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seven.
WINE NOT?
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DESPITE THE QUIPS that Nathan and Tate have fired back and forth and the rivalry that now exists between them for Sully's most trusted partner, it is clear to both that they have more allegiance to each other than anyone else. He's the only person Tate had known before this journey began. While she's not exactly sure what had enticed him to find Magellan's gold aside from being "into" him, she's certain it's not for nefarious reasons.

The other two people in the flat? Tate will hold them at arm's length.

The six-hour time difference between New York and Barcelona should make Tate's system sluggish and slow. She should be yearning to sink into the plush sofa and crash for the rest of the day before the next part of their adventure begins. Unfortunately, she has never been someone who can relax, especially in a new environment. Every fiber of her being itches to explore.

Finally, she can't hold it inside anymore. Tate jumps from the sofa and announces, "I'm going sightseeing."

Sully glances up from his phone in bewilderment. "My God, do you ever just, like, chill out? For one second?"

"No," she replies flatly.

"I'll go with her," Nathan offers.

Unlike Sully, he doesn't sound surprised. It's understandable why he's not. Even at the bar, Tate would always be doing something. If Ronan wasn't there to distract her, she would talk to Nathan, read a book, or solve a puzzle. She would ask him about history facts and they would get so immersed in their conversation that he would forget to do his job. Somehow, though, they had never landed on the topic of Magellan. Tate is sure she would've remembered how knowledgeable he is on the subject.

She has never been to Barcelona, and she'll be damned if she spends their free day holed up in the flat.

The streets are even more bustling than they were this morning. Now, as it nears the end of the workday, they're even more packed. It makes it even harder for her and Nate to stick together. They almost lose each other in the crowd multiple times, causing Tate to stand on her tip-toes to pick him out among the faces. She's used to easily locating Ronan. Nathan blends in too much.

"Haven't you heard of the buddy system?" he asks, slightly breathless after running to catch up with her.

They're in a touristy shopping area where each storefront displays neon t-shirts with catchy slogans and shot glasses with lewd figures on them. Merchants heckle visitors from all sides, insisting that their prices are the best and you won't find anything like this in all of Spain. Never mind that each of these shops has almost the same items.

"It's not my fault you can't keep up with me," Tate replies coolly, tilting her head to the side as she regards the shirt in front of her. "What do you think? Should we get these for the group?"

She holds it up to her body, delighting in the way Nathan does a double take when he realizes that the shirt says "Bitch 1" in the style of Dr. Seuss. His eyes slide to the rest of the display. Others read "Bitch 2", "Bitch 3", and "Bitch 4", respectively.

"I dunno." Nathan folds his arms across his chest. "I'm not sure red is Sully's color. Also, I'm definitely Bitch 1."

"Aw, Bubble Yum," Tate pretends to coo, patting his cheek, "it's cute when you're wrong."

They don't buy the t-shirts in the end, though the idea of them hunting for lost treasure in matching outfits does amuse her. The ketchup-red fabric would only make them more noticeable. When it comes to sneaking around a centuries-old church, one wants to be discreet, not a walking stop sign.

The tourist trap is filled with knickknacks of every kind—from apparel to beach towels, oven mitts to calendars with half-naked Spanish women. Nathan's ears and cheeks turn crimson when they stumble across three shelves crammed with tobacco pipes. They are carved with three-dimensional figures performing sexual acts.

"I don't know how this one is even possible," Tate says, motioning to one where the woman appears almost bent backward in half.

"I think it's like... here." Nathan points to a spot on the male figure.

"Oh." Tate frowns—that doesn't look like it would be comfortable or pleasurable. "Hey, look! That one has three figures!"

Nathan takes a picture of her posing in a "Te amo España" hat. She captures a candid of him staring quizzically at a selection of off-brand children's plushies, modeled to look slightly like their original versions but just off enough to look terrifying.

They take a selfie with raunchy towels wrapped around their bodies. Tate balances her phone on a shelf to get the full lengths of them, posing with her hands on her hips to show off the headless figure on her towel, which has enormous breasts practically falling out of a too-small top, a nonexistent waist, and sultry hips. She couldn't find any options with dark skin, so the pale color contrasts her pigment. Nathan's features a man's body more muscled than Wolverine. He pretends to flex his biceps, causing the two of them to look ridiculous.

They send the picture to Sully, of course.

TATE: Missing out

SULLY: Doesn't look like I'm missing anything important.

NATHAN: You're no fun.

This new group chat is going to be ninety percent Nathan and Tate bothering Sully, but that's the fun of it.

They watch a mother quickly place her hand over her daughter's eyes and steer the kid away from a display of condoms containing obscene catchphrases. Tate snickers at the puns.

"You have the sense of humor of a child," Nathan tells her. "Hang on, is this one glow-in-the-dark?"

Tate scrutinizes the men's section with great attention to detail. Every time they travel, she and Ronan buy each other the most ridiculous shirts they can find. Right now, she's deciding between one with a goose wearing a sombrero that says "Me goose-ta" and one that says "I speak English but I love in Spanish."

After a few moments of inspection, she picks the one with the sexual innuendo and heads to the checkout counter. She's surprised to find Nathan thanking the clerk and grabbing his bag of merchandise.

"What did you buy?" she asks.

"You'll see," he replies, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

Tate sighs and steps forward to buy Ronan's souvenir.

Nathan still refuses to show her what he bought after they leave. It bothers her the entire route they take away from the tourist traps. She glances at the bag in his hand every few seconds, wondering if she could distract him and snatch it out of his hand, but she knows it would be futile.

They order street food and settle on the side of a fountain for a break, splitting their containers of sandwiches, croquetas, and empanadas—they couldn't decide what to get, so they'd just settled on three different dishes—and sit in comfortable silence. Tate watches the birds peck at the ground and the wind whistle through the trees, blowing their branches to create the gentle sounds of rustling leaves among the chaos of the city.

"What do you think about Chloe?" Nathan asks. There's a bite of empanada still in his mouth, causing his cheek to bulge out like a chipmunk.

"I think she's badass," Tate replies.

"Well, I wouldn't trust her, though."

"Oh, no. I don't. To be honest... the only person I really trust here is you."

She glances sideways and catches his eye. He looks a bit surprised, which surprises her in turn. Maybe he thought that all of her quips and jabs meant that she was closing herself off to him. But that's just how she is with everyone, and even though Nathan can drive her nuts sometimes with his questionable decisions, she's still glad to have him here.

Nathan swallows. The waning sunlight shining through the plaza makes his irises look like pools of liquid amber. She remembers admiring them in the golden light of his apartment, back when she realized how close they were standing. They're almost as close now, though the boxes of food rest between them, creating some space. Tate finds herself wishing that their legs were touching.

"Yeah," he says. "I trust you, too."

She grins, satisfied. She's glad that they can have moments like this even though they pester each other. Also back in Nathan's tiny quarters, she'd seen sides of him she never had before. They'd each let their walls down in the confines of his room.

"All right, you've waited long enough," Nathan sighs, dusting the crumbs off his hands. "I'm actually surprised you've been so patient."

"I've been considering pushing you into the fountain and just grabbing the bag," she confesses. "But then the food would fall in, and I'm not wasting that."

"I'm glad you're so considerate," he replies sarcastically. The bag rustles as he reaches inside. Is she imagining things, or is he trying to fight a grin off his face, like he can't withhold his own amusement?

Tate blinks when he holds out a fuzzy green frog. At first she thinks it's just a stuffed animal, but then she realizes that it has straps, and a long piece of rope attached to it, and...

It's a child leash.

She narrows her eyes at him. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"It's for you," he says as if it weren't already obvious, shoving it into her lap. "Since you can't seem to stop running away. Now I can keep you within my sight at all times."

He'd joked about her needing one earlier, but she hadn't expected him to actually buy it.

"I take it back," Tate says. "I don't trust you."

Her cheeks are hot, the joke stinging deeper than it normally would. For some reason, for an insane second, she'd wondered if he had bought those glow-in-the-dark condoms. Which had led to another wormhole of thoughts that had opened before she could stop it, producing flashes of images in her mind.

She feels, strangely, like she's been caught. To dissipate the heat in her face and the memory of those unsolicited thoughts, she takes a bite of her sandwich and averts her gaze, training it on a boutique across the square.

Distracting. That's what she had called romance before. Those butterflies and daydreams might cost her her life when she has a cutthroat bitch for a sister—one who, if she finds out Tate is alive before they plan to reveal it, would most certainly send a group of assassins to kill her and make sure she stays dead. She's pushed those butterflies aside all her life, and she does so again now, trapping those promiscuous what-ifs behind a door in her brain and locking it.

This may have been a mistake. Because the biggest distraction of all is sitting right next to her.

After their return from sightseeing and shopping, it's obvious that Nathan and Tate have formed a team. Sully observes their animated conversation as they walk through the door with an amused expression. If Chloe feels left out by their new arsenal of inside jokes, she doesn't let on.

It's almost dark now, and they have a lot of work to do tomorrow, so Tate dresses for bed and heads to the kitchen to make a mug of tea. Before she can get very far, though, Sully stops her with a quizzical exclamation of, "What the hell are you wearing?"

Tate looks down at her shirt. Honestly, she hadn't thought twice before throwing it on, but now she realizes that the bold words "I have the pussy so I make the rules" might seem odd to some.

"It's my sleep shirt," she says.

Chloe, who has been working furiously on a laptop since they'd come back, looks up. Once she notices what Sully's talking about, she nods. "I agree with that statement."

Ronan had been on a trip to Italy when he'd bought the shirt at a tourist shop much like the one they'd stopped in today. When she'd burst out laughing upon opening the gift, he'd said, "I thought it was perfect for you," and it was. Now the cotton material, though still oversized so it falls over her thighs, has since shrunk from being washed so many times, the fabric soft and well-loved.

"If you wanted a t-shirt with your own slogan on it, you should have just asked, Sully," Tate teases him, grinning as his face turns indignant.

"I don't — That's not what I —" After stammering for a few seconds, his words jumbled on his tongue, he heaves a resigned sigh that she's heard many times already. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Chloe finally sets her laptop aside and grabs the Captain's journal, leafing through the pages as she nestles into a cross-legged position on the old fainting sofa. When she produces the second cross, the gold shining on what little flickers of light still shine through the curtains, Tate decides to abandon her journey toward the kitchen. She plops onto the sofa beside Sully, watching Chloe turn the cross over in her hands.

Her own cross is safely tucked inside of her luggage—she'd made sure to double-check as soon as she'd gotten back. She studies the gleaming jewels on each end. They appear black instead of the blood-red ones in their key. What do the different colors mean?

"I found my cross in a crypt in Genoa," Chloe informs them, "but I didn't know it was a key to a much bigger fortune. Sully knew."

The man gives her a closed-lipped, pleased grin. It makes Tate roll her eyes.

"Doesn't say what happens after we turn the keys," Chloe continues. Her finger runs over the page as she reads, "'Trust in your fellow man, for one will go to heaven and the other to hell.'"

"Well, it's ironic, seeing as the only point in having two keys was that the eighteen didn't trust each other," Nathan says, handing each of them a glass of wine. Of course he'd pilfered the bar area for alcohol. It doesn't surprise Tate in the least as she accepts her glass, examining the maroon liquid inside. When she lifts it to her nose, she's greeted by a bitter scent.

If different types of wine have unique scents and tastes, Tate has never been able to tell. She does not have a refined palette. Though she's sure Nathan could explain what makes a certain bottle more expensive than others, she probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the cheap stuff and a multi-thousand-dollar one.

"Well, good thing they didn't, or we wouldn't be here, right?" Sully asks, providing a rare glimpse of optimism. He raises his glass in a toast. "Like one, big, happy, family. Toast?"

He, Chloe, and Tate join Nathan in standing. They each lift their glasses into the air. Sully says, "Arriba, abajo, al centro y pa' dentro."

He and Chloe move their hands in time with each word. Tate copies their directions, forming a cross. Nathan looks more confused as he does the same, though he moves his arm in an arc in the last motion instead.

Tate shakes her head and takes a sip. The bitter taste of mulled grapes fills her mouth, making her cringe. She's never really been a red wine person, preferring to opt for white on the rare occasions where she drinks wine. She lifts her brow in amusement when Nate chugs his instead, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp he swallows.

"Hey, kid, slow down," Sully tells him. "It's a vintage rioja, all right? You might want to just taste it, savor it." He cuts himself off when Nate finishes the last drop, inclining his head. "Or chug it down like you're on spring break. All good."

The wine makes Tate sleepy and sluggish. It's a welcome sensation compared to how hard-wired she's been for the past few weeks, her blood seeming to move more slowly through her veins, heating her skin. She's tempted to pour herself a little more, but she can't afford to get drunk the night before they tour the church. It's not the kind of situation to be hungover in.

One, big, happy family. Sully's words had been sarcastic, and Tate can't blame him. How are they supposed to complete their mission if they don't trust each other? Chloe stole from them the first chance she got. Tate is still bitter over Sully lying about his reason for recruiting her. He'd wanted one Braddock sister on his side to prove they weren't working together. If he had done his proper research, he would have realized that Tate and Jo have never been a team.

The phantom pain in her abdomen flares up again. She shifts, rubbing at the scar on her midsection, wondering if her thirst for vengeance will stop once she thwarts Jo, or if it will remain a piece of her just like this scar. Ugly and permanent.

________

a/n:

for some reason this chapter was SO difficult for me to start, so i eventually just had to bite the bullet and write. i struggle a lot with flirting and stuff, so i was scared to write this and to miss the mark of what i envisioned. but i'm pretty satisfied with it, so yay!

tate's shirt is real, by the way. i saw it at one of those very same tourist shops while abroad and knew it was perfect for her. imagining an enormously muscled man purchasing that shirt is so funny too LMFAO

everything that tate and nathan saw in the shops are things i have seen with my own eyes. i am scarred for life by those tobacco pipes.

i hope you enjoyed the chapter!! now we're getting into the fun action parts which means i'll be able to write faster!

— kristyn

( word count: 3.0k )