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Chapter Text

It usually starts just like this:

Rio will text to ask if Nicky is at a friends house (he always is), Agatha will confirm the affirmative, and within twenty minutes, Rio will be at her front door. 

The kisses are never gentle. It’s not that they were an exceptionally gentle couple before they broke up, but it’s even worse now that they’re broken up. It’s angrier, more raw, and it gets Agatha wetter than she ever has been. 

Rio’s teeth scrape against Agatha’s throat as she pins her down against the mattress. Agatha’s nails dig into Rio’s shoulders, over her shirt. She won’t mark. Rio won’t mark her on her neck, either, even though Agatha knows that Rio wants to. Rio’s got a possessive streak a mile wide, and when they were together, Agatha was constantly marked.

But now that she has no right to being possessive over Agatha, she simply doesn’t. Not like that. The marks she leaves are emotional, leaving Agatha hating herself as soon as they’re finished. There is no afterglow to bask in. There never is. 

And this time is rough, has Agatha feeling the ache between her thighs only minutes after they’ve finished. This pisses Agatha off. She can sense that Rio is satisfied with herself, that it had been a clear plan all along, Rio going harder on her than she has in a long while. 

So, Agatha decides to bite back.

“I’m seeing someone.” 

Rio’s entire body goes rigid. 

“You’re seeing someone,” Rio repeats after a couple of moments of awkward silence. Flat. Agatha’s eyes narrow, focusing on every little detail of Rio’s body language. Agatha has known Rio for too long for Rio to be able to hide her anger. She can see it in the way she’s clenching her jaw. 

“Her sons go to school with Nicky,” Agatha supplies. “They’re on the soccer team with Nicky, too. She and I got to talking a couple of months back and we’ve been out.” She’s honestly surprised that Rio hadn’t at least heard about it, since she knows their mutual friends have seen her out with Wanda. 

But, she supposes, they’re kind people. They wouldn’t tell Rio this, because Rio definitely would not want to know that Agatha is out with somebody who isn’t her. 

“Who is it?” Rio’s voice is calm, controlled, and to anyone else, it may even seem nonchalant. But Agatha knows Rio. She can hear the underlying hurt, can feel the rage simmering beneath her surface. 

“Wanda Maximoff.” 

Rio scoffs. “The redhead with the twins?” Agatha grunts in response. “Didn’t think that was your type, darling. But I guess she’s not bad for a rebound.” 

“She’s not a rebound,” Agatha says. “I like her.” She does like Wanda. When she’s around Wanda, she forgets about Rio and about the pain and anger between them. She thinks Wanda is the only person to make her laugh genuinely outside of Nicky. 

This time, Rio turns to look at Agatha. This time, there’s a smile on her face. Infuriating. “You like her so much that you let your ex into your home to fuck you senseless.” 

“We’re not exclusive,” Agatha snaps. “I’m just dating her. I thought you should know.” 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” 

Rio crawls onto the bed, over Agatha, as if they hadn’t just been all over each other. As if Agatha hasn’t just dropped a Wanda-sized bombshell on the single most possessive person Agatha has ever met. 

“Why do you think I should know, Agatha.” It’s the way she says her name. Like that. All the syllables drawn out. It’s grating. It’s sexy. 

“Because we have a son together, Rio,” Agatha responds with a sigh. A half truth. A classic Agatha tactic. “Since we’re co-parenting, I think it’s only fair we know things like this. If I didn’t think it was going to go anywhere, I wouldn’t have said anything.” 

Rio’s scrutinizing her, dark eyes scanning Agatha’s features like she’s a slide under a microscope.

“Has she touched you?” 

Agatha barks out a laugh. “What?” 

“Has she touched you.” 

Even after all these years, Agatha almost can’t believe the gall. Rio’s bluntness, her confidence, her arrogance, has always been something that Agatha found attractive. But now that they’ve fallen apart, it’s something that gets on her nerves. Makes her want to knock her down a couple of pegs. 

“Yes,” Agatha says simply. Not a lie. Definitely not a half truth. 

Rio’s eyes darken, her lips thin. “When was the last time?” Rio lifts a hand, trails her fingers down Agatha’s cheek, under her chin. She rests it against her throat.  

“Two days ago,” Agatha breathes out. “In this very bed.” 

Her hand squeezes, not harshly and not in a threatening way. But it makes arousal flood through Agatha nonetheless. 

“Was she good?” Rio’s voice is harsh, demanding. The hurt is so evident in her voice, on her face, that Agatha thinks that fact alone could get her off. 

“She was great.” Another half truth. Wanda is attractive and Agatha is attracted to her, no doubt. But with Wanda, she gave. She fucked Wanda into her mattress, leaving her boneless and sated, and she got herself off in the shower later in the evening after Wanda’s hands failed to make her come.

Rio doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Was she better than me?”

Agatha knew this is where it was going to go. She hoped this is where it would go. But she doesn’t answer, she just smiles coyly and bites her lip in a way that she knows drives Rio wild. The answer, anyway, would be an outright lie. Wanda could never give her what Rio does. Agatha knows this. She’s sure Rio knows it, deep down. But that’s not the game.

Rio’s eyes flash and she drops her hand from Agatha’s throat. Agatha, honestly, almost whimpers at the loss. 

“You’re lying,” Rio snarls. Agatha has the am I? on her lips, but Rio beats her to it by continuing, “if she was as good as you claim, you wouldn’t have been such a slut for me just ten minutes ago. You were so wet, so wanting. I’ll bet she left you hanging.” She leans in, lips brushing her ear. “You’ll never have it better than me, baby. We both know it.” 

And just like that, the spell is broken. Agatha’s entire body stiffens under Rio, her eyes going hard and the mask slipping back on. Rio falters for a moment at the change in Agatha’s demeanor and Agatha uses that to her advantage. 

“Get off me,” Agatha mutters, pushing Rio off of her until she’s standing. Agatha tugs on her favourite robe, tightens it around her so Rio can’t see her skin anymore. It’s starting to itch under her scrutiny. “Lock the door on your way out.” 

It’s not a deterrent. Agatha had expected something to derail their frequent little rendezvous, but they somehow become more active after that night. 

Sharon has Nicky for the night, since Rio is supposed to be at a conference but it was cancelled last minute. Her hotel reservation, on the other hand, was not. 

Agatha has Rio flat on her back and a strap on her hips, riding her slowly. Rio was always so willing to let Agatha use her the way she wants to get off, and this is no exception. Agatha is three orgasms in, hurdling toward a fourth, and Rio just watches. Transfixed. 

When she comes, Rio’s name begrudgingly on her lips, she curls forward until their foreheads are touching. They’re breathing the same air as Agatha catches her breath before rolling off of her 

They lay in silence for a couple of minutes, until—

“How are things with Wanda?” 

Agatha feels the anger under her skin like a persistent itch. Rio always has to ruin it, can never let Agatha come down gently. Without a word, Agatha grabs her clothes from the floor and dresses, not even bothering to look at Rio on the bed. 

“I’m guessing not well if you’re spending your evening with me when Nicky is with Sharon.” 

“Mind your own fucking business, Rio.”

She feels a hand wrap around her wrist and looks down, a mistake. Where Agatha had expected anger, she sees blind adoration and openness. It makes the sinking feeling in Agatha’s stomach worsen, like she’s about to plummet head-first into the floor. 

“You are my business, Agatha.” 

Agatha very rarely finds herself at a loss for words. She’s usually the type to get the last word, and if she can’t get the last word, she shifts the goalpost so she comes out victorious. This is not one of those times. She opens her mouth, but no words come out. She tries again, nothing. 

So, instead, she relays all she wants to say, all the anger and frustration, into kissing Rio. Rio’s movements are softer, slower, and that makes Agatha even more mad. She fists the back of Rio’s hair tightly until Rio’s moaning into her mouth. Until Rio’s hands find Agatha’s hips and squeezes tight.

Finally. This, this is something Agatha can do. 

Rio’s not wearing the strap anymore, it’s discarded somewhere on the floor, so it’s easy work for Agatha to manhandle Rio until she’s got her where she wants her. Which is her face pressed into the pillow, her ass up in the air, so that Agatha can’t see that look in her eyes anymore. 

Agatha drives her fingers into Rio fast and hard, three of them, twisting them until Rio comes apart under her not once, but twice, shouting out her release around the pillowcase she’s bitten down on. Her entire body is shuddering from the aftershocks, slumping down onto the mattress. 

When Agatha removes her fingers and wipes them on the bedspread, she tries to ignore the garbled noise of disappointment coming from Rio beneath her. Tries to ignore the feeling in her chest as she looks down at the messy hair, the smooth skin of Rio’s back, wanting nothing more than to curl around her until they fall asleep. 

Rio must be on the same wavelength as her because she turns over, meets Agatha’s eyes. She looks a little fuzzy, like her brain isn’t working properly yet. A soft, satisfied smile ghosting over her lips, the one she usually gets after Agatha fucks her hard and well. 

Agatha hates how familiar it is, hates how much she’s missed it. Hates how much her body remembers and craves this, even after all this time, even after all the anger and the hatred that’s stemmed between them seemingly out of nowhere.

She can’t look at her any longer, so she turns and gets up. She’s momentarily grateful that she’d gotten herself dressed before she pushed Rio down to the bed and fucked her, but that slightly good feeling is completely lost when she makes the mistake of looking back at Rio and seeing the look of open vulnerability on her face.

Agatha needs to get the fuck out of there. How dare Rio say the things she says to her and then look at her like that? How dare Rio do these things to her, make Agatha feel the way she feels, and then look at her like she’s the greatest loss of her life. Nothing pisses her off more. 

With a huff, she shakes out her hair and trapezes around Rio’s clothes like they’re landmines. She finds her shoes, slips them on, and grabs her purse. She’s about ten steps away from the hotel room door when she hears the small stutter-gasp of Rio’s breath before she burrows deeper into the sheets. 

Agatha doesn’t look. She doesn’t. But she imagines how Rio looks, the way her stupidly big brown eyes fill with unshed tears and the way she bites the inside of her lip to stop them from falling.

She slams the door shut on her way out. 

They keep fucking. Everywhere. At any chance they can, in any place that’s available for them to squeeze into. When Agatha and Wanda get more serious, Agatha thinks that Rio might break it off, but she doesn’t.

In fact, it becomes more constant, and Rio starts leaving marks in places like Agatha’s thighs and the underside of her tits, and below her ass cheeks.

If Wanda notices (she does), she doesn’t say anything about it. And Agatha doesn’t tell Rio to stop. 

Wanda spends the nights her ex-husband has her twins at Agatha’s, and honestly, Agatha really enjoys her company. She really, really does. They have good conversation, Wanda’s a good cook, and Agatha enjoys cuddling up to her at night. 

But tonight, Wanda not only has her twins but also has Nicky over for a sleepover. Tonight, Rio is perched on the edge of the bed, wearing an almost laughably insane green negligee that shows more than it hides, with Agatha’s head between her legs. 

Rio’s nails are sharp against Agatha’s scalp, and Agatha moans into the wet flesh of Rio’s cunt, her tongue teasing against her entrance but never quite pushing in. Rio’s hips twitch beneath her hands as Agatha holds her down before she wraps her lips around Rio’s clit and sucks. 

The responding moan makes Agatha’s spine tingle, the heat in her lower belly flicking lower until it pools, and then Rio comes in her mouth. Agatha licks it all up until Rio shies away from her mouth, too sensitive to allow Agatha to keep going. 

Rio tugs Agatha up by the hair, kisses her dirtily, her tongue licking along the edge of Agatha’s lips and over the roof of her mouth. She seems to enjoy having tasting herself from Agatha’s mouth, groaning needily into the kiss. 

Agatha’s hands make quick work of the negligee until Rio is bare beneath her hands and the fabric is somewhere, forgotten, on the floor. Agatha’s fingers find Rio’s nipples and she twists them between her fingers, roughly, the way she knows Rio likes. 

“Ride my face,” Rio says against her mouth. “Please, I want to taste you, too.” 

Agatha doesn’t say no. Can’t, not when Rio all but rips Agatha’s clothes from her body, shuffling herself backwards to the middle of the bed and bringing Agatha down with her. Agatha shuffles up until she’s able to grip the headboard, until her cunt is just within reach of Rio’s mouth. 

Rio’s arms loop around Agatha’s thighs and she pulls her down, her tongue immediately delving in and driving Agatha crazy. Her hands tighten around the headboard, her nails scraping against the wood, as Rio fucks her with her tongue. 

Agatha pushes down against Rio’s face, her hips undulating, not caring whether or not she’s hurting Rio by taking the pleasure that is being offered to her. And Rio, of course, is delighted. She takes Agatha apart and makes her come, before pushing two fingers up into her and making her come another two times, head thrown back. her moans loud and wanton. 

When she comes down, she finds herself being pulled and curled into Rio’s warm body. She doesn’t fight it, because she feels good and she’s still shaking from her orgasm. Her mind thinks, distantly, that there should be a massive alarm wailing at the softness of the scene, but Agatha doesn’t pay it any mind.

She allows herself to fall into the blissful ignorance of it all, pretend like they’re not broken up, pretend like she’s not cheating on her girlfriend, pretend like she doesn’t hate herself every time she feels herself wanting Rio more than she should.

They swap kisses back and forth, soft, not leading to anything more. Agatha’s hand is rested on Rio’s chest, above her heart, and she can feel the hammering underneath. It soothes her, almost, knowing that Rio is this affected by her closeness. 

It takes them a while, but they finally decide to pop their bubble. Agatha walks Rio out. She usually doesn’t, usually tells her to get out and then hides herself away in the washroom until she hears the front door slam, but she’s feeling soft following her orgasms. Her body is loose, her mind unclouded. Agatha thinks it’s because Rio was quiet, for a change, after they’d finished. 

It surprises her, still, when Rio leans forward and kisses Agatha on the mouth by means of goodbye. It shocks Agatha, enough that she stills beneath Rio’s lips and hands. 

“See you,” Rio says, slightly awkward. If this was anyone else, Agatha might call it cute. But it’s Rio, so it’s decidedly not cute. 

But still, Agatha waves, a little uneasily, and watches as Rio gets into her car and speeds off. She has a weird feeling in her stomach, like a shoe is about to drop. 

Her eyes flit up across the way and she spots Lilia on her porch, staring right at her.

Feeling like a child who got her hand caught in a cookie jar, Agatha rushes into her house and locks the door, as if Lilia is a gargantuan monster who can knock her door down instead of a sweet old lady who lives across the street from her. 

It only takes about three minutes for the knocking to start at her door. Agatha groans, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. She takes a moment, takes a deep breath, and unlocks the door. 

Lilia is standing there, looking a little bit unimpressed. 

Agatha just sighs. “Do you want tea?”

“I’d love some, thank you,” Lilia responds, without missing a beat. She walks through until she hits Agatha’s kitchen and sits at the island, as if she’s done it a million times before.

And she has. Back, before Agatha left Rio, before Agatha turned into a hermit and shut herself away from all of their friends. She tries not to think about it, about the guilt, and she makes tea the way she knows Lilia likes it. The cup steams in her hands as she sets it down in front of Lilia with a small, barely-there smile. 

Lilia blows at her tea before she looks Agatha right in the eye. “Agatha…” The way Lilia says her name isn’t a judgment. Lilia doesn’t judge her, even when Agatha thinks she really needs it. 

Agatha stands on the other side of the counter, putting some space between them. “I know, okay?” Agatha snaps. She shouldn’t have, admittedly, and she feels more guilt at the compassionate, pitying look that Lilia gives her in response. “I know. I’m a cheater, I’m a horrible person for doing this. But I can’t stop.” 

“Why not?”

What a loaded question. Why not, indeed. It was Agatha’s idea to break it off with Rio, son be damned, because Rio was never fucking around. She finds that now, since they’re broken up and not living together, that she sees Rio more she did the last year and a half they were together. What does that say about them?

But Rio isn’t making it easy. She’s not leaving her alone. Every time Agatha tries to put distance between them, tries to keep their son as their only buffer, Rio takes a mallet to all of Agatha’s perfectly crafted walls until they crumble and trap her beneath the carnage. 

“Why don’t you make a greater effort at pushing her away?” Lilia asks, only after the moments of silence were too uncomfortable to ignore any longer. “I know she’s persistent, but you’re stubborn. Why do you give in to her every time?” 

“I don’t know.” She doesn’t know. She doesn’t understand how underneath her resentment and anger, she still lets Rio have her. Every time Rio asks, Agatha gives in, even when the logical part of her brain tells her it’s a bad idea. 

Lilia leans forward, sips her tea. There’s a couple more seconds of silence before, “has Nicky caught on?” 

Agatha’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

“Kids aren’t stupid, Agatha. It was an adjustment when Rio moved out and he started seeing her only when you deemed it was okay for him to do so—”

“—not that she was around enough before anyway,” Agatha mumbles.

Lilia pays her no mind. “And I’m sure he’ll notice if you two spend more time together, or he sees you together in the same ways that you were before she moved out.”

“He hasn’t caught on,” Agatha tells her. “We only ever see each other when he’s not around. When we do drop offs, we barely speak to each other. We don’t spend the night, we don’t do it in the house when Nicky is home. We’re not going to let him catch on.”

Lilia looks at her a bit too long before taking another sip of her tea. And then another. “Agatha, I care about you. I really do.” Her voice is gentle, in a way that she never got growing up, and Agatha feels the burn of tears at her waterline. “But I care about Nicky, too. He’s such a sweet young boy and you and Rio have done well with him. You don’t want him to be confused and for his perception of his parents to be thrown off because you can’t respect yourself enough to stop something you know is hurting you in the long run.” 

Agatha honestly thinks being punched in the solar plexus would hurt less. Her grip against the counter is white-knuckled. She wants to fight back, wants to yell at Lilia to mind her own fucking business, but she can’t. Something is stopping her, and she thinks it’s because Lilia is coming from a place of genuine care. Something Agatha isn’t used to. And not only genuine care about her, but about her son. 

“I’m just so tired,” Agatha says. 

“I know, honey.” Lilia’s voice is soft, sympathetic. 

Lilia’s right, and Agatha knows it. There’s no doubt in her mind that she needs to heed Lilia’s advice, not just for herself but for Nicky. And, in some way, for Rio. 

Agatha has narrowly avoided being alone with Rio for just shy of two weeks. Agatha honestly didn’t think it would be as difficult as it has been, and she finds herself indulging in Wanda’s presence more often than she was before. 

Tonight, Wanda is over and she’s looking through Agatha’s drawers for something to wear to bed.

“Is this new?”

Agatha turns toward Wanda, seeing what she’s talking about. It’s a green negligee. Not Wanda’s, and certainly not Agatha’s. She grits her teeth so hard she’s afraid her jaw might snap as soon as she recognizes it, when she remembers the night she tore it off of Rio’s body. That little—

“I bought it online,” Agatha says, voice smooth. She hopes Wanda doesn’t catch the tremor in her hands or the way she diverts eye contact, but she knows Wanda notices. “I asked for purple, but they sent me green. You know how these things go.”

Wanda’s smile is tight, her eyes narrowed. But she doesn’t say anything. She just accepts the excuse she was given as truth, even though it’s glaringly obvious that it’s a lie. 

Agatha just gives her a half hearted shrug and grabs her jacket. “I forgot something at the office,” Agatha says. The lie comes too naturally, but it comes out too woodenly. Rehearsed. “I’ll be back in about an hour. I’ll pick something up for dinner.” She goes to Wanda, gives her a kiss on the forehead. 

Wanda doesn’t pull away, but the distrust is coming off of her in waves. And, fuck, Agatha can’t even blame her. “I’ll check over Nicky’s homework for you.”

“You’re a doll.” Another kiss to the forehead, and then Agatha is gone. She drives the familiar route to the apartment she helped Rio pick out when she kicked Rio out of the house. 

She doesn’t take a moment to compose herself. She pounds harshly at the shitty wooden door until Rio opens up, standing in her mismatched pyjamas that Agatha might have found charming if she wasn’t livid.

“Agatha,” Rio drawls. “It’s been a while. Thought you forgot I existed.”

“I wish I could,” Agatha snaps, pushing her way through the door and letting it slam heavily behind her.

For once, Rio looks shocked. Not that Agatha’s anger is anything to be shocked about, because anger is Agatha’s default setting, but at the fact that it’s being directed at her and she probably can’t figure out why. 

“What did I do this time?” Rio asks with a roll of her eyes. 

Agatha feels her blood boil. “Leaving that ugly fucking piece of lingerie in my drawer?” Agatha’s voice is raised enough that she knows Rio’s neighbours are probably getting an earful. “Are you fucking serious? Why would you leave it in a place that Wanda is sure to find it? What if she finds out?”

Rio, the bitch, chuckles. She fucking chuckles. “You’re many things, Agatha, but you’re not naïve,” Rio says. “She knows. If she doesn’t know, then she might be the biggest idiot on the planet and you are not attracted to unintelligence.” 

Agatha feels her pulse pound underneath her skin. “But why?” 

“Because I am sick of both of us pretending like you’re not mine,” Rio growls. “That you won’t come back to me, because you always do.”

“I’m not yours,” Agatha points out. 

Rio scoffs. “And, what, you think you belong to Wanda?” Her smile is a little manic. “You’ve always belonged to me. Even when we were separated, even when you’re with her, you’ve always been mine.” 

“Says who?” 

Rio’s eyes flash and she stalks forward, backing Agatha against the front door. The knob is pushing into the small of Agatha’s back in an unpleasant way, but she lets it ground her. 

“Do you still let her touch you?” Rio’s so close to Agatha now that she can feel the heat of her breath fanning over her face, the scent of the stupid spearmint gum that Rio chews. 

“Yes,” Agatha responds. It’s not a lie—Agatha does let Wanda touch her. Sometimes. Not often, but still sometimes.

Rio’s smirk is malicious. “Does she make you come?” Agatha doesn’t answer. “When she touches you, with hands that aren’t mine, do you come?” She crowds further into Agatha’s space. “Have you come since I touched you last? I’ll bet you’re aching for it. I’ll bet if I snuck my hand into your pants, into your panties, I’d find you wet .” 

Agatha scoffs, her body going rigid as Rio’s hands move to Agatha’s waist. She feels the familiar self-loathing that she always feels when she falls prey to Rio, but Rio is right. She is aching for it. She hasn’t come in weeks, and her body has been screaming for release. She’s been so pent up and it’s like Rio has a nose for it. 

Rio presses her lips against Agatha’s temple, then her cheek, but Agatha turns her head just before Rio goes to kiss her on the mouth. It doesn’t deter her, though. She just peppers kisses onto Agatha’s jaw, one of her hands coming up to her chin to tilt her head back so she can begin to kiss her neck. 

Agatha squeezes her eyes shut, ignoring the churning feeling in her stomach as Rio leaves little bites down to her collarbones. Her breathing is shallow, her eyes blurred as she watches Rio drop to her knees in front of her. 

Having Rio on her knees used to make Agatha feel powerful; used to make her feel special in a way nothing else ever has. She tries to find that feeling, to grip onto it with both hands.

But she can’t. 

When Rio pops the button on Agatha’s jeans, when she begins to slide the denim down Agatha’s thighs, she feels something ice cold run through her. She can’t name it, because this doesn’t happen. At this point, typically, all negative feelings she has toward herself, toward Rio, would disappear. 

Rio’s lips press against her pubic bone, and then she dips her tongue down until it circles her opening. It feels good, Agatha can hear how wet she is against Rio’s ministrations, but something doesn’t feel right. She’s unsettled in a way that she’s never been. 

“Stop.” It’s quiet. Too quiet, she thinks, barely even audible. Rio doesn’t cease, she continues to press her fingers into the meat of Agatha’s thighs, continues to lick at Agatha’s clit in a way that makes her knees buckle under her. “Stop,” she says louder. “Stop.” 

Rio pulls back, her eyebrows furrowed. Her mouth is glistening wet and twisted into a pout, confusion written all over her face. “Agatha, what—” 

Breathing is getting difficult. Agatha feels like the room is too small, too cluttered, that Rio is too close to her and that she can’t find a space of her own to breathe. She pushes herself away from the door, which causes Rio to fall back onto her ass. Normally, Agatha would find that hilarious, but normally Rio would look disgruntled and cute instead of worried. 

“Agatha,” Rio tries again, standing up quickly. Rio backs up a little, giving Agatha some space, but it’s not enough. “Agatha.” 

Her mouth is dry, her tongue heavy. “I can’t do this anymore,” she manages out. She pulls up her pants, her arms feeling weak. She doesn’t even bother to right her outfit, just doing enough to not get arrested as soon as she breaks free from this stupid apartment. 

“What? Agatha, what are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this anymore, Rio. This has to end.” 

“And you figured that out when my tongue was inside you?” 

Agatha scoffs. Figures that Rio would be obstinate in this situation, figures that she would make this as difficult as possible, be as crude as possible. But Agatha doesn’t let it deter her, she doesn’t let herself rise to the bait that Rio is clearly setting for her. 

“It should have been sooner,” Agatha admits. “I shouldn’t have let it get to this point. When we broke up this last time, it should have been permanent.” Agatha shakes her head, tries to will back the tears that well up. “I shouldn’t have allowed this to continue. We both need to move on.”

Rio laughs. It’s a cruel, humourless sound. “And, what, you plan on moving on with Wanda fucking Maximoff?” 

“No,” Agatha says. “I’m going to end it with her. But not because I don’t like her, and not because I want you. But because I need to start thinking about Nicky.” 

“Don’t you dare bring him into this,” Rio growls. “That is such a cop out. You’re running away, like you always do, because you’re scared. And you’re using our son as a crutch.” 

Rio isn’t… completely wrong. But Lilia has been saying for months that this is unhealthy. And while Agatha does not care about her own wellbeing, Lilia’s points about it being confusing for Nicky has stuck with her. The older he gets, the closer he’ll get to the truth and she doesn’t want her instability to seep into him. 

“This is over, Rio. The only time we will speak, it will be for him. This,” she gestures between them, “will not be happening again.” 

“Agatha.” Rio sounds dejected and way too hurt, and Agatha refuses to look. 

She turns quickly, headed toward the door. She doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t apologize, she doesn’t tell her goodbye. She merely walks out the door and leaves Rio staring after her.

Chapter Text

It’s been two months, one week and three days since that day in Rio’s apartment. True to her word, she’s only talked to Rio when it’s about Nicky. She’s barely had alone time with her, aside from when Nicky goes to grab his things from his room, leaving Agatha and Rio standing awkwardly together at the front door. 

Everything is fine. Agatha is fine. Until—

“Where’s Wanda?” Rio tries to sound conversational and nonchalant, but Agatha knows her too well to believe that. She can see the tenseness in her posture, the shifty way her eyes dart around the foyer and refuse to focus on anything. 

“We broke up,” Agatha says woodenly.

Rio doesn’t look as happy as Agatha expected her to. She expected Rio to know already, to ask about her breakup with Wanda in a mocking way, to gloat that she was right and that no other woman can ever withstand their bond. But that doesn’t happen. Her lips are in a thin line, her large eyes are worn and she looks tired. 

Agatha tries not to care. She can’t afford to care. Rio isn’t her problem anymore. She’s Nicky’s other mom, that’s as far as it goes with them. That’s the only thing she is to her, now. 

Rio doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. Agatha can hear Nicky’s little feet upstairs as he packs together his stuff to bring to Rio’s. At first, Agatha thinks Rio’s just not going to say anything and she allows her body to relax slightly, but then Rio surprises her with a very genuine, “I’m sorry.” 

Agatha doesn’t even know how to respond. She just stares at Rio, who is giving her a look so genuine and open and full of unadulterated sympathy, that it renders Agatha speechless. 

Luckily for her, Nicky chooses that moment to bound down the stairs and topple himself into Agatha’s leg. It gives her a reason to break eye contact, to forget about what Rio had just said to her, the way Rio was just looking at her. 

“You gonna have fun with Mom this weekend, buddy?” Agatha asks, ruffling his soft, soft hair. He looks up at her with wide brown eyes. 

“I wish you were coming with us,” he responds, as if that single sentence wasn’t the most heartbreaking thing ever said to Agatha. He gives her a hug before running out the front door to get into Rio’s car. 

Rio must be feeling similar to how Agatha is, because her eyes are a little misty and her hands are a little shaky as she goes to push her hair back out of her face. 

“I wish you were too, you know,” Rio says after a moment. 

Instead of letting Agatha have a chance to respond to her, she ducks out the front door in a move that has come straight out of Agatha’s playbook. She doesn’t think she likes being on this side of things very much and she curses Rio’s name to any deity that might exist. 

She closes the door, doesn’t slam it, because Nicky is still there and watching. She leans against it, tries to steady her heavy heartbeat. Tries to will the tears from her eyes, even though she’s alone and she can break down now without fear of someone seeing. 

But she doesn’t. She can’t. She’s spent so much time crying over Rio, over her own choices regarding Rio, that she can’t afford to do it anymore. She’s made her choice, regardless of what her heart tells her, and it’s good for her. It’s definitely good for her. 

Agatha is totally fine. She is. At least, she thought she was. She likes to think of herself as pragmatic and a pretty good liar, but she’s beginning to think her poker face is truly awful. 

“What’s wrong with you lately?” 

Agatha stares at Lilia for a second before she laughs dismissively. “What do you mean?” Agatha knows what she means. Lilia’s far too perceptive of Agatha and her emotions, for some unknown reason, and Agatha has never been able to hide how she’s feeling from her. 

“Ever since our conversation regarding your ongoing infidelity with Rio, you’ve been…” She struggles for moments far too long, trying to come up with an accurate word for how Agatha is acting. “Gloomy. Melancholic. Dejected? Those words sound about right, but they’re also not the most kind.” 

Agatha snorts. “I’m not melancholic.” 

“You look close to tears every time I see you.” Agatha scoffs at this. She tries her hardest to not cry when she’s in front of people, thank you very much. “I’m serious, Agatha. You don’t seem well. And not in your typical way, you seem genuinely sad.” 

Agatha doesn’t respond and she definitely doesn’t look at Lilia. Instead, she finds herself transfixed by the way her fingers are laced together in front of her. She needs hand cream, she should add that to her shopping list. 

“Agatha,” Lilia says, voice so soft that Agatha is almost conditioned to start crying on the spot. She bites the inside of her lip. “Agatha, look at me.” She takes a breath before her eyes shift up to Lilia. She looks unassuming as ever. “What’s going on with you? I know you have no one else to talk to and you can’t keep these kinds of things all bottled up. Talk to me.” 

It takes everything in her to not lash out. Agatha feels the anger bubble up, but she knows it’s not Lilia she’s mad at. She’s not even sure she’s mad at anyone but herself. “I just feel so stupid,” Agatha mutters. “I break up with the mother of my child because she’s never around, I continue to fuck her, we spend more time together after we’re broken up than we did while we were together. I found somebody good and decent and smart, and I cheat on her. Multiple times. I hurt her, without a care in the world. I let go of something potentially good, because I’m still in love with Rio.” 

“You’re in love with her,” Lilia repeats, gentle. They’re the same words Agatha just said, but the way Lilia’s saying them makes it sound like they’re talking about something completely different. “That doesn’t just go away when you break up.” Agatha opens her mouth to make a rebuttal, but Lilia raises a hand to stop her. Agatha’s mouth snaps shut. “And she’s obviously still in love with you. And neither of you know how to process the fact that you’re still in love with each other so you do stupid shit like hurt each other, or hurt other people in the process.” 

Agatha isn’t someone who feels guilt very often. She thinks of herself as a bad person, morally grey best, and she still feels an insane amount of guilt at how she’d treated Wanda. She’s not sure of how much of that guilt is actually rooted in the fact that Wanda would have been good for Agatha and Agatha fucked it up, or if she’s genuinely apologetic for how she treated her. Agatha doesn’t want to think about that for too long. 

“How do I stop?” 

“Stop being in love with someone?” Agatha nods, dejected. She feels pathetic for even having this conversation. She feels more pathetic that she feels lighter while having it. “I’m afraid that’s not how it works. But you can be in love with somebody while knowing that they might not be the right person for you, Agatha.” 

Agatha feels the familiar swell of anger itching under her skin at that. And she can’t even figure out why hearing that her and Rio aren’t good for each other makes her so angry. Rio makes her feel things others have never been able to make her feel. Both the good and the bad of that, admittedly. 

Lilia must catch on to Agatha’s thought process because she asks, “have you talked to Rio since you broke it off with her?” 

“Not really,” Agatha mumbles. “Last week she came to pick Nicky up and asked me about Wanda. I told her that Wanda and I broke up. I didn’t tell her I did it the same night I stopped sleeping with her, but I feel like that’s not important?” She doesn’t, even though she knows Rio might like to know that. Maybe that’s why Agatha doesn’t want to tell her. “She looked… I don’t know. She looks at me sometimes with so much love that it’s blinding. And it just makes me so angry all over again, because where was that the last two years of our relationship?” 

Lilia looks like she wants to speak, but Agatha keeps on talking. It’s like a dam that breaks, flooding out at a rapid speed and she can’t do anything to stop it. 

“I have so much resentment for her. I essentially had to raise Nicky by myself for two years because she was hardly home. I have a job, too, but I still had to make all of the sacrifices to raise him. And then she has the audacity to look heartbroken when I tell her I’m leaving her? She feels like she has the right to claim ownership of me when I try to move on? Who does she think she is?” Agatha’s vision starts to swim. 

“She tried to see me more after I told her to move out than she ever did before. It’s like she saw me and my time and spending time with me as more valuable after we weren’t together. How fucking stupid is that? And the fact that I fell for it every time, kept allowing her back in even when I met somebody who did appreciate me.” 

Lilia leans forward, her hands moving to embrace both of Agatha’s. They’re warm and a little clammy but she lets them ground her.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to talk to her,” Lilia tells her. There’s a slight stern note to her voice and Agatha feels chastised. “I know it’s frustrating and Rio was acting like an idiot, but so are you.” Agatha makes an indignant noise and tries to pull her hands away, but Lilia doesn’t let her. “I understand she treated you like you weren’t appreciated in your relationship, but I know you, and I doubt you were perfect either. And neither of you are communicating.”

“Communication was never our strong suit,” Agatha admits moodily. “We were always good at…” The sex. The fighting. The making up and pretending like it was all foreplay. She can’t say that, because that makes their relationship sound so superficial and shallow when it wasn’t. Isn’t. “We made Nicky. He’s wonderful, and we did that, and I don’t know how. I don’t remember how we used to be before all the resentment and anger took over.” 

Lilia’s next words are very quiet, Agatha almost misses them. “I do.” Agatha looks up at her, eyes narrowing. “You two were never sweethearts, but you were so in love. It was obvious to anyone with eyes how much you cared for each other. She had a fierce protectiveness over you, especially when it came to your mother. And you… you never allowed yourself to love somebody so openly before and you treated Rio like she was an enigma. I think she liked that.” 

Agatha doesn’t respond, finds herself speechless. Again. 

“You really should speak to her and sort everything out, Agatha. It won’t do to be sad all the time over things left unsaid, and it’s only a matter of time before Nicky grows up and starts to feel things between his mothers that you don’t want him to ever feel.” 

Agatha hates that Lilia is right. She’s always right. She sighs and nods dejectedly, and when Lilia presses a kiss to Agatha’s temple she tries not to sob. 

The next time Agatha sees Lilia, she’s shuffling Nicky across the street to her house. “I’m finally gonna talk to Rio,” Agatha announces when Lilia opens the door. She’s wearing a hideous yellow apron. “I think. I hope. I don’t know. But I need you to take Nicky. Can you?”

“It’s a little short notice,” Lilia says, but she ushers Nicky inside anyway. “You’re doing the right thing and it’s good Nicky won’t be around for it.” 

“I don’t know how it’ll go. Things might get thrown. I don’t want him there for that. I’d rather him be blissfully unaware for as long as possible. Maybe then he’ll never know that both of his mothers are assholes and colossal screwups.” 

Lilia doesn’t even correct Agatha on those facts because they’re kind of undisputed. 

“Does he have nighttime clothes in his bag?”

“Just in case.”

Lilia just nods and wipes her hands on her ugly apron. “Do you have a plan or are you planning on just winging it like you tend to do with everything in your life?” 

“What happened to the kind old lady who likes to bake my kid cookies?” 

“She’s still here. But she’s also sick of his mothers crap.” 

And, honestly, that’s fair, so Agatha doesn’t even give that a response. She just backs up and heads toward her car. “Thank you, Lilia. Really.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lilia waves dismissively before backing up into her house and closing the door. 

Agatha takes that as her cue. She grips the steering wheel tight, white-knuckling it the entire ride to Rio’s stupid apartment. She feels the stares from the people in the lobby as she heads for the elevator, riding up to Rio’s floor. 

Last time she was here, she almost had a panic attack. She’s hoping this time it goes a bit better, but she knows where Rio is concerned, that’s not always a guarantee.

She takes a moment to herself before knocking on Rio’s apartment door. She has to gather her wits, has to remember what Lilia said to here in her kitchen just a few days prior. She needs to be mature about this. 

It only takes two knocks for Rio to open the door. 

“Agatha?” Rio looks confused. “Is Nicky okay?” 

“He’s with Lilia,” Agatha explains. “Can I… can I come in?” 

Rio automatically moves out of the way to allow Agatha to walk through the threshold. Agatha walks through, shrugs off her jacket and folds it over the tacky chair in the kitchen. 

“What’s the special occasion?” Rio tries to sound noncommittal, but she fails. This gives Agatha a bit of a confidence boost, knowing that Rio is just as nervous as Agatha is.

Which is ridiculous, because they are both brash and abrasive grown adult women. 

“I think we should… talk.” 

“Talk,” Rio repeats, flatly. 

Agatha coughs, gesturing to the couch. Not as tacky as the kitchen chair, but still looks like it’s been bought secondhand. Rio doesn’t say anything else, she just follows Agatha’s lead and they sit beside each other on the couch. Awkward. 

They sit in silence for too many beats. Agatha counts along with the hammering of her heartbeat until Rio breaks. “What’s going on, Agatha? You’re being extremely non-hyperverbal, and that’s very much not like you.” 

That startles a laugh out of Agatha. “No, this is very much not like me at all, you’re right.” She looks at Rio, really looks at her. She looks tired. A little worn down. Her brown eyes don’t have the light in them that they used to have, even when they were fucking around. Even then, they were dimmer than they were when they were actually together. “We were never good at the whole—” Her hands flutter around her. “—talking thing. And I don’t expect that to change now. But I think we’re both fucking stupid and we just need to get over that, for once.” 

Rio’s eyebrow quirks but she doesn’t respond. Agatha decides that it’s now or never, and it’s not the time to allow herself to revert. She’s already over here, she’s already told herself that she needs to get this out. 

“I broke up with you because you were never around. I never told you why I ended things, why I got you to move out, because I thought it was obvious. It should have been obvious.” She doesn’t mean for it to land as a dig, but Rio flinches like it was one. “I threw you out without talking to you about it first because I was so angry. I felt like I was being taken advantage of, and I thought that if you couldn’t figure out I was upset, you didn’t deserve me. I still think… I don’t think I executed it quite right but I still think it should have been obvious to you why I called things off. I wasn’t exactly subtle anytime you came home too late, or any time you missed any of Nicky’s soccer games or his choir recitals. I was so angry. I still am angry.” 

“I’m sorry,” Rio says. It doesn’t sound like a forced apology, or something that she’s saying just to appease Agatha. It sounds genuine. “For not being a good partner. Before. I figured it out a bit later after we broke up that I’d been spending too much time at work, spending less time with you. I was really a cliche there for a few years.” She chuckles, but it sounds empty. “That’s why I tried to spend so much time with you after. I wanted you to see that I did want to be around you, but you were so angry. And I understand why, but you were angry and whenever we would fuck, I just allowed it to happen because I’ll always take anything you choose to give me. Even if it’s just that. And then I started to feel angry too, because I’m so fucking in love with you and I felt like I could never have you the way I wanted again.” 

Agatha wants to laugh, and wants to scream and throw things. Rio was more than okay with letting Agatha play with her like a toy because she thought that’s all she wanted to give. Instead of just apologizing for never being around she just… did that. Because she thought that’s what Agatha wanted. 

“We suck at this,” Rio says after a little bit. Her voice is a little wet and Agatha’s not surprised to see the tear tracks that are on Rio’s cheeks. “Communication. We suck at it. We’ve always sucked at it.” 

“Why didn’t you just…” Agatha pauses. Stops. She doesn’t even know what she was going to say, she doesn’t know how to continue. She closes her mouth, working her jaw until it makes a popping noise. 

Rio reaches across and grabs one of Agatha’s hands, playing with her fingers. Where Agatha would use that as a means to not look at Rio, Rio is staring at Agatha right in the face. 

“Why didn’t I just apologize?” Rio chuckles when Agatha’s eyebrows furrow, because how does Rio still do that? How does she just know what Agatha is thinking? “You’d already left me by time I figured it out. I’d already moved into this shithole. I thought it was too late to apologize. Me moving out felt like a pretty… permanent thing. I didn’t think an apology would fix it. So I decided to—”

“—act like a total asshole and make me think that all I was good for was sex?” Agatha snaps. She tugs her hand out of Rio’s grasp, or she tries to, but Rio holds tight. Agatha gives up that fight, but she feels the anger simmering under her too-hot surface. Rio opens her mouth to argue, but Agatha barrels on. “Because that’s how I felt. Imagine being in my shoes, Rio. The prior two years, you were never around. And then suddenly, when we break up, you’re constantly around to fuck around with me?” 

“I’m sorry,” Rio tells her again. “I didn’t…” She rubs her free hand over her face. “That wasn’t my intention. I didn’t even think of it like that. I was just giving myself to you in the only way I thought was available.” 

Agatha doesn’t even know how to respond, where to go from here. She’d gotten an apology, and it sounds pretty genuine, but she doesn’t feel like it fixed anything. In fact, it’s making her feel worse and she might actually kill Lilia once she leaves. 

“But I need you to know I never stopped loving you, Agatha.” Her voice is so soft, so calm, in a way that Agatha hasn’t heard in years. “I still love you, even all the bad parts. The angry parts. The parts that don’t forgive me. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.” Agatha doesn’t respond, and she doesn’t look at Rio because at the end of the day, she’s a coward. “I’m sorry. I should have said it when you broke it off with me. My head was stuck up my own ass that I couldn’t see why you’d leave me, but it was obvious. There were signs, I saw them. I chose to ignore them, and when I finally decided to grow up… it was too late.

“And then by that point, we were already knee-deep in whatever it was we were doing after I moved out. I allowed myself to fall into anger and resentment, because we were fucking constantly, we were still doing that, but you wouldn’t take me back.” The laugh she gives is so empty that Agatha feels it in her chest like a gunshot. “I realized, at a certain point, that you still have feelings for me. It was obvious. And it just made me even more angry because I wanted you to take me back so badly.” 

“But I didn’t.”

“But you didn’t,” Rio agrees. Simply. 

They sit in silence. Agatha works over Rio’s words, her explanation, her brain working overtime. Rio wanted her back so badly, but she couldn’t figure out that to make that happen, she needed to tell Agatha that she cared about her. That she loved her. That she was sorry. And Agatha’s no angel. She’s well aware. She’s not good at apologies either, so she understands her on that end. But to allow herself to get angry that Agatha wouldn’t take her back even without an apology—

Agatha begins to laugh. And laugh. And she doesn’t stop. She can’t stop, because if she stops she’ll start to scream. Tears stream down her cheeks as she continues to laugh, Rio’s hand held tightly in hers. 

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” Agatha says between cackles. “You really. Wow.” Her vision is blurred, her chest feels tight, and soon the laughter subsides and she begins to cry in earnest. Rio shuffles closer and wraps her arms around Agatha, bringing her to her chest. Agatha’s tears soak through Rio’s shirt but she knows Rio doesn’t care. Agatha herself doesn’t care. She hopes she ruins every shirt Rio owns with her tears.

“I’m sorry,” Rio says when Agatha’s finally calmed down. Her fingers are gentle on Agatha’s back, in Agatha’s hair, in the way that Rio knows calms Agatha down.

Agatha’s breath hiccups, and she’s grateful she can’t see her. “I’m sorry, too,” she whispers. Because it’s only fair. Because she is. 

Agatha wakes up a couple hours later and she forgets, momentarily, where she is. Her eyes open blearily and she realizes, slowly, that she’s in Rio’s apartment. She’s still laying on top of Rio, too. Agatha is beneath her, hand still working on Agatha’s back. 

“‘time is it?” Agatha mutters, not bothering to sit up yet. She’s comfortable. 

“Just after midnight,” Rio responds after a moment. 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” 

“It’s okay. You needed it. You tired yourself out.” From crying. Oh, that’s embarrassing. Agatha hides her face in Rio’s shirt, where it’s still slightly damp from Agatha’s tears. 

Agatha doesn’t respond, she tucks herself closer to Rio. She lets herself have this, even though she knows that she probably shouldn’t. After a couple of moments, Agatha sneaks a glance up at Rio and sees that Rio is already looking down at her.

The look Rio is giving her almost knocks the air out of her. She was never very good at hiding her emotions, and she’s looking at Agatha like Agatha is the most precious thing she’s ever seen. It’s almost too hard to bear.

Almost.

She props herself up, leans up, her lips so close to Rio’s, almost close enough to touch. Rio’s eyes flutter shut, her long lashes brushing against Agatha’s skin. 

“Agatha,” Rio whispers. “Don’t. Unless you mean it for real.”

“I do,” Agatha promises, and then presses her lips against Rio’s hard. 

Rio’s quick to kiss her back, her arms wrapping around Agatha’s shoulders and pressing them so close together that Agatha can’t figure out where she ends and Rio starts. 

Agatha moans into Rio’s mouth when Rio bites down on Agatha’s lower lip, her tongue soothing the sore before she licks into Agatha’s mouth. It feels so good, so fucking good , and Agatha’s shitty little brain almost tells herself that she couldn’t be faulted for ever not being able to live without this. 

Rio kisses Agatha like she’s starved, her fingers dipping under Agatha’s sweater to touch against her skin. Agatha can tell Rio is trying to be gentle, the way her shaking hands are stopping themselves from pushing too hard too fast. It’s endearing, and Agatha presses her thigh between Rio’s legs. 

“Show me how sorry you are,” Agatha whispers against Rio’s lips.

That’s apparently all it takes. Before she knows it, she’s scooped up into Rio’s arms and being brought to the bedroom. Tossed onto the bed, unceremoniously, and within seconds Rio is back on top of her and kissing her into the mattress. 

Rio’s relentless in getting Agatha naked with as little space between them as possible. Agatha’s almost impressed, honestly, and she’s still so fucking endeared. 

She shuffles herself up back toward the pillows and Rio kisses down her body until she’s leaning in between Agatha’s legs, where Agatha is already wet and waiting. Rio looks at her, eyes almost fully black, almost drooling as she stares. 

“Are you just going to look or are you— oh.”

Rio’s tongue flicks against her clit once, twice, before dipping down to press inside. Agatha’s so wet she can hear it, but she’s not going to let herself dwell on that. Not when Rio isn’t teasing her, isn’t making her beg. She’s committed to making Agatha come, to making her feel good, and Agatha isn’t going to be upset about that. 

After she comes down from her first orgasm, Rio presses two fingers into her to work in tandem with her mouth. She sucks Agatha’s clit into her mouth harshly, it’s almost too much, but that’s what Agatha needs. She needs to feel something else, something other than the sadness and the loathing, and for the first time in as long as Agatha can remember, seeing Rio between her legs, with her lips and chin glistening from Agatha’s orgasm, doesn’t bring her an unprecedented amount of self-loathing. 

She feels something like love settle in her chest when Rio stares back up at her, her face expression almost reverent. She could probably ask Rio to do anything right now, and Rio would probably do it. 

Agatha finds that deliriously sexy, so after her third orgasm she pulls Rio up to her. She kisses her, tastes herself on her tongue, clumsily gets Rio undressed. She reaches down, the tips of her fingers skirting around Rio’s wet folds. She’s drenched, making the slide of Agatha’s fingers easy. 

She comes quick, possibly even breaking her own personal record. She shakes in Agatha’s arms, moaning into Agatha’s mouth, her own hands gripping Agatha’s skin so tightly she’s sure she’ll have bruises. It’s all so delicious. 

Agatha doesn’t know how she ever thought she could live without this. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to live without it. Now that everything is out in the open, now that their anger can (hopefully) be worked out, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to let Rio go.

And she knows Rio wants Agatha, too. Wants her so bad that it’s written across her face, unable to hide. Agatha isn’t even sure Rio ever hid it, but Agatha was so blinded by her own pain and her own anger that she never saw it. Never wanted to see it. But now Rio is looking at her with so much love, that Agatha thinks maybe she’s been a fucking idiot. 

She makes Rio come again, with Agatha’s name on her lips, and that’s when Rio stops her. 

“Too sensitive,” Rio mutters, pressing her lips against any part of Agatha’s skin that’s within reach. Like she can’t stop herself. Like she doesn’t ever want to stop herself again. 

They catch their breath, the room warm and smelling distinctly of sex, and it’s so comfortable that Agatha almost allows herself to drift back to sleep. She probably could, but she doesn’t want anything to go left unsaid because she’s sure that after tonight, they’re never going to breach this topic again. After all, they’re notoriously bad at communicating. At talking. They were always better at speaking through touches and other means. 

Rio beats her to it. “What does this mean?”

“I don’t know,” Agatha admits. 

It’s like Rio was expecting it, because she laughs. She doesn’t reply right away, she lets her fingers lazily drift across Agatha’s skin. Then she says, “why don’t we take it slow. See where it takes us. Ease Nicky back into it. I took less hours at work ever since I realized, after you left… so that won’t happen again. I promise.”

And typically, Rio’s word almost means nothing. Well, before, it didn’t. But something about the earnest way she’s looking at her now has Agatha believing her. 

So Agatha says, “okay,” and hopes that this doesn’t blow up in her face. Again.