Chapter Text
"This doesn't feel like grass," is Nat’s first thought when she starts regaining consciousness. It feels soft, warm, and smells faintly of… vanilla? Is that sandalwood?
As she's regaining her faculties, Nat tries to piece together her location. It's warm, but in a comforting way. The way she imagines the comfort of a warm bowl of soup; the kind Van perfected by the time they turned thirteen—after they got tired of eating frozen TV dinners whenever they got sick. The next thing she notices is that her arms are unrestrained, which means she isn't in police custody, and that's a different kind of comfort.
She can feel the fabric of the bedding on her bare stomach, which leads to the realization that her shirt and jacket aren't on her torso anymore. That same realization makes her eyes snap open and prompts her to try to push herself off of whatever surface she's laying on right now. Try being the operative word, because as soon as she tries, someone firmly pushes her back down with a hand on her shoulder, and a familiar hushed voice chides; "Stay still, I need to get a few more out. You really did a number on yourself, you silly goose."
Her face ends up pressed against the pillow that she now notices her head has been resting on this entire time. At least she knows where she is now. Wait. "Misty, did you just fucking call me a silly goose? What the—"
Unfortunately, with regaining consciousness, comes the awareness of the pain she's feeling. Thanks to Misty, who chose that moment to pull out one of the glass pieces embedded in her skin.
" Ow. "
Nat hears the tsk-tsk all too clear. "I told you, I'm almost done."
"I can't complain while you do it then? Is that what you're saying?"
"Just let me concentrate, please and thank you."
Nat sighs, but figures she owes her that much. She did just show up in her backyard in the middle of the night, covered in glass and various liquids of dubious origins, only to pass out with no explanation. Misty's even being kind enough to help fix her up, which brings up a new set of questions.
"Did you carry me inside?" Nat asks. Misty definitely doesn't strike her as someone with the upper body strength to do that.
"You're my teammate, I couldn't leave you outside, dummy." Well, that's reassuring.
"How?" Nat squeezes the pillow with her hand to keep from groaning in pain when Misty pulls at one that feels deeper than the others. "No offense, but I've seen you in gym class." Misty could barely pull herself up on the rope; if she hadn't somehow gotten excused from it, Nat is sure she would have failed the class every year. She doubts Misty got buff over the whole week since school ended.
There's a beat of silence before Misty's answer. "It took me a while, and I'm worried I made your injuries worse. So please, just let me finish, Nat." Well, now she feels like a dick. She tries another line of questioning.
"How long was I out?"
"Half an hour, any longer and I would have called an ambulance."
"How did you know not to call before?"
Nat can tell this garners a better response from Misty by how proud her tone is when she answers. "I figured you didn't want authorities involved when the police were right outside, yet you were scurrying around in my backyard."
Nat wants to scoff at that, but the sting of what she assumes is disinfectant prevents her from doing so. She still verbalizes her protest. "I wasn't scurrying ."
"What would you call it then?"
"...not scurrying, I know that much." Misty seems satisfied by that answer, because she stays quiet while she finishes up her work.
Nat can't help her mind drifting off. Now that she has her eyes open, she can see that the room she is in looks like Big Bird shed every feather he ever possessed, and Misty has been saving them for him on her walls. And bedding. And the fucking carpet?
"Is yellow, like, your favorite color?" The second the words leave Nat’s mouth, she feels like she's practicing for a dumbass competition, and she's a shoo-in for winning it.
Misty takes a full second before she answers. "Well, I like your hair." Which answers nothing. Nat tries to distract herself from Misty’s ministrations by turning her head to the other side, but one look at the creepy dolls sitting on Misty’s dresser, and she quickly turns her head to the other side again. She’s about to ask how the fuck Misty can sleep with those satanic cabbage patch dolls staring at her, but she figures insulting the person helping her isn’t the nicest way to go about it.
She’s still trying to figure out a topic of conversation—or a way to ask about the Chucky knockoffs, when Misty speaks.
“Okay, you’re all done.” Finally. Nat sits up and Misty, thankfully, hands her a t-shirt to put on. Lifting it over her head to get it on is a bit of a struggle, but she refuses to let Misty see that. She doubts she’s successful. Once her topless routine is over—and Misty has reclaimed her seat at the foot of the bed—Nat gives Misty an attempt at a grateful smile. “Sorry, for like, ruining your night. I’m sure dressing my wounds at whatever ungodly hour it is right now wasn't your ideal Friday night plan.”
Misty frowns at that, her voice taking a solemn tone as she talks. “You don’t have to apologize; it’s a pleasure and an honor to be there in a fellow yellowjacket’s time of need.” Nat is kind of impressed at how she manages to give a half-bow while sitting. She raises an eyebrow at Misty’s words, choosing to ignore the bow for now, and glances at her torn clothes on the nearby chair and back at Misty.
“Sure.” Nat clears her throat before getting up, although the sudden movement isn’t great for her balance. Misty immediately stands up, with arms out-stretched, ready to catch her if she falls.
Nat pretends it was unnecessary. "I'm fine, Quigley." She motions for her clothes, which Misty reluctantly hands over. "I'll get out of your hair."
Misty frowns. "My hair is fine. You really shouldn't leave though."
"Why the fuck shouldn't I?" Nat is already thinking of the comfort of her scratchy blanket as she shrugs on her jacket. She tries not to think about the amount of patch sewing she has in her near future if she wants to salvage her jacket.
"Well, for starters, there's still patrol cars roaming around." Nat can't argue with that. "And unless there's someone at home to look after them, your wounds need checking up on." She can't really argue with that either.
Not for lack of trying, at least. "I'll be fine."
Misty doesn't seem to think that's a suitable answer. "Nat, I know what I'm talking about."
"Yeah, well, I seem to have missed the moment I asked." The snark in her tone is impossible to conceal.
She pretends Misty's hurt expression doesn't get to her. "I'm just trying to keep you safe." Misty's voice trembles as she says this, her shoulders hunched, almost in defeat.
And if there's one thing that can't be said about Misty, it’s that she doesn't make arguing with her difficult.
Nat tries to weigh the pros and the cons of what's being presented to her, and if she's being honest with herself, there aren't many choices available. Still, she's as stubborn as a child with a birds and the bees question; relentless. "Misty, I'm not fucking staying here."
"You lost a lot of blood, and you may be a minor, but you're not exempt from the law."
Nat rolls her eyes at that. "The cops are already getting into bed with their miserable wives and regretting their snotty children. They're not exactly known for their work ethic, Misty." She's all too aware of how little they care, if the amount of calls she’s made that resulted in nothing because some of them were drinking buddies with her father is anything to go by. She still doesn't trust that she's right right now.
Misty's desperation is palpable in her words. "What about your back? Or-or your hands? The cops may not care, but I do. I can't let you go home if you're not going to take care of yourself." Misty looks down at her lap, and Nat regrets her words when she notices the slight tremble of Misty’s shoulders. "I just want to keep you safe." Why did she have to keep talking?
Nat's sigh comes from somewhere deeper than her lungs. "How will you explain to your parents that there's bloody trailer trash in your Tweety-fantasy-cage disguised as a bedroom?"
Misty's head snaps up, her curls bouncing from the motion, her surprise barely concealed. "They're not here. My dad is at a medical conference in Belgium, and my mom is on a cruise with her friends until school starts up again." Any faster and Nat would need subtitles to understand her.
"Your parents left you by yourself for the summer?" Nat tries not to think about how that could be an answer to their rehearsal space issue. She also feels bad for her. She knows Misty doesn't have many friends (if at all)ーit can't be easy to be on your own for months on end.
Misty gives her a timid shrug. "They trust that I'm mature enough to look after myself, and not get into trouble while they're gone. If anything happens, I have one of our neighbors on speed dial. He's a close family friend." She suddenly jumps up from the bed like she got burned by it. One look at the pattern on the comforter makes Nat think that burning it would be too kind a fate for it.
"I am being a terrible host!" Misty exclaims as she adjusts her glasses, even though they look to be in place to Nat. "I haven't offered you anything to drink. Or eat, for that matter."
Nat shuts her up pretty quickly with a lift of her hand, which is when she takes notice of her skinned knuckles, which are already a gnarly shade of purple and black. She chooses to ignore it for the time being. "You patched me up, I think you're doing your host 'duties' just fine." She could use a drink, though. "You got any bourbon?"
Misty nods like she's trying to get her skull to snap off of her neck and runs out of the room, leaving Nat to re-think all of the life choices that lead her here.
She tries to ignore the stares of all fifteen of Misty's sadistic-looking dolls for the longest three minutes of her life (she counted), until Misty returns with a gloriously full bottle of Jim Beam, beaming at her. "I'm such an idiot, let me go get a glass for you!" Nat just ignores her, takes the bottle from Misty before she can run off again, unscrews the cap and takes a sweet, burning gulp from it.
For a reason unbeknownst to her, she tries to keep her grimace hidden from Misty, of all people. "Don't need one." She takes another swig from it—she's gonna need the liquid courage for this a lot more than she needed it for the shitshow at the party. "I'll stay."
She cuts Misty off before she can speak the five million words that are about to spill out of her mouth at lightning speed. "I'll stay, on the condition that you act normal about this. It's not a sleepover, you're just doing me a solid that I'll pay back as soon as I can, and then we can both forget about this whole ordeal, capisce?" She should probably try to be gentler about this, but not even the alcohol is dulling the tiredness in her bones and the sleep clouding her senses. The dull, throbbing ache over her entire body is also a significant factor.
Misty looks like she wants to protest, but thinks better of it. She gives her another nod—Nat wonders if she'll wake up in the morning to Misty's head rolling down the stairs like a tumbleweed in a Clint Eastwood movie. "Let me get you some pj's and you can have my bed! I'll be downstairs on the couch."
Absolutely the fuck not. "How about I take the couch? I'm your guest." That should work. She refuses to sleep surrounded by Thumbelina's demonic cousins.
"No, that would be unacceptable. I promise my bed is comfortable, Nat. You just tested it out yourself!" Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all the apostles.
"How about we both sleep downstairs?"
"Why? There's a perfectly nice bed right here." Misty seems to realize something, because her tone softens. "If you're uncomfortable being by yourself in a new place, I can get the air mattress set up in here. It's no problem." God, why does she have to be so fucking nice about it?
"That's fine, Misty. I'd just really like it if we slept downstairs."
"Oh, you should have just said so, dummy!" Fucking, dummy? "If you'd like to get ready for bed while I get everything ready downstairs, there's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom across the hall, and I'll leave clothes ready for you to change into on the bed." Nat wants to ask about the sudden change of heart, but she'd rather take the win while she can.
"Thanks, Quigley." Misty just gives her a small smile and rushes out of the room. Nat takes advantage of this time to try and assimilate the insanity she's been living since she walked away from that beer pong table. She walks over to the bathroomーwhich looks like an extension of Misty's Bert wonderlandーturns the faucet on, and washes her face with icy cold water, hoping to clear her head. She searches the cabinet until she finds some baby wipes to clean her makeup off, as well as the offensively pink spare toothbrush Misty mentioned.
Nat quickly cleans up, brushes her teeth, and returns to the room, where she finds a pair of pink sleeping shorts with cats and the word 'cats' all over them, and a white oversized t-shirt with a giant image of a gray parrot emblazoned on the front. It takes her several deep breaths before she calms down enough to throw the outfit on. She's just glad Van will never get to witness this.
While walking down the stairs she's distracted by her own thoughts, but not enough to not notice Misty quietly talking to someone about her. Nat tries to keep quiet, slowly reaching the end of the stairs and straining her ears to hear what's being said. She thought Misty was alone? Why would she lie?
Nat's ready to confront her and leave, cops be damned, but it's a perfectly normal reaction to want to eavesdrop when someone talks about you.
"Don't worry, Nat is nice. I promise." Maybe Misty has a sibling Nat doesn't know about?
She doesn't hear their response, but she does hear Misty's next hushed words.
"She just needed some help, and you know I can't not help a fellow teammate, handsome." Damn, a boy? Now that's definitely not something she expected. Quigley has a boyfriend? Nat can't even picture what a guy crazy enough to date Misty would look like. Guess she's about to find out.
Nat walks to the living room, where the faint light of the lamp beside the armchair illuminates who she's assuming is Misty and…a fucking cage? What the fuck?
She verbalizes those exact words. Misty spins around to face her, clearly startled by the sudden noise. When she sees it's Nat, she relaxes, offering her what Nat is starting to realize is just her very intense version of a friendly smile. "Hey, Nat. How are you feeling? Are the clothes alright? Can I get you anything non-alcoholic to drink? I can prepare some sn—"
Nat quickly cuts her off. "Misty, who the fuck are you talking to?"
Misty looks at Nat like she started break-dancing to the sound of banana peels getting stepped on by fifteen, fedora-wearing fire ants wearing rain boots. Baffled. "You, dummy."
Nat tries not to smash her already tender head against the wall in frustration. She just about manages it. She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a long, deep breath. "No, Misty. Who were you talking to before ?"
That seems to make the light bulb turn on in Misty's head. "Oh! You mean Caligula!"
Huh. "What the fuck is a Caligula? Where's the guy you were talking to?"
"The guy I was talking to is Caligula. Come here, I'll introduce you." Misty motions with her hand for Nat to walk over, offering her a reassuring smile.
Fuck that. "I don't want to meet your fucking boyfriend, you told me you were home alone." Nat is furious, she should have known better.
Misty snorts, making her glasses slip a little down the bridge of her nose, like she just heard the funniest joke of her life. "Caligula isn't a boy, silly. He's my African Grey."
Now it's Nat’s turn to look at Misty like she's break-dancing to the sound of bugs marching on fruit peels. "He's your what now?"
Misty gestures for Nat to walk closer, and against her better judgment, she does. She walks over to the cage, where she sees a fucking grey bird, with admittedly shiny and soft-looking feathers, who screeches like a dying banshee when he lays eyes on her. He starts flying around his cage, pushing Misty to reassure him while she signals with her hand for Nat to step back.
Nat lifts her hands in surrender and does as she's asked. It only takes a few moments for Misty to get her parrot under control. Nat's worried she's somehow fucked up Misty's pet in the five seconds she interacted with him.
"Look, Misty. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make him freak out or anything. I can just go."
That makes Misty start screeching almost as high-pitched as her bird Carlisle, or whatever his name was. "Absolutely not! I'm not having you wander around town in the middle of the night by yourself! Especially when you're injured!"
Well damn, woman. "Alright, but I'm still sorry about your bird."
Misty takes a deep breath, her face transforming back to her previous intense friendliness. "Don't worry about Caligula, he's being a big baby." She leans closer to whisper conspiratorially to Nat. "Between you and me, he's a bit of a drama queen." The bird seems to hear her, because he squeaks, offended. Nat didn't even know a bird could get offended.
Misty isn't surprised at all by it. "I'm just pulling your leg, my darling baby boy." She pokes her hand into the cage, and the damn bird actually leans his head forward so she can scratch it. Nat is starting to feel like she's doomed herself to the longest night humanity has ever seen.
Enough is enough. "Misty, can we finally get some fucking sleep?"
That seems to make Misty remember that she just spent the better part of the night pulling fucking glass from under Nat’s skin. "Oh, yes! Of course! You can take the couch or the air mattress, whichever suits your fancy."
"Eh, the couch is fine."
"Are you sure? The air mattress can probably provide a better level of comfort for your—"
Nat grits her teeth to keep from snapping at her. "Yes, Misty. I'm sure."
Misty just shrugs and excitedly walks over to the air mattress set up by the chimney that Nat is amazed she didn't notice before. She even does a double take when she notices the couch has a pillow and blankets ready for her. She has to give it to Misty, she works fast.
Nat sits down on the couch, ready to fucking finally sleep, when Misty jumps up from her place on the mattress and rushes to where Nat assumes is the kitchen, because she returns a few seconds later with a pill of some sort and a glass of water that she offers to Nat.
"Here, you should take this painkiller before you sleep. It would probably be best if you ate something beforehand, but you should be fine. You can always wake me up and I can whip up something for you." If you were to wake her and ask her to cook for you, Nat would have a whole kaleidoscope of words to offer the poor soul that tried that. She doesn't know if Misty would react similarly to her, but her offer seems genuine enough.
She takes the offered pill, pops it in her mouth and washes it down, chugging the whole glass of water. She thanks Misty and goes to lay down on her back while Misty takes the glass back to the kitchen, before Nat remembers that her back is as tender as a newborn's. She sighs, turns so she's laying on her stomach, and stares to the side as Misty returns, turns the light off and gets comfortable.
"Remember, you can wake me up at any time for anything and I'll be happy to help, Nat."
"Sure, Misty. Thanks. Time for sleep now."
"Yes, yes. Of course. Goodnight Nat, hope your dreams go easy and your sleep is gentle." Well, Nat certainly has never heard that one before.
"Uh, yeah, you too, Quigley. Night."
After the longest night Nat has ever had in her life, she finally gets to—voluntarily—close her eyes and let sleep claim her.
The first thing Nat sees when she wakes up are beady eyes and gray feathers. She almost screams bloody murder before she remembers where she is and whose claws are currently using her chest as a landing strip. The little fuck squeaks at her and flies off, making the pounding in her head—reminiscent of a WWE wrestler trying to dig a hole through her frontal lobe by jumping from the ring ropes and smashing his way through with his elbow, repeatedly—impossible to ignore.
She smells the food before she hears the sounds of cooking in the kitchen, her stomach grumbling in response to the smell of bacon and eggs wafting from there. She gets up, folds the blankets, and walks to the kitchen, where she finds Misty with her hair in a bun, trying and failing to squeeze an orange, and two plates with bacon and scrambled eggs ready on the counter.
Nat rolls her eyes, gently pushes Misty out of the way and takes over her place, easily squeezing the orange and pouring the juice in one of the two glasses Misty set next to the juicer.
Misty beams at her. "Good morning, Nat! How did you sleep? Was the couch up to your expectations?" Nope. Too much.
"Misty, inside voices and as little talking as possible until I've drank at least two cups of coffee." Misty nods vigorously at her and pours her a cup, offering it to her. "Is black okay?”
Nat just nods, too distracted by the soul-soothing smell of coffee for anything else. She takes a sip, feeling just a bit more human than corpse afterwards.
"You got any of those painkillers for me? My head is killing me." Misty smiles and walks off, returning with the pills and offering her a glass of water. Nat places the coffee cup on the counter, grabs the glass, and slams back the pills and the water before grabbing back her mug and sipping on it.
She finishes the coffee, watching Misty continue to struggle to squeeze the oranges before sighing and placing her cup on the counter, once again. "Pour me another cup while I do this." Misty, surprisingly, complies with no word vomit.
They get it done quickly and, much to Nat's relief, with no words spoken between them. She'd almost consider this a comfortable silence.
They sit down to eat, and they go five minutes before Misty's desire to speak gets the best of her.
"So…I'd like to ask about what happened to you, if that's okay." Nat definitely expected this question to come last night, but she wasn't stupid enough to think Misty wouldn't ask at all. She knows she would if one of the girls showed up at her house like she did to Misty's.
"Some guy was being a sexist pig to Shauna and I at the party last night. He didn't take it well when I punched him for it."
The sound of the cutlery suddenly falling on the plate startles Nat, almost making her feel like she's right back at home, her father across from her with a sneer on his face. She shakes it off, taking a big gulp of her coffee, hoping the sting of the hot drink will keep her here and not let her mind wander.
"A man did this to you? And you were running from the cops instead of towards them?" Nat can't help the small smile that creeps up her lips at Misty's indignant expression. It's like looking at a tiny Chihuahua hulking out.
"We were a bunch of underaged kids with booze and weed, that's the reason they showed up, not my little spat. Plus, I started it."
"So? You're lucky you didn't end up at the hospital." Is Misty shaking?
Nat is starting to get concerned; Misty looks like a vat of boiling oil, ready to blow. "Misty, I'm fine. Thanks to you. The guy probably got arrested for being there too or whatever, it's fine." Her involvement in her health seems to cool Misty down a little, but she still looks ready to go on the tiniest rampage of all time, so Nat tries to distract her from it. "Hey, where's the bird? His feathery ass woke me up."
Misty seems distracted enough by the change of topic, but her stare hasn't softened in the slightest. "He's somewhere in the house, I always let him fly around in the morning to stretch his wings. His cage is open if he wants to go back to sleep or go potty." Nat is starting to regret her choice of topic.
She soldiers on. "How long have you had him?"
"Two years this August. My parents decided that if I was going to start spending more time by myself, I could do with having a companion." Jesus.
"They've been leaving you by yourself for two years already?" Misty isn't a fan of the way Nat phrases this, because her shackles go up immediately.
"They're busy people, and I'm mature enough to handle it." Nat files away in her mind to steer clear of this topic next time. She refuses to acknowledge that she's thinking of there being a next time.
"I can see that. Hey, listen, is there a phone I could use? I should let Van know I'm not in the clink or whatever." Misty nods and points to the hallway near the staircase before returning to her breakfast. "Thanks." Nat tries not to let the guilt of bringing up Misty's parents to her eat at her too much.
She dials the number to Van's home from memory. It rings two times before someone picks up. "Hello?"
"Hey, dude."
"NATALIE, I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU. FORGET ABOUT THAT BALD GUY, I'M GOING TO FINISH YOU OFF AND NO ONE WILL FIND YOUR REMAINS, YOU FUCKER. I'VE BEEN WORRIED SICK. "
Nat pulls the phone away from her ear for a good minute until she feels like Van got it all out of her system. "You done?"
She hears a sigh on the other end of the line. "Just about. Although I reserve the right to curse you out again. Where the fuck are you? I'll come pick you up."
Nat scoffs at that. "With what? Your legs?"
She has to pull the phone away from her ear again because of Van's colorful response to that. This time it's only for thirty seconds. "I'm at Misty's."
"...how the fuck did you end up at Misty Quigley's house ?"
"Jumped a fence running from the cops and it happened to be hers. Look, I'll tell you all about it later, just wanted to call you and let you know I wasn't dead in a ditch or in a holding cell."
Van's sarcasm is palpable. "Why, that's very charitable of you! Thank you for your consideration!"
"Dude, cut me some slack. I spent half the night getting glass pulled out of my back, and it's gonna take forever to fix my jacket."
Immediately, Van's tone shifts. "Nat, are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?"
Nat’s quick to reassure her, but it's nice to hear someone worry about her. "Nah, Misty took care of it. She was pretty cool about the whole thing."
"Well, here's to small blessings. It's good timing you called. Burt called, we have to be at the shop at two. The new trainees flaked."
The groan Nat lets out can only be described as guttural. "You gotta be fucking kidding me."
"Nope." And she can tell Van is deriving pleasure from ruining her day because of the way she pops the 'P'. "He asked for us specifically. It's ten thirty right now, so we have time to pull ourselves together before our shift."
"Unbelievable. Okay, I'll be back at the trailer park in about an hour or two."
"Alright. I expect to hear all the details of your wild night with Misty Quigley, you big stud."
Nat wishes a punch could be received through the phone. "Shut up, or you're getting two black eyes for the price of one. Speaking of, how's the eye?"
Van cackles at Nat’s words before answering. "It's just a black eye, I've had worse. Tai took good care of me last night. You're not the only one with a personal nurse." Nat is definitely giving her a matching set when she sees her.
"Shut the fuck up man, she was just being nice. Be thankful she didn't leave me to bleed out in her backyard."
That sobers Van up. "I'm glad she helped, man, I swear."
"I know dude, I'm just tired, and this day is about to get a lot longer than I already expected it to." Nat hears the sound of Misty washing the dishes and decides to wrap it up so she can go and at least help with the drying. It's the least she can do.
"We'll talk more at work, okay?"
"Sure. I have some band related news to share with you."
"Good news?"
"You'll find out at work."
"Fuck you."
"Love you too, buddy. Bye."
"Bye." Nat puts the phone back on the receiver and walks back to the kitchen, where she encounters one of the most bizarre images she's ever seen in her life. Misty humming while doing the dishes, and her fucking pigeon perched on her head, occasionally nipping at her hair, while they seemingly converse? What is happening?
"Hey, thanks for letting me use your phone." Misty turns her head a little to offer her a smile, while Carousel or whatever screeches at the mere sight of Nat and flies off into the living room.
"What is his deal with me?"
Misty brushes her question off. "Don't worry about him, it takes him a while to warm up to people. Is everything okay?"
Nat doubts that he meets a lot of people, but she's not about to tell Misty that. "Yeah, I have to go to work. Some new guys were supposed to start today, but they bailed."
"Oh, that's terrible!"
"Yeah…Listen, you need any help with the dishes?"
"Not at all, I'm just about done. When do you have to leave for work?"
"Soon, I need to shower and get my uniform from home." Nat keeps her uniform in her work locker, but she doesn't want Misty to feel unappreciated just because she needs some time to herself without a bird and an overactive, curly haired human Chihuahua before her shift. She wonders when she started giving a fuck about how Misty Quigley feels. It'll pass soon enough. Probably.
Misty still looks at her like she punted the bird across a football field and forced her to watch, her eyebrows furrowed in despair. "I still need to get the bandages checked, right?" Nat asks her.
It gives Nat whiplash, how quickly Misty's mood shifts. Misty's frown melts away, giving way to a broad smile, dimples on full display. "Yeah! In fact, we should probably change them before you leave. I can give you some stuff to take care of it at home, or you can stop by whenever I'm not at work and I can do it for you."
Considering Nat knows this is as much human interaction Misty is going to get with someone their age, and how nice she's been about the whole thing, it feels like drop-kicking an ice cream cone out of a child's hand to refuse. "Sure, just gimme your phone number to set it up." Misty's smile can be seen from the stratosphere, or whichever layer of the atmosphere is farthest from the Earth. She quickly snatches a pen and a writing pad from a drawer and scribbles the digits on one of the pages. She rips it off the pad and hands it to Nat, looking at her like Nat just handed her the cure for human loneliness. It kinda makes Nat’s heart ache a little. Misty is as weird as the sky is blue, but people need to start cutting her some slack. Nat vows to herself that she's gonna keep the team in check when it comes to how they treat Misty. She deserves better.
"Does your dad have a shirt I can borrow?"
Once Nat is dressed in relatively normal clothes (for her), and Misty has changed her bandages and given her some supplies to keep at home—after promising to explain to Van how to help her should she need it and Misty is unavailable—they both stand on the porch, not quite knowing how to say goodbye to each other. They're not friends, but they're a bit more than acquaintances now.
Nat kicks at air, pretending a rock will materialize out of sheer will, and talks before her brain can catch up with her mouth.
"So, some of the yellowjackets and I are starting up a band, but I don't know of any place we could rehearse at..."
Misty lights up with delight. "Oh, you guys can practice here! I can soundproof the garage for you and everything!" Well, it took zero probing, at least.
"It really is okay, Misty. I don't think you'll want constant noise in your house." Nat knows she wouldn't.
"Nonsense! I'm always happy to help my teammates, Nat. You should know that by now! I'll be glad to host your rehearsals."
"It's not a sure thing, so don't make any rash decisions like, soundproofing your house or whatever, before we know." Nat is sure Misty isn't listening to her anymore. At least she knows they have one sure place to rehearse should all else fail.
Before Misty can go on a tangent about rehearsal schedules or how best to soundproof a bird cage, Nat speaks. "Misty, I wanted to thank you, again, for helping me out last night. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't landed in your yard."
Misty just offers her a warm smile and a shrug. "What else could I do, but help?"
God, she says it like it's so easy. So simple. Of course, in Misty's mind, the only option was to help. How could she think otherwise? But Nat refuses to cry in front of Misty Quigley. Especially so early in the morning. She coughs and looks down, hoping to avoid eye contact for as long as possible. "Anyways, yeah, I'll see you around, Quigley." She starts walking away when Misty calls out to her.
"Nat?"
Nat stops on her tracks and turns her head to look at Misty. "Yeah?" she asks.
Misty offers her a small, genuine smile. Her voice is soft but Nat hears her words, clear as day. "Don't ever hesitate to come find me when you need it, okay? I'll always be there for you."
Nat wishes she could believe those words, from anyone. "Will do, Misty. Goodbye."
"See you soon, Nat!" Misty waves excitedly at her and goes back inside. She barely misses Nat's watery eyes.
After a shower, a proper change of clothes and checking her mother's pulse to see if she's just asleep, Nat rushes off to Van's trailer, knocking twice on the door. Van opens the door almost immediately, gives her a once over and punches her on the shoulder, hard.
Nat sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. "Dude, the fuck was that for?"
Van offers her a sarcastic smile. "Let me see…making me worry? Check. Looking like the poster child for domestic abuse? Check. Making me worry? Also check."
"You said make you worry twice, numbskull." Nat says, rolling her eyes.
Van just shrugs. "I ran out of things to say."
With that, they make their way to the one and only Burt's Auto-Repair shop. Burt Phillips is a burly, bald man in his mid-fifties, who runs the only auto-repair shop in town willing to hire the both of them, regardless of their gender. When they showed up during the school year, with the last copies of their resumes printed out and a dejected look on both of their faces after being rejected from basically every available job in town, he took one look at them, told them the only rules are no missing work because of being in jail or without calling to let him know, and hired them on the spot. It took them a while to earn the respect of the rest of the guys, but once they proved they were just as capable as their whiny asses to get the job done, it's been smooth sailing ever since. It certainly helped raise the clientele of single adult women when word got out that two teenage girls were working at the shop, which probably helped ease their co-workers' worries.
"Dude, pass me that screwdriver." Nat hands one of the screwdrivers laying by the toolbox on the cart to Van. "The other screwdriver, bitch." Nat thinks of flinging it at her, but she doesn't want Burt to fire her just yet. "Thanks. I think, overall, you got lucky with your injuries, and you climbed the right fence at the right time to someone willing to dress your wounds—Who is now offering her place up so we can have somewhere to rehearse. Why not just accept it?"
"It feels like taking advantage of her. Also, we should check the oil while we're at it. Miss Duncan always forgets to ask."
"Get to it then, bossy pants." Van starts unscrewing the driver's side door panel of the 1992 Golf GTI they're working on. "She isn't a child, Nat. She's an odd one, sure, but she's still just a teenage girl, just like you and me. She probably wants people to hang out with during the summer; as long as everyone behaves, what's the big deal?" Van adds while she pops the panel off the door, causing water to leak all over the floor and right into Van's shoes. "Goddamn it. Every. Single. Time."
"Ha! And you said I was being dramatic last time." Nat's laughter is short-lived when she remembers the dilemma at hand. "I dunno, man. It doesn't feel right to suddenly pretend we're all buddies with Misty just because we need something from her."
"From the way you're speaking, you're not pretending anything." Nat scoffs.
"She helped me once , doesn't mean we're adding her signature to the commandments." Nat is popping open the hood of the car when she hears the sound of something hard hitting the car door and Van's pained groan. " Ow. "
Nat leans over to look at Van kneeling on a puddle of water, hand on her forehead. "You good there, man?"
"Yeah, the idea of adding just anyone to our sacred club made me panic for a second." Nat can't help chuckling at that.
"Trust me, if we ever have anyone sign our commandments, it has to be someone very special."
"Are you saying Misty isn't special? Damn, I thought you wanted to start being nice to her." Van shakes her head in mock-disappointment.
"Don't twist my words, cunt." Burt surely won't blame her for throwing a screw at Van.
Just as she's about to flick one at an unsuspecting Van, a deep, gravely voice interrupts their banter. "You two are chatting up a storm over there. I'm guessing the car doesn't need both of you if you have enough time to chit-chat while you work on it."
Nat grabs the oilstick, quickly unscrews the cap labeled 'Oil' under the hood, and shoves the stick in it. "As you can see, it definitely needs both of us."
Burt lets out a deep, belly chuckle. "Sure, and I'm Troy Donahue."
"Well, I certainly hope you don't act like him. Your wife is a very nice lady," Van tells him with a charming smile.
He just shakes his head at them. "You two. I swear to the Lord, if I still had hair, you'd make it fall out all over again."
After refilling the oil, Nat closes the hood and walks over to the passenger side door to start working on removing the panel there. "Mr. Phillips, you'd be bored out of your mind without us."
"I told you already to call me Burt, kiddos. Mr. Phillips makes me feel senile."
Van gives him a pat on the shoulder as she walks by him to get started on the back doors. "It may surprise you, but we do have manners." Nat's not surprised in the slightest when she keeps talking. "And you are senile, sir," Van tells him with a wide smile.
He's about to retort her smart-ass comment when he takes a good look at both of their faces, and his demeanor immediately shifts to one of a concerned grandpa.
"Both of you. Stop what you're doing and come here. Now." They both stand up and walk over to him, a bit surprised by his outburst.
"Who did this to you?" he asks, arms crossed over his chest.
"Some guy who wasn't a fan of musical criticism." Nat says, eyes focusing on a particularly interesting speck of grease on the floor between Burt's boots.
"Oh, this wasn't meant for me, I just couldn't let Nat's ugly mug get uglier." Van tells him, with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Nat looks at Van, offended by that comment, while Burt rubs his grey, bushy eyebrows in exasperation. "Did you give as good as you got, at least?" They both nod, puffing out their chests in pride. "Just keep working, Elaine will be coming by around closing time for this one. You better ice those shiners."
Both Van and Nat offer him a salute, probably shaving a year off of his lifespan, before he goes back to his office, leaving them to go back to work.
They work in silence for a while, until Nat's curiosity gets the best of her. "So, what band news do you have for me?"
Van is finishing up with mopping the puddles and nearly trips over the mop. "Dude! Warn a person before you speak!"
Nat looks at her, disbelief clear in her expression and her voice. "Do you hear yourself right now? How the fuck do you want me to warn you before I speak?"
Van looks at Nat like the answer is obvious. "Chirp? Duh."
Unbelievable. "Dude, just tell me the fucking news. Are they in or what?"
Van playfully narrows her eyes. "What do I get if I tell you?"
Nat responds through gritted teeth. "To keep your fucking limbs."
Van lets out a low whistle. "Damn, okay. Someone 's cranky."
Before Nat can throttle her, Van continues. "I'm pleased to inform you that they all said yes. Jackie even got us a singer, some girl whose mom is friends with her mom. Allie Stevens? She goes to our school. We're meeting up at Lottie's tomorrow afternoon to talk details. But dude? We did it. We some-fucking-how got everyone in." Van is beaming at her, and Nat's annoyance melts away. Because twenty-four hours ago, Van was telling her how insane the idea was; to see her barely a day later, excited about it? All because Nat needed a distraction and pulled their childish rule book to con her into helping?
Nat is so overwhelmed with affection for her that she does the only logical thing. She punches Van on the shoulder. And here's the thing about their friendship; Van knows exactly what it means, because she doesn't even complainーshe just offers Nat a smile before they continue working, the excitement of what's to come giving them an extra burst of energy, lasting all through their shift.
"Hey, what's a good treat for a bird?" Nat asks, as they make their way home.
"What?"
"Nothing, I'll figure it out."
To no one's surprise, their first meeting is chaotic. Chaotic in the way letting a pack of wolves snort the purest cocaine available in the world and letting them loose in a mall during Black Friday would be.
"No way."
"Shauna."
Shauna shakes her head, as if refusing to believe what she's hearing. "There is nothing you can say that will convince me that Misty Quigley's home was the best rehearsal space you could find."
Nat scoffs. "Do you have any alternatives? We are open to hearing about them, then."
"What about here?" Shauna asks.
Lottie answers from her place on the floor, her back against Laura Lee's legs, the latter who is braiding intricate patterns in Lottie's hair from her place on the couch, next to Shauna's now empty seat and Jackie. "We can't. If my parents find out about this, I'll be shipped off to Switzerland faster than you can say Grüezi."
"Tai?"
Tai laughs and immediately shakes her head no. "Yeah, no. I'm not bringing this into my house."
"Laura Lee?" Shauna's tone is desperate by now.
Laura Lee just offers her an apologetic smile. "Oh, I asked my parents, but they were concerned about noise complaints from our neighbors, so they said no."
Shauna looks stumped by that, but she looks over at Jackie in a plea for help. Jackie can only offer her a weak smile and a shrug.
"Misty isn't so bad, Shauna. She's a bit of an odd duck, sure, but she's a sweet girl." Shauna looks at Jackie like she transformed into Brutus right before her eyes. She looks at the rest of them, but every single one of them avoids eye contact with her, making her feel like she's in the Curia of Pompey on March 15th, 44 BC. Nat wonders when she started associating Shauna with what little she can remember from history classes over the years.
Shauna's face is beet red, and her tone is both furious and disbelieving. "Guys, are you out of your fucking minds? This is the girl that put diuretics into our opposition's drinks to, and I quote, 'give us an unnecessaryーbut always welcome, if you ask meーedge'."
"She did what now?" Jackie looks horrified by this revelation.
Tai chimes in next, rubbing her temples. Considering this has been the main point of contention, and the last one left to discuss, Nat understands how she's feeling. "In her defense, that's just a rumor. It's never been confirmed. She could have just been saying that, we know how she is."
Shauna gives Tai a thankful look, like she's validating her point. "Exactly, we know how she is. Do we really want into her lair!?" She exclaims.
Van snorts. "Lair, Shauna? Really? She's our classmate we've known since kindergarten, not Lex fucking Luthor." Nat's never been so thankful for Van in her life.
She needs to control this situation, fast. She looks at everyone in the room. Laura Lee is sitting on the couch with Shauna—who just sat back down—and Jackie, braiding Lottie's hair, who's sitting on the floor right in front of her, using her legs as a backrest. Van is sitting on an armchair, legs over one of the armrests like she's never heard of sitting before, while Tai and Nat were left with bringing chairs from the dining room to sit on. So far, they've figured out how to adapt everyone's schedules to fit rehearsal times in them, and the music they're all willing to play, but the topic of their rehearsal space keeps sparking arguments, namely from Shauna. Nat isn't sure what her big deal with Misty is, but it's starting to grind her gears. She knows Van can see she's reaching her limit, because she keeps giving Nat warning glances. In a desperate attempt to get Shauna to agree, she tries bartering with her.
"Look, if you promise to give it a shot, I'll pay for your gas all through senior year."
That seems to pique Shauna's interest. "All of it? Up until graduation?
Van looks at Nat like she wants to tell her to pull her head out of her ass, but she'll pick up whatever extra shifts she needs to if it means they can finally end this stupid discussion. She's confident Misty won't fuck this up for her. Mostly. Kinda.
"Yes. But give it a real shot. And no purposely antagonizing Misty." Nat tries to muster up the most menacing look she can, and from Shauna's expression and the way her throat bobs when she swallows, Nat knows she’s succeeded.
Tai looks at Nat, impressed by her word choice, but Nat is too focused on getting Shauna to agree to be offended.
Shauna, for her part, seems to think over her words, looking over at Jackie and having one of those stupid silent conversations where they understand what the other means, implicit in a glance or a twitch. Nat's been dealing with them since they were in middle school, and it doesn't get any less annoying with time.
When they're done with their little Xavier-Magneto conversation, Shauna looks at her and gives her a nod. "Okay, how long?" Oh, come on now.
"The summer?"
Shauna scoffs. "I'm not spending my summer there."
Nat sighs before her final offer. If Shauna doesn't agree to this, well, fuck her. There's gotta be another drummer in Wiskayok. "Fine, if it sucks after a month, I'll pay up. Good enough for you?"
"Deal."
Thank fuck. "Great, deal."
Tai leans back on her chair, slumping in relief. "Fucking, finally. First rehearsal Wednesday at Misty's, then?"
Once she gets confirmation, she grabs her stuff and bids everyone goodbye, prompting the rest of them to follow suit.
Jackie pulls Shauna to the side, and Nat doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but Laura Lee is her ride, and she's currently busy discussing why guitars and basses require different amp voltages with Van and Lottie. Nat just happens to be standing close enough to hear their conversation. At least, that's what she tells herself.
"What was all that about?" Jackie asks Shauna, arms crossed over her chest, a frown marring her features.
Shauna looks like she has a few choice words for her, but she just swallows and looks down at the floor.
Jackie just sighs, her posture relaxing. She places a hand on Shauna's shoulder and beckons her to look up at her. Shauna lifts her head and crosses her arms, like a petulant child waiting for the scolding to be over.
"If you don't tell me why, I'm not going to figure it out, Shauna. I can't support you if I don't know what it's about." Jackie says, squeezing Shauna's shoulder in an attempt to loosen the tension Shauna seems to be carrying.
"You shouldn't need to know, aren't you supposed to be my best friend?" Shauna tells her, her words coated in vitriol. Nat raises her eyebrows at that, but Jackie takes it in stride, like she's used to dealing with Shauna acting like this. Guess Nat doesn't know Shauna like she thought she did.
"I am your best friend, and you're mine. That means, you should be able to talk to me about this." Jackie tells her, her tone soft and calming, like she's coaxing a rabid dog to lay on its back so she can rub their belly.
Shauna sighs and looks down at the floor again, her voice losing the bite it had before. "I don't want to. It's stupid and it's over with, so why does it matter?"
Jackie doesn't seem to like that answer, but there's not much else she can do. If Shauna is anything like Nat, if she says she doesn't want to talk about it, she means it.
Still, Jackie tries for the next best thing. "Can you at least tell me about later? Whenever you feel like talking about it? I don't want friction between everyone before you guys even get started. We still have to be a team when senior year starts, and I doubt Misty won't be right there with us for it." Well, at least Jackie is taking a proactive approach to her new captain title.
Nat misses Shauna's answer because Laura Lee flashes her car keys at her, motioning that she's ready to go when Nat is. Nat offers everyone a half-hearted wave goodbye, pats Van on the back and walks out after Laura Lee. Wednesday, if anything, should at least be interesting.