Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Natalie finds herself in bar, no surprises there. She’s not even sure why she’s here, and if that isn’t the story of her entire miserable, shitty life.

Gulping down a mouthful of warm beer, not bothering to pretend to care about the temperature, she places it back down. Despite where she’s found herself she’s not particularly upset about anything at the moment, she muses, life is the same old level of shitty it always is. A silent huff of laughter to herself, she takes another swig of her beer, it sits and pools in her otherwise empty stomach.

Attention waining from her drink, she looks around, she’s driven by this bar on occasion but never entered before today. First time for everything.

The bar is dingy but in the typical way all bars are, the floor is as sticky as expected, the bar stools uncomfortable. The jukebox on the other side of the room is probably the oldest thing in here, Natalie wonders if the thing is as old as she feels right now. She makes a point to sit up, back creaking as she does so, an attempt to preserve a posture that died long before the age of thirty. The bar has more people that she initially wanted, how is a woman supposed to enjoy her carefully crafted solitude with so many chattering drunks around? Easy enough to ignore, Nat turns her head back to the bar and gestures for another drink, not nearly drunk enough for her tastes.

A new beer is placed in front of her, she offers the slight wave of her hand as a thank you. Failing to ignore the blathering of the bar she notices a particular voice stick out amongst the endless hum of noise. She turns towards it, about five stools down is a couple, well, Nat assumes they’re a couple with how the woman is commanding his attention, or at least trying to. Nat feels her face sour, judging the frankly pathetic attempts at keeping this dude attentive to the one sided conversation.

Natalie has never understood the need nor urge to keep a man’s eyes on her like that, she’s also never had to try particularly hard if she’s honest. Speaking of dude, he looks completely stuck, like a mouse in a glue trap. He’s got a practiced smile plastered to his face, his eyes scanning around the room every few seconds, looking for a way out perhaps? So maybe not a couple after all, Nat concludes, more so trapped prey and predator.

They both look… frumpy? He’s about as average as they come, straight cut jeans, sleeveless puffer jacket over a flannel, and plain hair. The bitch accompanying him however is much more of a character, floral patterned cardigan on top of a sunny yellow blouse, fuzzy socks featuring cats, and are those crocs?? To top it all off Natalie doesn’t think she’s seen hair that large and poofy since a particularly bad high back in 08.

She can’t decide if it’s all entirety hideous or charming. Charming in the same way a grandma is charming, or maybe in the way a 50’s dinner is charming. If a person could be kitschy, this lady has nailed the aesthetic.

She mentally shakes her head, swigging her beer. Even the glasses are comical with how they easily take up half of her face, this woman truly is a walking cliche. Nat can’t judge really, being the poster child for drunk, punk, trailer trash. She never could give up leather and cheetah print, and good luck prying her jewellery and music from her cold dead hands.

We’ve all got our quirks , the crocs are pushing it though.

Whoever she is, probably this guys date, she sure can talk, and Nat is having trouble ignoring the overly eager tone in her voice or the way she seems completely oblivious to this guys disinterest. It’s beyond grating and it’s almost sad to see how animated she is. Without much better to do than start nursing her fresh beer, she decides to listen in. Free entertainment is free entertainment. If she’s lucky she might even find out why this guy looks like he’d rather be doing quite literally anything else.

“So I asked around at work for someone to babysit Caligula, of course no one jumped at the idea but then I remembered that Jessica owed me a favour for helping with her- well you don’t wanna hear about that, I’m sure. I know she’s good with routines so I trust her with him.” This woman likely doesn’t have an off switch, she could probably spend an hour talking about her grocery list.

Nat has only just started actually listening and she’s already decided that this woman could talk down a jumper by simply boring them down and off the ledge. Finding her own morbid thoughts hilarious she lets out a huff of amusement. And what was it she said? Something about babysitting? She’s got kids? Poor kid probably wishes he was deaf. Another noise of humour and another sip of beer. She listens on anyways. That’s one entertaining Poodle.

After another fifteen minutes of constant yammering broken up by noises of hesitant acknowledgment, this guy looks ready to flee the country to get away, he’s picking at a small hole in his jeans as if making it big enough will allow him to jump through and out of the situation.

Suddenly, with all the grace of a new born fawn, he gets up, no tact at all really, and excuses himself to the bathroom. Nat wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t come back. The bespectacled woman doesn’t seem aware of this likelihood, happily shaping her curls, letting them bounce slightly as she lets them fall back to their natural spot above her shoulders, then reaches in her purse for a small hand mirror, checking her makeup, and repositions her glasses, pinky raised high as she does so.

This woman cannot be real.

After five minutes and no sign of little miss poodles date, the woman down the bar seems to finally notice, a small crease to her brows as she worries her lip. She fiddles with her phone, probably wondering if she should bombard the runaway with questions or plague his bloodline with curses. Natalie feels it could go either way honestly.

She adjusts her necklace as her face seems to heat up slightly, from the embarrassment, Natalie guesses. Nat sighs, tearing her eyes away for a moment, offering a privacy that ultimately won’t go noticed or appreciated.

She cracks her neck, “fixing” her posture again. As cruel as it is, she didn’t expect the ladies date taking off to upset the woman so much, she assumed that this was a regular occurrence. And yeah, maybe that’s harsh, she doesn’t particularly care, but she’s also now hesitantly invested.

Nats gaze on her beer hardens, glaring even, mulling over nothing but bad ideas. With another sigh and the trepidation that she’ll definitely regret this, Nat asks the bartender to get her another of whatever she was drinking and another one of whatever she was drinking. If you’re going to be stood up and miserable, may as well get shitfaced.

She mentally prepares herself for the impending headache she’s signed herself up for, already regretting her choice, Nat always was good at making the worst decisions. And not before long she notices the looks of puzzlement on the other woman and the subsequent way her eyes trail over to herself when the barkeep points in her direction, no doubt letting her know where the drink came from. She looks back to the drink for a moment, brows furrowed in confusion, and then back to Nat.

Nat pointedly avoids acknowledging any of this, refusing to make eye contact, maybe she’ll get an extra minute of peace if she pretends to be a part of the furniture.

Unfortunately for her, the world doesn’t work like that, especially not for Natalie Scatorccio. In the corner of her eye she follows the short woman, watches as she clumsily shuffles from her own bar stool to the one next to Natalie. She’s short, Natalie observes, probably no taller than five feet, she had to fully hoist herself onto the bar stool, it’s almost enough to make her laugh.

Resigning herself to her fate, Nat looks over the blonde poodle, her gaze lingering for a moment, as if to acknowledge her presence beside her. Still though, refusing to speak just yet.

Very surprisingly they stay sat in silence for over a minute, the smaller of the two shifting her eyes about and toying with the rim of her glasses, and then the rim of her drink, a drink Natalie finally looks at. Oh god, is she drinking a chocolate martini? Nat never knew a person could be completely disgusted and simultaneously unsurprised in the way she is right now. She regrets her decision a little more, now utterly offended.

The silence stretches on and Nat is super confused if she’s being honest with herself. She likes the quiet, don’t ever get it twisted, but this woman was talking up a mighty storm not even ten minutes ago. The same woman who was talking with all the theatrics in the world, as if she was reading a script, is now experiencing… stage fright? Now she’s here, next to Natalie, and not even a peep has left her lips? Is Natalie that intimidating? Nat discreetly looks herself up and down, and then smirks. Probably.

The blonde does look a little frazzled, as if out of her comfort zone. Hmmm, maybe she shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

She eventually surmises that sitting in a charged silence is not how she wants to spend the rest of her evening, she came out to have a good time, as much of a good time that she’s capable of having anyway. If the Poodle won’t speak, Nat will carry the burden of breaking the tension.

Tapping the bar in time with the music, avoiding the sticky spots, she searches her mind, looking for something to say. Anything is better than nothing, and so, with an attempt at a placating smile on her lips, “Guys, they fucking suck. Right?” That’s the best you got Scatorccio? She forces back a reaction and brings the bottle of cheap beer to her lips to avoid having to continue further with her pathetic attempt at conversation.

Completely embarrassed and once again regretting every choice that led to this moment, Natalie turns her eyes away from the adjacent barstool and the person occupying it. In her embarrassment, she doesn’t notice how the Poodle next to her doesn’t seem at all fazed by the awkwardness and is now smiling brightly.

The smaller of the two women now positions herself to face Nat, emboldened, as if her words gave her permission to begin talking.

Yeah, this was definitely a bad idea.

Readjusting her glasses, she practically chirps, “Absolutely, I mean, he wasn’t anything serious, just another match off this dating site I’ve been trying out. Honestly he didn’t seem all that interesting anyways.” Yeah, Nat thinks with a secret smile to herself, you never gave him a change to convince you that he was interesting, “-and it’s not like I’m that upset about it, he was cuter in his pictures anyways.” She finally finishes, with a shrug that was almost comically animated. This woman was probably a thespian in a past life with how practiced that was. So bushy tailed and bright eyed.

Not sure what to say to that, Nat shifts slightly, careful to make sure it’s not noticeable. Not keen on inquiring about this chicks attempts at online dating, she thinks back to what she heard when listening in on their past conversation, “Hmm, maybe when he found out you had kids he decided he wasn’t ready to be called daddy by someone who wasn’t gonna get his dick wet.” She smirks, not caring if that was entirely too far, or something you definitely shouldn’t say to a stranger, she’s four beers down and very well could’ve said worse.

The blonde, Natalie really should ask her name at some point if she’s stuck here, looks confused, tilting her head ever so slightly. Nat doesn’t know if she’s confused on how she knows she has kids, if the other woman is upset that she eavesdropped, or if it’s the fact Natalie said something so out of the way of a normal response. Natalie decides that perplexity is a better look than the plastic smiles she was offering Random Guy earlier.

Seemingly coming to a conclusion of her own, the shorter woman is quick to explain, “I don’t have any children… were you listening to our conversation?” She shakes head head, “well, no, that’s not- I don’t have any children,” she now offers a real smile, all teeth, “I have a bird. He’s a parrot, African grey. That’s probably who you heard me talking about.” Still all smiles, like Natalie purposefully brought up the perfect opportunity for her to talk about her fucking bird. Completely ignoring the daddy comment all the while.

That makes about as much sense as the rest of the woman beside her. Nat shakes her head with a snort. “Yeah that adds up, Caligula is a beyond stupid name for a kid. I just assumed you were,” she looks her up and down, “the eccentric type.” She meets her eyes again.

The other woman just laughs and makes a slapping motion with her hands in mock offence, “Hey, Caligula is not a stupid name. Caligula was named after a Roman emperor, who was assassinated. Only interesting people get assassinated.” This woman is officially strange. Natalie isn’t drunk enough for this, she decides. And yet, she has to admit that there’s amusement in the absurdity. Maybe she’s just drunk enough.

“Okay, hold on, wait,” she watches the smaller woman finish off a sip of her pathetic excuse for an alcoholic beverage, “you got someone to babysit a parrot ? Don’t they live in cages? What, scared he’ll get assassinated like the guy he shares a name with?” Natalie is going to get a kick out of this conversation if she’s forced to entertain it.

The woman laughs, a noise that sounds unpracticed, “Not at all, Caligula does have a cage but he mostly goes where he pleases when I’m home. That’s off topic though, I had to get a petsitter because I assumed,” she pauses, trying to hide the way her smile falters, “I assumed that I was going to be staying at my dates place tonight and didn’t want Caligula home alone overnight, I know, a mother worries I guess,” she shrugs, “It appears I was a little presumptuous, huh?” She finishes with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, deciding to finish the rest of her drink when Nat doesn’t say anything in response.

Well, she thinks. That’s awkward. She never was the best with emotions, not her own, not other people, and especially not the emotions of a random woman who wears cardigans and owns a parrot.

Luckily, before she has to pull together a measly attempt at comfort, the other woman seems to get the hint that she’s not going to be getting any sympathy and changes gears. “I’m Misty, by the way! I probably should have mentioned that earlier, or not,” a small shrug, ”What’s your name?” She holds her hand out to Natalie, smile genuine if not a little tight, probably from the awkward display she just preformed and Natalie was forced to witness.

Nat has to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the gesture and decides she’s not cruel enough to let her stoop in it. She takes her hand if a firm and quick handshake. “Natalie.” She answers simply, playing along with the handshake but refusing to give into the whimsical nature of the other woman entirely.

At least she can stop mentally referring to her as Poodle, she lets the beginning of a smirk escape.

Misty doesn’t let the short answer deter her, if anything she’s now alight with confidence. She starts talking about everything and nothing. How she works in a care home, God save the elderly. She talks about how she got Caligula as a gift to herself for finishing medical school, and that’s a little sad but it’s not like Natalies life is exactly sunshine and rainbows either. Nat chimes in with a comment every so often. She should despise herself for being so present in the conversation.

Natalie hates to admit it but this isn’t the worst time she’s ever had. Sure, Misty is a lot and far too preppy for Natalie’s tastes, but she also accepts that for all the ways this woman is entirely strange and all the way odd, she’s funny, although Nat doesn’t think she’s trying to be, maybe that’s what spurs on her laughter.

Before either of them realise it, an hour has passed and Natalie hasn’t developed a migraine nor wanted to run away. Maybe she’s drunker than previously thought, maybe that guy was wrong in his assessment of Misty, or maybe she’s finally gone crazy.

She begrudgingly decides that even she can’t drive safely if she drinks anymore and makes a point to pay her tab, making sure Misty notices, encouraging her to pay her own. Bill paid, conversation coming to a natural halt, Nat let’s out a sigh, hand travelling through her hair, “You’re fucking weird, Misty.” she ignores the way her comment only earns her a confused smile, Misty apparently too busy humming along to the song whirring on the jukebox, finger waving and wagging in time to the music, Nat doesn’t recognise it.

She shrugs her leather jacket over her shoulders, looking across at Misty who looks warm in the face, eyes closing easily, hesitant to opening again with each blink. Natalie doesn’t want a guilty conscience by leaving her alone, definitely far beyond buzzed, and not exactly giving off an air of someone who can look after themself.

She sighs, accepting that the night isn’t over yet. “Do you need me to call you an uber or something? Was that guy your ride?” Misty perks up, the question drawing her attention, readjusting her glasses for the thousandth time tonight.

Misty finally chokes out. “yeah- I mean, he was my ride. I should probably call an uber, shouldn’t I? I left my car at home.” It was obvious she left her car at home, Nat rolls her eyes. And God, why does she sound so sad? I thought that guy was a tool. ‘Nothing like his picture’ or whatever.

Another sigh, deeper this time. You’re gonna regret this Natalie, she tells herself. Just let her call a stupid fucking uber, this woman is not your responsibility. Don’t do it. And she’s doing it. She waves her hand, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll drive you home. You sober enough to give directions?” Fuck. Stupid. I hate myself.

Misty practically lights up.

Please stop smiling at me like that.

Well, she’s in too deep now, she stands, back protesting heavily. “Get your stuff together if you’re ready to leave.”

No need to tell her twice, Misty is practically jumping as she fastens her cardigan buttons up, clutch already hung over her shoulder. It’s almost embarrassing how eager she is, like a child before being taken to the park.

Nat hides a grimace. Just get it over with. Nat starts walking to the exit, not even bothering to check if Misty is following, Natalie knows she is.

She holds the door for Misty, the smaller woman smiles brightly at her and Nat immediately regrets that decision. She has so many regrets about tonight that a confessional stand wouldn’t even want to hear it.

The parking lot is dark, pavement damp from rain, the only light coming off the building itself and a flickering street lamp by the sidewalk. Dingy bar and slasher style parking lot. How fitting. Despite the scenery, Jason doesn’t jump out at them with a katana or whatever the fuck he cuts his victims up with, and Natalie is forced to continue the good deed she put upon herself.

They get to her car, the headlights momentally lighting up the immediate area as it unlocks. Nats car is only a two seater but she suspects that Misty would’ve helped herself to the passenger seat regardless with the way she all but saunters herself into Natalie’s car. Bold. Not surprised. She hates that she smiles at the action, amused despite the surface level irritation. Soon they’re both in the car, Misty buckling up instantly, hands in her lap. And if that isn’t completely on brand. Nat rolls her eyes, unsure if it’s from annoyance or because it’s charming .

Shockingly enough, they drive in relative silence. Misty fiddling with the radio occasionally, apparently not a fan of Nats usual tastes, she almost smirks at the image of croc and cat sock wearing Misty listening to anything heavier than pop. She settles for a station she’s never heard of, some sort of church music? Nat didn’t peg her for the religious type. She pays closer attention to the radio despite how it’s definitely not in her best interest to do so. There’s certainly some heavy piano. Then there’s violin. A surprising lack of lyrics about letting the lord in or whatever- wait. No. No, that’s definitely classical. Jesus, this woman is strange. At least Misty had the decency to keep the volume low.

After ten minutes or so, Misty starts offering directions, nothing more than a “next left” or “follow this road”. Natalie is more than happy without the small talk, relived actually.

The rhythmic sound of the engine and tires on road has significantly calmed her down, she feels sober already. Okay, maybe that’s pushing it. The point is, she’s relaxed and doesn’t need the relative stranger in her car to ruin this for her.

Another ten minutes and they’re pulling up to a house that undoubtedly fits the woman in her passenger seat perfectly. Is that a garden gnome? Sure fucking looks like it. The whole picture in front of her screams weekend at grandmas .

Maybe this was Misty’s parents house first? Or did Misty go out of her way to purchase a house and age it thirty years? Natalie accepts that she was right about her initial assumption that Misty is eccentric and probably a little off her rocker. Again, ‘kitschy’ is what comes to mind.

They sit there for what feels like minutes and Misty still hasn’t made a move to get out of her fucking car. She looks over at her. Misty is worrying her lip, brows pulled down in thought. Nope. Whatever it is, just no. Nat did her good deed for the entire fucking decade and now she’s going home, and as far as she’s concerned, will never see Misty again. Just because she made her laugh once or twice does not mean she’s going to entertain whatever idea Misty is brewing up behind those bangs right now.

Nipping any and all possible thoughts in the bud, she makes a point to turn the engine off. “Home sweet home,” she says it sweetly, mocking almost. She looks back at the house, “This is the right one, right? You’re not that shitfaced, I know.” Misty has the nerve to pout. Not my problem. She then rummages around in her clutch and pulls out a little notebook and red pen. Makes perfect sense to keep those in her purse, of course, typical purse items, for sure.

Next thing Nat knows, she’s having a slip of paper thrust into her hands and Misty is refusing to look into her eyes. Nat glances down at the paper despite her better judgment, the paper reads Misty Quigley along with a phone number. Fuck my entire life. Misty is now looking at her with a smile that doesn’t feel completely real, somehow real and plastic at the same time.

This woman is not my problem , she repeats it to herself like a mantra.

Misty then decides to speak, completely unaware of the way Natalie is holding back the urge to strangle her. “Thank you so much for the ride home, and the drink, and well… everything. I um, I thought that I probably owe you one, or a ride, or something. If you need anything, there’s my number.” And her smile is now blinding despite the fact that what she just said was completely embarrassing and deranged.

Does she seriously think we’re going to be, what? Best friends? Gal pals? We’re going to braid each others hair? Watch shitty tv and share tubs of ice cream? Natalie knew this woman was odd but she’s just jumped up all the way from weird to batshit insane.

Holding back a grimace, Nat simply nods, waves her off, and with all the casualness she can muster, replies. “Really, don’t worry about. Like, at all. You should probably head in though, it’s late and your bird is waiting.” She’s proud of herself for the way she managed to say that without throwing up. Your bird is waiting. Jesus fuck.

The mention of Caligula seems to finally pop Misty out of her self made bubble. She nods, smiles, and clumsily exists Nats car. No more words were exchanged. Small victories.

Nat doesn’t drive away until the front door closes behind Misty and the lights of the house turn on.

Thank God that’s over.

Chapter Text

Natalie wakes up with the slightest twinge of a hangover, barely anything really. The one positive of being an alcoholic she supposes, her body very much used to her putting it through the trenches. She rolls away from the window, the sun peeking through the curtains not helping. The real headache comes when she remembers the night before.

Misty fucking Quigley.

Okay, so after reassessing the night with a sober mind, maybe that guy was right to run for the hills. Misty for all her quirks and dare say charms is definitely not someone Natalie would ever involve herself with.

Mistys number is exactly where she left it, on the dash of her car. It’ll probably sit there, untouched with all the other small pieces of garbage like receipts and the odd beer cap until she finally throws it all away, ready to start a new pile of junk.

At least that very much was the plan. That was the plan until after spending the whole day doing exactly nothing of note she realises she has no beer in the mini fridge, and even worse, no whiskey under the sink. Fuck. Shoving on the clothes from the night before, making quick work of her now greasy hair and attempting to clean up her messy eyeliner. Not exactly satisfied but unable to care, she gets in the car and heads to the closest gas station, fingers drumming along the steering wheel all the way, sunglasses shielding her sensitive eyes.

It’s not until parking that she notices something on the floor of the passenger side. A wallet. A frown takes over her features, it’s not her wallet, her own is black and certainly not covered in owls- oh my fucking god. This is Mistys wallet. She sighs and rests her head on the steering wheel, sunglasses askew.

“Fucking shit,” Nat mutters, head pressing somehow further into the steering wheel. “Why me?” She mutters further.

She picks up the wallet, turns it over a few times in her hands, questioning her life choices all the while. She opens it up, not much immediately grabs her attention, Misty’s drivers licence, a few twenty dollar bills, a couple debit cards, a credit card, a membership card to a place Natalie can only assume is a pet store based on the logo, and a picture of what she guesses is Caligula. The confirmation that Misty actually owns a parrot is unsurprising but still completely unbelievable. A grown woman and her parrot.

She closes the wallet, if she wasn’t sure before, she is now. That’s probably the most unassuming and completely boring wallet Natalie has ever seen, let alone having the misfortune of being stuck with. She rolls her eyes and pockets the wallet without a second thought.

She buys her beer, whiskey, some snacks, and a trashy gas station coffee, and sets off back to her motel room, which is also her place of residence. Not the settling down type, her semi constant rehab visits makes sure of that. The phone number, slightly crumpled and curled at the edges stares at her the entire drive, taunting her, mocking the way her jaw tightens. Natalie didn’t want to see Misty again. Point blank. And now she’s what? Going to fucking text her? Call her? Oh joyful fucking joy. “What the actual fuck is my life?” If the frown lines weren’t a permanent feature on her face from years of disappointment then they’d certainly stick around after today.

Once home, she lays on her bed, completely sprawled, face dramatically thrown into one of her shitty pillows. After groaning and huffing in all the ways her teenage self would, she eventually comes up for oxygen, turning around to lay flat on the cheap mattress, foot tapping away at the floor as her leg hangs down the side of the bed. The only things that brings Natalie some comfort, the smallest feeling of righteousness, is the knowledge that Misty is probably having just as much of a bad day. No money, no ID, no fucking wallet. It’s almost enough to bring a mean smirk to her face.

It’s not until six in the evening that she finally gives in and texts her;

Natalie

This better be the right number. This is Natalie from the bar. You left your wallet in my car.

Misty

Omg! I’ve been looking for that all day! I’m so sorry!! Drop your address and I’ll be right over! Sorry again for the inconvenience!

Yeah, no. Not happening. The last thing Natalie needs is Misty fucking Quigley knowing her address. It’s bad enough that she has her number. Never gonna happen. With another sigh she replies;

Natalie

No. I remember the way to your place. I’ll be there in 20 if you’re home.

Misty

Of course! I’m home from work so any time is fine! You can even come in and meet Caligula if you’d like! Do you prefer tea or coffee? Do you like true crime? :)

The headache is back and Natalie can’t blame alcohol this time. She leaves her on read and heads out. Getting it over with as quick as humanly possible and then a life of blissful Misty-less peace.

The drive to Misty’s is uneventful besides Natalie having the urge to say fuck it and turn around every few minutes, wallet be damned. This is not how you keep a person out of your life. She runs her hands through her hair, trying to comb through her stress. If only it were that easy.

Pulling up to the Quigley residence and Nat immediately has the urge to throw the wallet out her car window and drive away. She pinches the bridge of her nose, then rubbing her hands down her face. She feels positively sour, griping the steering wheel, resigning herself to the task at hand. Natalie Scatorccio is many, many things, but a coward is not one of them. She’s a grown woman and she can return a fucking wallet.

She gets out the car, ignoring the bitter chill of the early evening, and walks up to the front door. She raises her hand, maybe to knock or ring a doorbell, but before she even has the chance to do anything, the door opens, and she’s face to face with Misty in all her bespectacled glory.

She’s wearing nurses scrubs and of course they’re covered in a pattern only a geriatric cat lady could love, her hair is a little frizzy and makeup worn away after a long day of cleaning up after old folks.

Despite all of this, Misty is smiling wide, teeth showing, glasses rising off her nose slightly from the weight of her cheeks that are straining with the effort. She goes to beckon Natalie inside so Nat makes quick work to pull the wallet out of her pocket and places it in Misty’s smaller hands.

Misty practically gapes, she looks at the wallet and then looks to Natalie. Is she buffering? She doesn’t look sure of where to go from here, it’s clear that she was banking on Natalie coming in. “… Do you want to come in?” It almost sounds like she’s asking the both of them, as if she’s as unsure of asking as Natalie feels.

Nat is quick to start shaking her head and jamming her thumb towards her car, excuse on the tip of her tongue.

Just as she opens her mouth to decline the pitiful offer, she’s interrupted. “I need to make sure everything is in my wallet, right? And I’m sure you could use a coffee? Or something else?” This is almost sad. No, actually, it is sad. Ignoring the plea for her to come inside disguised with an accusation, she takes a step back, away from the door, ready to turn around.

“Wait!” Misty grabs her wrist. Natalie looks down at the contact in shock? In annoyance? She doesn’t really know right now, ask her later.

Misty also seems surprised by her own actions as she’s quick to pull away, as if Natalie’s leather burns her skin. Misty’s ignoring the blush she no doubt feels rising from her neck, she tries again, “Just… please? For five minutes? I promise not to keep you long.” Natalie doesn’t think she’s ever seen a woman look so completely desperate. Misty’s eyes now glued to her, then to the floor, then back to her. Her lip buried deep between her teeth. At least she has the decency to look guilty or maybe embarrassed, Natalie doesn’t know.

Any sane person, regardless of how empathetic or sympathetic, would run. They would politely decline the offer, turn around as nondescriptly as humanly possible, and leave. Fuck, they’d probably move state too. Natalie is pretty sure she’s sane and is set on doing just that, pulling away, getting back in her car, and drinking away this interaction as soon as her feet hit the shitty carpet of her motel floor. She swears that’s her one and only intention. Natalie doesn’t want to indulge the woman in front of her anymore than she already has. She tries to avoid eye contact, you don’t look sad puppies in the eye, but it’s impossible, once their eyes meet she already knows she’s going to make another terrible decision.

She throws her hands up, “Fuck- fine. Fine. Five minutes, sure.” Good job Natalie. She follows the blonde in.

The regret is instantaneous upon entering. Has she walked into the newest Stephen King movie set? There’s still books being adapted right? Fuck this. The walls are speckled with picture frames, most of them featuring the parrot or Misty herself, some of them have an old couple in, probably her parents, Natalie doesn’t care enough to ask. Misty doesn’t seem aware of the nightmare house she lives in or Natalies reaction to said house. She’s quick to start the kettle and while her back is turned, Natalie observes the space, ignoring Misty’s idle chatter.

Either Misty is a neat freak, she wouldn’t doubt it, or she cleaned before Natalie got here. Maybe that’s why she’s still in scrubs? And true to her word Caligula is perched above a bookshelf, watching her, head turned to the side to see her better. Rehab was more bearable than this.

She doesn’t sit down on the couch, fearing that if she does Misty might see it as an invitation to invite her to stay for dinner.

Regardless, Misty returns with two mugs, one in each hand. She outstretches her right arm, plain white mug for Natalie to take, smile ever present. Natalie accepts it, noting that it’s coffee, black. Misty notices the observation, “I thought you’d be more of a black coffee drinker, if not though I can get the cream and sugar-“ Nat puts her hand up to stop her.

“No, I drink it black,” and as an afterthought, “thanks.” The smile Misty gives her makes her want to pour the cursed shit in her own eyes. It wasn’t exactly a wild shot in the dark to come to the conclusion that Natalie would like her coffee black, she mentally scolds Misty for looking at her like she just solved a particularly frustrating crossword.

She pushes air through her teeth, Natalie would put money on Misty doing the daily crossword. See, Misty isn’t the only one who can make assumptions.

Seemingly not caring that Natalie is more than comfortable standing, Misty sits down on her couch, placing her own mug, a mug that happens to be glazed green and speckled with daises, it’s contents likely tea, down beside herself. For all the fuss she made to get Natalie to come inside, she hasn’t said a whole lot, or perhaps Natalie wasn’t listening, who’s to say. Is she nervous? Not used to guests? Well, Nat could’ve guessed that one, it was clear from the moment she started talking to Misty the night prior that she isn’t exactly popular, probably never has been. Not like Natalie was a beacon of social success in life either, so she begrudgingly understands, on a tentative level.

Things quickly get awkward, or at least Natalie feels it. Nat nurses her coffee like it’ll get her through this whole experience quicker, she decides to cut the tension, “So, is it all there?” Misty looks at her confused. She rolls her eyes, “the wallet? Is all your shit there?” Misty has the decency to look apologetic, pushing her glasses up her nose, and playing with the wallet in her hands, lips in a tight line.

She doesn’t even open it, placing it in her lap, making eye contact with Natalie, before she says, “Oh, Natalie. I’m sorry I said that, I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything! I didn’t even mean to say that, really. I know you wouldn’t take anything of mine, all you’ve done is treat me kindly since we met and I had no right to accuse you like that.” Well, Natalie wasn’t expecting a full on apology, and she’s not particularly sure how she feels about Misty perceiving her in such a good light. Natalie had done the bare minimum and Misty was talking as if she was saintly, she almost laughs in her face, if it’s one thing she’s not, it’s a saint.

But Misty truly looks guilty, almost scared? As if the accusation would be the thing to scare Natalie away. And hey, she might not particularly like the woman, but she doesn’t want her to feel guilty over something she really couldn’t give two shits about. “It’s fine. Seriously, don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t… mean it, or whatever,” she looks at the owl pattered fabric and motions at it, “Check your wallet though, better safe than sorry.” Because if she left it in her car so easily, she probably wouldn’t notice some guy at the bar fucking with it either.

Misty simply nods, still looking guilty, not seeming to quite accept Natalie’s acceptance. She rolls her eyes while Misty is preoccupied with her wallet. She flips through it, taking a second to smile at the picture of Caligula. “There’s nothing missing. I didn’t take a lot of cash with me, I think it’s all here,” she looks up at Nat, smiling wide, face a picture of gratitude, like Natalie personally hung the fucking stars for her, “thank you, I know I’ve said it a lot, probably too much, but thank you.” She places the wallet down on the coffee table, decidedly done with it.

It’s been far longer than five minutes, Natalie should probably just go. She nods in acknowledgment of Misty’s words, “Just doing what anyone would do.” She shrugs, the praise prickling her skin, rejection of the gratitude close to her lips. Misty looks like she wants to argue, and fuck, maybe Misty isn’t used to the basic human decency people are supposed to offer, maybe Nat knew that subconsciously, and maybe that’s why she decided to be the one to buy her a fucking drink. Shaking her head slightly, as if to rid herself of those thoughts, she just looks at Misty. Misty is looking back, was probably observing her deep in thought, she doesn’t like that idea so she ignores it.

She forces herself not to jump when the parrot flies down from the bookshelf and onto the back of the couch, right next to Misty. She forgot the bird was there in all honesty, too wrapped up in all the Misty shaped bullshit.

The bird is looking at her again and Misty is quick to shower him with affection. Lightly petting his head feathers. Misty then looks over to her, like she wants to offer her something, her eyes then scan over the wall clock and realisation dawns on her face, “Did I interrupt your day? You sounded like you had something to do when I suggested you come in, I wouldn’t want to be the wrench in your plans.” Natalie simply nods, ignoring how that part didn’t sound all that apologetic. Misty is quick to stand, brushing off nothing other than maybe the awkwardness of the situation. She makes the effort to walk Natalie to the door, making sure to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose one last time before Natalie leaves.

Nat is now on the front steps of the porch, bringing her shoulders up to her neck to shield herself from the cold, sun starting to set. And while she hates to admit it, Misty does look beautiful in the amber glow, her eyes practically golden. Fuck. She doesn’t need thoughts like that, she’s literally in the process of leaving and never seeing this woman again. “Get a grip, Scatorccio” she whispers to herself.

“It was nice seeing you, and thanks again for, well, all of it. Again, if you ever need the favour returned, you have my number… and my address too, I guess.” She giggles like she said something particularly funny, rocking back and forth slightly on her feet, hands in scrub pockets. Natalie is ready to go home and forget this day happened.

She nods her head once, hands shoved into jacket pockets, “See you around Misty, stay off those dating apps, they’re a fucking joke.” She’s serious but Misty laughs anyways and nods like she’s never agreed with anyone more.

Nat walks to the car, not looking up at Misty as she starts the engine. She doesn’t see the way Misty smiles at her as her car takes off down the road.

Chapter Text

Misty is smitten. Completely and utterly enraptured with Natalie. She sighs wistfully as she gently strokes the slightly fraying edges of her wallet. Sure, Misty might have accidentally left her purse in Natalie’s car, she might of thrown it to the floor when she was getting the pen and pad out to write her number, and it might have worked exactly as intended.

Despite what people tend to assume, Misty Quigley is a lot smarter than people give her credit for. You don’t pass medical school with flying colors by being a moron after all.

She didn’t get the perfect ending to her ‘losing the wallet’ scheme but Misty has certainly never turned her nose up at a challenge. This was going to be fun, this was going to be the most fun Misty has ever had, she was certain of it.

After all, Misty has never, ever, had someone go out of their way to buy her a drink, at least not without her planting the seeds of suggestion, setting them in motion to do so. But Natalie did, Natalie with her leather jacket, and her messy hair. Natalie with her dark eyes and darker eyeliner, all smudged like she couldn’t care less what people thought of her.

She’s so happy that her date ended up falling through, Chris wasn’t even really note worthy anyways. Sure, she was upset when he didn’t seem interested in gardening, and even more so when his trip to the “bathroom” was actually just an excuse to leave. She rolls her eyes. And yeah, maybe she should’ve seen it coming, it’s not the first time a man has pulled that stunt.

She sighs and makes her way over to the kitchen, chores won’t do themselves after all. “Hey, Caligula, my handsome boy. You like Natalie, don’t you? What did you think of her? I tried to get her to stay longer but I think I was already pushing my luck,” she puts the sponge down momentarily to offer him a treat, he takes it, “I hope the next time we meet she’ll be more willing to spend time with me.” No room for the idea that they wouldn’t meet again, Misty was positive that they would. Never been more sure of anything.

“I can’t believe I have her number Iggy! It’s taking everything in me not to text her. I must stay strong!” She stands taller, taking on a mighty pose, “she probably needs space, I get the feeling, we all need space sometimes, right? We can’t have her snapping and running away under the pressure. We can’t have that can we, sweet boy?” He makes a small noise and beams from the affection, well, in all the ways a bird can beam. Semantics.

It’ll be three weeks until they next see each other.

Natalie will assume it’s a random chance encounter, set up by the universe to fuck with her. Misty knows better. Because unbeknownst to Natalie, Misty has spent the last three weeks planning this chance encounter.

The moment Natalies car pulled out of her drive, Misty got to thinking, thinking lead to research, and research lead to scheming. It’s honestly a little problematic how easy it is to gather information from a first name, license plate, and phone number alone. Well, maybe it’s not actually easy, Misty might just be too good at things like… this. She shrugs, busying herself with seeming casual, waiting for Nat to notice she’s there.

Natalie Scatorccio is forty three years old, her father died when she was young, high school dropout, in and out of work, also in and out of rehab, three times according to her research. In and out of jail for petty charges, some being possession, others being assault. What a bad girl.

She mindlessly pushes her glasses further up her face despite not needing to, a habit that she doubts will ever go away.

Back to her thoughts, Nat lives in a motel not far from Misty’s own home, she’s lived there for three months. She has no social media, that was easy to figure out, especially considering Misty went to send a Facebook friend request, disappointed when no account came up.

Misty is standing down the frozen isle of a store, some chain. It was practically child’s play to figure out where Natalie frequents. And sure, she could have gone to any of the bars Natalie loves to spend her days in, but Misty isn’t stupid, she knows that Nat isn’t stupid either, Natalie would catch onto that.

Misty has never been particularly self conscious or disliked the way she presents, at least not since high school, but she knows her cat sweaters and plain blue jeans don’t exactly fit the typical person that spends their time in bars, especially bars that likely don’t have an up to date liquor license.

She puts some random items in her basket, careful to not put too many items in case she needs to go through the checkout in a hurry, but also conscious of the fact that if she buys too little this whole thing will all look like a set up, an excuse to hang out.

It definitely is.

Natalie doesn’t need to know that.

Just as she’s putting some nuts in her basket, some treats for her sweet boy, she catches Natalies eye. Misty always the actress, does her very best to appear just as shocked as she knows Nat probably feels. This is so exciting. She waves, Natalie doesn’t wave back, that’s okay, She doesn’t take it personally.

Natalie doesn’t look all too sure of what to do, does she pretend she doesn’t notice Misty or does she accept that they both know she has? Well Misty is more than obliged to offer her a helping hand with that, she’ll make the choice for the both of them. She actively slows herself down, approaching Natalie at a casual pace. We’ve just bumped into each other. Small world. She knew taking drama classes in school was her calling.

Natalie notices her approaching and instead of running away, turning tail and booking it out of the doors, she just sighs and faces Misty’s approaching form. The slightly buzzing yellow lights coat her in a tinted film. Even though she’s wearing the same style of clothes that she wore all those weeks ago, the setting they’re in now paints such a different picture. The bar shadowed Natalie’s features, her clothes and hair as dark as the aura she tries to exude. But now she’s here, almost out of place in such a generic public space, like seeing a goth sit on Santas lap. She’s still entirely beautiful, Misty thinks.

They’re only a few feet apart from each other now, Misty looking up to reach her eyes. “Hey Natalie!” She looks around the store. “Small world, huh? I didn’t think we’d bump into each other like this.” Natalie doesn’t even bother trying to fake a smile. Misty appreciates it, she enjoys Natalie’s ‘no bs’ attitude, makes it easier to read the situation.

No bother, she can still work with this. “I was just driving by and remembered that Caligula was running low on treats,” she makes a point to shimmy the basket, the nuts rattling as she does so, “so yeah, what about you? A snack haul? The basics?” She looks down at Natalie’s basket, noting the way literally none of its contents are remotely healthy.

Misty isn’t a health nut, don’t preach to the choir, or whatever it is, but as a nurse she can’t help but inwardly cringe at the marshmallows, cheap liquor, and the multiple bags or chips and other processed foods. Maybe one of these days she can invite her round for dinner, make a home cooked meal for her. Does she like Italian?

Deep in thought about what Natalie might like her to cook, she doesn’t catch the beginning of Natalies words. “- getting some stuff. Needed smokes.” Short and simple, at least she answered the question.

Of course she smokes, the smell of smoke evident on her, even now. She hopes that Natalie’s motel allows smoking, she doesn’t want her to get in trouble, not that she thinks Natalie cares a whole lot for authority and rules.

She smiles and readjusts her glasses, how can she make this last longer? It’s clear that this is where most people would say their polite goodbyes and move on with their day. Misty can see Natalie itchy for that scenario, jaw clenched.

She thinks and thinks, so many ideas but unsure if any of them would work. She definitely can’t go with dramatically falling and hoping Nat will pick up her groceries, doting on her, and making sure she gets home okay. Or better yet, she definitely can’t count on Natalie falling over and needing Misty’s expert hands to nurse her back to health.

It hits her suddenly, better than nothing.

“Oh! I have a coupon! Twenty percent off when you spend a certain amount on selected products. I don’t think my total comes to enough though.” She makes an effort to get the coupon out, she has coupons, sue her, this economy isn’t something to trifle with.

Natalie looks over the coupon in her hands. “Can’t you just pick up a few extra things?” And it’s a valid question, how does Misty talk herself out of this?

Hmmm, okay.

She responds like the answer is obvious, “Oh, I don’t want to be wasteful, I don’t need anything else,” and to finally get to the end goal of this conversation, “I know! You don’t have many items either, why don’t we just combine our purchase? It can even be on me if you like-“ Natalie is quick to shake her head, attempting to put her foot down.

Round one, fight!

“No, that’s okay.” Misty definitely hasn’t lost yet.

Misty is quick to shake her own head at the dismissal, “No, I insist, it’s no trouble. Money isn’t an issue at all, and I still definitely owe you for all you’ve done for me. This could be me finally paying you back!” And when Natalie doesn’t immediately refuse the idea, she knows she’s wearing her down. That was easier than she thought it would be, maybe she doesn’t wanna argue, or talk, or be here.

Well, Misty will take it either way.

As a last ditch effort to have control over the situation, that’s so sweet, Natalie offers, “The whiskey and cigs will be expensive. I’ll pay for those. They probably don’t fall under your coupon anyways.” She leaves no room for Misty to argue, she doesn’t need to, Misty’s just happy that her idea is actually working.

She nods her head, feeling the way her curls bob as she does so, “That’s a great idea! That’s perfectly fine with me. Are you done? Shall we go to checkout?” And if saying we didn’t make her a little giddy.

Misty and Natalie are going to checkout. The both of them. Together. Misty you’ve done it again.

Instead of answering, Natalie starts making her way to the front of the store.

All she wants to do is make conversation, she’s itching for it, but what would she even say? There are so many things she wants to ask, like, what does Natalie do for fun? Does she have a favourite animal? It could be cheetahs, maybe she just likes print. Is she from around here? Well, Misty already knows the answer to that is yes. Not that Natalie knows that she knows that.

Misty gets the impression that Natalie wouldn’t appreciate small talk. That’s fine, Misty can do that. But she also probably doesn’t want Misty to ask her personal questions either, not that Misty would, not yet at least. Guess she’ll have to enjoy the small victory in silence, the quiet is even nice if she convinces herself of it.

As agreed, they both begin putting their items on the conveyer belt, Natalie placing her Alcohol and ‘smokes’ separately. They might have nearly touched hands during the motions and Misty might be internally upset at the lost opportunity to feel Natalie’s hand on her own, even if she knows that it wouldn’t mean anything, it still would’ve been nice.

The cashier is probably in high school, young certainly. He’s either high, or wishes he was. Honestly, he might be wishing so doubly now that he’s seen the two juxtaposing characters he has to serve.

Misty loves the sweater she’s wearing, the cat print and color being the reason she purchased it, the shade of pink matches her socks perfectly.

Natalie is wearing an off shoulder band tee, Misty has never heard of them, she tells herself to look the name up later. Natalie is also wearing her signature leather jacket and some skinny black jeans, definitely a more casual outfit if Misty had to guess. Misty never knew she liked the punk get up like this. She never really gave it thought she supposes. Maybe she just likes Natalie regardless.

Back to the boy scanning their items, he seems to of have given up trying to figure out why the two of them were shopping together, giving in to the mindless hum of pushing individual items along to the bagging area, the meticulous beep would drive anyone insane after a few hours.

The total ends up being more than reasonable, Natalie watches as Misty pulls out the coupon and her card, Misty doesn’t know why she’s being watched but she won’t question it.

They both pay and make their way out of the store, Misty made an effort not to park her car too close, thinking that if she did Natalie would accuse her of recognising her car.

Some might say paranoia, she would say cautious.

She parked five cars away and now she’s wondering if that was a mistake, she has to walk to her own car, she can’t just stand around Natalie’s and make idle chat, I mean, she could try but something tells her that it won’t work.

Natalie all but dumps her stuff on the passenger seat, then pulls out a cigarette and lights up, leaning against the drivers side. Misty doesn’t consider herself a dramatic person most days but right in this moment, watching Natalie, the only word that comes to mind is ethereal. Natalie looks like she was made to smoke cigarettes, and while Misty hates the habit, she can definitely learn to love the view. She breathes in the smoke, it’s heavy and she’s reminded of the camping trips she took when she was a child.

She breathes in more despite the discomfort, the smoke has been in her mouth, around her lungs, it feels intimate.

Misty is openly staring, neither have said a word in over five minutes, maybe Natalie is waiting for her to get the hint and leave, that’s probably what she should be doing. She doesn’t want to leave, she wants to watch Natalie smoke the cigarette until it’s reduced to just the filter, until Natalie flicks it to the ground and Misty gets to watch as she stomps down on it. Littering is also not exactly on the list of things Misty likes but she wouldn’t comment on it if Natalie would just let her stay and watch.

Natalie isn’t even watching Misty, she’s engrossed with her cigarette, maybe even intentionally not looking her way. As long as she doesn’t tell her to leave she’s fine with being ignored.

The moment does eventually end and Misty has to face that the ‘chance’ meeting is over. She tries desperately to keep her features in check, no obvious signs of sadness allowed.

Natalie finally looks her over, “Thanks. For paying.” She easily goes back to the cigarette, taking a lazy drag, and flicking the ash to the ground like second nature.

Misty, resigned, but still pleased with the fruits of her labor, smiles. She purposefully stands a little straighter, “And thank you for giving me an excuse to use that coupon! It was lovely bumping into you! I guess I should be heading back though, I have to clean when I get back, and cook, and- sorry!” She cuts herself off, not wanting to irritate Natalie.

She goes for the glasses again, a self soothing motion. “Hope you enjoy the rest of your day! Bye bye, Natalie!” She waves, smiles, and heads back to her own car, ignoring the urge to turn around with every step.

Her mind playing out scenarios where she does turn around and jumps into Natalie’s arms, so strong as they catch her with ease and spin her around.

What pet names would Nat call her? She doesn’t seem the be the ‘Sweetie’ type. Maybe ‘babe’? Misty giggles at the idea of Natalie calling her something so cutesy.

She gets in the car, noting how Nat has already driven away. She sighs, turning the key to start the engine.

She cannot wait for next time.

Chapter Text

Natalie has been enjoying her earthly purgatory. It’s been a few weeks since Misty has encroached on her life and she’s nearly forgotten all about the shorter woman. Almost.

The TV makes some adequate background noise. Some trashy reality show is on, she lets the next episode play. Not really paying attention but the noise is better than the silence.

It’s been months now since her last stint at rehab and she’s doing fine. The itch under the skin is always present, the urge to distract her thoughts and take herself somewhere more bearable. But she’s fine. The measly amount of freedom she has is better than any facility so she’ll stick to booze. For now anyways.

Since her last run in with Misty, Nat has made sure to switch up her routine. Shopping on different days and at different stores, not that she ever had much of a strict routine to begin with, she just happens to go through her pathetic amount of crap at a similar rate each week.

She’s not paranoid, she knows what that feels like. She’s also not scared of Misty. The pint sized bird enthusiast couldn’t even hold a candle to some of the crazies she’s met in her long life. Still, better to be safe than sorry. And besides, it’s less about safety and more so about peace and quiet.

Does she really believe that Misty somehow found out where she frequents? No, she doesn’t. While she does harbor the opinion that Quigley is fucking insane, she’s not going to assume she’s some kind of stalker.

The show continues to fill the silence, but now competing with the fuck fest of the couple next door. Fucking assholes. Who even has the energy for all that screaming while in bed anymore? And at two in the afternoon? Get a life, Jesus.

Maybe she’s just bitter. It’s been… a while. Men are easy but they’re a headache, and women are clingy. She doesn’t need to get laid anyway, she gets up and grabs a beer. If they can fuck in the daylight then she can have a fucking drink.

What the fuck ever.

After another twenty minutes of porn rivalling moans and infrequent banging on her wall, no doubt the headboard of the bed next door, she’s all but ready to do anything to get out of her motel room.

Natalie goes to shove some shoes on and call it a day when she realises that her hair is three days overdue a wash and she’s not exactly dressed to go, well, anywhere.

She showers, but not even that can clear away the near permanent eyeliner. At least her hair is clean and she doesn’t smell completely like smoke. Leaving her towel on the floor, a problem for later, she steps out the bathroom and grabs whatever she can find that’s clean.

She didn’t plan on doing shit today but if the world is going to insist, fuck it. Natalie’s old rehab shrink would probably enjoy to hear that she’s been taking her advice. Asshole therapist.

There’s a park near enough to the motel that no one really bothers to visit, even on nicer days. You could say it has a reputation. That’s how she likes it anyways, the last thing she wants is to bear witness to gaggles of mommies and their fucking kids. Or some asshole sporty types tossing a frisbee. Not that she’s ever seen anyone actually toss a frisbee, that might just be a stupid cliche made up for movies.

The cracked paths travel along the length of the park, a busted fountain in the centre. There’s a few benches around too, some graffitied, others falling to pieces.

She finds one that’s fairly intact compared to the others, there’s some crudely sprayed graffiti tags and some bird shit that’s baked into the rotting wood.

Sitting down right on top of a tag that reads ‘fuck you’, real poetic, she pulls out her lighter and box of cigarettes, cupping the tip as best she can to shield from the early fall wind.

Eventually it lights and she takes a long drag. Face scrunching up as she looks around. What a shithole. This place probably looked nice when it was first built, not that she can remember, she was probably off her face.

She continues to puff away at her cigarette, one leg over the other and her free arm along the back of the bench, hair occasionally being swept up by the wind.

As she takes slow and long drags, she lets her mind wander, thankfully nowhere problematic, mostly making a mental note to get a new fucking lighter.

Other than the occasional jogger in sweats and a couple of bums parking up on the opposite side of the park, it’s pretty peaceful actually. Theres a light breeze that momentarily keeps her interest, a few leaves skirting across the crumbling asphalt. Its nice. Huh.

Maybe she judged this whole ‘self care’ shit too harshly.

Then again, maybe not, because the moment she lets herself relax for the first time in weeks, shit, maybe months, she can hear the sound of a dog barking up a storm.

Great, some untrained mutt is gonna maul some poor fucker of a squirrel and she has to bear witness. Jesus.

Turning towards the noise against her better judgment, she finds herself staring at the distant form of Misty mother fucking Quigley.

And better yet, there’s a ninety pound golden retriever dragging her in Natalie’s direction. And fast.

Maybe she’s not as sober as she thought, because she’s clearly high as a fucking kite right now. Every single muscle in her back stiffens and a deep sigh leaves her lips.

She takes another drag of her cigarette, ignoring the big ball of drool that’s currently barreling in her direction. She misses her motel room, even the two fuckers banging like rabbits.

Maybe if she ignores the situation, focuses intently on her cigarette like it’ll whisper the magic words to get her out of here, she’ll go unnoticed. Maybe that slobbering dog and tiny freak will just keep going.

I’m not here. I’m not here. I’m not here.

Panting and rapid footsteps approach still, accompanied by the sounds of struggle. Turns out trying to wrangle a dog that weighs about as much as you do soaking wet isn’t the most genius of ideas.

Natalie lets out a sigh that leaves her feeling heavy, flicking her cigarette to the ground in acceptance. Fucking fine.

She stands up, cracking her back as she does so, the dog now inches away. She makes eye contact with Misty as she grabs the leash away from her, unwrapping it from her smaller wrist, and holding it firmly in her own grip. Making it all look painfully easy as the dog stops in its tracks as Natalie’s grip holds firm.

“Oh!” Like she can’t believe it was that easy to get the dog to quit moving. She fixes her askew glasses with her now free hand.

“Hey, Natalie! What a pleasant surprise!” She gestures down to the dog like he’s going to be apart of the conversation. “I was just walking Biscuit, this is Biscuit by the way, for a friend and he can get pretty excited,” Nat can feel a fresh headache coming on. Choosing to ignore the rest of whatever the hell Misty is saying in favor of preserving her sanity, “turns out he’s pretty strong, thank you so much for saving my shoulder! I’m pretty sure he was about to completely dislocate it! You know, I once saw this news story or a man who had his arm completely torn off-“ Okay. That’s enough of that.

“That’s interesting. Really, that’s… something.” Why in the ever loving fuck is Misty out here today of all days?

The headache worsens when Natalie realises that she’s in yet another situation she can’t just walk away from. If Misty has no control over this dog it wouldn’t be right to just let it drag her into oncoming traffic or whatever. Fine. Fucking fine.

Not caring to hide her foul mood, she purses her lips as she readjusts her grip on Steve’s leash. “Is your friend’s house near by?” Please let the answer be yes.

Misty nods excitedly, “Yes, of course! She lives about a mile in…” she turns on her heel and slowly points towards the other end of the park, “that direction! Well, it feels much shorter with Biscuit pulling at the reins!” She has the nerve to laugh.

Natalie is just about to point out how insane that is when a phone call interrupts her. It’s not her phone, she didn’t bother brining it with her, she doesn’t exactly have anyone to ‘catch up’ with. It’s Misty’s phone, the ringtone is something high pitched and genuinely fucking awful. Something about a gummy bear? This is why people turn to drugs.

She eventually pulls it out of her pale green quilted jacket, the ring tone louder and more ear piercing than before. She looks down at the phone like it betrayed her, that’s odd but what else is new. Eventually, she does pick up though, smiling brightly like the person on the other end can see it. Un-fucking-real.

“Tai! What can I do for you? I thought you were at brunch today? How do I know tha-? Anyways, yes- yes, I hear you. Okay. No! He’s fine! We’re having a great time together! Little Sammy will have him back before he can say ‘Sammy Sam sandwich!’ I’d love to stay and chat but I really have to go now- okay bye! Bye- bye!” She dramatically presses the end call button.

Don’t want to know.

She stuffs her phone back in her pocket and readjust her coat. “Looks like our walk is getting cut short Biscuit, shall we head home?” She looks up and into Natalie’s eyes, words completely unnecessary for the message they’re conveying. That message being ‘Please walk with me’. 

Better to just get this over with as soon as possible. 

“Fine. Do you want me to walk him? He won’t pull me.” Staring at the grey clouds will definitely help her forget that this is really happening.

The smile Misty beams at her is worthy of those dentist ads. Too fucking bright.

“That would be such a big help! Oh, Natalie, you’re far too kind. And hey, this will give us chance to catch up! I need to tell you all about this new thing Caligula has been doing- oh! You won’t believe the nerve of my coworker Miranda-“

She should have had another beer before she left.