Hyde and Seek

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Why you walk with limp?"

Your fork clangs against the plate as your eyes go wide, your entire body frozen for a good two seconds, and then you let out a breath, smirking a bit, when you realize the question wasn't directed towards you.

"What...do you mean?" Natasha sputters a little, but her face is a perfect mix of confusion and curiosity, raising an eyebrow in question around her beer. A professional, truly.

The three of you are sitting outside at the picnic table, eating some late lunch, and while you've been out for most of the day grocery shopping and running errands for Melina, the redhead has been here helping around the farm. It's only been a few days since the incident and only several hours since you and the assassin stumbled out of the shower kissing but being clear it'll never happen again between breathless giggles, so. You know.

"All day today," Melina continues as you slowly bite into your sandwich, staring down at your plate as the MILF explains next to you, but you can feel Natasha's eyes going between you both from across the table, "You have this – this sort of limp. Did you get yourself hurt?"

"Nope," She dismisses it, and you raise your eyebrows at your sandwich before reaching for a grape on your plate instead now, "Must've pulled something."

"When?"

"You've truly outdid yourself on these sandwiches, Melina, is that-"

"Burrata. Yes," She cuts you off and you nod, impressed with her knowing you well enough to know you have a love and curiosity of all things cheese – all forms, actually, "Natasha you're being weird."

"Yeah, Natty," You can't help but to grin smugly up at the redhead who apparently hasn't taken her eyes off you at some point, and you should've known by the glint in her eyes that you shouldn't open your mouthhole to play with fire, but you know, too late, "How'd you pull your leg muscle? Or, is it something else you've pulled?"

"Did you pull your groin?" Melina pipes in and you choke around your next bite, trying so hard not to laugh that your eyes tear up quicker than what must be deemed healthy, "Chew your food, Y/n."

You bite your tongue, "Yes, ma'am."

"It's nothing," Natasha tells her because Melina doesn't let things go easily, "Think I just slipped getting out of the shower this morning."

You glare over at the redhead, but she's already smirking back at you with lidded eyes that go to your lips and stay there as Melina nods a few times, tucking back into her food with the answer.

You didn't think to question why the redhead was staying for nearly a week until she left again, but it was...interesting. The two of you continued to bicker and disagree on nearly everything – so much so, you'd genuinely forget you were just toying with her and start defending your side hard. But then. Something would flick the second you two seemed to realize you were alone at the same time and. Yes. Things...continued. And it. Got a little domestic. Which.

So, you nearly let out a breath of relief when she lets you sit on her face after telling you she'd be heading back to New York for a bit. Yeah, it's been good. Really good. But you need to stop dicking around and get your head on straight. Not gay. Because if you don't, you're never going to get better. You're never going to free yourself of this burden that stalks your shadows, always a simmering, mild threat in the back of your mind.

"So, we..."

You frown at her with your eyebrows knitted because she already said goodbye to you and Melina back in the house, her bag is resting on her motorcycle, so you don't know why she's here. At your door. Days later.

Except you do.

Because you've shared so many things this past week or so. Like, yeah, sexy times sure, but you talked childhoods and like dreams. You know how she takes her coffee, what her favorite song is, and why she can't stand it when people she doesn't know touch her stuff. Real gay, relationship shit. So. Yeah. You know why she's here and why it's awkward and why neither of you are going to make this easy because you're both stubborn. Neither of you wants to be the one to break or say something the other might not receive the same. It's walking on eggshells with one of those eggs being filled with Cadbury chocolate. A lot of it is broken – you've done and said things, she's said things, it's not perfect, hell, you're not even sure you can stand each other for more than a few hours without ripping each other's heads or clothes off.

It always ended in one or the other. Proven scientific fact.

But there's something here. No matter what – you could say all you two ever do is argue, you could say that the small, heartfelt moments you do share with each other are shy, awkward ones where one says maybe too much and doesn't know how the other will react, or you could say that you two just don't know each other enough. If everything was simple, if nothing ever broke, maybe this would have the best, happiest ending. The one everyone imagines at the end of a fairytale when the princesses ride off into the sunset (that is what happens, right?). But when you look at her. Really look at her, pushing all the bullshit aside that seems like semantics and circumstance, you can see how scared she is because she's feeling it too. There's just something here that neither of you want to walk away from.

"Yeah." You agree, not entirely sure what you're agreeing to, but she watches you carefully, studying your face to see if you give it away, so you just give her a tight smile and a nod.

You're not breaking. Fuck that.

"I don't even have your number." She laughs shortly and you nod a couple more times.

"Melina trashed my phone."

She furrows her eyebrows, dancing around the point of this, "Didn't she get you a new one?"

"Nat," You shake your head with a forced smile, "It's okay."

It's okay if this is what it is.

It's okay if she doesn't want to talk about it outside this MILFarm bubble.

It's okay if she doesn't want to rehash or relive any of it.

It's okay if you're both still angry with each other over shit that neither of you can take back.

It's okay if this doesn't go anywhere.

It's okay.

It's-

"It's not okay," She frowns, and you look away with an eyeroll because of fucking course she's going to drag this out and not even realize it's going to break your heart, but then, "I want you to come back to New York," She pauses, and you meet her eyes before she adds, sounding small, "With me."

And that's.

She found the egg, didn't she?

"Do you share chocolate?" You blurt out and she looks confused for only a moment before she chuckles.

"You're doing that thing again," She smirks, shaking her head with a smile that turns adoring, and your stupid heart is hearting her again, "Where you have a whole conversation or analogy up in that crazy head of yours and I'm supposed to catch up."

"Don't pretend like you know my crazy," She's smiling brightly at you, which, "And stop doing that too, alright? Be a dick to me, I need it right now."

"I do share chocolate," She says instead, so you narrow your eyes at her, "And I'll be whatever you want as long as you be you."

"Shut up, you're being cheesy and it's gross."

She smirks, all smug and beautiful, "Lactose?"

"Allergic to bullshit, more like."

"Afraid I'll break your heart?"

"Thought I was heartless."

"I must be naïve then."

There's a long moment where you both just look at each other, defeatedly soft, shy smiles on your faces, and then a step forward from each of you at the same time has you kissing. Her arms around your waist, keeping you close, and your hands on her face, making sure it goes for as long as you want. It's a long time too.