Chapter Text
Agatha Harkness was completely okay.
She did not break two separate wine glasses, crash into a waiter and almost stab Jen’s hand with a steak knife because she was not fine. She was totally fine.
She was being very well behaved, thank you very much.
It completely did not matter to her that she was sitting in a restaurant on what should have been a very happy day, you know, celebrating her promotion with her friends, yada yada, and that it turned into objectively the worst day when she walked in.
She being the she-devil that was hanging off Rio’s arm like she didn’t have a spine of her own and would fucking fall apart if she let Rio go.
When Rio walked in an hour ago hand in hand with the woman, Agatha admitted internally that she was pretty. She had deep red hair, long legs and a sweet smile. Agatha was ready to fist pump Rio and flirt relentlessly with her date while winking at her friends at the panic she incited. And then Rio opened her fucking mouth.
“This is my girlfriend, Natasha.” Rio smiled, looking over at the redhead shyly.
Agatha’s blood boiled.
Because Natasha’s dress was far too fucking short for the restaurant they were in and her legs were unnaturally long, like freakishly long, and she was embarrassing them all by smiling so much. She looked like an idiot. She was making them all look like idiots.
Agatha hated feeling like an idiot.
“You can call me Nat!” She said, sitting by Rio. She giggled when Rio kissed her bare shoulder.
That’s when the first glass broke.
It was because Agatha was inspecting how much force a glass could take for scientific purposes. Not because her best friend was saddling up to a girl and calling her ‘girlfriend,’ since when did Rio have girlfriends?
Rio never did committed relationships. Sure, she was sexually active and once in a while she would bring girls over to meet her friends, but they never lasted longer than a week. And no labels, certain or uncertain, were ever used.
Ever since she and Agatha met in college, she always had one foot out the door. Her parents were always at each other’s throats, the Puerto-Rican fire never fully meshing well with the Irish stubbornness. Somehow, Rio got both the responsibility of holding her parents together and their ire. But the one thing her parents stood firm on, never wavering no matter how much it was threatened, was never getting divorced even though they couldn’t look each other in the eye. So, obviously, Rio looked at relationships with the same enthusiasm that most people looked at a puppy getting kicked.
It took Agatha three months to convince her that yes, they were friends. It took a year to get her to admit they were best friends. It took filming an entire movie together, literally working side by side for six months, burning the midnight oil, fielding challenges together, seeing each other cry and fail and succeed, for Rio to admit that they knew each other inside out. And Agatha didn’t blame her. With an absent father and an overbearing mother, she had her own fair share of family-related avoidance issues to battle through.
Honestly, together, they had them all. Rio was fearful avoidant, Agatha was dismissive avoidant and together they were just avoidant and avoidant. It’s why they never dated.
That and the fact that they immediately friend-zoned each other.
“So, how did you two meet?” Jen asked Rio and Nat while a waiter cleaned up the glass from Agatha’s hand. She was lucky there was no blood. She was also lucky no one really paid her any specific attention either because then they would have seen the daggers she was shooting the ginger tramp.
“We met at a coffee shop,” Nat replied, resting her head on her hand and looking at Rio with big loving eyes. Barf.
“That’s so boring,” Agatha snorted.
Rio tilted her head. “I thought you would swoon over the meet-cute.”
“Meeting in a coffee shop is not a meet-cute.” Agatha said, rolling her eyes.
Rio stuck her tongue in her check. Uh-oh. “Sorry, we couldn’t pull up to The Getty, Agatha. Not everyone gets a true meet-cute.”
This bitch. “You wouldn’t.” Agatha threatened, waving her knife around menacingly.
“Okay, I will take this away,” Lilia said, grabbing the knife out of Agatha’s hand.
“Oh, it’s a butter knife, stop exaggerating,” Agatha rolled her eyes again.
“Is this from the iconic first meeting?” Alice prodded, and Agatha wondered how many times she could roll her eyes before they fell out.
“Mhm,” Rio smirked.
“Wait, what is happening?” Nat perked up.
“They had a crazy first meeting,” Jen filled Nat in, leaning over conspiratorially.
“But they won’t tell anyone about it,” Alice whined.
“All we know is that it was hilarious and that it happened at The Getty,” Lilia provided helpfully.
“We just found out it happened at The Getty,” Jen deadpanned.
“Come on, babe. Tell us!” Nat nudged Rio with her shoulder.
“Well, I always try but someone here might actually shoot me.” Rio said, rubbing her hand sweetly on Nat’s shoulder.
Agatha ran her finger across her throat with a lot of menace.
“And that’s that.” Rio said, moving the subject swiftly to something else. Agatha didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed.
“I’m going to go to the little girl’s room.” Agatha said abruptly and not because she dropped her fork, looked under the table and watched Rio and the whore play footsie.
She stood quickly, chair jutting out, ready to make her exit when Nat perked up, “I have to go too!”
Agatha spun around, wide-eyed. “What?”
But Nat was already getting up and fixing her dress. Agatha felt like a cornered dog. She tried to get away faster, like they weren’t going to the same place, but suddenly she was tripping headfirst into a waiter and being doused with an obscene amount of water. Who fucking carries that amount of water in a single tray anyway? Was the waiter running for a fucking world record?
“Shit, Agatha, are you okay?” Rio jumped up and ran over to Agatha who was soaking wet on the floor next to a million glasses.
“What do you think, buddy?” Agatha sneered, still taking Rio’s hand and letting her haul her up anyway.
“I think I have a shirt in my trunk!” Alice bolted out the door. No waiters hit her on her way out. Fucking assholes, this was fixed!
Agatha stomped to the bathroom, Nat and Rio trailing behind apprehensively.
“Are you okay, Agatha?” Nat asked hesitantly.
“I fucking got an entire swimming pool’s worth of water poured on me, of course, I’m not okay,” Agatha barked. Nat seemed to shrink under her gaze. But it only made Rio comfort her more.
Agatha slammed the door of the bathroom far too violently.
“Agatha, you need to chill.” Rio tried, but Agatha locked herself in a stall and leaned her forehead on the metal door.
“I need a minute,” she whispered, hoping Rio would understand and leave her alone.
“Okay.” Rio said from the other side. She heard someone wash their hands and then the door closing.
At that moment, for no specific reason, Agatha felt like crying. It definitely wasn’t because of the water that had been spilled all over her and the fact that she was sure the makeup had melted off her face and how her dinner was most definitely ruined. It might have been because of the way Rio was fucking looking at Nat all night. The way it was clearly so much more than sex. The way it was un-fucking-fair.
What did the ginger bitch have that Agatha didn’t? Agatha was hotter. Objectively. She was more successful. They were literally at her promotion dinner. Oh, and most importantly, she knew Rio so much fucking better than Nat ever better, better than even Rio knew herself. She was there when Rio couldn’t crack her thesis film, sitting out in the cold, half a pack of cigarettes smoked, questioning the state of the world. She was there when Rio didn’t want to go home for the summer, sleeping on Agatha’s couch, working at the local burger joint. She had seen her at her worst. She had been there at her best. She knew how Rio thought, what fueled her, why she ran, why she cried.
It should fucking count for something right? Like a call or a warning, like hey, I’m bringing a redhead nightmare to dinner, you good with it? Something.
That’s what was eating Agatha inside. The inconsideration.
She deserved a text from her best friend letting her know that she asked someone else to be her girlfriend. That she had swapped around her entire worldview. That she had miraculously cured all her attachment issues. Because it was courteous. Because Agatha would have had time to process all the emotions she had trapped shut at the bottom of the tartarus sized pit in her heart. The feelings she barely whispered to herself.
You know, the ones that burned through her when she and Rio lay side-by-side, not touching, but breathing the same air and she felt safe and whole. Or when she called Rio at seven in the morning and Rio, half-asleep, dodged morning rush traffic to come sit with her while she cried. It was the comfort they had built for years. It was the scraps Agatha accepted so hungrily because she knew that Rio and her would never be right. There would always be ultimatums and walk-outs and toxic make-ups. That they would drive each other off a cliff. That Rio would never date.
And now she was having to swallow a very painful pill. That Rio never wanted to date her.
Because the truth was right there, staring at her with such painful force. They never touched. Ever. No casual brushes, no hugging, no hanging off each other. Rio was basically human jelly, she leaned against everything and everyone without worry, but never Agatha. Not like Agatha sought her out anyway. They were always close, side by side, never touching. No casual friendship touches. No touches at all.
Agatha had always thought it made them special. Now, it felt like yet another way Rio was telling her where she stood in her life.
They never did the emotional stuff either. The affirmations and words of encouragement. There was a whole six months Agatha thought Rio hated her because she wouldn’t talk to her about something that was not work or her thesis. But she talked to Alice. And Lilia. And even fucking Jen. Talked to them and touched them and leaned on them. But Agatha brushed it off as a quirk of how close they were, that they didn’t need to hold each other's hands. That they knew who they were to each other and were secure in just knowing each other completely.
But the nail in the coffin, the most damning thing that came back to her in that moment and nestled in her heart, was Rio forgetting Agatha’s screening and not realizing until a whole four days later. Four days that Agatha cried and almost murdered everyone during. It didn’t matter that Rio was home during that time, dealing with her parents. It didn’t matter Rio didn’t really give an apology. She fucking forgot. Agatha had swallowed many excuses of her own making then.
But Agatha knew her place now. All the lies she told herself melted away and she felt the full brunt of her delusion, clear and simple. She knew where she belonged in Rio’s life, and it was not near the top.
“Agatha, you okay?” Alice asked from the other side of the door.
“Yeah, fine,” came Agatha’s watery reply.
“I have a shirt for you!” Alice threw a large white shirt above the bathroom stall. Agatha caught it and threw it over her damp dress.
“Thanks,” she said when she walked out, hoping Alice would ignore her red-rimmed eyes and the splotches all over her face.
But Alice wasn’t the only one out there, was she?
“Agatha, are you okay?” Rio looked at her, worry creasing her face.
“Never better,” Agatha tried to say cheerfully but it came out a lot more robotic than she hoped.
“Agatha,” Rio stopped her and tried to reach out, but pulled away before she made contact. “Did I mess up? Should I have not brought Nat?”
Yes. Get her the fuck out of here. “No, no, it’s all okay. Just been a long day,” Agatha lied through her teeth.
She was dying inside.
“Okay, good. I really like her. I want her to hang out with us more.”
She was never going to recover from this.
Agatha flashed her best attempt at smiled and turned away, washing her face in the bathroom sink and hoping a snake would crawl out of the tap and kill her. No such luck. Pity.
Alice had already returned to the table and when Agatha and Rio came back into the restaurant, everyone turned to her with sympathy.
“If one of you says you’re sorry or even utters a word about how you feel bad, I’ll leave here screaming, change my name and move to Mexico.”
Rio burst out laughing beside her. “I would pay good money to see you in Mexico.”
“¡Espero que mueras en el infierno!” Agatha said in broken Spanish, but it only made Rio laugh harder.
Agatha huffed as she sat down, rattling the silverware.
“This reminds me of the day we met,” Rio said as she dried her eyes.
“Oh, please, come on, it’s been years, just tell us!” Alice groaned.
Rio looked over at Agatha and raised her brow. Agatha felt a rush of happiness that she violently suppressed. Fuck it. Rio wasn’t hers. So why should she keep this story wrapped away then?
“Tell them,” Agatha mumbled. Rio’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. Everyone cheered.
“Seriously?” Rio leaned forward, trying to make sure she heard Agatha right.
Agatha nodded. “You can tell them.”
Rio looked very shaken, but quickly recovered, a brilliant smile taking over her face. “Uh, um, okay, so let me set the scene.” She cleared her throat dramatically, and Agatha was already regretting this. “First thing I do as a freshman is I join this ‘Women in Film’ group chat, right. I thought it would be super fun but it’s these girls just going at it, like immediately, what is your Letterboxed? Who's your favorite filmmaker? And I am freaking out because everyone has this crazy niche taste and I am from fucking Delaware so I get super intimidated and don’t really say anything. And I watch this one girl, boy, she’s going crazy, like blowing up the chat talking about a BBC television show from the nineties about Pride and Prejudice.”
“It wasn’t about Pride and Prejudice. It was Pride and Prejudice. Uncultured swine.” Agatha snarked.
“Let me guess, you were the girl?” Lilia smirked.
“She was,” Rio replied, smiling bigger. “And she really sold me on this show, even though it was like seven hours of very period-accurate television. And the next day she went off in this ninety people group chat about a different weird TV show and I was like, who is this girl? Keep in mind, we were freshmen.”
“We were literally film majors, Rio. Having an opinion on film is our entire education. It literally comes with the territory.”
Rio rolled her eyes, but there was no frustration, only fondness. “Anyway, a few days later, I saw this exhibit was going up at The Getty about life in the eighteen hundreds and for some reason I kept thinking about the girl from the group chat and I didn’t want to go alone, so I asked her to come with me.”
Rio couldn’t stop thinking about her?
“And she said yes, and I bought the tickets. And the whole morning I was shaking, like fully shaking. My freshmen-year roommates were like where are you going and when I told them, they convinced me it was a date, like I had asked her out on a date, and I was like no, it can’t be, and I started to hyperventilate.”
Wait, what? Agatha didn’t know this part.
“And we lived in the same dorms so we said we would meet right outside but I had no idea what she would look like and suddenly this beautiful girl is talking to me and I am flattered but like I need to find the girl I am going to the museum with, so I am not really engaging. Of course, it turns out to be Agatha. And she gives me so much shit for it the entire way to The Getty.”
Rio thought Agatha was beautiful? What?
“And we go to the museum, and we are talking, normal topics, but the entire time I can’t figure out if it was a date or not.”
This part tracks. Agatha couldn’t figure out if it was a date either. But she thought that was more what happens when two clearly queer women go out.
“But it’s going great, we talk for like three hours straight and then we go to a farmer’s market and go get food. And suddenly, she was like, I have to go home. And I am like, what? But she flags down a cab and we get in, food in one hand, water in the other and we are still talking and suddenly, she throws up all over the back of the taxi.”
Everyone bursts into laughter. Agatha wanted to crawl in a hole and die.
“I had a very bad stomach bug!” She whined.
“The taxi driver immediately throws us out and suddenly we are stranded on the side of the street, food in hand and Agatha is trying very hard to pretend like she didn’t just throw up.”
“I wanted to die,” Agatha moaned, putting her wine glass back down with too much force and cracking the stem.
“That’s it, we are cutting you off,” Lilia said, flagging down a waiter who shot her a very dirty look as he took away the broken glass.
“Did you not hear Rio recount the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me?” Agatha whined.
“That was the second glass you personally broke, Agatha,” Jen said from her other side. “Not to mention the thirty you accidentally broke earlier.”
Agatha muttered something along the lines of a death threat but didn’t order another drink, instead folding her hands tightly.
“How did it end?” Nat asked, leaning into Rio. Rio’s smile got bigger.
“She walked me to the dorm, I puked my guts out for a week, and we have been friends since.” Agatha finished, ready for this to be done.
“Well, I think it was a very fun story, Agatha,” Nat chimed in kindly. Agatha wanted to carve her eyes out with a spoon.
“Yes, much more interesting than a coffee shop.” Agatha said, malice intended.
“Agatha, I can’t believe you threw--” Before Jen could finish her thought, Agatha picked up her steak knife and stabbed it really close to her hand.
“Never mention it again,” Agatha said simply.
“You non-stop sociopath!” Jen yelled.
The night ended very quickly after that. Agatha, the only one without a car, stood outside waiting for her Uber as the rest of them filtered out into their cars. She would have asked Rio to drive her home, but after everything that happened today, she assumed she was going home with Nat.
“Need a ride?” Rio said, leaning on the wall next to her.
Agatha jumped a little. “I thought you would have taken Nat home.”
“Nah, she drove here and wanted to drive back.”
“Oh.” Agatha looked up at Rio. Her hair looked like it had been pushed back again and again. Agatha wondered what it would feel like to run her hands through that hair.
“Sure,” she choked out, when all she wanted to say was sure, take me home to my sad studio apartment where I will spend the night dreaming of you.
Rio smiled and took her keys off the carabiner that hung from one of her front belt loops. Her car was not far at all, but Agatha felt like it was an eternity. She wanted to memorize every movement, how Rio’s hair swayed at the ends when she walked, how she had folded her formal blazer up to her elbows, which would seem annoying and stupid on most people but it revealed her toned forearms and Agatha was surprised how that could make her weak in the knees.
She hated how Rio would smile at her and she would melt. She hated how she wanted to be here, in this moment, forever. She hated how Rio didn’t love her. She hated that she cared.
Rio opened the door for her, without asking. Agatha wanted to cry.
Rio played her favorite music, popping open her favorite playlist without even hesitating. Agatha needed her to fucking stop.
“Oh, I didn’t say it,” Rio said as Agatha put on her seatbelt. “Congratulations on your promotion to editor! You finally did it!”
Agatha smiled. “Thank you.”
“Can’t believe you let me tell them the story,” Rio smirked.
Agatha shrugged. “It was time.”
“Didn’t think you would ever say that,” Rio said, tapping her fingers on the wheel as they waited for the light to turn red. Agatha lived close by, thankfully.
“People change.” Agatha offered. Because that is all she could give. Only three more streets.
“Yeah, people do. Thank god, we never dated,” Rio said casually.
Agatha almost died.
“What do you mean?” She whispered.
“I mean, I was so close to asking you out that day. But I am glad we are friends. We would have killed each other if we got together. Here we are,” Rio said as they pulled up to Agatha’s apartment building.
Agatha felt her heart breaking. It felt like it was suddenly a sieve and everything, all the pain and longing and sadness of the years that Agatha had hoped and wished and prayed for Rio, just burst through. She tried laughing but it came out closer to a mangled sob. She tore the seatbelt off, and climbed out. Just before she closed the door, she leaned in, possibly making the worst mistake of her life.
But she didn’t care. She had to say something.
“Rio,” she said softly. Rio looked up, smiling fading once she noticed Agatha’s expression.
“I would have loved to be yours.”