Work Text:
Yelena Belova: ex-assassin, former spy, and arguably the best MCU character this is. In her attempt to get reintegrated into society, she goes south to Louisiana, where she learns about tailgating at an LSU college football game. But no one ever tailgates alone; Yelena is with Sam Wilson, Sarah Wilson, AJ, and Cass.
“So,” Yelena says, standing by the grill and looking around at all the parked cars and people dressed in purple and yellow, “this is what a tailgate is.”
“You better believe this is a tailgate,” Sam replies, flipping burgers. “The only real tailgates happen here in Louisiana. The Tigers, the Saints— everywhere else is just a cheap imitation.”
“Like how YOU’RE a cheap imitation of Captain America?” Yelena responds.
“Is that racism I detect?” Sam asks sarcastically.
“It’s a joke, come on,” Yelena says, sitting on the back of a pickup truck. “Everything’s all about race, race, race. Why does someone’s skin’s melanin content matter?”
“It doesn’t,” Sam sighs. “This country, while beautiful, has its blemishes.”
AJ crashes in, narrowly missing the grill as he chases a football flying over his head.
“AJ, watch where you’re running!” Sarah calls from the nearby circle of women she’s chatting with.
“Sorry, Mom!” AJ calls, reeling in the football.
“Touchdooooown LSU!” Cass calls from down the parking lot.
“Is this what a tailgate is?” Yelena asks Sam. “A bunch of kids throwing footballs, men grilling, and women chatting?”
“That’s not ALL,” Sam replies. “Us men toss footballs around, too. And believe me, it gets rough. And the cornhole? People break bones, steal heirlooms over that kind of thing.”
“You serious?” Yelena asks, thinking Sam is joking.
“One hundred percent,” Sam says. He shows Yelena the back of his right ring finger. There is a small scar in the middle of it. “THIS is from when I was shoved to the gravel after winning a tailgate
tournament.”
“That’s not so bad,” Yelena says.
“One time,” Sam recalls, “I was playing cornhole at a tailgate with Bucky, and I misfired or something, because my right shoulder popped out of its socket.”
“Wait, really?” Yelena asks, suddenly becoming interested after hearing Bucky’s name.
“Well, you’re interested,” Sam says, “now that I’m talking about broken bones and muscles being pulled out of their sockets.”
“Uh, yeah,” Yelena lies, “that’s what’s interesting.”
“I can see right through you,” Sam says. “The look in your eyes is the same look that Sarah had when she married her husband.”
“Sarah’s married?” Yelena asks.
“She was,” Sam sighs, “but her husband died a while back.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. Anyway, I can tell that you have a thing for Bucky. That’s my point.”
“WhaAat?” Yelena acts sarcastically surprised. “I do?”
“If your eyes didn’t give it away before…” Sam mumbles.
“So what if I do?” Yelena asks. “I just think he’s cute. It’s not like we’ve gone a date or anything.”
“Okay, that one hundred percent happened,” Sam says.
“Do my eyes tell that, too?” Yelena inquires.
“No, but the group text does,” Sam chuckles.
“There’s a group text?” Yelena asks, mildly offended. “I’m not in it.”
“Nah, it’s just me, Bucky, and Torres,” Sam says. “It’s not like Maximoff or Thor’s in it.”
“Has… he said anything else about me?” Yelena questions.
“No, not at all,” Sam lies, covering the fact that Bucky asked for help on ideas for a second date.
“Oh,” Yelena says, slightly upset. Neither she nor Sam says anything for a moment.
“Burgers are almost ready,” Sam says, feeling the need to break the silence. “How do you like yours? Rare?”
“Rare is perfect,” Yelena says, fighting the urge to grab a burger straight off the grill. As an ex-assassin, the heat wouldn’t be as painful to her as one might imagine.
“After burgers, we’re playing cornhole,” Sam says. “And you’re on my team.”
“Oh, we got this,” Yelena comments. “This thing’s going to be easy.”
“This isn’t as easy as I thought,” Yelena says, tossing another beanbag that misses the board entirely.
“Try to rainbow it,” Sam says. “Get an arc. That’ll get it to stick.”
“You Avengers are running out of turns!” Sarah calls, laughing. “Y’all are gonna lose!”
“That’s right!” Cass adds onto his mom’s taunting. “Y’all are gonna LOSE!”
“Okay, we have to win to beat Cass,” Yelena whispers to Sam.
“That’s the only reason I’m playing,” Sam says, watching one of Cass’s beanbags slide into the hole.
“Alright, I’m getting angry,” Sam says, tossing a beanbag that arcs perfectly into the target.
A few minutes later, Yelena and Sam are back in the game. Yelena’s gotten the hang of it, and the final toss, the game decider, is hers.
“Okay, you know what you have to do,” Sam says. “Land it, and we win. If it goes in, the point total’s too high, and the game goes on. Just focus. Breathe. concentrate.”
“Will you shut up?!” Yelena exclaims, punching Sam’s shoulder. She looks at her fist as Sam tries to pretend he’s not hurt. “Huh,” she realizes. “So that’s how people get hurt in these games.”
Yelena tosses the beanbag lightly in her hand, evenly distributing the weight of the beans. She positions it like a diamond in her hand, which is the trick that’s helped her along so far. She brings her arm back, tosses the beanbag, and watches as it goes in seemingly slow motion as it sails towards the board. With what sounds like a deafening thud but was no louder than a footstep, the beanbag hits the board hard, bouncing towards the hole. However, its momentum stops it, and it lands on the board just shy of the target.
"That’s how it’s done!” Sam exclaims. “In your face, Cass!”
“Yes! I did it!” Yelena proclaims, almost dancing. “Yes! I’m the best!”
“Fair game,” Sarah concedes, shaking Sam’s hand.
“Why ‘fair’ and not ‘good’?” Sam asks. “I thought it was good.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Sarah says.
“You guys put a lot into this, huh?” Cass asks the opposition.
“I put everything into everything,” Yelena responds. “If you’re not giving one hundred percent, is it really worth doing in the first place?”