#please note that i am making a thinly veiled reference to yellowjackets any time i make a reference to high school soccer

[goddesspharo]

Seems ill-advised, tbqh.

"You don't want to hear the kinds of questions I've got."

#hannix

[Send me the first sentence and a pairing and I'll write the next five.]

"You don't want to hear the kinds of questions I've got."

Natasha rolls her eyes and warns Jake not to make her regret bringing him home for Thanksgiving. She's still not sure that they're quite there yet, but it's not like she can uninvite him now. He had looked so pathetic last week when he told her that "The Seresin Family Hang-sgiving" was canceled this year because his parents needed to use up the tickets to Venice his sister had gifted them two anniversaries ago before December so he was probably going to stick around North Island and hang out at The Hard Deck with all the other lushes who had nowhere else to go. Natasha had been perfectly content to ignore how mopey he looked – after all, wasn't celebrating Thanksgiving akin to getting waterboarded for a dude who tried to stay away from carbs? – but then Bob flashed her a pointed glare like she owed Hangman something just because he'd dragged her to his family's ranch in Austin for The Fourth.

She didn't, of course, because Jake was so Rah Rah Rah about Texas that it wouldn't take much to get an invite to his hometown so he could wax poetic about Longhorns football and fried okra until the cows came home for tipping. But there was the small matter of Jake getting on top of a coffee table before the Summer Seresin Scavenger Hunt began and declaring to his entire extended family that he was "boo'd up" as if the thing that their relationship was missing up until that point was a heavy dose of mortification. Nat still hasn't forgiven Payback for expanding Hangman's musical horizons even though he's probably right that it's better than Jake donning a cowboy hat so he could make a Patsy Cline reference instead. For that alone, Natasha should've let him flounder in California while everyone else went back home, but rather than disappoint Bob and have to hear about it for the next half dozen training sessions, Natasha went against her self-preservation instincts and invited Jake to have turkey with her family in the suburbs of New Jersey.

She knew it was a bad idea the moment she asked and has only doubled down on that impression now when encountering the wild gleam in Jake's eyes as he looks around her childhood bedroom. Natasha's never been happier than at this moment that she took down the extremely embarrassing boy band posters from her walls the first time she came home from college. All that's left now is a cherry-picked altar of her accomplishments. There are honors society certificates on her walls and her diploma from Stanford, medals from swim meets and a gleaming golden soccer ball perched on top of the MVP trophy she got when their team won nationals after the favorites got disqualified on a technicality. Jake takes in the framed pictures spanning Natasha's life and photobooth strips with her friends taken at a mall kiosk when they cut class to go see Step Up. He looks mesmerized as he practically bounces on the balls of his feet while soaking up all these snippets of who she was before he met her.

The quiet gets to be too much so Nat finally relents and says, "You get one question."

Jake looks like Kevin McCallister let loose at Duncan's Toy Chest, unsure of what to do with all this newfound freedom as his eyes trail along from wall to wall before stopping at the picture of Natasha with her date at prom.

"Where's all your debate team stuff?" he finally asks.

Natasha grins. Sucker.

"I wasn't on the debate team."

"Wait a minute. You made it seem—"

"I'm just naturally gifted at arguing with you."

"Flag on play, Trace! I should get another question."

"Should've gone with a sure thing," she says with an unapologetic shrug. "I really thought you'd ask if I still had the outfit from my very brief stint as a cheerleader."

She can feel him grinning when Jake leans in, his breath hot against her ear as he asks with all the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning, "Well, do you?"

Natasha makes a mental note to kill Bob when they get home.