio grinned, taking a mug from her, her fingers brushing lightly against Agatha’s. “It’s impressive, alright. Did you get scaffolding to decorate the top?”

“No need. I stood on the counter,” Agatha replied, keeping her tone breezy, though she couldn’t hide her amusement at Rio’s disapproving look.

Rio set her mug on the coffee table and wandered closer to the tree. Agatha watched as her eyes softened, tracing the lines of ornaments and the small pile of gifts beneath the branches. They were all for her, of course, but Agatha allowed her to inspect the pile herself.

Rio crouched down, picking up one of the larger boxes under the tree and squinting at the tag. “‘To Rio,’” she read aloud, her brows quirking up in curiosity. “What’s this?”

“Open it,” Agatha said, leaning against the back of the couch.

She sipped her cocoa as Rio carefully unwrapped the package, revealing boots inside. Agatha watched her reaction, the initial surprise softening into something warmer.

“They’re waterproof,” Agatha explained, her tone casual as she gestured toward the boots. “I noticed your current ones looked a little... well-loved.”

Rio’s laugh was immediate and unrestrained. “You mean they look like hell.” She looked up, her smile soft, her eyes catching Agatha’s. “Thanks. These are perfect.”

Agatha shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though a pleased warmth spread through her. “There’s another one for you under there.”

She watched as Rio picked up the second box, this one smaller and wrapped in crisp paper. A small black heart was doodled on the tag, a last-minute addition Agatha had debated about. Rio didn’t comment on it, tearing through the paper to reveal the backpack Agatha knew Rio wouldn’t have chosen for herself but hoped she’d love all the same.

“Let me guess,” Rio said, holding it up with a smirk. “You’re gonna tell me this is better than the duct-tape masterpiece I’ve been rocking?”

“Please,” Agatha said, unable to suppress a smirk of her own. “Have you had that thing since high school? I figured it was time for an upgrade.”

Rio laughed again, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re welcome,” Agatha replied smoothly. She was pleased with her reaction so far, but it wasn’t the backpack or boots that had made her nervous and kept her up all night.

Rio set the backpack down and turned back to her, her expression softer and gentle. “These are great. Really. But you didn’t have to do all this.”

Agatha hesitated for just a beat before stepping forward and reaching for the final package, small and rectangular, tucked near the back of the tree. It was purposely placed so it’d be the last one she opened. She handed it to Rio, her voice gentler now. “Well, there’s one more.”

Rio took the gift with careful hands, her expression curious. Agatha stood close as she unwrapped it, revealing the silver picture frame inside. Rio’s eyes widened as she saw the photo and held it like it was a precious heirloom.

Perhaps one day it could be.

“Jamie sent it to me,” Agatha said softly, unable to resist glancing at the photo herself. “They snapped it on their phone and thought I’d want a copy. They were right.”

She watched as Rio’s fingers brushed over the glass, her throat working as she swallowed hard.

“I love it,” Rio said, her voice quiet, almost shy.

Agatha smiled at Rio's adoring gaze, just like in the photo. “I thought you might, " she said. She did as well; her home office now had a matching frame.

Rio set the frame down with deliberate care before turning toward her. The sudden tight hug Rio pulled her into made her breath catch. She felt Rio’s face press into her shoulder, the warmth of her breath through the fabric of her sweater.

“You’re making it real hard for me to leave,” Rio murmured, her words muffled but carrying a weight that made Agatha’s throat tighten.

She chuckled, resting her chin on Rio’s shoulder and closing her eyes. “Good. That was the point.” 

The truth was, she didn’t know how to navigate what she was currently feeling. She was happy Rio was going to see her family, of course she was, it was Christmas. But a part of her felt left behind, for all of their talk of starting new traditions, she’d be spending this one just as she’d spent the last several. 

Alone. Not that she’d say it. That would be selfish, wouldn’t it? It would ruin the moment. She wasn’t going to be the one to hold Rio back from her family, it was one thing she’d never ask of her. That would be the quickest way to drive her away—not just for a weekend, but for good.

“I got you something too,” Rio said, her tone teasing but warm, breaking her out of her worry as she pulled a deep purple envelope from her pocket.

Agatha slid her finger under the flap, carefully pulling out the contents. The glossy tickets caught the light as her eyes skimmed over the words. Her breath caught, her mind registering what she was holding.

“Wicked?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief as she looked up, her wide eyes meeting a suddenly nervous Rio, who fidgeted as if Agatha was holding a time bomb.

“Yeah,” Rio said, rubbing the back of her neck in a way Agatha rarely saw. “I thought… well, you’re always humming songs from it, and I figured it might be fun. It’s the night before Christmas Eve. But if you’re not into it, that’s totally okay—”

“Not into it?” Agatha interrupted, her voice bubbling with excitement and delight. She clutched the tickets tighter as if they might vanish.

The more she looked at them, the tighter her throat felt, and the harder it became to swallow. She’d been prepared for Rio to get her something thoughtful—she wasn’t clueless about how much Rio paid attention to her. She was as observant as she was earnest, a combination that caught Agatha off guard over and over again. But this? This was something else entirely.

It wasn’t just a gift. It was a reminder that Rio truly saw her. Completely.

The truth was, Agatha couldn’t even remember the last time someone had put this much thought into something for her. Her ex-wife had given her expensive gifts, sure, things that flashed status and were markers of sophistication. Clothes. Designer bags. Two years in a row, she’d opened the same pair of earrings and acted just as thrilled both times. But they’d always felt like transactions. Never anything personal.

But this felt personal in a way Agatha hadn’t been ready for. Rio had noticed her humming those songs, even when Agatha hadn’t realized she’d been doing it. If she wasn’t familiar with the show, she had to have found a way to look it up. Rio had remembered. She’d gone out of her way to plan this—to think about what might make Agatha happy.

Agatha’s fingers tightened around the tickets, her chest filling with something she didn’t have a name for. The last time she’d felt this... seen, this cared for, she couldn’t even remember. Maybe she never had.

But here was Rio, standing in front of her with her ridiculously sweet big brown eyes, fidgeting nervously as if this gesture might have been too much. And the funny thing was, it was too much. It was almost overwhelming. And it was perfect.

“Rio, I love this show.”

Rio’s grin broke through her nervousness, the relief on her face unmistakable. “Yeah? I thought you might. I haven’t seen it before, but I heard it’s a good one.”

“It’s perfect,” Agatha said, her fingers brushing the tickets’ edges as if they were the most precious gift she’d ever received. She looked at Rio, her heart swelling. “Thank you. This is too much.”

Rio shrugged, her casual exterior returning, though Agatha could see the flicker of pride in her eyes. “Well, I wanted you to have them. It was worth a few extra closing shifts.” She hesitated, her expression softening as she continued. “I also thought… you know, maybe it’d be a chance to meet my family. If you wanted to. My abuela always has a big Christmas Eve thing.”

Agatha’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening. “You want me to meet your family?”

Rio shifted slightly, “Yeah,” she admitted. “I mean, no pressure or anything, but I figured since we’re… you know… it might be nice.”

Her mind raced, her thoughts tangling into a messy knot she couldn’t quite unravel. She’d been so focused on her jealousy over Rio leaving for Christmas, imagining herself stuck here alone while Rio enjoyed her family, that she hadn’t even considered this possibility.

Now, the game had changed, and she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

She looked down at the tickets again, the glossy paper trembling slightly in her hands. Rio wanted her to meet her family. That was big— huge. And the way she’d said it, so casual yet vulnerable, made Agatha’s heart twist. It wasn’t just an offhand invitation. It was an olive branch, a gesture of total trust.

And that scared her.

Because Rio’s family… this big, close, loving family Rio spoke about with such warmth, was so far removed from anything Agatha had ever known. Her own family had been a collection of fractured pieces tied together only by loose obligation. If that.

Stepping into Rio’s world, seeing her around people who loved her with a ferocity that threatened her own, felt overwhelming.

Her chest tightened. Would they like her? Would she even fit in? She’d never been good at these things—at families, at closeness. She wasn’t sure she could navigate it without messing something up.

And yet, beneath the nervousness, there was something else—a quiet flicker of hope. The thought that maybe, just maybe, she could belong there. With Rio. She at least had to try.

Agatha allowed herself to smile, hoping that her voice didn’t sound shaky, “I’d love to meet them.” She stepped closer, her hands gently resting on Rio’s arms as she let the moment settle between them. “This means a lot to me. Thank you for asking.”

She watched Rio’s shoulders relax, her posture softening as a small, shy smile crept across her face. “Good,” Rio said quietly. “Because, honestly? I really want you to come.”

Without thinking, Agatha leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss to Rio’s cheek before wrapping her arms around her in a warm embrace.

As they stood there, the glow of the Christmas tree casting soft shadows around them, Agatha hesitated, a question forming in her mind. “Do they know? That you’ve invited me, I mean.”

Rio nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, I let them know I was asking you. My abuela’s the one who really calls the shots, and she seemed excited.”

“Your grandmother?” Agatha prompted, hoping for some insight into what to expect.

Rio chuckled, the sound warm and affectionate. “Yeah. She rules the home with a tiny fist. She’s my dad’s mom, and honestly, she’s the one who holds everyone together. You’ll love her, I think you have a lot in common. You both carry yourselves like you’re twelve feet tall and have very strong opinions.”

Agatha couldn’t help but smile at the way Rio’s voice softened when she spoke about her grandmother. “Who else will I be meeting?”

“Well,” Rio said, leaning casually against the couch, “there’s my aunt Ana and her husband David. They’ve been together forever, high school sweethearts and they act like they never got past that phase. They’ve got twin boys, Luis and Mateo. Total troublemakers, but they’re sharp enough to get away with more than they should.”

Agatha laughed softly, imagining a pair of mischievous twins running circles around the adults. It brought to mind a tiny Rio, and she wondered idly what she had been like as a child. She’d have to ask. If families were good for anything, it was embarrassing family stories. At least, that’s what she’d heard.

“And,” Rio added, her tone growing a little quieter, “they just had a new baby a few months ago. Rosie. I haven’t met her yet. I’m pretty excited—and nervous, honestly.”

The idea of interacting with children made her pause. Charming adults came naturally to her, years of corporate networking had honed that skill, but kids? They were a mystery. She’d never been entirely sure how to approach them, always feeling slightly out of her depth.

Still, she wanted to try. For Rio.

“Well, I can’t wait to meet them.”

I’d go anywhere with you.

They flew to New York the morning of the show, Agatha paying to upgrade Rio’s seat so they could sit together. The gesture felt small compared to the rest of the weekend she’d planned, only slightly piggybacking off of Rio’s gift to her, Agatha had also gone all out with the accommodations, booking a room at The Carlyle. 

She knew it was extravagant, ridiculously so, but the idea of Rio sleeping on a family couch while visiting had felt unthinkable. Not when she fit so nicely in bed next to her.

As they entered the room, Rio had laughed, teasing Agatha about the absurd luxury. But Agatha had caught a bit of appreciation in her expression, too. She might play it cool, but Agatha could tell Rio was enjoying the upgrade, even if she’d never admit it outright.

Now, in the cramped bathroom of their hotel room, Agatha stood in front of the mirror, meticulously adjusting her hair. She wanted everything to be perfect. Especially after they’d both been through so much effort to get here.

Rio didn’t seem to share her concern, likely because, in Agatha’s opinion, it took her a lot less work to look perfect, and leaned against the sink behind her, drumming her fingers on the counter.

“You look beautiful already,” Rio said, her voice warm and sincere. Agatha glanced at her reflection and caught the fond smile Rio was giving her. “Seriously, you don’t have to fuss so much. Your hair looks great as is. It always does.”

Agatha’s lips twitched into a wry smile as she met Rio’s eyes in the mirror. “Patience, darling. It’s a virtue.”

She saw Rio glance at her watch for the third time, her foot tapping restlessly against the tile. Agatha had to stifle a laugh. It was cute Rio always got a little wound up when there was somewhere to be. As if she’d ever be late.

“Doors open at seven, you know. And the show starts at eight,” Rio said, her tone edging toward exasperation.

“I heard you the first five times, dear,” Agatha replied, brushing a stray strand of hair into place.

Rio huffed dramatically, leaning against the sink. The mix of admiration and impatience on her face was endearing. “I’m just saying, you don’t need to do anything else. That outfit is... wow.”

Agatha turned slightly, letting her emerald velvet blazer catch the light. Blame the latent theater kid in her, she did love a theme.She could feel Rio’s gaze tracing the sharp lines of her outfit, taking in every detail. 

“I mean, seriously,” Rio added, her voice dropping. “You look sexy as hell. Let’s get out of here so I can show you off.”

Agatha smirked, her movements deliberately unhurried as she adjusted the cuff of her blazer. “Good to know my efforts aren’t wasted.”

Rio groaned, glancing at her ticket again. “We should’ve been out the door ten minutes ago. Do you know how fast New York streets get crowded?”

Agatha couldn’t help but laugh. She stepped closer to Rio, resting her hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Relax. We’re going to make it, I promise.”

She kept her word, and they arrived at the theater with an hour to spare. Agatha couldn’t resist glancing at Rio as they walked, amused by how earlier impatience had melted away into excitement.

Rio steered her toward a cocktail bar next door, her arm resting lightly on Agatha’s lower back. Agatha cast her a sidelong glance, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Remind me again what the rush was for?”

Rio rolled her eyes but didn’t take the bait. She held the door open for Agatha, who placed a hand on her chest in mock concern. “Are you sure we have time for a detour? We only have an hour before the show, and I don’t know—it could take us all that time to walk the…” Agatha glanced back at the theater, calculating the distance. “Fifty feet next door?”

“Get inside before I hawk these to the highest bidder,” Rio groaned, playfully swatting her arm.

Her breath caught slightly as Rio removed her coat to reveal a sleek black dress, her curls framing her face perfectly. She’d admired the look as they were getting ready, but under the dim light here, she looked like a classic film star.

Agatha raised her glass when their drinks arrived. “To tonight,” she said, the warmth of the moment settling in her chest.

Rio smiled, her glass catching the light as she clinked it against Agatha’s. “To Wicked , and your Broadway debut as a theater critic.”

Agatha chuckled. “Me? A critic? What gave you that idea?”

They sipped their drinks in a moment of companionable silence. Agatha found herself watching Rio, her expression softening.

“I know I’ve said it, but thank you. This is all… wonderful. I haven’t had a holiday like this in a long time,” she said, her voice quieter now. She hesitated, swirling her drink. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever had one quite like this.”

Rio tilted her head, her brows knitting together slightly. “What do you mean?”

Agatha stared at her glass, the words tumbling out before she could second-guess them. “Christmas as a kid was never a Norman Rockwell scene. Being a politician's wife meant never getting to spend it… just us. Then after, for a while, the holidays weren’t much of anything. Just me, trying to get through them. I’d put up a tree now and then, but… it’s different when there’s no one to share it with.”

Rio’s hand reached across the table, resting over hers. The gesture was grounding and steady. “Well,” Rio said, her voice gentle, “you’re sharing it now.”

Agatha’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile as she looked up at her.