#(also real talk i am a little emotional about finally writing after so long - mistynat becoming a top tier otp for prompting this rebirth

[wistfulwatcher]

nothing's gonna harm you; misty/nat, 32k, explicit

Nat is waiting for Misty when she comes home, with news of another break-in. Misty makes sure to look shocked and confused when she says, “Oh, no!” and closes the front door behind her. “That’s awful.” Then, smiling wide, she holds up a bag of take-out. “Hungry? You can tell me what you found over dinner.”

or, Misty stages a series of burglaries to get Nat's attention, and it absolutely works. Eventually.

Read on AO3, or find the beginning of the fic below the cut.

Misty isn’t lying that first time.

Well, she maybe exaggerates the situation, sure. But she isn’t lying. Someone was in her house. She was sure of it.

Misty has always been observant, and her vigilance has only increased since they returned from the wilderness. She isn’t forgetful; someone was in her home, and someone was looking for something. And after, they had left a closet door open.

So Misty had done the most logical thing she could do, knowing the crime statistics she did: she put Caligula in a travel cage, she walked right back out of her house to her car, got in, and locked the doors.

And then she called Natalie.

“What?” Nat answers, a little too flat to be an actual question. Misty is used to the irritation in her voice. For a moment she considers reminding Nat of their new relationship—she had come to Misty to get rid of a body just a few days ago, and now they were closer than ever, remember?

But Natalie must be realizing the same thing, because her voice softens to that resigned, bone-tired tone instead. “Hi, Misty.”

Despite the situation, Misty smiles at the way Nat says her name. “Well, I just—” she remembers herself, and pushes her glasses back up. “I don’t want to alarm you, Nat, but someone just ransacked my house.”

“What?” Misty has her attention now. “Who? Why?” Nat doesn’t ask if Misty’s alright, but Misty forgives her—it’s a lot to take in.

“I don’t know. Maybe Adam was working with someone.” Caligula squawks, and Misty holds a finger to her lips until he settles down. “I’m in my car right now. I don’t know if they’re still here.”

“Shit.” Nat sighs hard into the phone, and Misty can almost pretend she feels her breath from the way the line crackles. “Stay in the car. I’m on my way.”

Nat hangs up before Misty can respond. Instead, she beams at Caligula and tells him, “We’ll be alright, sweet boy. Natalie is coming to protect us.”

***

Not While I’m Around is playing for the tenth time when Nat parks behind Misty’s car. Nat’s new vehicle is a far cry from her Porsche: a plain-looking sedan that must be ten years old, and squeaks when she parks it. Misty watches Nat get out in the rear-view window, and imagines that it was probably the fastest thing she could get on her limited funds; Misty knows Nat well enough to have a hard time imagining her without the freedom to leave at any minute.

Nat gets out of the car, and Misty rolls down her window as she walks up. “See anything while you’ve been out here?” she asks, and gestures toward Misty’s house.

From the moonlight and the streetlamps, Misty can see Nat’s rifle on her shoulder, and a few bullets peeking out of the pocket of her denim shorts. Her hair is loose and limp in places but kinked in others, and Misty wonders if she’d been lying in bed when Misty called. Nat leans forward and grabs the window frame. Misty can smell a faint trace of whiskey on her breath, and her hair smells smokey from her cigarettes.

Misty swallows, in awe of the woman in front of her. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get over the raw power Natalie exudes when she’s like this, or how confusing it feels—in moments like these Misty isn’t sure if she wants to be Nat, or be her best friend, or something...else. Something deeper. Something so powerful, it’s frightening.

“N—no, nothing,” she finally remembers herself, and answers Nat.

Sliding the rifle from her shoulder, Natalie checks the gun and loads it, the cracking noise echoing down Misty’s suburban street. “Good. Stay here.”

And she’s off, moving quickly up the stairs to Misty’s door, the heels of her boots clacking loudly up each step.

Misty only hesitates a moment before she whispers to Caligula, “Mommy will be right back,” and gets out of her car. She follows Natalie’s path, and steps across the threshold of her front door.

Suddenly Natalie is pointing the rifle at her face, and Misty’s eyes go wide. “Jesus Christ, Misty!” Nat snaps, lowering the gun and turning back to face the rest of the room. “I told you to wait outside.”

“I didn’t want you to do this alone,” Misty answers, and starts to follow Natalie through the house.

Nat doesn’t respond, just raises the rifle up as she makes her way through Misty’s home. She moves through the space quickly but thoroughly, opening doors and pointing her rifle inside each one. Misty whispers over her shoulder each time, identifying whether each is a room or a closet, and how likely it is someone could be hiding in there.

Natalie doesn’t acknowledge Misty’s words, but she rarely does. Instead, Nat completes the loop around Misty’s home until they wind up in front of the heavy basement door. This time Nat does look over her shoulder, and Misty reaches out to test the basement door. It hasn’t been locked since Jessica left, and it pops open when Misty turns the knob.

The lights are off, and Natalie squints as she peeks through the crack that has been opened. After a moment, her rifle flags a little and she gives Misty a suspicious look. “The fuck is down there?”

“A basement?” she whisper-snorts, because it’s pretty obvious. But Nat’s still looking at her, so she gives a little shrug and reaches across Natalie to the light switch just inside the door. She jerks her hand back as Natalie starts to move into the basement, rifle in front of her as she scans ahead.

There’s nothing down there, and the room is as neat and fresh as she’d left it a few days ago. All signs of Jessica have been destroyed, of course, and the space looks like a normal guest or panic room again.

“What’s all this for?” Nat asks at her normal volume, gun pointed down at the ground as she looks around. She walks over toward the bed, and for a moment Misty’s eyes widen, wondering if Nat will see the handcuffs tucked discretely between the mattress.

Misty’s heart beats faster as she wonders what Nat will think of her if she does; she’d assume that it’s something sexual, right? A thrill rushes up Misty’s spine as she considers what Natalie would think of that. Would she finally see Misty as fun? Would she finally see Misty as someone as flirtatious and sexual as herself? Someone worthy of thinking of like that?

But Nat’s eyes pass smoothly over the bed and back around the rest of the space. Misty feels relief and disappointment in turn, and shrugs innocently when Nat looks at her again.

“My basement guest-slash-panic room. You never know when a maniac will break into your house after all,” she gestures upstairs.

Nat snorts and puts the safety on the rifle before tossing it onto the bed. “What maniac?” She slides her free hands to her lower back and presses her hips out. Her eyes are dark, both from her usual kohl and the intensity with which she looks at Misty. “You said this place was ransacked, and I didn’t see a fucking thing out of place.”

Misty straightens, and pushes her glasses up. “I—I cleaned up a little before I thought to call you,” she scoffs to cover up the lie. Habit,” she shrugs one shoulder, and slides her hands into the pockets of her sweater.

Nat stares straight at Misty before she relaxes her shoulders and lets out a groan, and pulls her hair back away from her face. Misty has always been good at reading Nat—it’s part of why she’s Misty’s favorite, she never hides her irritation—but not in this moment. Nat seems frustrated, but not in the way she usually is with Misty, in the shallow way that Misty is happy to ignore until Nat nears her breaking point.

This time, Nat seems almost sad in her frustration. Disappointed, maybe?

“Fine,” she finally says, voice soft, and slings the rifle over her shoulder. “Show me what it looked like before I got here.”

Misty quirks her head to the side, reading Nat a moment, before she smiles at her and agrees, leading her back up the stairs. Once back up, Misty points out spots in her living room, kitchen, and hallway, where her books and drawers had been rummaged through and knocked over.

And the closet, which had actually been opened, though Misty makes sure not to make that distinction when she points it out.

“And what’s in here?” Nat asks, popping the door open all the way to reveal cleaning supplies and household tools that Misty rarely uses.

Misty shrugs, and looks up at Natalie with her widest eyes. “Nothing of value, surely. I have no idea what they would have been looking for in here, but I doubt they found it. All of my most valuable things are in a safe, and that was untouched.” Nat’s focus drifts from Misty’s face, so she rushes to add in her weakest voice, “That’s why I’m so scared. I have no idea what this could be about. I must have scared them off when I got home.”

As she hoped, Nat focuses back on Misty then, at the worry Misty makes sure is clear on her face. For a moment, Misty wonders if Nat might give her a hug and try to comfort her.

Instead, Nat stands up straighter, and clenches her jaw. “Well, then we need to be prepared for if they come back. If someone was working with Adam, then they probably know about...all of it,” she lowers her voice as she refers to the wilderness. She looks thoughtful, and leans up against the wall. “We might be able to get some answers about the blackmail.”

“Of course,” Misty wants to sigh, knowing by “blackmail” Nat means Travis’s murder, but instead she says it with sunshine and a smile. It would be nice if Natalie was primarily concerned about Misty’s well-being, but she can work with this, too. “We should set up a trap.” She feels a bolt of inspiration, and rushes to add, “And you could stay the night, so if they come back you can interrogate them right away.”

Nat gives her an incredulous look. “I’m not sleeping in your panic room.”

“Oh! My bed is plenty big, we can share. Like a good old-fashioned sleepover.”

Ignoring Misty as usual, Nat pushes off of the wall and walks over to the living room. She nudges the sofa with her knee. “This is fine.” She pulls the afghan Misty made last fall from the back of the couch, and sneers at the many throw pillows crowding the piece of furniture. “What kind of trap?”

Misty bounces a bit in excitement. “Let me grab Caligula, and then I can put a pot of coffee on and we can start brainstorming.” She lifts her shoulders and clasps her hands. “This’ll be fun!”

Read the rest!