Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Seriously.”

Kate stomps her foot for good effect. Hoping it conveys every inch of annoyance and frustration that is currently funnelling through her veins. She hopes she doesn’t look like one of those hardcore bodybuilder types with veins popping out so hard they could be busted with just a touch—anywho, she’s annoyed.

Annoyed isn’t the right word.

(A brief scan of an online thesaurus, ten minutes later, the train across town would reveal words such as miffed and irked—bothered seemed too basic for what Kate had been feeling.)

Mystified is, perhaps, the right word.

“You teamed up before me?” Kate yells, her phone on speakerphone, currently sitting on the workbench as she loads her trick arrows into her quiver. She leaves the explosive one behind and takes an extra putty arrow because somebody insisted she had to go quietly on this ridiculous rescue mission.

Kate Bishop is quiet. She is silence. Super sneaky. The sneakiest.

There’s a muffled voice coming from her phone, but Kate shakes her head, slamming her hand down on the work bench and pointing at the phone as if it’s a real person.

“You teamed up. In New York, I might add,” Kate bristles, shaking her head. “Without even a text? Or a casual break-and-enter? Only to call me now? When I’m a get out of jail free card for you and your new not-Avenger friends!”

“Ooh,” a female voice teases. “Trouble in paradise, Yelena?”

And she’s British? Kate rolls her eyes, snapping on her tac belt. Does Yelena even like her? How well does she know Yelena? Does she spend unannounced movie nights with Yelena, too? Is she hot? Does she think Yelena’s hot? Does her apartment get casually broken into on a semi-regular basis?

“Who’s that?” Kate asks, her focus narrowed on her phone as she props her hands on her hips.

Seriously, why does Yelena get an international team of Avengers, and she hasn’t even met Thor yet? It’s been an agonizing year since Kamala so rudely broke into her apartment, and there hasn’t even been a single team meeting (she really needs to rethink her home security—anyway). Or that met that neutrally hot underwater fish-God-villain that Shuri told her about over holocoms. She’s going to call Commander Hill first thing tomorrow morning and lodge a formal complaint.

“Oh my God, Yelena,” a man gushes, his accent thick and Russian—like Yelena’s. “Is this the Kate Bishop?”

“Bloody Hell!” The British lady cuts in. “We are so not the Avengers.”

The British lady spits out Avengers like Kate spits out mushrooms when she finds them on her pizza. Yelena only made that mistake once—divvying up the pizza she’d brought (half Greek, half Supreme) with an expensive bottle of wine that Kate Googled while Yelena was in the washroom during another of Yelena’s unannounced break and enters. She got a little light-headed at the number of zeros, and then she got caught up in Yelena’s a contract killer for hire, and this was bought with blood money, and oh my God, she’s so hot with her new haircut slicked back like that…what kind of hair gel does she use? Kate remembered to shut her mouth (which had been hanging open and dry) and quickly poured herself a glass of wine.

“Hey,” Alexei shouts. “We are so The Avengers! I am on cereal boxes at every major grocer on the eastern seaboard except New Jersey, but that is a small issue with dumb board-

“Dad, please,” Yelena groans, disdainfully emphatic.

“We’re like badass Avengers,” a man says, pulling her back to the present. He sounds really proud of himself, too. “A better version. Less theatrical and more human, you know?”

“Can we please focus?” Another man asks, he sounds American, like the guy before him, but definitely more mature. “Kate Bishop?”

“Uh, yes. That’s me,” Kate points to herself. Lucky makes an odd noise that sounds suspiciously like a sigh—his head tilted in judgment from where he sits next to her. Kate rolls her eyes and sets her hands on her hips again.

“Can you please come save us? We’re at an underground facility below a fake nail shop. Track this ping. There’s an Alexei-sized hole in the back. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Hey! I am the Red Guardian!”

“Ha ha! Alexei-sized hole, Bucky’s got jokes!”

Her jaw drops amongst all the chatter on the line—did he just say Bucky?

As in the Bucky Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier? Yelena’s teaming up with the Winter Soldier?! Without her?!

“The Red Guardian!”

You mean Yelena came back to New York for the first time in thirty-seven days, nine hours and thirty-three minutes, not that Kate is counting…

“Says the wannabe, Captain America!”

“I WAS CHOSEN!”

“Sure, Blondie,” the British woman scoffs. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

“You fu—

“Kate Bishop,” Yelena says. Says her name like she’s annoyed to say it, but also trying to mask it with some suave attempt to gloss all over all of this. “This was a…what do you call…a pocket in butt dial?”

“You mean a butt dial?” the guy henceforth known as Blondie says.

“A pocket dial,” the British lady says.

She’s trying to call this a pocket dial?!

“But,” Yelena cuts in with a growl, cutting off her companions. “I am in a bit of a pickle. A tiny pickle, really, but I have not seen Lucky in ages and—

“The rambling, Yelena,” Alexei cuts in, a disapproving click of his tongue. “She does not get her flirting from me, friends, the apple falls very far from the tree.”

“Sick burn, Alexei,” Blondie whistles.

Kate rolls her eyes, slinging her quiver over her shoulders and unclipping her tactical belt from the caging and securing it around her waist. Yelena grumbles something unintelligible, mostly in Russian, and Kate won’t lie—she isn’t learning Russian as fast as she would like. 

“…as I was saying, Kate Bishop,” Yelena clears her throat and Kate tries not to feel too comforted by the pronunciation of her name—she’s going to kick Yelena’s ass for this. “You have my ping, yes? I'll see you soon. Bring Lucky, I have missed him terribly.”

“Just him?” Kate counters before she can stop herself, grabbing her bow off its hook near the door.

“Oooh, now’s the time Black Wid—ugh, ouch,” Blondie trails off on a groan/whine.

“Please hurry before I kill them all.”

Kate sighs, ending the phone call and opening her tracking app. She copies Yelena’s pin into the app and grabs Lucky’s leash while it loads—she’s going to save Yelena’s dastardly assembled Avengers and write a strongly worded email to Commander Hill as soon as it’s over.

Bucky was right about the Alexei-sized hole in the back of the building. The alleyway is quiet; she hasn’t seen anyone in the area for the last ten minutes, and she hasn’t heard a siren either. She spent the train ride Googling better adjectives than “annoyed” and visualized precisely how she was going to embarrass Yelena for this in front of her new non-Avenger friends.

It’s been thirty-seven days, ten hours and twenty-three minutes since she’s last seen Yelena. Yelena with her stupid hot haircut and her super sexy widow bites that glow white now instead of red and Kate’s happy to say she revised those for Yelena one movie night when Yelena wanted to show her how pasta was “made of scratch, Kate Bishop,” and Kate spent the time testing Yelena’s new widow bites on a dummy while Yelena made pasta from scratch in her kitchen.

(‘Kate, are you watching? We must press the pasta thin-

‘Yeah, yeah, whoa! These are so sick!’

‘Kate? You said you would help-

‘I will. Yeah. Totally will. Just—oof these are so freaking awesome!’)

She runs her hand over the crumpled edges of the brick, pulling her flashlight from her belt and snapping it on her bow. She preps an arrow, taking a deep breath before stepping forward—a light flickers in the hallway, barely illuminating the narrow hallway lined with bullet holes and blood stains. She steps over the bodies, dressed in black tactical gear—there’s a massive dent in the wall, the drywall crumbling to the floor, it’s huge, like someone put a massive pizza pan there.

Wait a minute...a Captain America wannabe? It couldn’t be…

Lucky growls a few passes ahead of her, and her mind sharpens, crouching slightly as she approaches what’s left of a door, hanging from one hinge, leading down a dark set of stairs. She purses her lips and produces a low whistle, calling Lucky behind her as she takes the lead down the steps.

The overhead lights flicker, illuminating the narrow corridor as she steps forward, navigating the debris and dead bodies that litter the hallway. Another pizza pan-shaped hole to her left, bullet casings roll around every step—Yelena’s team certainly has a way about them. Not very Avenger-like, if you ask her, but she’ll file that thought under sub-section C of her presentation she plans to give Commander Hill Monday morning.

She settles against the wall, peaking around the corner—two people in tactical gear kneel at the end of another hallway, placing something small and rectangular on the frame of the door.

It beeps.

“Shit,” Kate hisses.

That’s totally C4. Yelena’s definitely on the other side of that reinforced door.

A vibrating thud lands against the door, knocking the two back. She notices the round outline on the steel door…like a shield. These idiots are going to bust the door open just to set the bomb off. Terrible Avengers. This is going in the PowerPoint too.

She steels herself, sucking in a quick breath before stepping out into the hallway and sending two arrows in quick succession before the bomb-placers can so much as flinch. She stomps down the hallway, her stealthiness forgotten as the tiny red timer ticks downward.

Five minutes.

Kate scoffs, collapsing her bow (thank you, Clint!) and snapping it into place at the small of her back. One of the thugs groans beside her, makes to reach for her gun-

“Don’t do that,” Kate tsks, shaking her head. “I mean, C4, really? Did you get this at a military surplus?”

The woman nods weakly, slumping back against the concrete floor, but Kate collects their guns anyway, tossing them behind her carelessly.

“Uh,” the woman winces, eyeing the direction she’d thrown the guns. “Doesn’t seem smart.”

“Please,” Kate shimmies toward the door, taking the micro-tools from her tacbelt. “I’d like to see you try that before I put an arrow through your knee.”

“Point taken.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kate hums, checking the timer, three and a half minutes now. “Any kill switches I should know about? Double-tripped wires?”

“Uh-

“Kate Bishop,” a soft voice croons from the other side of the door. Kate knows that voice, has dreamt about that voice, maybe gotten a little hands-on about that voice-

“Is it bad?”

“What? No. It’s fine,” Kate shakes her head, blinks away the daze. “Totally fine. Under control.”

“We’re are so going to die,” the British lady groans. “Polly pocket doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

“Enough, Ava,” Yelena snaps.

Ava.

British lady = Ava.

Ava + Yelena = ?

“How much time?”

Kate winces, navigating the tiny wires. “Like, two minutes-ish.”

“Explosive?”

“C4.”

“Amateurs,” Yelena scoffs.

“That’s what I said,” Kate nods, holding her smart watch over the wires. “Just gotta find the frequency and kill the activator…,” Kate trails off as she carefully navigates the wires with her tiny clippers. “Just like—

The woman lying on the floor jolts up in a yelp of pain, shifting to her feet—her eyes wide when she glances back at Kate, who just sighs in utter disappointment.

“I warned you.”

She grabs her bow, knocks an arrow while she spins around and launches it into her leg—just like she said she would.

“I can feel your smugness from here, Kate Bishop,” Yelena drawls—Kate imagines her dark eyes rolling affectionately. “But the bomb? A bit urgent, no?”

“Totally,” Kate blows out a breath, holding the wrist over the wires once more. Her watch beeps, she glances at the screen and notes the wire, using the tiny clippers to find the red wire (C4, always so obvious). She snips the wire, satisfied when the timer freezes.

“Got it,” Kate announces, tucking her tools away and springing to her feet. The woman behind her sobs, and Kate realizes that maybe she’s been sobbing this entire time, and Kate wasn’t tuned in, she’d been too focused on the other voice through the door.

She pulls the massive deadbolts back and pulls the lever that doubles as a doorknob down, the door springs open with a hiss. Kate runs a quick hand through her hair and runs it over the side of her suit. Her suit is probably better than Ava’s…unless Yelena worked on hers too. Kate shakes her head, clearing her throat when the door opens wide.

“Hi,” Kate breathes.

Maybe for the first time in weeks.

The corner of Yelena’s lips shifts up into a half-smile, her eyeliner smudged and hair frayed. She looks good. Like she always does, Kate thinks, as her gaze drops over Yelena’s form, assessing for other injuries.

“Ahem,” Alexei coughs. His big, burly frame nearly doubles Yelena’s when he steps behind her. “Kate Bishop, it is so good to finally meet you. I am Alexei, you may have heard of me,” He points to the red star at the middle of his chest. “The Red Guardian.”

“She’s literally an infant,” Ava snipes, striding past them. “An American infant.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” John Walker collects his shield from their left, nodding at her. “I almost had this door opened, but thanks, or whatever.”

“I’m 27 and you’d have blown yourself to pieces,” Kate counters, narrowing her eyes. “The blast impact alone-

Bucky Barnes emerges next, shoving John toward the door. “Thanks for the save, Kate.”

“Yeah,” Kate nods, watching him steer John out of the room. She just saved an Avenger-adjacent Congressman…shouldn’t he be doing Congressman things? “Anytime, Mr. Barnes, sir.”

“He is not the leader!” Alexei interjects. “Why can’t I be seen as the leader? Am I not dependable enough? Strong enough? I am on a cereal box!”

“Dad,” Yelena winces, shakes her head. “Please.”

Lucky’s collar jingles in the hallway, followed by an instantaneous amount of “Awwwww’s” and baby talking that not even Ava can avoid as Lucky makes his way toward them. He’s familiar with Yelena—knows her voice and her scent now, even sleeps on her lap during impromptu movie nights.

(‘You could just text me like a normal person. No need to break into my apartment and scare the shit out of me every week.’

‘And where’s the fun in that, Kate Bishop?’

‘I’m just saying,’ Kate gestures to herself, then Yelena. ‘We’re friends.’

‘Friends,’ Yelena purses her lips, shifting her head against the back of the couch. Her jawline was so pretty in the faint lighting from her TV. ‘Friends,’ Yelena repeats, seemingly turning the word over in her mouth.

‘Yes,’ Kate says, bolder than ever. ‘Friends.’

‘Okay, Kate Bishop,’ Yelena nods, lips curling into a smile. ‘Friends.’)

“Hello, my handsome boy,” Yelena coos, dropping to her knees to accept Lucky’s hug. Kate trained him how to do that, and she tries not to think about the hugs Yelena gives him before she slips out the window (like the drama queen she is) into the night. “Did you miss me? Yes, yes, I missed you. Yes, I did.”

“As heart-warming as this is,” Ava gestures to them lazily. “We’re pushing our luck staying here. And if I hear John’s stomach growl one more time-

“I’m hungry!”

“Super-fucking-solider my ass!”

“I need more nutrients than regular people! Sue me!”

“I told you to eat before we left, man,” Bucky adds.

“I was busy-

“Playing Call of Duty like a total-

“Enough!” Yelena shouts, and Kate flinches, reaching for Lucky when he bumps her thigh with his snout. “We are leaving. Everybody say thank you and goodbye to Kate and Lucky. We’ve wasted enough of their time.”

A weak chorus of half-hearted “thank you, Kate and Lucky” rings out, and Kate puffs out her chest a little, nodding at them. She’s totally part of the team now. That’s basic team rules. You save the team, join the team, right?

“Cool. So, I’m like, on the team now, right?” Kate wiggles her brows at Yelena, gesturing to the group in front of them. “That was my initiation. I’ve proven I’m worthy. I don’t wanna toot my own horn, or anything, but I’m basically the new Hawkeye. Clint said so.”

“I vote yes,” Alexei says, holding up his hand. “Yelena talks about you so much, it’s like you’re already-

“Alexei,” Yelena hisses, switching to Russian and gesturing forcefully with her hands as she strings a slew of words at him.

“Tactically speaking,” John shrugs. As Kate trusts anything he comes up with tactically. “A ranged teammate would balance things out.”

“Totally agree,” Kate nods.

“Cool dog,” Bucky nods to Lucky, ignoring the father-daughter bickering. Kate gets the sense that this happens a lot. “We could use a therapy dog.”

Kate grins, patting Lucky’s head. Her dog just got complimented by an Avenger.

“I’m leaving,” Ava announces, a white mask sliding over her face, and she disappears. Kate’s jaw drops, words caught in her throat.

“Show off,” John grumbles, stalking down the hallway. Presumably after Ava. “Not like she can hold it longer than a minute, anyway. Won’t get far.”

“I should, uh, make sure nobody tries to kill each other,” Bucky points toward John’s disappearing form. “Nice to meet you, Kate.”

“Likewise! Love the arm, by the way! Way cooler in person.”

Alexei huffs beside her, beginning to exit the room too. He switches back to English, evidently, he’s had enough.

“Very nice to meet you, Kate Bishop. The Kate Bishop,” Alexei gestures to her. “My Yelena will end me very painfully if I say any more about how she goes on and on and on about you-

“Alexei,” Yelena growls, taking a step forward, her fists clenched.

“As I say, very painfully. I quite like being on the cereal box, so I will not say any more about how much Yelena talks about you, so I am leaving. Going back to HQ to do very important superhero stuff. You should come visit—I'll show you little Yelena photos.”

“Okay,” Kate says, ever diplomatic. “That’s very kind, and uh,” she glances at Yelena nervously, thinks she sees steam bubbling from her. “I’ll think about it. Nice to meet you, Alexei.”

Alexei disappears down the dimly lit corridor, lapsing them into silence. Kate turns to face Yelena, noting the way her shoulders drop and her eyes stay shut for a moment longer than usual. She’s tired. Kate’s hand twitches, her brain catching up with her heart just in time for her hand to stop mid-air and fall. Fist clenched by her side when Yelena opens her eyes again.

“Hi,” Yelena says quietly. Softly.

“Hi,” Kate replies, picking at her suit because she wants to reach out. Wants to tuck that loose strand back behind her head, pass her fingertips through her hair—maybe scratch at the back of her head until Yelena’s head lolls against her shoulder like it has before.

“Hungry?” Kate asks instead, attempting to divert her thoughts. “I got a new bottle of hot sauce and boxed mac and cheese at home.”

Yelena chuckles, chin dipping in a nod, and Kate digs her fingers into her sides when that loose strand of blonde hair falls over her eyebrow.

“I would like that, Kate Bishop.”

“I can’t believe you teamed up without me,” Kate crossed her arms over her chest, sinking into the hard plastic seat.

Yelena tells her on the train ride back to her place why the New Avengers were trapped below a nail salon at half past eight on a Sunday night. She tells Kate they received information that human experiments were ongoing in the basement, some sort of serum testing going on—remnants of Valentina’s many shell companies they had been working on sniffing out and shutting down, permanently. It was all going according to plan until Alexei tricked a switch when he just had to smash Valentina’s smiling portrait under the pretentious “Boss of the Year.”

(It's almost like Valentina had planned for that.)

Then they got trapped in the creepy experiment room, and Ava couldn’t phase out because of some sort of sound barrier (again, like Valentina had planned it), so Yelena used her trusty flip phone and dialled Kate’s number.

“No one else?” Kate asked while they waited on the platform, smug as ever.

“There is no one else, Kate Bishop.”

When Yelena finishes telling the story, they’re seated on the subway, fortunate to be on the late, late commute that there’s room for them to sit. Yelena somehow progresses closer to her as the train lurches forward, and Kate watches with rapt attention as Yelena kills the distance between them—centimetres separate them now, and Kate fixates on the way Yelena could have any seat in the car, and she’s sitting here. So close she can feel her warmth and pick up faint traces of her perfume.

She inhales sharply when Yelena’s side rests against hers. Full bodied—pressed from hip to thigh to shoulder to arm. She stays still, so still, scared to scare away the vulnerable girl pressed against her. They’ve been this close before, only a handful of times, always at the end of movie nights or trash reality TV binges. Yelena always initiates the contact; Kate can count on one hand how many times. Remembers them vividly.

She remembers walking into her apartment one night to find sparked out on the sofa with Lucky draped across her lap. Her words slurred, and her breath was heavy, smelling of vodka. She remembers the way Yelena practically sang her name when she arrived, her lips loose and so carefree for the rest of the evening. She woke at three am to find Yelena’s head on her shoulder, her arm slung loosely across her waist. When she woke again at six, Yelena was gone, with only a blanket and a hastily written note left on the coffee table.

(‘You drool when you sleep. Until next time–Y’).

Yelena had been waiting for her one evening after Kate got back from a late-night workout, spinning around in a chair in her makeshift workshop. She twirled an arrow between her fingers, dressed casually in cargo green pants that hugged her legs and a matching button-up shirt tucked in. A few buttons undone, and Kate had to tear her eyes away from the thick thighs and tiny freckles peaking out on her chest. Kate’s attention was quickly pulled to the bruise forming around her left eye because Yelena doesn’t let herself get hurt.

Told her she was “too good” to get hurt on the job.

(‘You are making a big deal out of this,’ Yelena huffed, sitting on the couch when Kate had steered her there by her shoulders and pushed her down.

She was momentarily taken aback by the fact that Yelena didn’t throw her flat on her ass for touching her unscripted.

‘You promised,’ Kate reminded her. Trying to remain light-hearted. ‘You said ‘I’m too talented for that, Kate Bishop’,’ Kate mimicked Yelena’s silky accent, rummaging through her freezer for a package of frozen peas.

‘One,’ Yelena said proudly. ‘I do not sound like that, and two, I am too talented for that. This was unrelated to the assignment.’

‘Oh,’ Kate scoffed, tossing the peas from hand to hand as she approached Yelena. ‘I can’t wait to hear this excuse.’

‘There is no excuse. It was unrelated. Case closed.’

‘You expect me to believe you just walked into a door or something?’ Kate asked skeptically, holding the frozen peas out of Yelena’s reach. ‘Come on, friends tell each other this stuff.’

‘Do they?’ Yelena tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. ‘My other friends do not ask me this.’

Kate’s eyebrows shot up, dropping her hand to her side. ‘You have other friends?’

Yelena snorts, shifting forward on the couch to snatch the bag of peas. Their fingers brush momentarily, soothing the cold, wet state of her hand. Kate glances down at her hand, patting the cold, plain surface of her palm against her jeans. Yelena sank back into the couch, tilting her head back and placing the peas over the left side of her face.

‘Do not act so surprised, Kate Bishop,’ Yelena said cooly. ‘Your ego is gigantic as ever.’

‘My ego-excuse me, what?’ Kate sputtered, crossing her arms.

‘So obsessed with me,’ Yelena crooned, her right eye winking at Kate. ‘I can have other friends, no?’

Kate exhaled roughly, uncrossing her arms and fixing her face—she stalked off toward the workshop, rearranging the gadgets and arrows Yelena was so rudely tinkering with before she arrived.

Yelena can have other friends. That’s not a problem. Yelena should have more friends. Friends are good. Kate has a bunch of friends. She’s Yelena’s friend.

‘And how many other friends’ apartments do you break into?’ Kate asked indulgently, looking back over her shoulder, when Yelena didn’t respond. She watched the blonde mop of hair move over the back of the couch as she shook her head, a slight murmur of voice-

‘What was that?’ Kate asked, twirling the soldering tool between her fingers.

‘Can we just watch TV now, Kate Bishop? My head hurts enough-

‘You have a concussion!’ Kate shouts, tossing the tool aside and crossing her apartment quickly. Ready to drag Yelena to whatever super secret contract mercenary doctor clinic that exists. Maybe she’ll meet some of Yelena’s friends there.

‘Ouch,’ Yelena winced, her face screwed up adorably. Upside down from Kate’s perspective. She looked so cute with her pout and septum ring, matching her ear cuff, of course, and Kate momentarily forgot why she was upset when Yelena’s eyes fluttered shut. Her chin still tilted up toward Kate—her fingers twitched at her sides, wanting to trace the line of her brow and stroke that rogue strand of hair over her head.

‘Come sit with me,’ Yelena murmured, her eyes staying shut, her tone like silk. ‘I want to finish that rainforest documentary from last time.’

‘Okay,’ Kate conceded, crumpling like a paper bag. ‘Let’s sit.’

Kate rounded the sofa, settling onto the cushion next to Yelena, who hummed happily. Kate didn’t miss the way her body shifted over, slightly turning toward Kate and exhaling with a happy little sigh when Kate pulled the soft purple blanket over their laps. Lucky jumped up on the couch, curling up against Yelena’s thigh between the arm of the couch and her body.

‘Nobody else has an apartment I can break into so easily,’ Yelena said, shifting the peas back over her eyes. ‘You make it so easy.’

Kate rolled her eyes—heat warming her cheeks for some reason, was Yelena flirting? Kate bit her lip, nestling into the couch and clearing her throat.

‘You like it.’

The corner of Yelena’s mouth tipped upward. Her right eye blinked open slowly.

‘I do.’)

Yelena uses her shower when they get back to her place, and Kate tries not to think about Yelena smelling like her soap and shampoo and wearing Kate’s sweats—rolled up at her ankles because they’re far too long for her shorter frame. She sets the pot of mac’n’cheese to the side, putting the lid on to retain the heat and taking the hot sauce out of her cupboard.

Lucky bounds down the stairs, drawing Kate’s attention to the staircase where Yelena begins her descent. A soft smile on her face, her eyes on Lucky before trailing past her furry friend, before meeting Kate’s. She swallows the dryness of her throat, worrying her bottom lip as Yelena reaches the base of the steps, eyes still on Kate.

She looks comfortable, at ease, even, with Kate’s pizza-themed socks pulled over her feet—a well-worn t-shirt from one of her many archery tourney wins pulled over her frame. Kate’s heart thumps in her chest, and she can’t help but think that Yelena belongs here.

With her.

And Lucky.

Yelena stops in front of her, Kate watches her hand come up and stop—resting on the countertop instead. Kate’s fingers twitch in response, she gestures to the pot on the stove instead.

“Food’s ready.”

Yelena’s chin dips with a polite smile while damp strands fall around the side of her face. Kate reaches out blindly. Tucking one back behind her ear, her palm brushes the side of Yelena’s face when she pulls away—warmth blooming over her palm when it brushes Yelena’s jaw and shoulder on the way back to her side.

Yelena’s gaze snaps up to hers, her gaze suddenly so clear that Kate finds herself getting lost in the depth of them. She takes a shaky breath, her spine straightening again—she turns and reaches for two bowls in her cupboard. Yelena bought her these. She found them in her cupboard one morning after another one of Yelena’s break-and-enters while Kate was visiting Kamala in Jersey one weekend. Her cupboards have filled slowly over time, and Kate can draw the direct correlation between her increased cutlery and Yelena’s “visits.”

“Kate,” Yelena says, a hand grasping her arm. She nearly dropped the bowls, clumsily placing them on the counter before shifting back to give Yelena her full attention.

“Thank you,” Yelena says, squeezing her arm. “For today. You saved us.”

A blush painted Kate’s cheeks, her legs feeling a little jelly at the gratitude from Yelena.

“You’re welcome,” Kate croaked, her voice catching on Yelena’s seemingly easy closeness.

Yelena inched closer—her pizza-covered foot sliding between Kate’s pineapple-covered ones.

“You do not like hot sauce.”

Kate blinked, the familiar scent of her lavender body wash infusing her senses, further strangling her thoughts.

“Um, no,” Kate shook her head. “Not really. I’m neutral towards it. But you like it.”

“I do,” Yelena nods, her gaze trailing over Kate—she doesn’t try to hide it. “That’s why you bought it.”

“Yeah,” Kate blinks again. “For you.”

Yelena hummed, a smile breaking over her features. “For me.”

“Yeah.”

Warmth spreads over her arm, trailing upward over her bicep. Kate’s fist clenched at her side—the muscles involuntarily flexing, and Yelena’s fingers squeezed at her before moving over her shoulder to cup it. Yelena’s eyes moved from her arm and back to hers, her head tilting slightly to the left—her thumb brushing over Kate’s collarbone through her black compression long-sleeve shirt.

Kate sways toward Yelena, drawn by her warmth and the relaxing motion of her thumb circling the muscles of her shoulder. Yelena’s palm spreads flat against her collarbone, running along the line of her shoulder before touching the side of her neck. It must burn to Yelena’s touch, but she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tease her, just strokes her thumb over the edge of Kate’s jaw—Kate’s stomach swims with butterflies, and she leans impossibly closer, until their legs brush and their hips are pressed flush against each other.

Yelena’s fingers close around her wrist, which hangs limply at her side, and warm fingers close around her wrist and tug. They tug upward, toward Yelena around her hip—Kate inhales a shaky breath, placing her hand on Yelena’s hip. She can feel the heat of her body through the thin t-shirt. Kate’s hand flexes and Yelena’s back arches slightly—her lips curled into a smile, still.

Yelena’s fingertips nestle just below her ponytail, playing with the baby hairs there. Kate’s throat is parched, she opens her mouth to say something—anything, but words escape her, maybe for the first time in her life, and Yelena shakes her head, tugging Kate’s neck down. Then their foreheads are touching, noses brushing in a whisper of touches. Yelena’s breath hits her face in a soft exhale, her eyes fluttering close, and Kate squeezes her shut—wondering if this is all just a cruel dream.

“It’s real,” Yelena says, and Kate’s eyes flash open—does Yelena have mind-reading powers now? Yelena chuckles, sexy and knowing, she tugs at Kate’s neck again until their foreheads rest again. “This,” Yelena continues. “Between you and me, it’s real.”

She states it like a fact, but Kate can hear the question in her voice—is this right?

“’ course it is,” Kate responds immediately, hand clutching at her hip. “It’s always been real.”

Yelena’s nose brushes hers, her fingers sliding into her ponytail—twirling the dark strands between her fingers. Kate sucked in an important breath, her free hand still clenched tightly at her side—she doesn’t want to initiate the contact without Yelena’s permission, but the blonde’s reaching for her again, setting her hand on her hip. Yelena slips her other arm around Kate’s neck, linking her fingers loosely with Kate’s ponytail between her fingers.

Yelena’s face tilts against hers, their lips brushing in the barest of touches—Kate makes an embarrassing noise at the back of her throat, hands clutching Yelena’s hips for dear life. Yelena’s nose brushes her again, and then Yelena surges up into her, shifting their momentum, and Kate crashes into her. Mouth open and desperate.

Yelena’s tongue slides over hers, hand leaving her hair to clutch at her collar—her shirt tears from the exertion, from Yelena yanking her impossibly closer and Kate moans into her mouth. Yelena uses her teeth on her bottom lip, bites at it and soothes it with her tongue—does it all again, and she’s pressed backwards in her kitchen. Something hard hits her back, maybe her fridge, a magnet of the Leaning Tower of Pizza that Yelena’d brought home for her one day, digs into her back.

But she’ll gladly take the discomfort because Yelena takes it all away anyway. Makes her blood pump and adrenaline kick into high—Yelena’s tongue sweeps over the roof of her mouth one last time before they separate, lips parting with a slick pop.

Yelena grins against her, nudging their noses together—lips in a breathless brush while their chests heave. Her grip relaxes on Kate’s shirt, palm flattening over her chest, thumb stroking over the small logo below the collar.

“Food’s getting cold,” Kate grins, her words light and airy.

“Let it,” Yelena hums, sliding her palm over Kate’s front to the matching compression leggings Kate had stripped down to when they got back to her apartment.

“Wow,” Kate tries to sound light, but Yelena’s hand toying with the edge of her legs has her brain malfunctioning. “Picking me over hot sauce?”

Yelena snorted softly, nipping at Kate’s bottom lip before answering.

“Don’t go that far.”

“Figures,” Kate muttered.

Yelena rolled her eyes affectionately, hair falling from her ear and this time Kate reached for it. Let her fingertips brush over Yelena’s cheekbone and gently push the strand behind her ear. Yelena’s gaze never left hers, a smile playing on her lips, and Kate’s fingers continued their mission—sliding through the damp strands to scratch at the back of her head.

Yelena’s eyes fluttered shut—her head lulling against Kate’s arm, she released a soft noise. Something tired and content.

“Stay tonight?” Kate asked.

Will you be here when I wake up?

Yelena reads her mind.

Kate needs to ask if she’s been exposed to any suspicious alien explosions or radioactive chemicals lately because Yelena says, “I will, Kate Bishop.”