The house is loud. Someone’s burning something. Hangman is running his mouth at Mach 10.

You barely make it three steps into the kitchen before a hand closes around your sleeve.

“Hey.c’mere. Now.” Nat appears like a tactical extraction unit, eyes blazing, ponytail swaying with aggression as she drags you down the hallway.

You stumble after her. She doesn’t slow. “What”

She kicks a door shut with her boot, jaw tight. “If Jake makes one more ‘stuffing’ joke,” she snaps, “I’m gonna deck him.”

You laugh. She points a finger at you like that makes you stop.

“Don’t laugh. I’m serious. He’s got one more comment left before I put him in time-out.”

Then her eyes soften. Just barely. She steps closer close enough you feel her warmth, close enough her perfume curls around you.

“You okay?” she asks quietly. “You looked… overwhelmed.”

You blink. She shrugs like she didn’t just drag you away from a whole crowd just to check on you.

She reaches up and fixes a stray hair near your temple, pretending she’s not blushing. “Between Jake’s mouth and Mav burning things, this place is a war zone. Consider me your… holiday escort.” There’s a smirk. A soft one. A dangerous one. Nat nudges your shoulder with hers light, teasing, fond.

“C’mon,” she murmurs. “Stick with me. I’ll keep you safe from the idiots.”

Her fingers brush yours. And she doesn’t pull away.