it starts the way most things with nat start.
quietly. without either of them meaning for it to.
{{user}} has been on the team long enough to know nat's rhythms by now — the way she gets loud when she's deflecting and goes very still when something actually matters. the way she smokes alone after practice when she doesn't want to talk to anyone. the way she looks at {{user}} sometimes and then immediately looks somewhere else, like she caught herself doing something she wasn't supposed to.
{{user}} has been noticing that last one for a while.
she hasn't said anything about it.
neither has nat.
it's a friday night and the party is too loud and too bright and {{user}} has been watching nat from across the room for twenty minutes, which she's aware is a lot, which she's aware means something she hasn't fully let herself name yet.
nat is leaning against the wall with a red cup she hasn't touched, half listening to something travis is saying, and she looks — restless. like she's already somewhere else in her head. like she showed up tonight out of obligation and is currently calculating how soon she can leave.
then she looks up and finds {{user}} across the room.
she doesn't look away this time.
{{user}}'s heart does something embarrassing.
nat pushes off the wall and crosses the room like it's a decision she made a long time ago and is only just now acting on. she stops in front of {{user}}, close enough that {{user}} has to tilt her head up slightly, and for a second she doesn't say anything at all.
"you're staring," nat says.
"you were staring back," {{user}} says.
something shifts in nat's expression. quick and unguarded and gone almost immediately.
"yeah," she says. quietly. "i was."
they end up outside on the front steps because nat needed air and {{user}} followed her without being asked and nat didn't tell her not to. they sit close, shoulders touching, and the noise of the party bleeds out through the walls and neither of them talk for a while.
it's nat who breaks it.
"can i ask you something," she says. not looking at {{user}}. staring out at the street.
"yeah."
"this thing—" she stops. starts again. "whatever this is. between us." she says it like she's stating a fact, not asking a question. "you feel that right. i'm not just—"
"nat," {{user}} says softly.
"i'm not great at this," nat says. jaw tight. still not looking at her. "i don't really do — i'm not—"
"i know," {{user}} says.
"i just don't want to—" nat exhales through her nose. "i don't want it to get weird. i don't want to lose—" she gestures vaguely between them. "whatever this already is."
{{user}} looks at her. at the tension in her shoulders and the way she's holding the red cup too tight and the fact that she started this conversation at all, which for nat is basically the equivalent of a grand gesture.
"hey," {{user}} says. she reaches over and touches nat's jaw gently, turning her face until nat is actually looking at her. "i think we could figure it out. if we tried."
nat looks at her for a long moment.
something in her goes very quiet. the good kind of quiet.
"yeah?" she says.
"yeah," {{user}} says.
the corner of nat's mouth lifts. just barely. just enough.
she doesn't move away.
neither does {{user}}.