Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s kinda hard to explain how it all started. 

Or maybe it isn’t. Because actually, when you think about it - and lately, Kate’s been spending a lot of time thinking about it - there’s a pretty distinct pattern to the sticky situations she's gotten herself into over the last few years. Acting like she has no clue how she ended up in one again might be a bit of a cop out.  

Okay then. Trying again: 

It’s kinda easy to explain how it all started. 

It all started when Kate got Yelena’s phone number. 

See, Kate has a hard time keeping her cool when it comes to texting. 

Exhibit A: Her numerous texts to Clint. Although she’s been doing a good job backing off of texting Clint recently, ever since he went into retirement. Clint made it very clear that, while he would always be there for Kate if she ever needed advice, or moral support, or “a voice of reason” (Kate smarted at that a little), he really needed to spend some quality time with his family, away from distraction. It's been four days since Kate's texted Clint. A personal best. 

Exhibit B: Caitlin, her first girlfriend from high school. Kate scared her off by coming on way too strong after their two-week anniversary. It turns out that undying declarations of love made over text can come too soon in a relationship, even for lesbians. Lesson learned. 

Exhibit C: Kaitlyn, her first serious girlfriend, who got really mad when Kate blew up her phone that one weekend Kaitlyn was away for a hockey game. Sending twenty-three consecutive texts happens to be overkill, who knew? In Kate’s defense, she was really starting to think that Kaitlyn might have died on the car ride up to Canada - hence the freakout. The good news was Kaitlyn hadn't died. The bad news was that the reason Kaitlyn had been radio silent was because she spent the eight hour ride up to Toronto discussing the pros and cons of their relationship with her teammates. The twenty-three texts were apparently the decisive "con" that caused Kaitlyn to break it off. 

(Yes, Kate has dated two girls named Caitlin and Kaitlyn. She’s already heard all the jokes about it, thank you.) 

So Kate is not really great at the whole ‘texting like a normal person’ thing. But her getting Yelena’s number - well, that wasn’t really Kate’s fault, was it? After all, Yelena was the one who had texted Kate first. Of course, it wasn't a friendly "Hey girl," text, but a warning about Kate's mom. Out of all the texts that Kate’s received, that initial one from Yelena was definitely among the more unpleasant. A text that kind of went ahead and derailed Kate’s whole life for a bit there. 

In fact, derailed Kate’s whole life a lot. Like, “I now have no relationship with my mother, who is in jail because of me, the resulting depression over my mother’s imprisonment caused me to drop out of college one semester before graduation, and now I live alone in a loft with my dog and have spent the last two months watching reality TV all day,” kind of derailing. 

And maybe that's why Kate was able to hold off on texting Yelena for so long. She didn't exactly associate that first message from Yelena with any sort of pleasant memory. Plus, the last time Kate saw Yelena, she was trying to kill Clint in the middle of Rockefeller Center. She didn’t succeed, and Clint later told Kate that they’d managed to patch up their differences with "a very good, long overdue talk." Clint didn't provide any further details - Kate got the sense she shouldn't pry.

But time heals all wounds, or whatever, and it's late February, and Kate is bored, and lonely, and when she thinks about Yelena now, she doesn't think first about how the woman once threw her off of a building or landed that really hard kick in the ribs. Instead, she thinks of how Yelena made her a pot of mac and cheese, and said she liked dogs, and was surprisingly receptive to Kate's offer of getting drinks. And Yelena is likely one of the only people on planet Earth who could actually understand some of what Kate's gone through over the past two months. 

So Kate picks up her phone and begins typing. 

She starts off the message with: “Hey Y, it’s K.B.” 

(She’ll have to think of their official code names later.) 

“Was wondering what my favorite bloodthirsty vigilante was up to," Kate types, before hastily deleting the message. No, no, that's not a good start. 

She tries again: "Was thinking about you-" and that immediately gets deleted as well, because, really, Kate? 

One more try: "Hey Y, it's K.B. It's been a minute. How are things?" 

It's a tame message, but sometimes tame is best. In fact, Kate is pretty proud of it as she hits send. This is a normal text from someone who's definitely not a crazy person. 

Kate almost drops her phone when it starts ringing immediately.

“Kate Bishop!” Yelena croons on the other side of the line before Kate has the chance to stammer out a 'hello.' “I was just thinking about you, you know.”

“You were?” Kate says, not having expected that at all. 

“Yes! I am actually in your corner of the world again.” 

“You’re in the city?” Kate says, dumbly looking out her window, as if Yelena will suddenly appear there. (Actually, knowing what Kate knows about Yelena, this really isn’t that dumb of an assumption.)  

“Yes, back in beautiful New York.” Yelena draws out the word beautiful into four syllables – bee you ti full. “Unfortunately, I am here for business again, not pleasure. You see, Kate, I am finally wrapping up a mission years in the making. You know I am a Black Widow Assassin, right?"

"I've managed to put that together, yes," Kate says. 

"Very funny, very funny. Well, you might be surprised by this, but as unique and amazing as I am, I am actually not one of a kind at all. There are many other women like me. Black Widow Assassins. But these women - they are mind controlled, set off into the world to do dirty work for the highest bidder. It has been my life's work to free these women from this imprisonment. Before 2018, I had freed almost all of them. And can you believe, I was gone for five years, and no one picked up my slack? If you want something done you have to get it done yourself. So, I am back on the trail. And almost done - there are only three left, all in this city. Unfortunately, these are two-man jobs, and my partner has bailed on me. And I was thinking, who do I know in New York City who might be able to help me with a job like this? Then I thought of you. Kate Bishop. The girl with the bow. So, what do you say?”

It takes one second for Kate to take this all in. Then - “Yes!”  Kate says, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. But she can feel it again, after her months long slump - the tingling in her spine that comes with the idea that she can make a difference in the world. That superhero-y feeling. "Yes, I'm so down." 

"Great," Yelena says, her tone pleased. "I will come meet you to discuss. You are still at the loft, no?”

“Yeah, but could we maybe meet somewhere else?” Kate says, glancing around her apartment. In her depressive state, she's let the place go. Every single bowl and plate and utensil she owns (which admittedly, is not many) is in the sink. The copious amount of takeout she’s been ordering is strewn in boxes on her kitchen counter. She has not vacuumed in a hot minute, and the apartment is covered in Lucky's fur. It's really a disaster. 

“No, your loft will do. I will be there in six minutes.” 

“Wait, what?” Kate says.

But Yelena’s already hung up. 

Kate’s scrambling to throw her collection of Chinese takeout in a black trash bag when she hears it. A very slight noise of shifting fabric, almost completely undetectable. She pauses in her tracks, her hand halfway to an open container of lo mein. 

“Hello, Kate Bishop,” says a cheery voice from directly behind her. 

Kate whirls around, knocking the lo mein off of the counter. It spills onto the floor, making a mess. Lucky scampers along the floor, eager to take advantage of the situation. 

“Hi, Yelena,” Kate says, trying to sound as casual as possible and not at all like her heart rate has reached a sweet 150 bpm. "How's it going?" 

"You are doing that thing again, where you pretend not to act surprised,” Yelena says, shaking her head as if disappointed. "I already told you it wasn’t cool."

“I wasn’t - ok, fine,” Kate gives in. “You scared the shit out of me. Happy?”

“Very,” Yelena says with a smirk. She looks past Kate to the remaining boxes of Chinese food littered on the counter. “You ordered dinner without me?” she says, mock offended. (Or maybe real offended. Kate has a hard time telling.) “Very rude. I insist that you give me at least some of that fried rice.” 

“You don’t want any of this,” Kate says, pushing Lucky's head out of the way so she can grab the fallen container off the floor. “This is all, like. . .” Kate does the math in her head. She had ordered Chinese that one night she was binge watching House Hunters International, which means. . . “At least four days old.” 

"Kate, come on! I tell you I'm coming over, and there is no food? This is not being a good host," Yelena says.

"Well, you didn't exactly give me a heads up," Kate shoots back. "Twenty minutes notice would be nice next time."

"Twenty minutes," Yelena laughs. "She thinks it takes me twenty minutes to get across the city. I move quicker than that, Kate Bishop. You need to get used to being on my level." Yelena looks down at Lucky, who is slurping up the last bits of lo mein. "At least you have the dog with you this time," Yelena says, crouching down to Lucky and patting his head. "As I said earlier, this is an easy way to get points with me. It almost makes up for the fact that I am very hungry right now." Yelena looks up at Kate pointedly. 

"Okay, okay, I'm ordering food now," Kate says, chastised, picking up her phone. "What do you want?"

"You know me," Yelena says, although Kate really doesn't. "Something spicy."

And that's how they end up hatching out their plan over Indian. 

“The three remaining widows are all within fifteen miles," Yelena explains as she digs into her pork vindaloo. "The closest is in Hell's Kitchen. Such an unpleasant name for a neighborhood, although I heard good things about it on Yelp. But I want the real New Yorker's opinion. What do you think of Hell's Kitchen, Kate, is it hot or not?" 

“Uh-” Kate starts, but Yelena leans forward, her eyes hardening. When she continues speaking, all humor has been stripped from her tone.  

“This widow has most recently been hired by a son of a very famous evangelical preacher. There have been many, many, nasty allegations about this man, and she has been utilized to keep them out of the public. Threatening women, killing lawyers. . . awful stuff. Very bad. And she doesn't even know what she is doing. That's what makes these rescue missions so hard. Not only do you have the person who hired the widow after you, but the widow herself. She will be ruthless in her delusion. She will try and kill her savior. Sometimes she even succeeds," Yelena says grimly, her gaze dropping to the floor.  

"She will only stop when she is exposed to this," Yelena says, reaching into the inside of her jacket and pulling out a glass vial filled with a shimmery red gas. “And that is how we will save her from this rotten life. It ends tonight - with the two of us. What do you say, Kate Bishop? Ready to get back into action?"

“More than ready,” Kate says. “Just give me a minute to put on my suit.” 

Twenty minutes later, Kate's perched on a building, watching Yelena break into the building across the street through the scope of her bow. Ostensibly, she's providing backup to Yelena, but in reality, she's simply acting as an onlooker as Yelena effortlessly takes out the preacher's son. Watching Yelena dispatch her target is kind of like watching ballet, although it's way more interesting than The Nutcracker or Swan Lake or any of the shows her mom dragged her to while growing up. (Kate winces at that thought. She really doesn't want to think about her mom.)  

"You know, I'm feeling unnecessary here," Kate says into her earpiece as Yelena straightens up over the man's unconscious body. 

"That is not the right attitude to have. At the very least, you are providing moral support," Yelena's voice says over the speaker. Yelena turns around, waving cheekily to Kate through the window. "You are keeping me from being bored, which is a service inde-" 

“Yelena, behind you!”

The widow comes out of nowhere - dropping down from the ceiling, possibly - taking the distracted Yelena easily by surprise. She slams her fist into Yelena, clocking her jaw with a terrifying amount of force. Yelena's head snaps to the right, and Kate can see her earpiece flying out of her ear.

"Fuck!" Kate says to herself, frantically notching an arrow. She pulls back on the string, waiting for a clear shot as the widow lands another blow on Yelena's back. But no - she can't kill the widow, that wouldn't be right. She watches helplessly as Yelena and the widow struggle, frantically trying to come up with a Plan B. Think, Kate, think! She could shoot out the light, maybe that would give Yelena an advantage? Or shoot out the window, just as a distraction?  

The widow flips Yelena onto her back and lands another punch to her head. Oh my God, I'm going to have to kill the widow, Kate thinks as the widow kneels on Yelena, pinning both of her arms to the ground. I have to do it, she's about to fucking kill Yelena!

But Yelena's not fighting back. Instead, she's slipping her left hand into her pants pocket, clenching her hands around something small. The vial. But with her arms pinned down, how is Yelena going to release the gas? 

Yelena turns her head and looks up at Kate, looks back down at the vial, and looks back up at Kate. 

Kate suddenly knows exactly what Yelena wants her to do. 

It happens in a second. Yelena lands one good kick in the widow's ribs, jerking her left arm from under the widow's leg. The moment her arm's free, she throws the vial into the air. And Kate releases the arrow. 

The arrowhead shatters the vial in mid air, creating an explosion of red powder and glass that shower over Yelena and the widow.

The effect is immediate - the widow collapses over Yelena, all fight in her body gone. Yelena gently pushes her to the side as she rises to her feet. She looks up at Kate, relief evident in her face, then picks up the fallen earpiece from the ground. 

"I need a minute with her," Yelena says. "Meet me downstairs."

When Yelena leaves the apartment building to meet Kate on the street, her face is more than just relieved - she has a huge smile on her face. “Not bad at all, Kate Bishop!" she exclaims as she walks up to Kate. "That was a very, very good shot."

“Oh my God, right?" Kate says. "I didn't think I was going to make it, and then bam! Holy shit! Come on, you have to high five me for that.” Kate says, holding up her arm.

Yelena doesn't hesitate to slam her palm into Kate's own. But instead of just slapping it for a second - you know, like a normal high-five - she laces her fingers into Kate’s own and squeezes her hand. 

“You know, these girls' nights of ours keep getting better and better,” Yelena says, before letting go of Kate’s hand.

Kate lets out a giddy giggle. The giddiness doesn't fade, even after Kate goes back to her sad and lonely apartment, even as she's laying in bed, staring up at her ceiling, unable to sleep. She just can't seem to stop herself from smiling.

It must be the afterglow of making that incredible shot.  

Yeah. That’s totally it.  

Kate and Yelena sorta absolutely crush the next two missions as well. 

The second widow is hired out by some type of rich Wall Street asshole hoping to take out his competitors. “On top of the widow, this man has an incredible amount of private security," Yelena explains to Kate over waffles the next morning. "We'll have to do this one quick. In and out. A real hit and run. I'm putting you in charge of driving the getaway car.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but there's a huge problem with that plan," Kate says, embarrassed. "The main one being that I can’t exactly drive."

“What?” Yelena says, her mouth dropping open in that exaggerated way that Kate's getting used to. (That Kate's getting endeared to.) 

“I grew up in the city!" Kate says, defensively, pouring syrup over her plate. "Literally no native New Yorker knows how to drive, that's a fact.”

“Then I will have to teach you one day,” Yelena says, matter of factly. “If we are going to be partners, I need to rely on you to be able to drive. Let’s see. I’ll teach you stick shift first, that way you can drive anything. Maybe it is good you don’t know how to drive yet. I can make sure you don’t get into any bad habits.” 

Yelena goes on and on about exactly how she’s going to teach Kate to drive  - something about there only being one right way to steer your way out of a hydroplane - but Kate’s having a hard time paying attention. Her brain stopped working when Yelena said the word 'partners.' Look, Kate's been very lonely lately, so it makes sense that she's getting a bit emotional about this woman implying that they're going to be working together in the future, okay?  

(They manage to pull off the mission without a getaway car. After all, Kate might not know how to drive, but she sure knows how to hail a taxi.) 

The final mission involves a British ambassador using a widow to hide the trail of discrete dealings and secrets he's leaving in his wake. "He keeps the widow in his own apartment," Yelena tells Kate as they take Lucky out for a walk in the park. "Sounds bad, but thankfully it is not like that. He is simply a very paranoid man. But this means it will be hard to get the drop on him. I've been watching him for a few days now, and he seldom leaves, save for a cigarette break every other hour. I will distract him, and you break in. I'll be right behind you."

"How will I know when to go in?" Kate asks.

"I think it will be very clear when he is distracted enough," Yelena says. 

Three hours later, Kate's watching from an alley as Yelena makes her way up the street to the man sucking on his cigarette. She staggers over to him as if she's drunk, and Kate can hear her voice, pitched up and with a weird accent (Texan?), asking the man for a cigarette. He lights it for her, and Yelena starts making googly eyes at him, and after a few minutes of animated conversation, he's got his hand on her back, and Kate really hates what she's watching right now. 

And then it gets worse. Because Yelena's leaning in, and is kissing the man, and he is kissing her back.

And then it gets even worser. Because you can tell, even in this awful context and from fifteen feet away in an alley, that Yelena is a very, very good kisser. 

But this is not the time to think about that. This is really not the time to think about that, Kate repeats to herself, when it's been a second and she still hasn't moved. Get serious, Kate, we've got a woman to save. 

Kate finally manages to tear her eyes away from this disgusting scene and darts into the apartment building. Yelena is providing her with this distraction for a reason, Kate reminds herself as she makes her way to the man's apartment. Although, was kissing really necessary? Couldn't she have just zapped him? Kate thinks as she jams her lock pick into the man's apartment door, jimmying it until the lock clicks open. 

When she opens the door, the widow is right there.

"Oh. Uh, hi -" Kate says, and then she's being thrown against the wall. And holy shit, these women are strong. The widow is pressing Kate against the wall with her elbow on her chest, squeezing all of the air out of her lungs. Kate is starting to have a hard time breathing and is thinking, Any time, Yelena, any time would be really good when a cloud of red smoke appears from behind the widow's head. Yelena firmly takes the now confused widow by the shoulders and pulls her back from Kate. 

"Kate, are you okay?" Yelena says, no small amount of concern in her voice.

"I won't lie, I've definitely been better," Kate chokes out, rubbing her hand on her sore sternum. "But I'll be fine. You look after your girl now," Kate says, as the widow starts to come to. "I'll be waiting outside." 

Yelena takes longer with this one than the others, but in thirty minutes she's walking out of the building to meet Kate, a huge smile on her face. Kate's seen Yelena smile before - but not like this. She's never really seen Yelena this relaxed before. And it's not like Kate is dumb. She's noticed that Yelena is incredibly attractive. But seeing her like this, freed of worries - well.

Let's just say it's something else. 

"Kate Bishop," Yelena says, "It is time to celebrate." 

Kate takes Yelena to her favorite bar. It's a small dive bar about three blocks from her apartment, complete with an old timey juke box and cheap beer. Yelena insists on buying a whole pitcher for just the two of them. She does not appear to think this is a large amount of alcohol at all. 

“A toast,” Kate says, holding up her glass of beer. “To the end of your mission.” 

Yelena smiles, and Kate can tell that she's enormously pleased with herself. “To the freed widows,” Yelena says, before tapping her glass against Kate’s. 

“So what are you going to do now?" Kate asks as she takes a sip of her beer, trying not to grimace at the taste. (She's really more of a frozen cocktails kind of girl.) "What’s Yelena’s next move?” 

“Probably some contract work,” Yelena shrugs. “You have to pay the bills somehow. These are not cheap,” she says, holding up her hand and wiggling her fingers, showing off her rings. “And I have a few more I want to add to my collection. I’ve heard of this ring on the black market that, when you tap it, literally shoots out flames.” Yelena’s eyes light up, as if reflecting an imaginary blaze in front of her. “Flames,” she repeats. “Oh, I must have this ring.” She smiles, fondly, thinking about her fiery future. “But what about you, Kate? What are your plans now?” 

“I don’t know," Kate admits, somewhat glumly. "I’m having a hard time figuring out what to do with my life. Clint’s retired. My mom’s in fucking jail. And I submitted my withdrawal papers to my college last week. After everything that happened last year, getting a degree seems pretty worthless right now.”

“But a college education is never worthless!” Yelena exclaims. “Double major in International Relations and Gender and Women Studies, correct? That does not sound worthless to me.”

Kate starts to laughs it off, having heard enough jokes about her second major. But Yelena leans in, her face completely serious. “I am not joking. I would have loved to go to college.”

“Well, you still could, right?” Kate says. “I mean, it’s not like you’re too old for it. You’re -  wait, how old are you?” 

“I am 29,” Yelena says. “I should be 34, though. Five years of my life, gone. . . in a bathroom, of all places.” Yelena shakes her head with disgust. “I lost five years of my life in a bathroom. Can you believe it?” She takes another swig of beer. “And if it wasn’t for my sister, I would’ve died there.” She looks over Kate's shoulders, her eyes unfocused.

“I’m sorry again," Kate says softly. "About Natasha.” 

“It was good, that talk I had with Clint," Yelena says, her gaze returning to Kate's. "He knew Natasha really well. He knew her better than I did. Then I ever will get the chance to.” The last words come out strangled, and Kate has to fight a sudden urge to reach out and grab Yelena's hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Kate repeats instead. 

“Loss is a part of life,” Yelena says, shrugging, her tone back to normal. “You have lost people as well. Your mother. A different kind of loss, but a loss nonetheless. That was hard for you. When I sent that text – I knew it was going to be hard.”

“I’m thankful you sent it,” Kate says. “I just wish my mom wasn’t in jail." Her eyes fill up with hot tears, and she takes another long sip of her beer to try to cover it up. 

“Enough depressing topics,” Yelena says, waving her hand in the air as if batting away sad thoughts. “We are celebrating tonight. I want to dance! And because you have been such a good partner, I will give you the honor of choosing the song.” 

Yelena might have said the word 'honor,' but as Kate makes her way over to the juke box, she can't help but feel that this is more of a burden. 

Okay, okay, Kate, no pressure or anything. You just have to somehow pick the coolest song possible. Nothing too try hard. Nothing too Gen Z. Just a good old, danceable, classic. Fuck, I am totally overthinking this. 

She flips through the selection of songs in the juke box, keenly aware of Yelena's eyes on her. Queen. No one can object to Queen! Kate thinks triumphantly as she selects "Don't Stop Me Now." 

“Kate Bishop! Incredible song choice,” Yelena cheers as the first few notes start, holding up her beer. She takes one final sip from the glass before leaping up from the booth. 

"What can I say? I'm a woman of great taste," Kate says and Yelena makes her way over to her. 

"I believe it," Yelena concedes. "Come on. Let's dance." 

They make their way over to the dance floor, and it's not until Kate is all but screaming along the lyrics and hopping up and down that she realizes that she is probably feeling the effects of the beer. Yelena seems to be right there with her though - she's shaking her head back and forth, swooshing her long blonde hair in front of her face, swaying in place with her arms raised above her head. (It occurs to Kate that Yelena might actually not be a great dancer.) 

Kate is struck by a sudden wave of immeasurable affection for this trained assassin. Boldly, and tipsily, Kate reaches up to one of Yelena's outstretched hands, grabbing it. 

"Dance with me!" she shouts over the music, pulling Yelena closer to her. Yelena lights up, and grabs Kate's other hand, and the two of them are bouncing up and down as they scream the lyrics into each other's faces, and Kate's never had this much fun being a drunken idiot. 

But then the song ends, and the next one queued on the Juke Box is a lot less danceable - Total Eclipse of the Heart, way to ruin the mood - and the two of them are simply standing in the middle of the dance floor, holding hands. 

There's a long second before Kate can think to let go. A second where Kate realizes that she's close enough to Yelena, that even with the strong smell of beer filling the bar, she can pick up the smell of her - something similar to caramel. 

"It's late," Kate says, swallowing hard as she slowly pulls her hand away from Yelena's.  "I should probably go home." 

"Okay," Yelena says simply. "I'll grab our jackets." 

The cold February air is immediately sobering. Kate begins to think that what happened in the bar might be a What happened in the dive bar when we were dancing to Queen stays in the dive bar sort of situation when Yelena begins to speak. 

“You know, if you really do not have a plan for what you are going to do next, then you should join me on my next mission," Yelena says, turning to Kate. "It's good money. Good fun, too.”

“I’d like that," Kate says, smiling. 

“I thought you would,” Yelena says. 

And then Yelena's hand is reaching out to Kate's face, and she's picking up a strand of Kate's hair, and Kate really thinks this woman is about to kiss her. Her body’s reaction to this thought is immediate and all encompassing. All the blood drains out of her head, leaving her lightheaded, her chest tight, her mouth suddenly very dry.  

But Yelena instead pinches her thumb and finger together and drags it through Kate's hair. She holds up her hand - red dust from the widow antidote is smeared on her fingers. It must have splashed on Kate's hair during the altercation in the apartment. 

"We wouldn't want you getting that on your pillowcase," Yelena says, wiping her fingers on her jeans.

"No," Kate says, dumbly. "No, we wouldn't."

"Good work today, Kate Bishop," Yelena says. "We will be seeing each other shortly." With that, she turns away and walks away.

And Kate is left alone, in the middle of the sidewalk, wondering what the fuck she's just started. 

Chapter Text

“We will be seeing each other shortly.” 

That’s what Yelena had said. Kate remembers it very well: “We will be seeing each other shortly.” 

Those seven words had led Kate to believe that, you know, they would be seeing each other shortly. 

And then Yelena drops off of the map. 

The first two days that pass without Yelena responding to Kate's "Fun night last night! Congrats again. Let me know when you get our next mission 😎" text don't worry Kate that much. She’s trying to be chill about this, after all. This is the new and improved Kate, who’s learned her lessons about double-texting, who isn’t going to scare this woman away from ever wanting to work with her again.

(Although - would it be possible to scare Yelena away? Is it possible to even scare Yelena, period?)

After the third day passes without a word, Kate folds, sending Yelena her a quick follow-up text - "Hey, did you find any work for us?" 

No response. 

Kate does her best to distract herself from her cruel phone. She teaches Lucky how to speak on command. She invites her friends Greer and Franny to spend a weekend at her place. She goes axe throwing with her old archery buddy, Josh (and is immediately amazing at it, thanks for asking). She paints her nails purple. She chips at her nails. She scrubs the paint off of her nails. 

On the eighth day, Kate calls Yelena. She's sent straight to voicemail.

“Hey, Yelena,” Kate says, pacing back and forth in her apartment. “Just calling to check in. Uh, thought maybe I would’ve heard from you by now, but I guess not. Wanted to see if we were still on for the whole "working together" thing? Call me back. Byeeee,” she says, dragging out the last word in a pathetic attempt to sound casual that instead makes her think she should be barred from speaking to another human being ever again.

After four more days go by in silence, Kate’s completely given up on hearing back from Yelena. It's sort of a huge bummer. God, she had been looking forward to working again. She misses that feeling of being useful, of challenging her skills, of being able to help people.

She misses Yelena.

She misses Yelena terribly, in a way that doesn't really track with how long Kate's known her. But there was something about that woman, how worked in tandem, complimented each other, and goofed off together that makes her absence leave a shockingly huge hole in Kate's life. They danced to Queen together. Kate doesn't feel like she deserves to be ghosted after that. It's deeply unfair, and incredibly painful. 

And thus Kate finds herself right back in Depression Town, USA. Her apartment, which she now barely leaves, is back to being a huge mess, she's ordering takeout so frequently that she's recognizing the Uber Eats drivers, and she's clocking in way too much time watching reality TV. Tonight feels particularly pathetic. It's Friday, yet Kate's in her bed, in her flannel PJ pants and college sweatshirt, with no one but Marie Kondo on her laptop to keep her company. 

This is, of course, when Yelena shows up. 

“Chocolate or vanilla?”

Kate is so startled she knocks her laptop off of her lap. Yelena's perched in her window, a pint of ice cream in each hand. 

“Holy fuck!” Kate exclaims. “What the hell, Yelena?” 

“Not a fan of ice cream, then?” Yelena says. “Or did I bring the wrong flavors? I thought you wouldn't be able to object to such standard - ”  

“Jesus Christ, you can’t come in here without warning!” Kate interrupts, surprised at how angry she is. “I called you. You could have called me back.” 

“I can see that you are mad at me,” Yelena says, hopping down from the windowsill. “I apologize. I have been very busy the last few days.”

“Too busy to send a text?” Kate says.

“Yes,” Yelena says simply. “My daddy got himself into a tricky situation. I had to help him out.”

“And you didn’t want me to come with you?” Kate asks. 

"I thought it would be better for you not to get involved. My father is a very messy man. He got himself in a lot of trouble with a Siberian politician. Would you have wanted to go to Siberia, Kate?”

“I don’t know - maybe!” Kate huffs. “I thought we were supposed to be partners," she adds, fully aware that she is pouting. 

“Partners, yes!" Yelena says. "I do want us to be partners. Kate and Yelena, taking down the bad guys, it is a good idea! But if you are expecting me to be the reliable type, and to respond to every text you send, then you are going to be very disappointed. I’m sorry if I gave you a different impression.” 

A snap of hurt reverberates in Kate's chest at those words.

“After all, I am still a spy,” Yelena continues. “Sometimes I will not be available. Sometimes I will be busy. Sometimes I will be gone." She pauses, taking in Kate's crestfallen face. "Kate Bishop, do not look so sad! I like you and I want to work with you - truly. But I have my own affairs to attend to.”

“I get it,” Kate says glumly.

“I can see you are still upset. This is why I brought the ice cream. I thought it would cheer you up. I brought this for you all the way from Siberia. It is much better than your American ice cream. Come on, let us have a girl’s night again. What is this you are watching?”

“Tidying up with Marie Kondo,” Kate mutters, still stung by Yelena's words. 

“Hmm,” Yelena hums, taking a long look around Kate’s apartment. “I think maybe you should stop watching this show. It is clearly not working.” 

Kate lets out a laugh despite herself. Yelena grins widely in response, clearly pleased at having broken Kate’s bad mood for a moment.

“So, chocolate or vanilla?” Yelena asks again, holding up the two containers of ice cream. 

“Vanilla,” Kate says, giving in. 

Yelena nods in approval. “It is the better flavor. I will get us spoons. You have two spoons, right?”

“Uh. . .” 

A minute later, Yelena has joined Kate on the bed with a spoon and a fork. (“You will have to use the fork, Kate Bishop, as a punishment for your cutlery crimes.”) She props the container of ice cream between them, and they alternate digging their respective utensils into the dessert. It turns out Yelena wasn’t exaggerating - Russian ice cream is really good. It helps dissipate Kate's remaining anger towards Yelena. 

“So what’s your father like?” Kate asks after a few quiet minutes have passed.

“He is a stupid man,” Yelena says bluntly. “He thinks he can punch his way out of any situation. I tell him, Daddy, one day I will not be there to help you, and then you will be fucked. But I am a softie. I help him every time.” 

"Do you get to see him often?"

"No, not so often. A few times a year. But until recently, I had gone many, many years without seeing him. So it is a huge improvement. I was thinking I might bring him and my mother to New York for Christmas next year. I did not exactly get to appreciate Rockefeller Center last time I was there." 

"And whose fault was that?" Kate jests.

"You are right, I have only myself to blame," Yelena concedes. "Next time, I will not plan my misguided assassination attempts to overlap with the holidays."

Kate laughs softly at that. "Where are you staying, by the way?"

"I have a few go-to hotels. Some nice, some not so nice. But all discrete. And they all serve continental breakfast. How I love those little muffins! Although the hotel I am at now, a bit of a disappointment. They do not leave the mint on the pillow."

"If you ever wanted to, you could stay over here," Kate offers. "There's plenty of room. We could split the bed.”

Kate's freaking out before the words have left her mouth. Was that flirty? She didn’t mean it to be flirty. She just happens to have a King sized bed is all, and whenever her friends come over they always end up sharing it. Like, the other weekend, when Greer and Franny were in the city, all three of them fit on it pretty comfortably.

Yes, Kate doesn't happen to find either Greer or Franny as attractive as the woman sitting right next to her. Thanks for pointing that out.

“Or you could take the couch. Or I could take the couch!” Kate rushes to add. “Lucky would be happy to have you over,” Kate says, and then tries to laugh, but it comes out shrill and incredibly lame. 

"Maybe," Yelena says non committedly, seemingly ignoring Kate’s awkwardness. But then she shifts, slightly, infinitesimally but unmistakably closer, in a way that brings the side of her arm into contact with Kate's. 

It’s literally just a brush of the arm, but it sends a shockwave of desire through Kate's entire body. Arms aren't even that sexy, Kate chastises herself. (This is a lie, though. Yelena's arms are, in fact, very sexy.) You need to fucking chill.  But she is not able to chill, especially when her nose picks up on that distinct scent of Yelena's that she noticed for the first time in the bar, smoke mixed with caramel and a hint of sweat. She swallows hard and keeps her eyes intently on the show. 

"Wow, the way she folds clothes sure is something else," Kate says loudly. 

“This show is boring to me,” Yelena says, unimpressed. “I want to do something else.”

“Like what?” Kate asks, pausing the show and turning to Yelena. 

Yelena hums thoughtfully before speaking. “I heard an interesting phrase the other day, on the streets of the city,” Yelena says. “Have you ever heard of ‘Netflix and chill?'”

Kate chokes on the mouthful of ice cream she’s just forked into her mouth. “What?” she coughs out. 

“Netflix and chill,” Yelena repeats, casually. “This is something you young Americans say, no?” 

“You’ve never heard of this phrase before,” Kate says, disbelievingly. 

“No,” Yelena replies.

“You want me to explain the phrase 'Netflix and chill' to you."

“Yes."  

Kate looks at Yelena for a long moment, trying to discern if she’s pulling her leg. Yelena returns the gaze, her eyes all wide and innocent. 

“Well, it means hooking up," Kate says finally. "Like, you invite someone over to watch Netflix, and then you have sex. You don't actually watch any TV. Netflix is just an excuse to invite them over,” she explains, trying not to blush. (She’s failing.)

“This is what I thought,” Yelena says. 

“So you did know what it was,” Kate points out.

“Yes, but I wanted to hear you say it.” 

“What do you mean by that?” Kate says, her heart suddenly beating very loudly in her ears.

“You are an attractive woman,” Yelena says, her voice somehow huskier than usual. Without dropping her gaze from Kate's, she shifts her left hand to her right, gripping the ring on her index finger. One by one, she slowly pulls her rings off of her hand, collecting them in her palm. Kate watches, absolutely hypnotized by the slide of each ring down Yelena's finger. 

“What are you getting at?” Kate asks after a pause, once she trusts her voice not to waver. 

Yelena shrugs as she slips the last ring off of her finger. “While I was in Siberia, I kept thinking about how well we worked together the other month. You and I, we are very in sync. I was thinking, we might be able to work together in a different way." She drops the collection of rings onto Kate's bedside table. They land with a soft plunk. "If you wanted," Yelena finishes.  

Kate’s stunned into silence. It seems altogether too likely that she's had a sudden mental breakdown and hallucinated the last five minutes. Yelena waits for a moment as Kate looks at her like an idiot, her mouth agape. Then Yelena's face falls - a small frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

“I might have misread some things," Yelena says, shifting away from Kate. "I can go -”

“No,” Kate says quickly, her hand darting out to grab onto Yelena’s wrist, keeping her in place. “You haven’t - you haven’t misread anything,” Kate says. 

Yelena smiles in relief, and then she's reaching out to Kate and pulling her in for a heated kiss. 

Yelena’s lips might taste like vanilla, but that’s the only thing sweet about this. Her mouth is immediately open against Kate's, her tongue pushing past her lips still sticky with ice cream, parting her mouth open. Kate can't help but moan as Yelena licks into her mouth. She's scrambling to keep up with how fast this is going, reacting purely on instinct, her mind fuzzy with lust. Trying to gain some control of the situation, she breaks away from the kiss long enough to sink her teeth into Yelena's bottom lip. Yelena retaliates by yanking Kate’s sweater over her head. 

"Oh," Yelena says, stopping short in surprise - Kate wasn't wearing anything under her sweater. Her hooded eyes take in Kate's flushed chest greedily.

She leans in slowly, shifting onto her hands and knees above Kate, and presses a searing kiss to her neck. 

“Kate Bishop,” Yelena murmurs against her skin in between open mouthed kisses. “Before we go any further, can you promise me you are going to be cool about this?” 

“Huh? Oh yeah. Yeah, I'll be cool about this,” Kate breathes out. “Totally cool.” 

"This will not affect our other partnership?" Yelena asks. 

"No, not at all," Kate says, the words coming out more strangled than she'd like. 

“Okay, then,” Yelena says, punctuating the sentence with a nip right above Kate's collarbone. “If you promise.” 

Her hand skims up the side of Kate’s body, leaving muscles rippling in her wake, until she reaches her breast, palming it roughly. She leans over, dropping her mouth, still slightly chilled from the ice cream, to Kate's nipple. She sucks gently, pulling it between her teeth.

As she squirms above Yelena, Kate calmly discerns that she no longer has any bones left in the lower half of her body. They've all turned to mush. 

Seemingly satisfied with the state she's rendered Kate into, Yelena firmly grabs Kate's hips and pulls her to the edge of the bed, kneeling on the floor between her legs and sliding Kate's flannel pants and underwear down to the floor in one graceful movement.

And then Yelena's tongue is on her, and fuck. She has to put her arm over her face to hide the stupefied expression she's sure she's making. Yelena's strokes get bolder, forcing a whimper from Kate's throat. She clamps her hand over her own mouth before she can let out any more embarrassing noises as Yelena continues to lap at her. 

Yelena is good at this. Holy shit, Yelena is fucking good at this. Which isn't a surprise, so to say. Theoretically, if Kate had imagined having sex with Yelena, (and again this is theoretical and not something that happened in the two weeks she waited for Yelena to call), she would have imagined it being something Yelena was very good at it. But experiencing it firsthand - fuck. Yelena's tongue flutters against Kate in a way that causes her leg to start shaking. This is probably something she would be self-conscious about, if she had the mental capacity to think about anything other than how good Yelena's mouth feels on her. 

Kate doesn’t think she’s ever been this turned on before. If she has, she’s never been turned on this fast. It’s overwhelming. 

It’s a little too overwhelming.

“Wait, wait,” Kate says, pressing her fingertips against Yelena’s forehead. 

Yelena immediately draws away. “Are you okay?” she says looking up at Kate, her brow creased with concern. 

“Yes," Kate says quickly. "Yes, sorry, it was - that was a lot.” 

“Do you want to stop?” Yelena asks, resting her chin on Kate’s hip. 

“No!” Kate says loudly. “No, I don't want to stop. I just need a second.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Yelena murmurs into the dip of Kate's hip. She places a few soft kisses there as Kate inhales deeply, trying to pull herself together. After a moment, her arousal settles into something survivable. 

“Okay,” Kate says. “Okay, I want to keep going.”

“Good,” Yelena says, kissing her way back down. “Would you want me to use my fingers?"

“God, yes,” Kate says, leaning back and closing her eyes again. 

Yelena's tongue is softer against her when she returns to Kate's center, easing her slowly back into a frenzied state. She waits until Kate is panting again before pushing two of her fingers into her. Kate takes her in easily, her body throbbing around the digits, her head flopping back as she slides into a new depth of arousal she would've thought impossible. Yelena curls her fingers up slightly and the way the rough pads of her fingers press against her there causes a gush of heat to swirl in Kate’s lower belly.

“Oh fuck, I’m close,” Kate chokes out. 

“I know,” Yelena murmurs against her. And it's her raspy voice that pushes Kate over the edge, leaving her quivering against Yelena's mouth and clenching around her fingers. 

Vaguely, as the aftershocks of her orgasm roll through her, Kate feels Yelena slowly withdraw her fingers from inside her. She places one last kiss to Kate's inner thigh before standing up from her kneeling position. 

“I need a glass of water before I go," Yelena says, somehow perfectly casually, as if she has not watched Kate fall apart in front of her. "Do you want one?”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Kate says weakly, propping herself on her elbows as Yelena makes her way to the kitchen. “You don’t want me to-” 

“No,” Yelena says firmly, returning with two glasses of water. “That will not be necessary.” She places one glass on Kate’s bedside and scoops up her rings in one smooth motion. Standing above Kate, she drinks her own glass of water in two large gulps.

Kate registers for the first time that Yelena is still completely clothed. 

“That was really fun, Kate Bishop,” Yelena says sincerely as Kate looks up at her, wrung out and completely wrecked. She strides towards the window, attaching her grappling cable to the floor with a flick of her wrist. She hops up on the windowsill and turns around, facing Kate.

"We should do it again sometime. But for now - goodnight, Kate," Yelena says, and then falls backwards out of the window and into the night. 

Chapter Text

The good news is that Kate is definitely cool about this. 

You’d think she wouldn’t be, right? Everyone’s always like, calm down Kate, stop getting so invested, Kate, you’re too emotional, too eager, too passionate, too much of a fangirl, no but seriously Kate you’re weirding us out with your Hawkeye obsession. 

But when it comes to having the best sex of your life with someone who then literally jumps out of a window before you’ve even come down? It turns out that’s something Kate can handle surprisingly well. 

She definitely didn’t stay up all night staring at her ceiling, replaying every single word and every single moment that happened from the second Yelena appeared in her window.

She definitely didn’t spend a restless 48 hours checking her phone every other minute to see if a text from Yelena had come through.  

She definitely didn’t have to down three Benadryl in a last ditch effort to save herself from another sleepless night. 

She definitely didn’t have a dream about Yelena, brought on by the faint remnants of her perfume that's still lingering on her bedsheets. Now that would really be embarrassing. 

But then something miraculous happens - it turns out that sometimes, you can dream something into reality. Because Kate's woken up the next morning from her antihistamine-induced haze by a call coming from none other than Yelena. 

The second she sees the name on the screen, she grabs the phone and slams the accept button with a breakneck speed she has to owe to her black belt honed reflexes. 

“Hello?” Kate says, quite proud of how calm her voice is. 

“I’m outside,” Yelena states with no preamble. 

“What?” (Kate's voice is a little less calm on that one.) 

“Well, you said you wanted me to give you a heads up the next time I came over, so - heads up. I'm here. Are you coming down?”  

“Yes!" Kate says, then clears her voice. "Yes," she repeats, more casually. "Just give me five, I’ll be right there.”

Kate runs to the bathroom mirror. She looks a little ragged, but she can work with this. She pulls her hair into a quick ponytail and splashes some water on her face. Racing back to her living room, she yanks on a pair of baggy black jeans and pulls on a vintage T-shirt and a jean jacket before rushing downstairs. 

When she sees Yelena, though, she begins to doubt her own fashion choices. Because Yelena’s out here looking like nothing less than an absolute bombshell. She’s wearing a knee-length black skirt, a bomber jacket over a shiny red polka dot tee, and a huge pair of platform boots. Her hair is pulled into this 50s updo and she’s wearing bright red lipstick that matches not only her shirt, but the cherry red pickup truck she’s leaning against.

“What is this?” Kate says, grinning from ear to ear. 

“I told you,” Yelena says. “It is going to be hard for us to be partners if I can’t rely on you to be in charge of the getaway car. Besides,” she adds, “I’m not going to let you turn 23 without knowing how to drive.” 

“How did you know-” Kate begins before stopping herself. Because of course Yelena would know it’s her birthday this weekend. 

“Well? What do you say?” Yelena asks. “Or do you have other plans?”

“No, no plans,” Kate says, perhaps a bit too eagerly. She backtracks - “Well, I mean my friend and I were going to hang out, grab some grub, but I can call him and-”

“Get in,” Yelena says, rolling her eyes. 

“You don’t want me to be on the driver’s side?” Kate asks as Yelena climbs into the main seat herself. 

“No,” she replies. “You would kill us both if you tried to drive here. And probably take out a few bystanders. We're going out of the city.” 

“Road trip, hell yeah,” Kate says enthusiastically as she hops up into the truck. It smells like stale cigarettes, vinyl seating, and dust. Old magazines litter the floor, but when Kate picks one up, it reveals a hole in the flooring through which you can see the street below. Kate quickly drops the magazine back on the floor and shifts it back over the hole with her foot. 

“This thing is so cool,” she says.

“This thing’s a piece of crap,” Yelena responds. “But it was the only car I could find that was manual.” 

“Where did you buy this?”

“‘Buy’ is an interesting word.” 

“Yelena!” Kate scolds. 

“I’m going to return it,” Yelena says nonchalantly. “It’s not like I’m about to start paying for New York City parking.” She turns the keys and the truck lets out a loud, rattly sputter. It doesn’t seem to phase Yelena, though. “All buckled in?” she asks, glancing over at Kate.

“Ready to go,” Kate responds, flashing a thumbs up at Yelena.

As they make their way out of the city, it quickly becomes obvious that they’re not going to talk about what happened the other night. But it’s surprisingly not awkward. Kate wants to give herself kudos for that - she is not usually one to deftly navigate through these sorts of delicate social situations. But with Yelena, it turns out to be easy. They quickly fall into a casual chat about the best way out of the city, about the first time Kate’s dad let her ride the subway by herself, and about how Yelena’s going to teach Kate how to ride a motorcycle next (which is apparently way more fun.) 

“So, you know a lot about me,” Kate says as Yelena shifts onto the highway. “I mean, you know almost too much about me. But I don’t know anything about you. We’re kind of on unequal ground here.” 

“That’s fair,” Yelena says, tossing a piece of cherry-flavored chewing gum into her mouth. She offers a piece to Kate, who declines with a shake of her head. “Well, what do you want to know?”

Kate hums as she thinks. There’s so much that Kate wants to know about Yelena. Kate wants to know everything about Yelena. 

“Well,” Kate says, shifting through her mental list of top 1000 things I am dying to learn about this woman. “What was it like watching your sister grow up to be an Avenger?” 

Kate's chosen the wrong question from that list. Yelena’s sunny mood immediately clouds over. “I didn’t get to see my sister grow up to be an Avenger,” she says darkly, gnashing down on her piece of gum. “I didn’t get to grow up.” 

“Oh,” Kate says.

The causal atmosphere carefully cultivated between the two immediately pops, like the bubble gum Yelena blows through her lips. Way to ruin the vibe, idiot, Kate thinks. 

“I thought you were going to ask me something else,” Yelena continues, her hands tight on the steering wheel. “Like if I know how to play chess.”  

“Okay," Kate says. "Do you know how to play chess?” 

“Of course I know how to play chess. I’m Russian.” 

They lapse into an uncomfortable silence. Kate desperately glances around the truck for something to change the topic. 

“Hey, cassette player, no way!” she says as she spies the one built into the car dashboard. “That’s old school.” 

“Any tapes?” Yelena asks, her eyes steady on the road. 

Kate opens up the glove compartment. “Jackpot,” she says, pulling out a handful of homemade mixtapes left by the previous owner. (Well, current owner. Sorry, dude.) 

“Is American Pie on any of those?” Yelena says.

Kate scans the track listings. “No, no American Pie.” 

“Aw, that’s my favorite song,” Yelena sulks. Her bright red full lips form into a weirdly alluring pout, sending a shock of desire down Kate’s spine as she remembers where that mouth was the other day. She has to force her eyes back down to the tapes.

“We've got Queen though,” she says, once she’s able to focus on the words in front of her again. “Another One Bites the Dust, let’s go!” 

Blasting the song at full volume helps bring the mood back to what it was. Yelena's face relaxes again as she rhythmically thumps her hand against the steering wheel to the beat of the chorus. Kate rolls down her window, letting the cool March breeze air out the stale smell of the car and rustle their hair.

“So you haven’t found any missions for us yet, huh?” Kate says loudly above competing sounds of the rushing wind and the song. 

“Nothing that I want to take on,” Yelena says. She glances over at Kate. “Somebody told me I should think carefully about the people who hired me. I’m trying to follow their advice.” 

Kate hates the way her heart flutters at that. 

After about an hour of driving, Yelena pulls off of the highway and points the truck towards a small Jersey town. She makes a series of turns, navigating them to a completely deserted stretch of road. “Time to switch,” she announces as she brings the truck to a stop, swinging her car door open. Kate hops out and they exchange seats. 

“Okay, so you have three pedals down there," Yelena says, leaning close to Kate to point out each pedal. "Brake, gas, self explanatory. That one’s the clutch.” She rattles off a list of instructions that Kate has a hard time following, because this appears to be quite complicated, and Yelena's breath is tickling her neck in an all-too tantalizing way. 

“So clutch, gas, then shift to first gear," Kate repeats at Yelena's prompting. "Wait, which one’s first gear?” 

“No, clutch, then first, then gas. And this is the first gear,” Yelena says, impatiently tapping the “1” on the gear shift. (Yelena clearly is not missing out on a vocational calling to become a teacher.) “Give it a go.” 

“Already?” Kate squeaks out. 

“We won’t know what you’re doing wrong until you start,” Yelena says. This is apparently supposed to be encouraging. 

“Okay,” Kate says trepidatiously. She slowly lifts her foot off of the clutch as she shifts the gear with her other hand.

“I said first,” Yelena says, already exasperated. She places her hand right on top of Kate’s and slides the gear into first. “I’ll help you shift, you focus on the clutch,” she says, keeping her hand on top of Kate's.

It's a good idea, but Kate's infinitely more distracted with Yelena's hand resting on top of hers. It makes learning how to maneuver the car really slow going. But after an hour of working at it, and a lot of swearing on both ends, Kate slowly starts to get the hang of it. After Kate's able to successfully shift the car into second gear, Yelena lifts her hand off of Kate's. Kate misses it horribly when it's gone.

“Try to move into third and slow down from there. If you can do that, we'll call it a day,” Yelena says. Kate nods and carefully nudges the car forward into third gear. It's the smoothest transition she's done yet. 

“Good job,” Yelena approves, patting Kate's knee and giving it a small squeeze. This was not a very smart thing for her to do. Kate loses her concentration as a burst of arousal shoots through her, her foot slipping off of the clutch. The truck stalls with a large screech and a loud clunk, jerking to a sudden halt that throws the both of them forward in their seats. 

“That can’t be good,” Kate says.

“Okay, out,” Yelena says, swinging her door open. “You have lost your driving privileges. Let me see what I can do.” Yelena hops back into the driver's seat, as Kate abashedly slides back into the passenger's side. Yelena turns the truck off for a minute, then twists the key back on. It doesn’t turn on. She jiggles the key again. Nothing. 

“You have killed it,” Yelena proclaims flatly.

“Fuck," Kate says, feeling pretty embarrassed. She pulls out her phone. "Well, I guess I'll call a tow truck." 

One humiliating call later, Kate reports back to Yelena. “They’ll be here in forty-five minutes."

"I suppose I will drop off an envelope of money at the owner's place tomorrow," Yelena says with a frown. 

"Sorry I sucked so bad that I murdered the truck,” Kate apologizes.

“Oh, Kate Bishop,” Yelena sighs, shaking her head and looking over at Kate. “What am I going to do with you?” 

The tension in the truck snaps the second their eyes meet. They desperately move towards each other, Yelena’s hands fisting into Kate’s hair and dragging her in for a hungry kiss. Kate surges forward eagerly, but her elbow knocks into the stick shift painfully as she reaches for Yelena’s hips.

“Ow!” 

“Wait, let me-” Yelena says, and in one graceful motion hoists herself over the stick shift and onto Kate’s lap. 

She doesn’t waste a second before bringing her mouth back down to Kate. Kate can still taste the artificial cherry of the chewing gum on her breath as Yelena slips her tongue into her mouth. Kate sucks lightly on her tongue, desperate for more, drawing a soft sigh from Yelena. 

It's the first noise that Kate's heard Yelena make in this context. It's not enough. 

Yelena’s legs are on both sides of Kate's waist as she straddles her, her skirt draping over Kate's lap. Kate grabs the sides of Yelena’s bare knees and slowly slides her hands up her strong legs. She’s intoxicated by the thought of what lies for her underneath Yelena’s skirt, of being able to touch her there. She’s reached Yelena’s thighs and is making her way those final inches up to the swell of her underwear when Yelena gently but firmly grabs her wrists and pushes her hands down. Before Kate can object, Yelena lowers her lips to Kate's neck, kissing a wet trail down the column of Kate’s throat, which proves to be quite distracting indeed. 

Once she’s gotten Kate whimpering under her, Yelena drops her hands to the zipper of Kate’s jeans. “I want to touch you,” she murmurs as she plays with the button, pausing for a moment to look at Kate. 

“Yes,” Kate whispers back. “I want that too.” 

Permission granted, Yelena pulls down Kate’s zipper with a decisive yank and wastes no time before shoving her hand into Kate’s underwear. Kate’s breath hitches at the first slide of Yelena’s calloused fingertips against her warmth. She drags her fingers slowly up Kate, then closes her hand into a half fist and rubs her knuckles against her. Kate shifts her hips upwards, but Yelena’s hand is pressed against her in an awkward way, denying her any satisfying friction. Yelena pulls her hand out of her pants and shakes her wrist, grimacing in discomfort. 

“I think the angle-” Kate says.

“I will fix this,” Yelena says. She presses her body against Kate as she leans over the side of the seat, grabbing the release lever and yanking it up.

Swoosh. The seat slams backwards into a prone position. Yelena topples onto Kate, her shoulder knocking into Kate’s jaw, causing her to wince with pain. 

“That was not very graceful,” Yelena admits. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Kate says, rubbing her sore jaw. “You got me, though.” 

“I’m sorry. But I think I know how to make it better," Yelena murmurs, lowering her mouth down to gently kiss at Kate's jaw. 

Her lips still pressed against Kate, Yelena readjusts herself so she’s lying on her side next to her. "Now where were we?" she purrs, sliding her hand back into Kate’s pants. Her palm resting on Kate’s wiry patch of hair, she begins rubbing soft circles against her, almost feather light. Yelena bends her neck and mouths at Kate’s nipple through her shirt, forcing Kate's hips to unelegantly jerk up in search of more pressure. 

But Yelena is purposefully keeping her on the edge, slowing her fingers down whenever Kate’s moans get too desperate. 

“Come on,” Kate huffs out after a few minutes of being teased. 

“What, is it not good?” Yelena says with an intentionally slow roll of her fingers against Kate.

“You know that’s not it,” Kate says, doing her best to sound annoyed instead of absolutely breathless. She tries to shift her hips up again, pushing against her fingers. “Please,” she adds. 

“See, this is what I was waiting for,” Yelena smirks, before bearing down on Kate. Now that she’s being serious about it, it only takes a few deft strokes to bring Kate trembling over the edge. 

Yelena’s still half perched on Kate as she comes back to herself, a satisfied grin on her face. Kate stares back, looking up at Yelena through lidded eyes. Yelena's lipstick is smeared all over her mouth. Kate lets out a laugh, licking her thumb and reaching up to Yelena's face.

"You got some lipstick on there," Kate says, smiling.

But Yelena pulls away before Kate can cup her cheek. She sits up, frowning as she rubs at the smeared mess with the back of her own hand. 

“The tow truck will be soon,” she says. 

Kate glances at her phone. They still have a solid twenty minutes before it's set to arrive. 

“I’m going to get some air,” Yelena says, abruptly leaving the truck. Kate watches as Yelena walks down the road a few feet, pulling a loose cigarette out of her jacket and digging in her other pocket for a lighter. 

Okay. So certain lines seem to have been drawn. Kate can respect that. She’s never had a stone butch girlfriend before, but she knows that’s a thing. She wishes Yelena would use her words a little more and tell her what is on and off the table. But they can talk about that later. 

Or can they? Kate’s still trying to figure out the exact rules of this arrangement. Business partners - that’s still in the works. Friends? They have to be friends. This is a friendship. Romance isn't in the cards, and again, Kate’s so cool with that you don’t even know. Ergo, friends with benefits. Except Kate is the only one reaping the benefits right now. Although it’s not like Yelena doesn’t seem to be enjoying herself. 

That’s not too complicated, right? 

Yelena puts out her cigarette on the ground and joins Kate back in the truck. 

“Smoking kills,” Kate says petulantly, despite herself. 

“Somehow I don’t think this is the most dangerous part of my current lifestyle,” Yelena responds.

“Well, I’m not going to kiss you again if you’re going to taste like cigarettes,” Kate says. I guess Yelena doesn’t really kiss me outside of sex anyway, she thinks glumly.

But Yelena just pointedly rolls her eyes at Kate and pops another piece of gum into her mouth, and they wait together for the tow truck in silence. 

Chapter Text

The mood in the truck quickly takes an unfortunate turn for the worse.

Things start to get dire when the tow truck doesn’t arrive at its promised forty-five minute ETA. If Kate was beginning to get the hint that Yelena's not a patient person, she’s definitely gotten the memo as the minutes continue to tick by with no truck in sight. Yelena restlessly yanks her hair out of its 50s hairdo and braids it up into a tight bun. She pulls a pack of tobacco out of an inside pocket and starts mindlessly rolling cigarettes (“I need something to do with my hands,” she tells Kate when she gives her a pointed look). She leaves the truck every ten minutes to agitatedly pace around outside. 

The tow truck finally rolls up to them an hour later. 

“Can we hitch a ride into the city?” Kate asks the driver as he hooks the red pickup onto his tow truck. 

“What, New York City?” he says incredulously. “Why would I be going there? The yard is fifteen minutes away, on Grove.”

“And it took you ninety minutes to get here?” Yelena mutters under her breath. 

“I can drop you girls off on Main, though,” the driver continues, “And you can take the train into New York.”

“That will have to do,” Yelena says shortly. 

The “main street” of this small Jersey town proves to be pretty pathetic. There’s almost nothing there, save a ratty looking deli, a nail salon, and a Shop Rite with an oversized parking lot. The train station is not much more than an outdoor platform with a bench underneath an awning.

The platform display helpfully informs them that the train isn’t coming for another thirty minutes. 

“I will go steal another car,” Yelena says, turning away from the station. 

“No!” Kate says, grabbing her wrist. She lets go of it quickly when Yelena turns around to face her, a sour look on her face. “I’m instituting a one stolen car a day rule. Let’s just wait.” 

“What, we wait half an hour for the train, we get on the train, we transfer, we get on another train, we walk ten blocks? You would really rather do that? I can avoid all this by hotwiring one car.” 

“Maybe let’s not resort to crime to get out of small inconveniences?” Kate says.  

“Fine then, call an Uber or whatever,” Yelena says, kicking at the ground. 

“Do you know how much an Uber from here to the city is going to cost?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be rich, Kate Bishop?” Yelena says snippily.

“I was, before my mom went to prison and our company was dissolved. I thought you knew everything about me? Haven’t been able to keep up with the recent updates, huh?” Kate shoots back.  

“I know the highlights, but I did not realize you were a pauper now,” Yelena grumbles. 

“Wow. Thanks. Well, this date is going great,” Kate says, exasperatedly throwing her hands in the air.

The second the words leave her mouth she knows this was the wrong thing to say. Yelena whips towards her, her eyes narrowing. 

“This is not a date,” she says, jabbing her finger at the ground between them.  

“Yeah, no, yeah, no, I know,” Kate stammers out. “I meant, like, a friend date.” 

“You say this, when you hang out with your friends?” Yelena asks, a skeptical eyebrow raised. “That it is a date?” 

“All the time,” Kate lies. 

“Okay,” Yelena says, unconvinced. “I did not realize this word was used this way. Maybe my English isn’t as good as I thought.” 

There’s a long, awkward pause. 

“Because if you are going to start being weird-” Yelena starts, her tone reprimanding. 

And that’s it. Kate is flooded with a rush of anger. Because she’s been handling this whole situation very well, actually? She’s not the one who’s being all hot and cold. She’s not the one who’s laid down these invisible ground rules. 

“You’re being a real bitch right now, you know that right?” Kate snaps. 

Yelena glares at Kate. She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it. Her face softens and she looks down at her feet, somewhat abashed. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “I am just hungry.” She looks up at Kate, her angry expression replaced with these big, regretful doe eyes. Kate’s own fury rushes away from her as quickly as it came in. 

“Come on,” Kate says with a small smile. “I saw a deli when we were driving into town. Let’s go get some bagels.” 

“The bagels were a masterful idea, Kate Bishop,” Yelena says as she all but stuffs the last bite of her everything bagel (with extra cream cheese) into her mouth. They’re back at the station, sitting side by side - but not too close - on the spray-painted bench under the awning. “You had about five minutes back there before I whacked you with my baton.”

“You have your baton on you?” Kate says, giving Yelena a once-over. 

“Pockets,” Yelena says simply. She reaches into the inside of her bomber jacket and brings out the baton with a flourish.

“Cool,” Kate says, looking at it admiringly. “Can I hold it?”

“No,” Yelena says. “You press the wrong button, you electrocute yourself. That can be our next lesson - I will teach you how to use the baton. But, in return, I want to learn how to use your bow.” 

“Fair trade,” Kate says. “I actually have target practice set up in my apartment. Hey, I’m throwing a birthday party Saturday at my place,” Kate remembers suddenly. In the excitement of spending the day with Yelena, she’s completely forgotten about the small get-together she has planned in three days. “You should come. My friend Greer has been bugging me about learning how to shoot, I can host a small training-”

“I leave the city tomorrow morning,” Yelena interrupts. 

“Oh,” Kate says, surprised. We’ve been together the whole day and she mentions this now?

“But I want you to come back with me to my hotel,” Yelena continues. “I have another birthday surprise for you. Which is good, seeing how my first gift did not go as planned. Do not get your hopes up,” she says when Kate starts beaming. “It is a small gift, nothing special. Does that work for you?”

“Yeah,” Kate says, trying to force the smile off of her face. “Sure, I can stop by before heading home.” 

She glances up at the platform display. Despite the trip to the deli, they still have ten minutes before the train is set to arrive. She digs her phone out of her pocket and pulls up Spotify. 

“What was that song you wanted to listen to back in the car?” she asks Yelena. 

“American Pie.” 

Kate types the name into the search engine and offers Yelena one of her earpods. Yelena takes it with a smile, scooting closer to Kate on the bench. 

She kind of hates how the warmth radiating from Yelena’s body gets her all bothered again, even though they had sex less than two hours ago. 

She definitely hates how the itchy feeling of wanting isn’t contained to her lower half but has spread throughout her chest, all too close to her heart. 

The hotel Yelena is staying at must be one of the dingier ones in her rotation. At least, Kate hopes it is, because if the ones she’s staying in are worse - well, then Yelena really should take her up on the offer to stay at her place. The location isn’t bad, but the interior walls are this depressing grey green color and everything smells vaguely of bleach. Yelena nods at the guy at the front desk before taking Kate to her room. 

“Okay, close your eyes,” Yelena says when Kate steps in through the doorway. 

Kate does so obediently. She hears the opening of the mini-fridge door, shuffling of items, and a strike of a match. “Open!” Yelena says. 

Kate opens her eyes. Yelena’s holding out a single cupcake with a sparkly candle on it. “Go on, blow it out,” Yelena says, smiling. 

Kate does so, smiling widely, incredibly moved by this small gesture. The flame extinguishes for a second before flaring back to life. Yelena lets out a loud laugh. “I love these things! I always wanted one when I was a kid. Try again!” 

Kate blows out another puff of air and the flame lets out for a second before flickering back. Yelena laughs again, and it’s so infectious it makes Kate giggle, even though trick candles are so 5th grade birthday party. 

“It is too funny,” Yelena chortles, before sticking her fingers in her mouth and snuffing out the flame in a move that shouldn’t be as devastatingly sexy as it is.

“It’s vanilla,” she explains, proudly holding out the cupcake with the now extinguished candle to Kate. “Since it’s the only flavor I know you like.” 

Kate takes a closer look around Yelena’s hotel room as she munches on the cupcake (which is delicious - something clearly bought at a bakery, not a supermarket). Yelena's room is almost completely empty, save for one small black suitcase tucked under the desk - and one wall, opposite the bed, which instead of being bare is adorned with a collection of postcards and pictures.

Kate steps forward, peering at the postcards. They aren’t anything particularly interesting, merely depictions of classic snapshots of Americana bliss. One portrays a boardwalk, another a beach, a ski resort, a zoo, a cruise, a scenic mountain view. Taped up amongst the postcards are three photos - one of Natasha Romanoff, one of a dog, and a photo booth picture of two beaming little girls. 

“What is this?” Kate asks, taking it in. 

“This? This is my photo wall. I take it with me wherever I go,” Yelena says. “It makes each hotel feel more homey, you know? Since I don’t get to stick around in one place much.” 

Kate notices a raggedy manila envelope lying on the desk. Yelena probably packs up these photos into it every time she moves. From city to city, hotel to hotel, this creased envelope must be the only constant in her life. 

It’s the saddest thing Kate’s ever seen. 

Kate has to tear her eyes away from the envelope before she starts crying. “Who’s the dog?” Kate asks, looking at the wall again, hoping her voice is staying calm. 

“That’s my dog! Her name is Fanny. Oh, she is my precious baby. But she’s over at my mother’s farm right now. All the traveling is not so good for her. I’ll bring her over when I’m in town for longer. You can meet her then.” 

“I’d like that,” Kate says, smiling. She opens her mouth to make a joke about a double date with Fanny, Lucky, and the two of them, then snaps it shut when she remembers that the word date is strictly off-limits. “And the postcards?” Kate says instead. “Those are all places you’ve been?” 

“No.” Yelena says, a humorless chuckle escaping from her throat. “I have not been many places.” 

“What do you mean?” Kate asks, frowning. That doesn’t quite seem to track - what, the international super spy hasn’t traveled a lot? 

Yelena pauses for a long moment, her gaze affixed to the wall yet simultaneously distant. When she begins speaking again, her voice is tight and low. 

“I was not a person for a very, very long time. I was brainwashed, like the other widows. You saw them. They are husks. I was like them. I was a husk.” 

Kate remembers the widow that pinned her against the wall the other month. How when Kate looked into her eyes, nothing was there. She thinks of Yelena (her Yelena, she thinks despite herself) staring at her with that same vacuous gaze. A rush of nausea swells in her gut at the thought of the Yelena she knows, this hilarious, sexy, vibrant and warm person, being like that, devoid of emotion, devoid of everything that makes her the woman Kate is always so thrilled to be around. 

Yelena continues. “Years and years passed for me like this. Most of my life. Then I woke up. And I’m 27. An adult. And my life has passed me by, and there are so many things I did not get to do. Some I will never get the chance to. I will never go to prom. Or be silly drunk at a frat party or a homecoming game. I will never get a childhood. But there are still some things that it is not too late for me to do. Like eating funnel cake on a boardwalk. Or seeing an elephant. The postcards - they are my to-do list. 

“I never want to forget that I can do anything I want now,” Yelena finishes simply. 

Kate steps closer to the wall, blinking away the hot tears that are forming in her eyes. “Well, there are some of these we could knock off pretty easily,” Kate says, trying to sound positive, trying to keep her voice from breaking. “I mean, New York City has a zoo. And we have Coney Island, so there’s your boardwalk. You could probably do half of these in the city. We can start tackling them the next time you’re here.”

“Yeah?” Yelena says, suddenly right behind Kate. She hooks her fingers into Kate’s belt loops and pulls her backwards, bringing her flush with her hips. “What else should I see on my next trip?” she whispers into Kate’s ear. 

“Uh, the High Line,” Kate stammers out as Yelena presses her lips to her neck. Yelena hums against her, wrapping her arms around Kate’s waist and pulling her even closer. 

“You have already recommended this,” she says against Kate’s neck, resting her palm on Kate’s stomach, sending a rush of heat through her body. “What else?” 

“Central Park,” Kate gets out. 

“I hear it’s overrated,” Yelena says nonchalantly as she slips her hand under Kate’s shirt. Kate closes her eyes as she leans back, desperate for as much contact as possible. 

Then Yelena’s gripping her hips and turning her around, pushing her backwards. Kate’s back has only just hit the wall when Yelena’s mouth reaches hers, her chapped lips nudging her own apart in a feverish kiss. 

With her platform boots on, Yelena is about Kate’s height. She presses her entire body against Kate, her hands roaming up and down her as if desperate to feel every inch. She grabs the hem of Kate’s shirt and drags it up and over her head, and clumsily grabs at Kate's breast, thumbing her nipple. She steps in between Kate’s legs, her hips pressing against Kate in a way that forces a throttled moan from her throat.

Yelena lets go of Kate's breast and grabs at her zipper, pushing her jeans and underwear down to the floor. Kate hurriedly kicks off her shoes and pooled clothes and then Yelena’s fingers are on her - but not rubbing or stroking, simply resting there, providing gentle pressure as she kisses a trail from Kate’s chin to the soft junction between her jaw and her neck. 

“Would you want to try something different this time?” she whispers once she reaches Kate’s ear, gently grabbing Kate’s earlobe with her teeth and sucking it into her mouth. 

“What were you thinking?” Kate asks, trying and failing to keep her voice steady. 

Yelena steps away from Kate, who instantly misses the heat from her body, and moves to her bedside drawer in three long strides. “If this is not something you are into, please say so,” she says as she pulls the drawer open. “We can always do something else.” She reaches into the drawer and pulls out a strap-on and harness. 

Somehow, that was absolutely not what Kate was expecting. She stares at the black harness and the purple piece attached to it dumbly. She’s not against the idea, but she’s also never used one before. Yelena looks at her expectantly, the harness dangling from her fingers, waiting for an answer. 

“It’s purple,” Kate says finally. 

Yelena lets out a laugh. “That wasn’t intentional, but you are right. It does fit in with the Kate Bishop aesthetic. So?” 

Kate’s mind flashes her an image of Yelena fucking her with the strap. Her body responds to this idea instantly, a violent ripple of want coursing through her.

“Yes,” Kate says, short of breath from the thought. “Yeah, let’s do it.” 

“I thought you would be interested,” Yelena smiles. 

Yelena tugs her skirt and underwear down over her platform boots in one quick motion, tossing them to the side. Kate hungrily takes in Yelena’s exposed form for the first time. Her eyes roam across the sharp bones of Yelena’s hips, her patch of dark blonde curls, the soft scoop of her thighs. She’s absolutely gorgeous. Kate’s throat is tight from looking. 

Yelena notices Kate’s stare and shifts her body away as she tightens the harness against her hips. Once it’s secure, she makes her way back to Kate, the piece swinging softly with each step. Kate has to take a very deep breath to calm herself. 

Yelena steps in between Kate’s legs and kisses her again, her hands resting on her neck, her thumbs gently cradling her chin. Despite the raunchiness of the situation, it’s the softest kiss Yelena has ever bestowed upon her. Kate breathes into it, her heart thudding dangerously fast. Yelena pulls her lower lip between her teeth and gently tugs it before grabbing the back of Kate's knee and bringing it up against her hip. With her other hand she moves the piece against Kate and looks up at her, waiting.

Kate nods eagerly. Because, not to be overdramatic or anything, she is going to die if Yelena doesn’t get inside of her in the next second. 

Yelena slides into her in one fluid movement, forcing a gasp from Kate. When Yelena pulls out and pushes back in, it’s Yelena who lets out a long hiss. One of her hands is gripping Kate’s hip almost bruisingly tight, while the other reaches down and gently presses against Kate as she continues to shift into her. 

“Fuck, Yelena,” Kate chokes out. 

Yelena glances up at Kate, her eyes wide with something like shock. Kate’s about to ask if she’s okay when, in a low, desperate voice, Yelena whispers, “Keep talking.”

No one has ever told me to keep talking in my life,  Kate thinks. 

But Kate can tell that Yelena wants this. 

Just when she's worried she's about to get stage fright and not know what to say, Yelena thrusts into her again, bringing her hips flush with Kate’s and sending a white lightning bolt of pleasure up through her spine.  

“God, you feel so good," she says, her head thudding back against the wall.  

Yelena lets out a deep, full throated moan in response, and Kate didn’t think you could get addicted to a sound but she's immediately hooked. Not just hooked - she's suddenly found a new clarity in her life’s purpose. It isn’t to be the world’s greatest archer, or a superhero, or an Avenger. It is to do whatever she can to hear Yelena make that noise as often as humanly possible.

Yelena begins to pick up the pace, her open mouth hot against her neck as she steadily pistons into Kate. Kate begins to lose her own composure as her orgasm stirs within her. It's only due to Yelena's request that she keeps her wits about her enough to continue talking, although she's unable to get out anything anymore that makes much sense, mostly whimpers that occasionally contain the words "Yes" and "Fuck" and "Please." 

"You're just so good at this," Kate manages reverently as Yelena fucks up into her with a particularly deft jut of her hips.

Yelena drops her forehead to Kate’s neck, her hips staggering as she loses her rhythm. She lets out a high pitch whine as she shallowly thrusts into Kate before stilling against her. Kate's own rapidly building orgasm dissipates in surprise as she looks down at the panting Yelena resting against her. 

“Wait, did you just come?” Kate can’t stop herself from asking.

Yelena rests her head against Kate for a second longer, then pulls out of her abruptly. She takes a few large steps backwards to the bed and collapses on it. She looks up at Kate, her eyes surprised and almost scared. She grabs at the buckles of the harness, yanking it off and tossing it to the side. She folds in half over herself, her elbows on her knees, as if to shield the lower half of her body. 

“Are you okay?” Kate asks, almost frantic. “Yelena, what happened?”  

“I think you should go,” Yelena says, her voice strained. 

“What just -” 

“Kate.” Yelena snaps. “Now.” 

Yelena stands up suddenly, but shakily, onto her feet, and rushes into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. And Kate's left alone, helpless and naked in the middle of this depressing hotel room, with no choice other than to hurriedly pull on her clothes and leave. 

Chapter Text

Missed call from Kate Bishop. 

From Kate Bishop: Yelena, are you okay? 

From Kate Bishop: Yelena, we need to talk. Are you okay? 

Missed call from Kate Bishop. 

From Kate Bishop: Call me back.

Missed call from Kate Bishop. 

From Kate Bishop: We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but just let me know if you’re okay. 

From Yelena: I’m okay. 

From Kate Bishop: Okay, I’m glad you’re okay, and I know what I said, but you can’t actually just send me a two word text. Call me.

Missed call from Kate Bishop. 

Around her, Kate’s birthday party is proving to be a total bust. It’s mostly her fault. Before her guests had arrived, she had already drunk her way through two cans of hard lemonade. She had thought the alcohol would get her in a better mood, but it had the opposite effect, sending her into a complete funk. She was about to text her friends and tell them not to come over when they showed up at her door. 

The night got worse from there. Franny brought over an entire sheet cake which she then proceeded to immediately drop on the floor. Greer’s present was a bottle of watermelon flavored vodka, from which she poured Kate three shots and nagged her until Kate gave in downed them all in a row. Josh, her archery buddy, pulled out a baggie of coke twenty minutes into the get-together, even though Kate never does coke and everybody knows that. (She tried it once and it apparently “exaggerated her worst personality traits.” Kate thinks that’s because she’s cool enough not to need coke to have fun.)

While Josh, Franny, and Greer shape another set of lines on Kate’s kitchen table, Kate’s removed herself from her own party. She’s sitting on her steps above her three friends, unable to focus on anything but her phone, the loyal Lucky keeping her company beside her. 

“You know,” Franny calls up to her, “Kaitlyn asked about you at the dining hall the other day.”

“Ooooh,” Greer says. “Is that who’s keeping you glued to your phone? l knew you were never over her.”

“Shut up,” Kate says, the words coming out meaner than she meant. “I am over her. I don’t care about Kaitlyn at all.” 

“She thought it was badass that you destroyed the bell tower,” Franny says, batting her eyes. 

“I just said I don’t give a shit about Kaitlyn. Leave me alone.”

“Okay, Jesus,” Franny says, bending over the table and snorting another line. “I don’t know why you invited us all over here if you’re not going to want to hang out.” 

“I wanna go dance,” Josh whines, hopping up and down. “Come on, let’s go to a club. I haven’t been out in ages.” 

“You guys go,” Kate says. “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling good.” 

And it’s true - the pre-game drinks and the vodka shots she’s had have gone straight to her head. The room is starting to wave around her in an unsettling way. 

“Are you sure?” Greer asks, her tone making it very clear she’s leaving no matter what Kate’s answer is.

“Yeah. We’ll hang out again before you guys head back upstate, I promise. But I need to go to bed.” 

Her friends protest very weakly before leaving this lame-ass party in search of better haunts. The second the three of them are out the door, Kate runs to her bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She splashes water on her face and looks at herself in the mirror, gripping the sides of the sink for balance. 

Wow, this is one sad, pathetic bitch, Kate thinks as she peers at her reflection. 

It’s possible that Kate is incredibly drunk right now. 

In fact, she can’t really stay on her feet anymore. She staggers to the corner of the bathroom, opposite the toilet, and slides down the wall to the ground, cupping her head in her hands.

She’s in the pits of absolute and total despair. And it’s all Yelena’s fault. 

It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair. She shouldn’t have to feel like this. Fuck Yelena for making her feel like this. On her birthday. 

Suddenly filled with righteous anger, she grabs her phone out of her pocket and slams her finger down on Yelena’s name.

To her immense surprise, Yelena answers on the third ring. 

“Hi,” Yelena says. 

“Hi,” Kate says. 

There’s a brief moment of silence. 

“You’re being a real asshole,” Kate says, her voice coming out louder than she meant it to be. “I’m the one who’s being cool,” Kate continues. “I’m being so cool about this, and you’re being mean.”  

“I know,” Yelena says softly. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re making me feel like shit,” Kate says, picking up steam. “I hurt you and you won’t even tell me what I did. Why won’t you tell me what I did?” 

Yelena doesn’t answer right away. Kate can hear the sharp inhale of a cigarette. She rests her head against the wall as she waits for Yelena to speak. 

“Kate, you're drunk,” Yelena says at last, not unkindly. “You should go to bed.”

“I wish you didn’t smoke,” Kate murmurs, her anger replaced with a gaping sadness. She rests her lips on the base of her phone and closes her eyes. “It’s bad for you. I really wish you didn’t smoke. I wish. . .” Kate trails off. 

When she speaks again, her voice isn’t as steady as she’d like it to be. “I wish you came to my party tonight. I wish you stayed in the city longer. I wish - I wish you’d let me touch you. I wish - ” 

I wish you liked me more, Kate’s about to say, when the nausea brewing in her gut swells up to her throat. She drops her phone on the floor with a clatter and vomits into the toilet. Yelena’s saying something, but her voice is tinny and quiet through the speakers of the phone. Kate can’t make it out over the sounds of her ragged coughs. 

When she looks back at the phone, Yelena has hung up.

Kate weakly reaches up and flushes the toilet, then slides down all the way to the ground. The floor tile is so cool against her cheek, and she’s so hot. She closes her eyes, breathing deeply in an attempt to keep the world from spinning around her. Outside the bathroom door, Lucky lets out a long whine.

“I’ll be out in a second,” she feebly calls out to her dog. “I need to close my eyes. Just for a second. And then I’ll go to bed.”  

A loud, insistent banging on the bathroom door startles Kate from her fitful slumber. “Kate, are you in there? It’s Yelena. Kate? I’m coming in.” 

Kate blinks awake, her vision woozy. “Wha-?” she calls out, her breath foul.

Yelena opens the door, her hair a mess of tangles behind her, her face blanched white. She looks down at Kate on the floor, her eyes wide with something like panic. “Oh, Kate,” she says, crouching down to the ground next to her. 

Kate looks up at her, hair sticking to her sweaty face. “I thought you weren’t in the city,” she mumbles.

“I wasn’t,” Yelena says.

Kate opens her mouth to respond but instead throws up again, leaning over the toilet just in time. Yelena holds her hair back as she retches the last of the night’s drinks into the toilet. 

“Oh, Kate,” Yelena says again, patting her back. “That’s it, let it out.” 

Kate spits into the toilet. Her head is a swirling mess of unpleasant emotions. She can’t tell if she’s more embarrassed right now, or angry, or deeply, deeply sad. 

She settles on tired. She’s so fucking tired. 

“Do you want to take a shower or go straight to bed?” Yelena asks her as Kate sits back from the toilet, wiping her mouth. 

“Bed,” Kate whispers. 

“Okay. Let’s brush your teeth, first.” 

Yelena grabs Kate’s toothbrush and squeezes toothpaste onto it as Kate makes her unsteady way to her feet. She takes the toothbrush Yelena offers her and drags it across her teeth, Yelena resting one hand on her back to keep her steady. After she spits out the paste into the sink, Yelena takes her arm and guides her to her bed. 

Kate collapses on her blankets with a thud. She starts tugging off her clothes, unbearably hot, as Yelena leaves the room. Kate throws her clothes on the floor and starts to lay back down when Yelena walks back in, a glass of water in her hand.

“Wait, sit up,” she says, settling down next to Kate, her hand firmly pushing Kate into a sitting position. She hands Kate the glass of water. “Drink this - slowly."

Kate takes small sips of the water while Yelena gently rubs circles onto her bare back, her hand cool and soothing against Kate's skin. She hands the glass to Yelena when she’s done and starts to sink back into the covers, but Yelena nudges her up again. 

“Sit for five more minutes,” she says. “You need to let it settle.” 

Kate leans against Yelena, breathing her in, that smell of caramel and smoke and sweat. It makes her want to cry. Yelena rests her chin against Kate’s forehead, wrapping her arm around her shoulder and pulling her in closer. 

“You probably think I’m a stupid little girl,” Kate whimpers into Yelena’s shoulder.

“I have never thought that,” Yelena says, her lips brushing against Kate’s hairline. “I have never thought that.” 

Kate wakes up with a massive headache to the smell of something sour and sweet filling her apartment. She groggily looks around her room as the events of the previous night come back to her. She doesn’t see Yelena, but a dent in the bed and a remnant of warmth makes it clear she was there not too long ago.

“Yelena?” she calls out.

“I’m here,” Yelena calls up from the kitchen. “Don’t get up, I’m coming to you.” 

There’s a glass of water on Kate’s bedside table with several pills next to it. Kate brings the pills to her mouth and downs the water in three thirsty gulps. Yelena carefully walks up the stairs of her loft, a bowl of soup wrapped in a kitchen towel in her hands. 

“It’s Solyanka,” Yelena says, resting the bowl on Kate’s lap. “It’s a hangover soup.”

“Soup for breakfast?” Kate says, dragging her spoon through it suspiciously. It’s a muddy red color, and there’s a green clump floating in it, something that might be cabbage, alongside brown rounds of olives.  “Did you make this?”

“No, it takes hours to make. I drove down to Brighton Beach for it.”

Kate looks up from the soup to Yelena, who’s wearing one of her shirts and a pair of her jeans. They’re both very baggy on her. It makes her look incredibly small and precious, and Kate has to remind herself that she’s actually pretty upset with Yelena right now. 

“Sorry for borrowing your clothes,” Yelena says, once she notices Kate’s stare. “I didn’t exactly have time to pack last night.”

“Where were you?” Kate asks. 

“I was in Philadelphia. But I had my motorcycle with me. It wasn’t a long trip. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Kate says. 

“That’s not surprising. You were very drunk. The soup will help, I promise. I’m about to take Lucky for a walk. Do you want me to bring you back anything?”

“Gatorade. The red kind. And Cheez-Its,” Kate requests, rubbing the crust from her eyes.  

“I’ll be back in twenty. Eat the soup,” Yelena instructs as she leaves Kate’s bedside, whistling for Lucky. 

Kate looks around her apartment as she lifts a spoonful of soup to her mouth. The sticky shot glasses that had been strewn around her place, the remnants of the coke on the table, the mess of cake Franny had left on her floor – it’s all gone. Yelena must have cleaned her apartment while she was sleeping.

The soup tastes as weird as it looks, but it’s actually really good, and despite her rolling stomach Kate’s incredibly hungry. She eats it all up, then wobbles to her bedroom to take a shower and brush her teeth again. The triple threat of the soup, the shower, and the pills hit all at once, and as she’s looking into the mirror while blow-drying her hair she’s surprised to see that she doesn’t look as shitty as she usually does after a night of drinking. She changes into clean clothes and sits back on her bed as she waits for Yelena to get back. 

Yelena arrives with an exhausted looking Lucky and a plastic bag filled with Kate’s requested items. “You look better already,” she says when she sees Kate, sounding very pleased. “I told you, it’s a miracle soup.”

“It was really good,” Kate admits. 

“It’s the pickle juice. That’s the secret Russian hangover cure,” Yelena says. 

But Kate doesn’t want to get into a dumb conversation about soup right now. 

“Yelena, we need to talk.”   

Yelena sits down next to Kate on the bed. “I know,” she says solemnly. 

Kate takes a deep breath as she tries to get her thoughts straight. “You scared me the other day,” she begins. “You made me feel like I did something wrong, and you wouldn’t even tell me what happened. And I’ve been freaking out over the last few days. Like, losing my shit. And it wasn’t fair to make me feel like that, even if you’re hurting. And I know you’re hurting, Yelena, and I’m so sorry. But you need to talk to me.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” Yelena pauses, looking down at her hands, which are gripped tightly on her lap. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Yelena says after a long moment of silence. “What happened back there, at the hotel - I wasn’t expecting it. I don’t like being surprised. I don’t like it when my body does things I’m not expecting it to.”

“Even. . . good things?” Kate asks. 

Yelena chuckles dryly. “Historically, it has not been a good thing.” 

She pauses again, wringing her hands so tightly they begin turning white. 

“One day, I woke up on an operating table with half of my insides gone, and I could feel it, that emptiness inside me. And then, later, I woke up with a knife in my hand and a dying woman in front of me, and I had killed her, and I saw myself do it, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. And then I was freed, and I thought that was it, okay, my body is mine again. And three years later I’m looking at my hands at the sink, and then the water was going through my hands, and I was gone, my body was gone again, and it had been gone for five years. I have never had control over my body. I have never had control over anything. ” 

Kate swallows heavily. “I’m sorry. Yelena, I’m so sorry all of that happened to you. I can’t imagine how that all must feel. But - but you deserve to feel good. You deserve to feel the good things your body can still give you. ”

“I mean, I know what we’re doing here isn’t. . . anything,” Kate continues. “I know we’re just, like, hooking up, or having fun, or whatever. But you trust me, right? I mean, we’re partners. I’m here for you. You’ve made me feel good. I want to make you feel good. I really want that.”

I want that more than anything.  

Yelena looks up at her. “I want that, too,” she says, her voice thick. Then she leans forward and presses a simple kiss to Kate’s lips - nothing more than the gentle cradle of her mouth resting against Kate’s own. It sends a rush of warmth through Kate, this surge of longing that is something much deeper than arousal. 

“We can go really slow,” Kate says, once Yelena pulls away. “You can tell me to stop whenever.” 

“Okay,” Yelena says, her voice trembling slightly. 

Kate reaches out and picks up one of Yelena’s hands, gently prying it from its clenched position. She lifts it to her lips and presses a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist, keeping her mouth there until Yelena lets out a breath and relaxes her fist. She moves her lips down Yelena’s arm, lingering over the smooth curve of her bicep, before reaching the base of Yelena’s neck. She flicks out her tongue to taste the skin there and Yelena exhales deeply, her eyes flickering shut. 

Kate shifts closer on her knees, dropping her hands to Yelena’s hips. Yelena looks up at her and nods. 

Kate brings her lips down and presses them against Yelena’s. Yelena leans into the kiss, reaching towards Kate and grabbing a fistful of her shirt, dragging it upwards. Kate pulls away.

“Wait, this isn’t about me,” she says.

“I think it would help me, though,” Yelena says pleadingly.

Kate acquiesces, allowing Yelena to tug her shirt off. Yelena hums as she takes in her form, her face visibly relaxing.  

“Can I -?” Kate asks, moving her hands slowly towards Yelena’s (her) shirt, her fingers resting at the hem. Yelena pauses for a second before nodding. 

“I don’t have to-” Kate says.

“No. Yes. It's okay. I want you to,” Yelena says.  

Kate slowly draws the shirt over Yelena’s head, and then Yelena is bare in front of her for the first time. She's wanted to see this for so long, and Yelena’s even more stunning than Kate had imagined - her rosy nipples, small and pebbled, the curve of her breasts, the way they slope down to a hardened and flat stomach - simply looking at her spreads a deep, tingly warmth throughout Kate. 

Scars, some large and some small, some surgical and some jagged, are scattered throughout her body. Yelena sees Kate taking them in and covers herself with her arms. 

“I don’t want you to look at them,” Yelena says.

“Okay,” Kate says, bringing her gaze back up to Yelena’s eyes. “I won’t.”

“And I don’t want you to touch my stomach,” Yelena says, hugging her body closer to herself.  

“I won’t. Is there anywhere else I shouldn’t touch?” 

Yelena thinks for a second. “I don’t want anything - inside me.” 

“I won’t do that either,” Kate says simply. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I promise. And we can stop whenever you want,” she repeats.   

Yelena looks at Kate for a long moment before slowly letting her arms down. Kate leans in and kisses her deeply while guiding Yelena onto her back. She breaks the kiss and nudges her nose under Yelena’s chin, pressing kisses down her throat, lingering over any spot that causes Yelena to let out a soft sigh above her. 

She moves her lips down the flat plane of Yelena's chest while bringing her hand to caress her left breast, being very careful to skip over her stomach completely. Slowly, she lowers her open mouth to press against the soft underswell of her breast, her hand still kneading it, kissing a half circle around the plush skin before finally shifting her lips up to close around the peak. She sucks it into her mouth and Yelena lets out a loud hiss above her. 

“Was that too much?” Kate asks, quickly pulling back. Yelena shakes her head, her eyes shut. 

“No. No, no, no,” Yelena says, almost fiercely. “Keep going.” 

Kate drops her mouth back down and sucks again, this time swirling her tongue along the pebbled edge. Yelena lets out a long moan that ends with something that might be Russian, her body tensing upwards into Kate’s. Kate smiles against her, pleased at the progress she's making, then moves to give her other breast the same amount of attention. 

After a blissful five minutes devoted to Yelena's breasts, Kate leans backwards onto her heels and slowly unbuttons Yelena’s pants. She waits for Yelena’s nod to start pulling them off of her, throwing them off of the bed. She picks up Yelena’s right leg and rests her lips briefly against the soft knob of her heel, then drags her lips across her calf. She slowly makes her way up towards Yelena's inner thighs, shifting her weight forward so she’s laying down between her legs. The heady scent of her hits Kate, and if she thought the smell of Yelena’s perfume was arousing, she’s been proven wrong a million times over. 

“Still with me?” Kate asks, resting her lips right outside Yelena's warmth, her voice rough with her own desire. "Do you want me to do this?" 

“Yes,” Yelena says, looking down at Kate, her eyes dark with arousal. "Yes, I want it."  

Kate closes her eyes as she leans in and lowers her mouth to Yelena. 

And look. Kate’s had girlfriends before. Kate Bishop has no problem picking up girls. But it’s never been like this. 

It’s never been like this. 

The second her tongue touches the slick skin that awaits her, she's completely overwhelmed, by the taste, by the way Yelena's hands immediately fist into her hair, by the moan she lets out. She starts off with soft movements, determined to show Yelena just how gentle this can be. She moves her tongue in unhurried circles against her, and Yelena lets out a gasp and threads her fingers tighter into Kate's hair. Kate reaches her hands up and grabs Yelena’s thighs, pulling her even closer, desperate for more, desperate to feel as close to Yelena in this moment as possible.

She moves steadily against Yelena, listening keenly for the quiet hitches of breath and closed-lipped moans that let her know she’s on the right path. It's a long stroke with the flat of her tongue that elicits the biggest response from Yelena, a jerk of her hips and a loud curse. Kate repeats the motion, and Yelena's entire body tenses, her breathing becoming labored and her legs beginning to shake. But she doesn't release, not as Kate continues to move her tongue against her, her brow beginning to furrow in something like distress. 

“Hey, I’m right here,” Kate murmurs between strokes. “I’ve got you. I've got you.” 

At that, Yelena lets out a loud, strangled noise, something between a gasp and a moan, gripping Kate’s hair almost painfully as she trembles into Kate’s mouth. Kate keeps going as she licks her through her peak - in fact, she wants to keep going for forever, to see how many times she can bring Yelena to the edge. She wants to build herself a fucking house down here so she never has to move between Yelena’s legs. She knows she can make her come again, and wants it more than anything. But she also knows that would be too much for now, so with one final kiss against Yelena she pulls away.

She crawls up the bed towards Yelena, taking a moment to register just how turned on she is right now. Her entire body feels like a live wire, like one brief touch would send her shooting over the edge. But at the same time, she feels completely satiated, like she might never need to have sex again, like the mere memory of the last twenty minutes will be enough to keep her satisfied for the rest of her life. 

Kate lies down next to Yelena, resting on her side. Yelena’s body is limp against the bed, and her face is the most relaxed Kate has ever seen, not a single etch of a wrinkle or twitch of a brow. 

“Holy fuck,” Yelena says, her voice tremulous and almost awestruck, her eyes closed.

“Yeah,” Kate says, unable to keep the utterly smitten smile off of her face. 

Yelena turns onto her side towards Kate and opens her eyes. And Kate sees something in them that she’s never seen before, a shifting, an opening, as if Yelena’s true gaze had been cordoned off by a thin veil that’s suddenly been removed, revealing golden flecks in her eyes that had been previously hidden away. 

But Kate must have been imagining it. Or maybe it was a trick of the light. Because Yelena blinks and it’s gone. 

When Yelena speaks again, her voice is back to normal. “I am absolutely starving after that,” she says, turning away from Kate and flopping onto her back. “Do you want to go grab Chinese?” 

They go to the Chinese place around the corner. From the way Yelena is casually chowing down on spicy beef and telling Kate an animated story about a former colleague, you wouldn’t think that the two of them had just had mindblowing sex. Kate peers closely at Yelena for any hint that the intense moment of connection that happened less than half an hour ago might have shifted the nature of her feelings. Or led to any change. Anything. 

But it’s just not there. 

“- and when she pulled the trigger, nothing came out!” Yelena finishes, dissolving into hearty laughter. “All that buildup and she did not even load the damn thing. She was a fool. Dead now, actually. Guess that makes sense. Hey, you’re not talking too much. Are you okay?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Kate says, poking at her veggie lo mein. “I think I’m still a bit hungover.” 

“Well, I hope you are in better form soon, because I finally have a new mission for us,” Yelena says, leaning in. “Have you ever been to Paris?”

“A few times,” Kate says. Yelena frowns in disappointment.

“Too bad. I was hoping you hadn’t. Then we could do touristy things. But we might not have too much time for those anyways. This is something I’ve been working on for a few weeks now. It’s an interception mission, but there are quite a few moving parts. You will need to bring a formal outfit. I can give you the full briefing before our flight - we’ll leave on Tuesday.” 

“Okay,” Kate says, trying to sound enthusiastic. “That sounds good.”

“And the money is great,” Yelena continues. “We split half-half. Usually I would take a commissioner's fee, 70-30. But for you, I waive it. Let’s get the check. I need to make my way back to Philly. Do you want a box?” she asks, gesturing towards Kate’s half-eaten meal. 

“No, I’m not hungry,” Kate says.

“It’s the soup. It’s filling, no?” Yelena waives over the server, and then looks at Kate, her face softening. 

“Hey. That was really good today. I needed that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Kate murmurs pitifully.

Yelena pays the bill and they make their way outside. It’s a sunny spring day, and the air is beginning to smell of pollen. Yelena takes another long look at Kate as they come to a stop outside of the restaurant.

“You should take a nap,” she suggests. “Then you’ll feel better.”  

“Yeah, probably,” Kate says. 

“I need to get going. We’ll see each other on Tuesday, okay? I’ll pick you up, we can go to the airport together.”

“That works for me,” Kate says. 

“Okay,” Yelena says. She looks down at her feet, and then back up at Kate, her mouth open as if she’s about to speak. But she doesn’t. “Bye, Kate,” is all she ends up saying, turning around and walking down the street towards her parked motorcycle. 

Kate watches her as she mounts the motorcycle and drives away, and keeps looking until Yelena turns the corner and disappears from view. Only then does she start back to her apartment, blinking the tears from her eyes. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

For the first time, is it incredibly clear to Kate just how deep she is in over her head. 

Holy shit. She needs to end this. 

But how is she supposed to end this? How is she supposed to live a life devoid of having sex with Yelena now that she knows what it’s like? How is she supposed to live a life without Yelena, period? 

I’ve let this go on far too long. Fucking idiot. 

Her phone rings, interrupting her thoughts, and her heart gives a pathetic flop of excitement. Because maybe it’s Yelena, maybe she isn’t leaving after all, maybe she wants to stay in New York longer, maybe she wants to talk to Kate again and this time say all of the things she hasn’t been able to say. 

But the person calling isn’t Yelena. 

“Hey, Kate!” says the warm, familiar voice in greeting. “Just calling to wish you a happy belated birthday! I have to say, kid, I’m surprised I haven’t heard from you sooner. Been doing a good job keeping out of trouble, huh?” 

“Clint -” Kate begins, but before she can get out another word, she’s broken down into heaving sobs.

Chapter Text

Weeping into your phone in broad daylight on the steps of a random brownstone is very New York City chic. Kate takes a moment to appreciate that as she tries to get herself together enough to catch a breath, her phone in her hands, tears streaming down her face, a somewhat bewildered Clint doing his best to comfort her on the other line.

“Oh, Kate, what is it? What's going on?” Clint asks. 

It probably takes Clint less than a minute to regret asking that question. Kate lets out one last pathetic sob, then launches into a dramatic retelling of the past month of her life, slowed down only by the occasional watery hiccup. 

“So there’s this girl I know, and we became friends earlier this year but then we started hooking up and - Clint, it’s not weird for me to be talking about hooking up, right? I mean we’re both adults here and very good friends who can talk about this kind of stuff - but anyway, we started hooking up and she was like, “You can be cool about this? This won’t affect our friendship?” and I was all like “Oh yeah I can be totally cool about this” and I was , Clint, I was , but we kept hanging out and it became so clear that the chemistry was there and the connection was there I mean, we get along so well? But every time I try to get close to her there’s this wall, and I don’t think she wants us to be anything more than what we are, but I do, I’m falling in love , Clint, holy shit - I am falling in love with this woman, and I don’t know what to do anymore, and I don’t know what I’m going to do if she doesn’t feel the same way back!” 

“Okay,” Clint says, when Kate finally pauses to gasp in a breath and wipe her teary eyes on her sleeve. “Oh, wow. I was not expecting that.” 

“I just don’t know what to do,” Kate repeats. 

“I have to say, Kate, I don’t know if I’m the best person to talk to about. . .  girl problems with,” Clint says wearily. 

"Well, you’re the only person I got right now, Clint, so I’m going to need you to come through for me here," Kate says. 

Clint takes a deep breath. “Okay. Let me think. I might actually have some relevant advice for you. Did I ever tell you how I met Laura?”

“No,” Kate says, sniffing loudly. 

“We met when we were both working together, back at S.H.I.E.L.D. We were assigned on the same mission pretty early on and were instantly drawn to each other. We fell into this relationship, but we were determined to keep it casual – for a variety of reasons. Our own safety, the respect of our peers, a desire not to seem unprofessional. Laura was the one who was very insistent about not wanting to take it further, in fact. And I was fine with it - at first. I had a lot going on in my life, I thought it’d be better not to be tied down. We were both in the beginning stages of our careers, right? It made sense. 

“It went on like that for about six months. And one day, I woke up, and I realized that all of my plans for the future revolved around this woman, or at the very least had this woman in them. I couldn't think of a tomorrow without thinking of her. And once I realized that, I knew it couldn’t be casual for me anymore.” 

“So what did you do?” Kate asks. “Did you tell her how you felt?”

“Actually, no. I did the opposite. I pulled away. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that. I wanted her to see how good we were together by creating a little distance. I kept my cool. And, this was not my proudest moment, Kate, but I also tried to make her a little jealous. I wore a lot of tank tops during those days. Skimpy tank tops. It got to be a little ridiculous, I’ll confess. And I was always volunteering to show off archery basics to the newest recruits in front of her. You know, charming them, showing off my skill, making sure she was in the room when I did so. I was a bit of an idiot. 

“But - and Kate, I hate to say this - but it worked. And then once she started coming to me, I said, 'Either we’re going to be in a relationship, or we're going to be nothing. And I know a relationship is going to be hard, but it’s worth it to me. And I want to give it a try.' And from that day on, we were inseparable. 

“I don’t know, is this good advice? Do you want to talk to Laura? I think I should hand the phone to Laura.”

“No, no, that is good advice,” Kate says, her mind racing. “Jealousy. Hey Clint, I like that idea. You’re a smart guy. Make her jealous. I can do that.”

“Oh no,” Clint says, deadpan. “Why am I getting the feeling that was the exact wrong thing to say?”

“No, no. This is going to be great,” Kate says. 

“Okay. Oh, lord. Well, if it blows up, don’t blame me. Also, maybe don’t ever mention the whole jealousy thing to Laura? I don’t know if she ever realized I was doing that purposefully, and I’d like my marriage to stay intact. Well, good luck out there, Kate. I hope it goes well with - what’s this girl’s name?”

“I don’t want to tell you,” Kate says.

“Why? It’s not like it would be anyone I know.” 

“Um,” Kate says. 

“Wait. Unless -  no. No. No way,” Clint says. 

“I’m hanging up now, Clint.”

“No, no, no,” Clint says, sounding nothing less than absolutely stricken. “No. It can’t be. No.  Yelena? Kate -”

“Bye,” Kate says, and cuts the call. 

Kate’s a last-minute packer, and it’s only an hour before Yelena’s due to pick her up that she starts haphazardly throwing things into her duffel bag. Her new collapsible bow goes in first, then a set of arrows, then her bolas. And then she remembers that Yelena told her to bring a formal outfit. 

A classy upscale event sounds like the perfect opportunity to test out her new Clint Barton approved jealousy plan. It’s time to bring her A game. She goes into her closet and pulls out a skintight dark purple sequined dress she wore at a New Year’s party two years ago, when she was determined to catch the eye of a cute butch named Jude. It’s not really her style, and it’s not what she feels most comfortable in - strapless and barely inching past her thighs - but Kate’s got a pair of eyes and she knows that she looked incredibly hot that night. 

(Even if Jude didn’t think so. Jude, as it turns out, went home with another butch, and Kate spent most of the night wishing she’d just worn a pair of jeans). 

So that dress? Paired with two-inch heels that go up to her knees? 

Clint Barton, you and your tank tops, no matter how "skimpy" they might have been, have nothing on this. 

Kate’s interrupted from her scheming by a series of honks from outside her window. Rushing to the window, she looks outside and sees Yelena waving at her from the car. 

“I’ll be right down,” Kate calls out, grabbing her duffel bag and giving herself one last pep talk before meeting Yelena outside.

Be cool. Create distance. Make her jealous. 

So instead of saying something like, “I know it’s only been a few days since we’ve seen each other but I missed you so much during that time I low-key wanted to die,” or, “It would probably not delay us too much if we went up to my place and had sex really quick before leaving?” or “It’s insane how much I love just looking at your face,” Kate simply says, “I’m excited for this trip” when she gets in the car. 

“Me, too,” Yelena says, pulling away from the driveway. “Kate and Yelena, girls’ night: Paris edition. Baguettes and cheese instead of mac and cheese.” 

“Yeah. And, you know, Paris babes are so hot,” Kate says, all super casual like.

Yelena glances over at her, a bemused eyebrow raised. “Oh?” 

“Yeah,” Kate says. “Like, vavavoom . Maybe I’ll redownload Tinder while we’re over there. See what’s out there.”

“Okay,” Yelena says slowly. 

“Yeah. See if I can get any hot dates,” Kate says, punctuating the sentence with a flip of her hair and a sensual bite of her lips. 

She’s so pulling this off.

“Kate, if you are unwell, I can drop you off back at your apartment. It’s best not to travel if you are feeling unstable,” Yelena says, concerned. 

“I’m not - never mind,” Kate huffs. 

Okay, so maybe she didn’t really pull that off. 

“Well, if you are sure you are mentally sound, then go grab my tablet out of my bag. I will give you the briefing.” 

Kate grabs Yelena's backpack from her feet and roots around, pulling out her tablet. She powers it on and follows Yelena's instructions (she has to bypass three different security filters) to pull up the mission briefing. The first thing she sees is a picture of a man, tall, lanky, incredibly skinny, with a patchy beard and beady eyes.  

“We will not have too much time to adjust to the jet lag," Yelena says. "The main part of our mission is tonight, 9pm local time. This man that you see there is a very prolific art thief. His name is Lestrange."

"No way," Kate snorts. "That's so on the nose. Oh, what should my villain name be? How about Lestrange." 

"But it is his given name!" Yelena says. "I swear. So we cannot fault him for that. We can fault him for the billions of stolen art funneled through his hands every year. He conducts these trades in two parts. A physical transfer of cryptocurrency conducted through a hard drive and then, much later, the exchange of art. You would not think so to look at him, but he has many, many enemies. I am one of them."

"What?" Kate says, taking a closer look at this twig of a man. "You could take this guy on in a heartbeat."

"Don't let appearances fool you," Yelena says. "Lestrange is deceptively strong. I have seen him in action - I have seen him take on three men at once. But we will not have to deal with him tonight. My intel has told me he is sending a new hire to do the handoff." Yelena reaches out and slides her finger across the tablet, showing Kate the next photo - a petite woman with straight black hair. "This will be our target tonight. She dyes her hair dyes often, but we will be able to recognize her by a triangle of three moles on her neck. Our job is to intercept the handoff and replace it with a dummy USB. 

“And we have aliases, of course. I will be a rich Ukrainian baroness who owns a gallery in Chicago. You will play the roll of my assistant.”

“You’re my boss? Kinky." 

Yelena rolls her eyes. “I got you a new passport for your new identity. Always good to have documents to match the story.” 

Kate digs into the bag again and pulls out two passports. The first one she opens has her driver’s license photo (best not to ask how Yelena got that) next to a new name: Katherine Lucky. 

“You named me after my dog?”

“Look at mine,” Yelena says, smiling.

Kate flips open the second passport: Yelena Fanny. 

“I don’t know your real last name,” Kate realizes. 

Yelena pauses for a long moment. “It’s Belova.”

“Yelena Belova,” Kate says slowly. She says it again, wanting to commit each syllable to muscle memory: “Yelena Belova. I like it.” 

Yelena looks over at Kate with a strange expression that Kate can't quite figure out. And the two of them fall into silence for the rest of the trip to the airport.

The flight to Paris is uneventful. Kate watches four Air Bud movies in a row. Yelena, fidgety as always, spends a considerable amount of time staring at her three phones, while watching the movies over Kate’s shoulder and bugging her every other minute to tell her what is going on. She finishes the trip by complaining for a solid hour about the inflight meal, not realizing that this is an incredibly trite observation to make. It’s all annoyingly endearing. 

After a long flight and a long cab ride to the hotel, Kate is relieved to find their room to be much nicer than the one Yelena had been staying at in New York. In fact, it’s a huge upgrade, cozier and roomier and considerably nicer smelling than the hovel Yelena had been staying at in the city. 

 Kate immediately jumps onto the bed. “Ooh, so fluffy,” she says as she sinks down into the mattress. “And look, Yelena, mints!”

Yelena unpacks her suitcase, and Kate thinks maybe she is going to start preparing for tonight, but instead Yelena pulls out that manila envelope and begins tacking up postcards to the wall. Kate watches her from the bed, mesmerized, as Yelena takes each picture and postcard out of the envelope and determines where it should go on the wall. The picture of Natasha goes up first, taking the space of honor in the middle of the wall, and the rest of the pictures rotate around her, each one placed with considerable thoughtfulness. After a solid ten minutes devoted to her wall, Yelena takes a step back to admire her work. 

“I would like to check one of these off on this trip,” Yelena says thoughtfully. “Maybe the zoo? Paris has a zoo, I think. Paris Expert Kate Bishop, have you been?”

“No,” Kate says with a yawn, rubbing at her eyes. “No one visits Paris for the zoo, Yelena. Hey, what time do we have to be at that gallery?”

“Nine.” 

“I’m going to take a nap, then,” Kate says, flopping onto her back. “I’m kind of jet lagged.” 

“That is a good idea. We should be well-rested. I will join you,” Yelena says. 

Yelena sits on the other side of the bed. She hesitates for a brief second before lifting her shirt up and over her, baring her back to Kate. 

Kate is utterly overwhelmed by the sharp curve of Yelena’s shoulder blades. Her fucking shoulder blades. She wants nothing more than to lean across the bed and kiss her in the valley between them. Not as a prelude to sex. She just wants to rest her lips there, and breathe her in, and then wrap her arms around Yelena and press her face to the crook of her neck and curl her body around her and drift off to sleep with Yelena in her arms. 

Oh, God. She’s so fucked. 

Clint’s advice comes back to her in her fog of yearning. Be cool. Create distance. Make her jealous. 

So instead of moving towards Yelena, Kate turns on her side, so they’re both facing away from each other, and does her best to fall asleep. 

They order room service when they wake up, both too lazy to go out to explore the city. Over thick slices of bread and French onion soup, they go over the plan again for the evening - Kate's to leave her bow and arrow behind but borrow one of Yelena's knives, and Yelena will be armed with her Black Widow Bite and rings - and then it's time to head out, Yelena having secured a motorcycle for their use earlier in the day. 

Kate goes to the bathroom to change. Slipping into the tight purple dress, she suddenly feels very foolish. How is she supposed to impress Yelena in this? She looks like she's going to a straight woman's bachelorette party. And the dress doesn't even have any pockets - she has to carry her phone and knife in a clutch. And it's been a minute since she's worn heels, and she feels a bit tottery on them, and God she didn't even think of the fact she's going to tower over Yelena now, like some kind of weird, gangly giantess.

She's blushing before she even leaves the bathroom to present her outfit to Yelena. And then she blushes deeper when she sees Yelena. Because even though Yelena's nowhere near as dressed up as Kate, the simple dark blazer paired with a white button up and pair of jeans Yelena's wearing just does it for her. 

I can't believe I get to have sex with the hottest woman on the planet,  Kate thinks, taking her in. 

From the way Yelena looks up at her from the bed, her eyes darkening, it appears she might be having a similar thought. Her eyes travel from her bared shoulders all the way down her legs, finally coming to a rest at the heels. 

“You look good,” Yelena says, thickly, after a brief pause. 

“I don’t really know what to do with my hair, though,” Kate says self-consciously, running her fingers through her loose strands.

“Come here,” Yelena says, patting the bed in front of her. "I'll braid it for you."  

Kate sits down and Yelena gently tilts her head forward, her fingers dexterously parting her hair into section. Yelena hums to herself as she makes quick work of Kate's hair, speedily twisting the strands into a long braid that she begins to tack up into a bun, the rough pads of her fingers on her scalp sending a shiver through Kate's spine.

Getting her hair braided by Yelena feels a lot like being fucked by Yelena - tender and skillful yet somehow, despite that, distant.

Kate closes her eyes and tries to enjoy it for what it is. 

When they arrive at the art gallery at 9pm, their target for the night is nowhere to be found. 

“Looks like it will be a bit of a waiting game,” Yelena says, scanning the crowd again. 

“So what are we supposed to do now?”

“Schmooze,” Yelena says, with a nonchalant shrug. “Act like we belong. We need to stay here until closing, at least. The pass off can happen anytime. So keep your eyes peeled. We should split up, cover more ground.” 

When Kate wore this dress to get Yelena’s attention, she forgot that other people in the room would notice her. She’s having trouble walking anywhere without a trail of eyes following her. But then again, maybe she can use this to her advantage. She's been a bit sidetracked over the last twelve hours to really take her Jealousy Plan for a spin. She glances around the room, and it takes less than a second of standing alone before a man sidles up next to her, a napkin with two hors d'oeuvres on it resting in the palm of his hand.

Oh, yeah. She forgot that if she was going to be hit on by someone here, it would likely be a man. Well, you have to work with what you've got. Kate tries to summon a single ounce of attraction towards men and flutters her eyes at her new acquaintance. 

“Have you tried the bacon wraps?” he asks, lifting one to his mouth in a movement that Kate assumes can be seen as sensual, if you had a heterosexual bone in your body. 

“I try to stay away from meat products,” Kate says.

“Animal lover?” the man asks.

“No, I’m just a –“ lesbian, Kate stops herself from saying at the last second. “Environmentalist,” she finishes instead. 

“Well, everything here is delicious,” he says. “My cousin’s the caterer. She does a marvelous job. And the drinks are superb, too. Can I get you champagne?” 

“Okay,” Kate says, thinking to herself that alcohol can only help her with this little performance. The man reaches over to a caterer's platter and comes back with two flutes. 

“Cheers,” the man says. Kate lifts her glass up and takes a sip, but the man tut tut tuts at her. “You need to make eye contact when you toast,” he says, wagging his finger. “Otherwise it’s seven years of bad sex.” 

Kate sputters on the champagne. “Says who?”

“The Germans.” 

“And the Germans are experts on sex?”

“I’m half German, and I think I can safely say I’m a bit of an expert,” he says, and Kate kind of would like to be murdered right now. At the very least, she’s really regretting this whole Jealousy Plan. Because where even is Yelena right now anyway? Kate darts her eyes around but doesn’t even see her. Is she enduring this for no reason at all? Thanks a lot for your advice, Clint Barton. 

“Let’s try that again,” the man says, stepping into Kate’s personal space, putting his face way too close to hers. “Cheers.” 

And then Yelena’s there, coming out of absolutely nowhere to step between them, her mouth fixed in a tight frown. “Herr Müller,” she says.

“Miss Fanny!” the man says in surprise. “Honored to see you again. When did I last have the pleasure, at that gallery in Zürich?” 

 “Geneva,” Yelena says. “And I’m afraid it’s not much of a pleasure this time, seeing that you are flirting with my girlfriend.”

Kate does a bad job covering the shock that flits across her face. She chokes on the champagne again, and that makes half of the contents of the flute that’s gone up her nose. She lets out a very unsubtle shocked noise, looking at Yelena, hoping her eyes properly convey the what the fuck are you talking about? message she can’t speak out loud. 

“Oh,” Mr. Müller says, his eyes wide with surprise. “I’m sorry, I did not realize. If I had -” 

“We need to get going, babe, ” Yelena says, threading her arm into Kate's. “I have to show you the most interesting painting.” 

“I said schmooze, not flirt,” Yelena whispers angrily to Kate as she pulls her away. 

“What the hell was that?” Kate whispers back. “You’re my girlfriend now? I thought you were my rich Ukrainian boss.” 

“When you’re a spy, your cover story may have to change at any second. This was one of those times. I don’t know why you were speaking with that guy. I've dealt with him a lot over the last year. He's a creep.” 

“I was gathering valuable intel!” Kate says defensively.

“Yes? And what did you learn?”

“His cousin’s the caterer.” 

Yelena looks around, then starts pulling Kate in the direction of the bathroom. “I need to give you a mission update,” she says, sternly. “Follow me.” 

She all but drags into the bathroom, which appears to be empty. Yelena strides down the length of the room, kicking each stall door open with her foot. No one’s there.

“So, what’s the update?” Kate asks. 

Yelena grabs Kate by the shoulders and pushes her into one of the stalls, slamming her against one of the walls. 

“Oh,” Kate says, “That kind of update.” 

“God, this fucking dress,” Yelena says, running her hands down it. 

Yelena brings her hands back up to wraps around Kate’s neck, tugging her down into a fierce, possessive kiss. She presses her entire body against Kate as she slides her tongue in to her mouth, pushing her into the wall. Yelena pulls her tongue back just enough to bite at Kate’s lips, then ducks her head to Kate’s neck, sucking hard.  

“Yelena, you’re going to give me a fucking hickey,” Kate hisses down to her. 

Yelena looks up, her eyes almost totally black. “Tell me to stop,” she demands. 

Kate looks down at her and can’t. 

Yelena smirks and returns her attention to Kate’s neck, sucking another harsh bruise into the skin there. She grabs a fistfull of the dress and yanks it down, freeing one of Kate’s breasts from its confines. Yelena leans forward and wraps her lips around the nipple, grazing her teeth lightly around it. Kate isn’t proud of the sound that leaves her at that, something almost akin to a grunt. Encouraged by the sound, Yelena shifts her mouth away from the sensitive tip there and towards the soft curve and sinks her teeth in lightly, following the movement with a wet stripe of the tongue.  She wraps her hand around Kate’s leg, right above her knee, and drags her fingers up, all the way under Kate’s dress, digging her thumb into the inside of her thigh right next to where Kate wants her most. 

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” 

The words immediately send a throbbing pressure straight between Kate’s legs. But Yelena doesn’t make a single move, instead looking up at her, and despite the forcefulness of her words, her gaze is searching, patiently waiting for Kate’s approval. And that causes a secondary, yet almost greater pressure to coalesce around Kate’s heart. 

Kate nods in consent. The next second, Yelena is slipping aside Kate’s underwear and plunging two of her fingers into her. Kate’s already so turned on they slide in completely frictionless, Yelena letting out a ragged breath as she stills for a moment, her fingers knuckle-deep in Kate. She takes a moment to gather herself before beginning to thrust them slowly in and out of her, her thumb pressing against Kate. 

Kate lifts up her leg slightly, trying to grant more access to Yelena, just needing more, when the two of them are interrupted by a horrible noise. 

The squeak of the bathroom door opening causes both of them to freeze in their tracks. The different voices, chattering animatedly in French, pass by the stall door and stop in front of the bathroom mirror, their heels clacking as they pass. Through her haze of arousal, Kate can blearily make out the sound of a zipper opening, a purse being rummaged through, a spritz of perfume, as the girls presumably begin freshening up, chattering in French the whole time. 

Kate and Yelena look at each other, Yelena’s fingers still deep inside Kate. Yelena smirks and pulls out her hand, and Kate thinks they’re going to take a break, a quick time-out, you know, because of the other people in the room when Yelena slides her fingers back in, having added a third.

The stall doors go all the way to the ground, so there’s no risk of them being seen, but they can still be heard, and Kate is having a very hard time keeping quiet. Her entire body is pinpoint focused on the shift and slide of those three fingers, as if every nerve in her body belongs to Yelena. She starts pulsing around the digits as she feels that tightness in her stomach begin to coil, and she can’t stop the gasp that escapes her mouth at the feeling of her swelling orgasm. 

The three women outside pause briefly in their conversation and Yelena glares up at Kate. Her fingers still curling inside of her, she leans up on her tiptoes and whispers into Kate's ear shhhh, emphasizing her request with a nip at her earlobe. 

But Kate can’t simply shhhh, not when Yelena continues to dive her fingers in and out of her, hitting that spot that makes Kate absolutely weak in the knees with an uncanny precision, a precision that brings to light that for all of the five times they’ve had sex Yelena just knows her body. 

Kate lets out another bit-off moan, because she’s unable to stop it, and Yelena reaches her free hand up and shoves it against Kate's mouth, pressing her lips together while continuing to work her fingers inside of her. 

With one final word of French and spritz of perfume, the women leave the bathroom. Yelena waits until she hears the door close, then drops her hand from Kate’s mouth and picks up her movements, rapidly thrusting her fingers inside of Kate. 

Freed to be vocal, Kate lets out a loud groan, quickly overcome by how good Yelena feels inside of her, just how much she wants this, how in so many ways, this closeness to Yelena is the only thing she ever wants. 

She’s startled when her climax hits her, only seconds after the women have left, so strong it forces the air out of her lungs. 

Yelena pulls her fingers out slowly, takes a step back, and sticks them into her mouth, looking up at Kate as she sucks on them. Kate’s mouth drops open, and she’s about to pin Yelena to the wall and kneel down and bury her face between her thighs for that when Yelena reaches her hand out and unlocks the stall door. 

“We should get back out there,” she says. 

Kate can only respond with a sound that is embarrassingly similar to a squeak, feeling incredibly empty without Yelena inside of her. 

“You look like you need a minute. I will see you outside,” Yelena says, before sauntering out of the room, leaving Kate behind breathless in the stall. 

Kate takes a moment to gather herself in front of the mirror. Her hair has come loose from its braid, the makeup she’s put on is smudged, her dress is completely disheveled. She looks thoroughly fucked.

It occurs to her that she has done a horrible job distancing herself from Yelena during this trip. 

She makes herself as presentable as possible, tugging her dress back into something resembling decency and wiping at her smudged makeup with a paper towel. She undoes the braid and adjusts her now loose hair on her shoulders so it covers up the two hickeys that are beginning to show on her neck. With a deep breath, she leaves the bathroom to touch base with Yelena. 

But Yelena’s nowhere to be seen. It takes Kate a minute before she spots her through the window - Yelena’s outside, leaning against the facade of the gallery, the light of a cigarette in her hands.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Yelena says tightly as Kate approaches her. “Smoking is bad for you, I get it.” 

“What are you doing out here?” Kate asks, taken aback by Yelena’s bad mood. 

“I saw our target leave as I came out of the bathroom,” Yelena says, scowling, her eyes fixed at some unseen point in the distance. “We missed our shot.”

“Oh,” Kate says, flushing red with embarrassment. “Well, shit.” 

“You do something to me,” Yelena says, talking more to herself than to Kate. “You make me so. . .” Yelena trails off, then shakes her head roughly, flicking her cigarette ashes to the ground. 

“This was a bad idea,” Yelena says, finally addressing Kate.

“Fucking in the bathroom during a mission does seem like a mistake in hindsight,” Kate says humorlessly. 

“I am not talking about tonight,” Yelena says. 

Kate’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach, knocked out of her chest with the realization that she is about to hear something she really, really doesn’t want to. 

“Then what are you talking about?” she asks hoarsely. 

“This,” Yelena says, waving her cigarette between the two of them. “This. . . thing. It’s not smart.” 

“What, you’ve changed your mind?” Kate says, her voice rising in something like panic. “That’s bullshit. You’re the one who proposed this whole ‘thing.’”

“Do not act like this was all my idea. You’ve been nothing but a willing participant since day one,” Yelena shoots back. “You have been with this every step of the way.” 

And that’s it. 

Kate Bishop has officially lost her cool. 

Possessed by an all-encompassing rage, she slaps the cigarette out of Yelena’s hands. 

“What the hell-” Yelena starts, but Kate doesn’t want to hear it. 

“You think this is what I want?” Kate asks bitterly. “Really, Yelena. You think this is what I want from you? Having the best sex of my life one second and being ignored the next? Listening to you call me your girlfriend, as if that does nothing to me? You think I want this hot and cold bullshit?” 

“So what is it then?” Yelena asks, glaring up at her. “What is it that Kate Bishop wants?” 

“I want more!” Kate shouts. “I don’t want to just keep hooking up. I want us to be something. I don’t know what that is. But what we have isn’t working for me. It’s not enough,” Kate says, and the words come out strangled and suddenly hushed. 

Yelena drops her gaze from Kate’s eyes to the ground. 

“It’s not enough,” Kate repeats. “I want more. And I need you to look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t.”

Yelena snuffs out her still-burning cigarette with her shoe, refusing to raise her head to look at Kate.

“ Yelena,” Kate says, desperately. “Look at me right now and tell me you don’t want anything more from this.” 

But Yelena doesn’t even look at her when she says it. 

“I don’t,” she says, staring at the burned-out cigarette. “I don’t want anything more.” 

The massive wave of heartbreak that crashes into Kate is the most vicious thing that she has ever felt. It floods into her, filling up her lungs, her heart, rising up her throat, suffocating her, and she’s drowning right now on dry land and can’t get in a single breath. 

“Okay,” Kate chokes out. Tears spring to her eyes, but she does her best to blink them back in. It somehow feels incredibly important not to cry right now. 

“Okay,” she says again, and she’s still staring at the fucking top of Yelena’s head because Yelena won’t fucking look up at her. “Then this is over.” 

And Kate turns on her heels and walks away. 

Chapter Text

It's surprising how much worse it gets. 

With every step away from Yelena, it hurts more. And it already hurt so much. Kate manages to keep her tears in until she turns the corner. Then it becomes clear that Yelena isn’t coming after her, and that really was it, and it truly is over, and the floodgates open, sending an absolute mass of water streaming down her face. Kate manages another block before the first wail escapes her lips, and she’s shocked at the sound that leaves her, this sob filled with absolute agony, almost unrecognizable as something her body would have the capacity to produce. 

What is she going to do? 

She wants to download Tinder and have meaningless sex with as many women as she can. She wants to never have sex again for the rest of her life. She wants to go back to Yelena and say that yes, they’re still over, but also they should have sex one more time, because Kate didn’t know that the last time they had sex was the last time, so that shouldn’t count, and if they have sex again Kate can really appreciate it for what it is. In fact, maybe they shouldn’t stop having sex, maybe Kate can make peace with the fact that Yelena will never love her because Kate really, really, really does not want to stop having sex with Yelena Belova. 

It’s so unfair. And Kate tries to be mad at Yelena, she tries to be fucking furious at her for starting all this, when Yelena could have stayed away from her and left Kate well enough alone. 

But try as she might, Kate can’t get the anger to come. Because Yelena showed her this beautiful world of Russian ice cream and ratty old pickup trucks and vanilla cupcakes with trick candles and hangover soup. And good conversation and great sex and companionship and adventure. And introduced her to the addicting feeling of being wholly captivated by this fucked up, complicated, damaged woman, of possessing the bone-deep knowledge that if she would just let you in, you could really be something together. 

But Yelena didn’t let her in. And now Kate has none of that, and it’s all ruined for her, for forever. She’ll never be able to buy a postcard in a gift shop, or eat a caramel candy, or cook a box of mac and cheese ever again. She’ll never be able to get her driver’s license. (She was not exactly on track to be getting her driver’s license, but the point still stands.) 

And Yelena isn’t even her ex! That’s the cruelest fact of them all. This is, by far, the largest heartbreak Kate has ever felt in her entire life, and they weren’t even dating. 

It probably meant nothing to Yelena. Everything that happened in the last two months probably never meant anything to Yelena. Kate bets that right now, Yelena’s smoking another cigarette, rolling her eyes at the fact that the 23-year-old she was sleeping with caught feelings after six fucking weeks. 

Yelena probably regrets ever texting Kate in the first place.

And then the anger that Kate was unable to summon towards Yelena finds a new target - herself - and roars to life. Because Kate played the largest role in this mess. She said she was cool with their arrangement for way longer than she was. She lied to Yelena - and to herself - when she insisted she would be able to keep it casual. Because Kate knows herself and has lived in her mind for 23 years and was fully aware from the get-go that keeping it casual is not a Kate Bishop quality.

Kate wishes she could go back in time, to that night that Yelena came over and they sat together on her bed, travel right to that moment when Yelena said, “I was thinking, we might be able to work together in a different way. If you wanted.”  

And this time, Kate would respond with, “No, thank you, hot woman, I think our relationship should stay strictly professional.” 

Kate emerges from her thoughts to realize that she has no clue what the fuck she is. She’s been wandering around random Paris streets for a half hour now, blindly turning corners and crossing onto less busy streets, trying to stay away from any haughty Parisian passersby that might look down their nose at this sobbing American. Wiping her eyes, she takes a look at her surroundings and tries to discern where she’s ended up. It’s some kind of business district, surrounded by shiny office buildings that no one is inhabiting at 11pm. 

This might not be good. Kate doesn't have her phone on her - it’s in her clutch, which she’s lost during the course of this evening (thinking back on it, it’s probably in the gallery bathroom). Kate doesn’t speak French. Kate doesn’t know if the subway (or metro, or whatever) goes out here, or if it’s even open at this time of night. 

Even if she found a metro stop, where would she go? She doesn’t know where their hotel is or what it was called - but she wouldn’t want to go back there anyway. She doesn’t want to go anywhere near where Yelena is. 

Kate rubs her eyes again and tries to formulate a plan. 

She’ll have to borrow a phone from someone, and then she’ll call Clint (it’s not embarrassing that she has his number memorized) and he can book her a hotel, maybe even figure out an Uber for her. In the morning, she’ll call Yelena from her hotel (it’s not embarrassing that she has her number memorized) and tell her to drop off Kate’s stuff at the front desk. 

And that way, Kate will never have to see Yelena again.

Of course, she needs to find someone first for step one of this plan, and jeez, there really is fucking no one out here, huh? She had been appreciative of the solitude while she was staggering around crying her sad little broken heart out. But now that she’s ready to move onto the second part of the night (crying her sad little broken heart out - but in a hotel room), she would really appreciate a friendly stranger walking by with an iPhone.  

Just as she’s had that thought, the utter silence around her is broken by the sound of an approaching car. Kate walks to the edge of the sidewalk, to wave it down, but before she’s raised her hand, the car begins slowing down. Then it pulls sharply in front of her, blocking her path forward on the sidewalk and forcing her to take a step backwards into the alley.

Okay. That’s weird. But then Kate remembers, with a flush of embarrassment, that she’s still wearing this dumb tight dress, and is like, oh no. I guess I’ll have to tell them this isn’t what it looks like. This is about to be a very uncomfortable conversation. 

But the man in the car doesn’t roll down his window to make a proposition. Instead, he turns off the car and gets out. 

And when he stands up to his full length, Kate notices that this man is very tall. Easily 6’4. And he is also very skinny. And he has beady eyes and a patchy beard. 

Oh my God. 

He’s the guy from the mission briefing. 

The one Yelena had told her about in the car ride over to the airport. 

The guy who's name was fucking Lestrange. 

“This man that you see there is a very prolific art thief,” Yelena had said. “You would not think so to look at him, but he has many, many enemies. I am one of them. Don't let appearances fool you. Lestrange is deceptively strong. I have seen him in action - I have seen him take on three men at once.”

The spike of pure fear that shoots through Kate is powerful enough to overcome her heartbreak. 

The art thief comes around the other side of the car, blocking the entrance to the alley. Kate takes a step back, unable to go anywhere else. Terror mounts in her body as she realizes just how screwed she is right now. Her dumb heels are limiting her range of movement greatly. There is no one around. And she has nothing on her - the knife Yelena gave her was in the clutch that she left at the gallery. 

“Kate Bishop, yes?” Lestrange says, and his thin, reedy voice matches his thin, reedy body perfectly. “You and Yelena Belova were at the gallery tonight. To be honest, Miss Bishop, I’m getting pretty tired of having your colleague follow me around everywhere. And I do not like the fact that she’s added someone new to get involved with my affairs.” 

“We don’t work together anymore,” Kate says. 

“That’s convenient,” he says.

“It’s true,” Kate insists. Because if one positive thing is going to come out of this breakup, maybe she can get out of being murdered tonight? 

“I don’t believe you,” he says, advancing towards her, driving her to the back of the alley. “I want you to tell me where she is.”

“I don’t know!” Kate says frantically. She takes another step backwards and trips on her heels, falling to the ground. 

“That’s not an answer,” he says. And he picks her up with his hand around her neck, like she’s nothing, and slams her against the wall. Kate flails her legs backwards, jamming her heel into a crevice in the brick wall behind her, pushing her body up and relieving some of the pressure on her throat. She tries to kick at him with her other foot, and manages to a solid jab with her toe in his ribs, but he doesn’t even flinch. 

“I said, tell me where she is,” Lestrange says. 

And the whole situation is giving her real Kingpin vibes, except this time she doesn’t even have broken arrows with her, or a cufflink, no Clint potentially available for backup, no final trick up her sleeve. 

But Kate can make out the sound of an engine in the distance, and maybe she can get just enough of a breath in to let out a scream. She slams her free heel down in his thigh, and he recoils enough for her to get a half breath in and let out a pathetically small squeak for help. 

It’s not going to be enough, though. There’s no way anyone heard that. 

So that’s it. That’s the ballgame. 

And as Kate’s life flashes before her eyes, all she sees is Yelena. 

And then, there she is. 

In the entryway of the valley, perched on a motorcycle with one foot on the ground, looking larger than the 5’3 she is with the look of rage that is snarled on her face, is none other than Yelena. 

“Get away from her,” she says, her teeth fully bared. 

“Miss Belova,” Lestrange says. He takes a step back, his hand is around Kate’s neck, her feet dangling helplessly, and for a second she starts to black out, when he releases his grip on her and drops Kate just like that to the ground in the middle of the alley. She lands roughly, the concrete scraping her bare knees. Yelena flinches, as if she was the one in pain.

“Your colleague was just telling me that you two were not actually working together. I did suspect she was lying. As is proven to be the case.”

“Kate, are you okay?” Yelena calls out.

“Ye-” Kate begins, but before she can finish speaking, the man kicks her once, hard, in the ribs. 

“If you touch her one more time-“ Yelena growls, her voice full of a fury Kate has never heard, not from anyone. 

“I’ve told you to stay out of my business,” Lestrange says. “So many times, Yelena, and yet you keep coming back? Maybe you’re a more visual learner.” He kicks Kate again, this time in her stomach, forcing all of the air out of her lungs. 

"Stop it!" Yelena shouts, and the word comes out half breathless, tinged with fear. 

“It's a bit too late to stop this now. I’ve told you there would be consequences for your behavior,” he says, and because the evening needs to get worse, he pulls a gun out from his pocket. “I think it is time to show you what I meant by that.”

Kate looks up at Yelena helplessly. She knows Yelena didn’t bring anything but her rings and her Widow’s Bite with her tonight, none of which have the range to reach the end of the alley.

Yelena looks back at Kate, her hand subtly tightening on the grip of the motorcycle handlebar, and she flicks her eyes to the wall on Kate’s left side. With that snap of connection the two of them have, Kate understands what Yelena is going to do without her needing to say a word. 

Kate nods, and then it all happens at once. Kate rolls to the side of the alley, flattening herself against the wall, as Yelena revs her motorcycle to life and drives across the length of the alley. She drives for a second, picking up as much speed as possible, and then yanks the motorcycle to a sharp left, simultaneously throwing herself off of it and sending it skidding in the direction of Lestrange. 

Just before it hits him, he fires his gun. But it’s too late. The motorcycle collides into him, slamming him several yards back and pinning him to the alley’s far wall with a sickening crunch. 

It can’t have been more than five seconds of action, after which there’s an eerie moment of complete silence. Kate sits up, slowly, blinking, rubbing at her sore throat. That’s when she hears a loud, ragged moan of pain coming from Yelena.

Kate scrambles over to her as fast as she can. Yelena is on the ground, a large cut on her face, her hands scraped up from the gravel, her jeans torn to shreds- but that’s not what catches Kate’s attention. 

It’s her leg. She’s got her blazer off and pressed to it, and her blazer is already soaked through with blood. 

A panicky static floods through Kate’s body at the scene. “Yelena-” she gasps, crouching next to her, pulling the blazer away for a second to see the wound. It’s absolutely gushing blood. Kate has never seen anything like it. 

“Help!” she screams towards the direction of the road, immediately aware that someone has to be in hearing distance, has to be, because if not, Yelena is going to die. 

“He hit an artery. This much blood, it cannot be anything else,” Yelena says. “Kate, this is very bad. Take off my shirt, tie it around my thigh, as fast and as tight as you can.” 

Kate doesn’t bother unbuttoning Yelena’s shirt, instead ripping it off in one long tear, leaving Yelena in her sports bra. She wraps the sleeves around Yelena’s thigh and uses all of her strength to pull them together in as tight of a knot as possible.

“That is not going to be enough,” Yelena says, looking down at her leg. 

“Help!” Kate screams again, frantically looking up and around, searching for a light in a window, a passing taxi, anything . “Someone must have heard the gunshot,” she says, more to herself than Yelena. “The police be here any minute, you just need to hold on-“ 

“Kate, Kate. There’s not enough time,” Yelena interrupts. “I have fifteen minutes. We can’t wait. There is no one here. But I saw - when I was up there, his keys, they’re still in the car. There’s a hospital eight minutes away, five streets down and to the right. Kate - look at me,” she says, as Kate jerks her head towards the car in panic. 

When Yelena speaks again, her voice is a low whisper. “I need you to drive me there.”

“I can’t!” Kate says, shaking her head frantically. 

Yelena leans forward, pressing her forehead against Kate’s own, forcing Kate to look into her eyes. And Yelena doesn’t look scared, or defeated, or like she’s contemplating her own mortality at all. She is simply gazing at Kate with a look of full trust. “Kate - you can do this. I know you can do this.” 

“Okay,” Kate whimpers. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll drive.” 

She scoops Yelena up and as quickly and gently as she can and places her in the passenger’s seat, before racing around and buckling herself into the driver’s seat. 

Kate is reaching for the key when she’s stopped in her tracks by a horrible realization. 

This car has a fucking manual transmission.

She turns the key to the car, her hand shaking violently, thinking back to that warm March day. . . clutch, then gas, then first. She puts her hand on the stick shift. Or was it gas, then clutch, then first? she thinks, paralyzed with indecision.

She’s yanked out of her stupor by the feeling of Yelena resting her hand over hers. Kate looks over at her. Yelena's face is losing all color, and her lips are turning blue, but when she speaks to Kate, her voice is quiet but strong: “I’m right here,” she says, swiping her thumb across the back of Kate’s hand. “You can do this. I’m right here with you.” 

Kate nods and takes a deep breath, letting the presence of Yelena's hand on her own ground her. Clutch, then first, then gas, she suddenly remembers. 

She releases the clutch and slowly nudges the car onto the street, smoothly shifting the gear to first as the car begins to roll down the road. 

“That’s it,” Yelena says, moving her hand back to her leg and closing her eyes. “Good job.” 

Kate shifts all the way up to fifth gear, positively speeding down the street, running every red light. Five streets down and to the right , she thinks, as she yanks the car into a sharp right hand turn. And there’s the hospital - just where Yelena said it would be. Kate can’t think of a faster way to bring them to a halt then to stall the car, so she pulls into the driveway of the ER and simply releases her foot from the clutch, slamming them to stop. She glances over at Yelena, who has passed out somewhere along the journey, her face deathly pale in the moonlight.

Kate yanks open her door, stumbling out, screaming for help. There are a few nurse standing outside of an ambulance who immediately come running over. Kate knows it’s bad when they blanch at Yelena's condition. There’s a ton of commotion as they transport Yelena onto a stretcher and race her through the doors, and Kate follows them helplessly, having no fucking clue what’s going on because everyone’s speaking in French. 

She collapses on a seat in the hall outside one of the doors they push Yelena through, absolutely losing it with worry. Fifteen minutes later, a nurse comes by carrying a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and a dumb packet of paperwork. “They’re doing surgery now,” she says, offering the clothes to Kate. “I thought you would want to change.” 

Kate goes into the bathroom to change, yanking off her fucking dumb purple dress that is now splattered with blood. Nothing the mirror shows her is a welcome sight. Dark bruises are forming on her throat and on her stomach, her knees are cut up, and her eyes have this haunted look in them. Even the dark marks on her neck from their tryst in the bathroom taunt Kate. They remind her that the only thing she had to worry about a scant few hours ago was that Yelena was breaking up with her. Now she has to be worried that Yelena is going to die. 

Kate changes and takes her seat back in the waiting room.

It’s a full two hours of hopeless, helpless waiting before the surgeon comes out from the operating room with an update. 

“You are here with Yelena, yes?” she asks in a clipped French accent. 

“Yes,” Kate says, standing up from her seat. “Is she okay?” 

“Are you family?” 

“I’m her wife,” Kate says, the lie falling easily from her lips.

The surgeon nods solemnly. “The surgery was successful. Your wife lost a lot of blood, and the damage to the leg was extensive, but we were able to save it. She will need physical therapy, and it will not be an easy recovery, but I anticipate she will make a full one. We will discuss next steps in the morning. I believe the police will be here tomorrow to speak with you both as well.” 

“But she’s alive?” Kate asks. “She’ll be okay? 

The surgeon smiles. “Yes. She’ll be okay.” 

Kate lets out a breath that she hadn’t been aware she was holding. “Can I go see her?”

“We’re getting her set up in her room right now. She won’t be awake, and you really should let her rest, but I’ll have someone take you back to her.”

A nurse comes by ten minutes later and leads Kate further into the hospital, into a small dark room filled with beeping noises and blinking lights. Yelena’s resting in a bed in the center, unconscious but breathing steadily, a welcome red having returned to her cheeks and lips. Her upper thigh is wrapped in a huge bundle of gauze. 

Kate pulls up the seat beside the bed and collapses onto it, suddenly exhausted, resting her forehead against the dip of Yelena’s waist. Kate’s been so keyed up from panic the entire night that she thought it was going to be impossible to relax, but being next to Yelena and knowing that she is okay is more powerful than any sleep aid, and within seconds she is fast asleep. 

When Kate wakes up the next morning, it is to the twin sensations of light filtering into the room and the feeling of blunt fingernails slowly brushing their way through her hair. Kate blinks her eyes open, taking a moment to register where she is, and the first thing she sees is Yelena looking down at her, a tender smile on her face. 

“Hi,” Yelena says. 

“Yelena-“ Kate says, jerking upright. “You’re awake. You’re okay.” 

“Thanks to you,” Yelena says. “Although I must take some credit. It was my idea to teach you manual first.”

Kate lets out a weak chuckle. 

“You were right,” she says. 

She wants to reach out and grab Yelena’s hand. She wants to hug her, kiss her senseless, just hold her, anything to feel her skin against her own and prove to herself that Yelena is here, alive and well and okay. But then she remembers the inconvenient fact that they aren’t doing that anymore. That Yelena doesn’t want her in that way. 

“Yelena - I wanted to be here when you woke up,” Kate says, looking down at her lap. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. But if you don’t want me here, I can leave-” 

“No, Kate - stay,” Yelena says, grabbing Kate’s forearm. “I always want you here.” She undercuts her earnest words with a smile: “Kate Bishop, my hero.” 

Kate’s eyes fill with tears. “I thought you were going to die. I was so scared.” 

Yelena reaches out, cupping her face, wiping the tears away with her thumb. “I was scared,” Yelena says. “Kate - I am not only talking about last night. I’ve been so scared for so long.”

“What do you mean?” Kate asks, leaning into the warmth of Yelena’s palm.

Yelena pauses, rubbing her thumb absentmindedly across Kate’s cheekbone as she thinks. She takes a shaky breath and begins. 

“When I came back from the Blip, and I found out Natasha had died -“ and Yelena can’t get another word out before her face breaks apart and she lets out a loud, high-pitched whimper, a rush of tears falling down her cheeks. 

Kate scrambles from her seat to move onto the bed next to Yelena, taking care not to jostle her leg. She pulls Yelena close, and Yelena all but collapses against her, dropping her head down onto Kate’s chest. They stay like that for a few minutes, Yelena crying into Kate’s borrowed sweatshirt as Kate rubs her shoulders, her back, pressing her lips against the top of Yelena’s head. When Yelena's cries subside enough for her to take in a breath, she looks up at Kate and continues, her voice still shaky:

“When I found out I lost her - it was like waking up on the operating table back in the Red Room. Like an organ was gone, ripped out of me. But unlike the surgery, this pain would  never go away. Nothing will change the fact that my sister is gone, and I will never get to see her again. And it hurts,” Yelena says, pulling away from Kate. She taps on her sternum with her fingers and lets out another choked sob. “I feel it - right here. Kate, it hurts so much.

“I will never be able to ease this pain. But I told myself I would never add to it. I would never go through it again - I could not survive it. I promised myself that I would never get close to anyone again - ever. I thought it would be easy. I don't like most people. I love my parents, yes, but not like I loved Natasha. I never thought I could love anyone as much as I loved Natasha. 

“And then I met you. And I liked you so, so much, even from the moment I saw you struggling to get all the way across that zipline. I was drawn to you, and I selfishly wanted to be around you without getting too close. So I kept myself distant. As distant as I could. 

“But Kate. You are the most incredible woman I have met. You are kind, and funny, and loving, and brave, and generous, and you like dogs, and you put up with my weird bullshit for some reason, and I am so lucky for every minute that I spend with you. 

“When you walked away from me last night, even before everything else that happened, even before I realized you might be in danger - I knew I had made the worst mistake of my life. And that I was disrespecting Natasha by letting you leave. She didn’t sacrifice herself for me to let the best thing in my life go. She didn’t sacrifice herself for me to live in fear. 

“Natasha would have wanted me to be happy,” Yelena says. “And Natasha would have loved you.” 

Yelena picks up one of Kate’s hands and tenderly presses her lips into her palm. 

“I lied. I lied yesterday,” Yelena murmurs into her hand. “What we are doing isn’t enough for me. And I am sorry I made you think it was, for so, so long. I’m sorry I made myself think that too. But it was never enough.”

She looks up from Kate’s hand, and the morning light is glistening off of the tears brimming in her eyes. 

“I want more. I want it all. I want everything with you.”

And Kate has never been looked at so deeply. And Kate has never been looked at with such love. 

And Yelena’s eyes are shimmering gold.

“Yelena -” Kate chokes out, but there are no words. There is nothing else she can say. Instead, she reaches out and pulls Yelena into a tight embrace, burying her face into the beloved crook of her neck, nestling herself in the blonde locks of Yelena’s hair, breathing her in, wholly surrounded by everything and the only thing she wants in this world. 

“Oh, Kate,” Yelena whispers into her ear, and she’s holding onto Kate so tightly it’s as if she never wants to let go. “My Kate.”

Chapter Text

Three months later - July 2025 

They celebrate Yelena’s first day off of crutches by going to Coney Island. 

Yelena is still moving stiffly, and needs to take breaks often, and her pace is uneven and slow as they walk down the boardwalk. But even if she was fully mobile right now, it seems unlikely that Yelena would be setting any speed records. She stops every other minute to investigate the tchotchkes being peddled by vendors, and look at dogs, and point at seagulls, and grimace in fascinated disgust at all of the various fried foods being sold at different stands. It’s been twenty minutes and they’ve barely made it anywhere. 

Kate couldn’t care less. Kate wouldn’t care if it took them a full year to walk down this one stretch of boardwalk, as long as Yelena was by her side, holding her hand.

“Fried pickles?” Yelena says, peering at the menu of the stand they’ve stopped in front of. “This cannot be. This is a disgrace.” 

“I’m also not sold on that,” Kate says. “But look - fried mac and cheese! That could be tasty.”

“That does sound delicious,” Yelena admits. “But you know what we came here for - I want to try funnel cake first.” 

“My treat,” Kate proclaims, slapping down a twenty on the stand. “One funnel cake for the pretty lady, my good man!” 

The last three months have been nothing short of absolutely incredible. The first month was mainly spent in Kate’s apartment, Yelena on bedrest as she recuperated from her injury. That was all fine by Kate - she didn’t want to be anywhere else. And after the roller coaster that had been their first six weeks together, everything about that month at home was perfect. Kate waited on Yelena hand and foot, religiously attending to her bandages, helping her with her physical therapy exercises, bringing every meal to her in bed. (At first, Kate tried making nice, home-cooked meals for Yelena, but after the third time she set off the smoke alarm she decided that Yelena would have to heal with take out). 

Even if Yelena hadn’t been medically ordered to stay in bed, they probably wouldn’t have left it much anyway. The sex is like, holy shit. Like, wow. Not that it hadn’t always been good. But since they’ve officially gotten together, it’s gone up to a whole new level. And that’s with the restrictions that Yelena’s injured leg has forced upon them. So it’s not like they’re doing any crazy positions or whatever. It’s simply that connection the two of them share, fully out in the open, not hidden at all, that makes the sex absolutely mindblowing. Seriously, not to be corny, but it’s fucking magic. Kate wanders around every day in a fugue state of carnal bliss, simultaneously always satisfied and always ready for more.

Their second month together was a lot less idyllic, coming with a fair share of challenges. Kate decided she wanted to visit her mom in prison for the first time, and Yelena walked her to the waiting room and held her as she cried after the uncomfortable, tense meetup. Then the two of them went to visit Yelena’s mother in Russia, to pick up Fanny and bring her back to New York, and had a long conversation on the plane ride over about the ways their parents had deeply disappointed them, and how it was strangely impossible to stop loving them in spite of it. 

Kate may have gotten embarrassingly drunk in front of Yelena’s mother, plied to take vodka shot after vodka shot at the dinner table. Thankfully, she didn’t black out, which meant in the morning she could still remember the stories Melina told about Yelena’s youth in America. She was grateful to remember them, not only because they were cute - who knew Yelena , of all people, was a Barbie fanatic? - but because they gave her a new insight into Yelena’s past. This poor girl, who had no clue that everything around her was staged, who had everything ripped out from under her one night, who lost her entire childhood in one second. When Kate woke up the next morning, it was with an incredible hangover, but also a deeper understanding of the woman sleeping next to her. 

Yelena visits Natasha’s grave every month, if she can, and in June, Kate went with her. “It’ll be like I’m introducing you to her,” Yelena said when she invited Kate to come along, and Kate managed to keep it together until Yelena left the room before completely breaking down at that. 

But that was a rough trip. Both of them were tense about the meaningfulness of it all, and Kate was nervous behind the wheel of the car, and Yelena was irritable from having quit smoking, and they got into a huge argument on the way to the cemetery about fucking nothing. And Kate could see Yelena's face change into that closed-off expression she recognized from before they were together. 

For a second, Kate was worried that was it, that maybe the door Yelena had opened for her could be closed again. But then Kate pulled over to the side of the road and Yelena got out of the car to anxiously stomp around outside while Kate stayed in the car and had a good cry, and once they had both calmed down, they were able to talk it through. And it wasn’t twenty minutes later before Yelena was reaching out to hold her hand again. 

It’s hard. It’s hard for Yelena to let her in. Kate sees that every day. It hurts to know that nothing about what they’re doing is easy for her. That Yelena has to struggle against herself for this to work. And there are these random moments, after sex, or when Kate wraps her arms around Yelena from behind, or one of their dog barks unexpectedly, or they pass a missing child poster, where every muscle in Yelena’s body tenses, as if on guard, and her eyes lose the light in them that Kate has become accustomed to seeing, that golden hue that she loves so much. 

But Yelena always fights her way back to Kate. She takes deep breaths, her feet firm on the floor, to center herself. She talks it through - what she’s feeling, what she’s being reminded of, what reassurance she needs. She’s been going to therapy. It’s all been helping. 

Which has brought them to this third month, which has been the best so far. Once Yelena got the clear from the doctor to put weight on her leg again, the two of them started to tackle Yelena’s postcard wall - that wishlist of everything Yelena wants to do now that she’s in control of her life. Seeing the elephants at the Bronx Zoo was a highlight - Kate may have forced the two of them to buy matching hats, which Yelena begrudgingly went along with. They went to Riis beach on the first warm day of the year, and Kate built an incredibly elaborate sand castle to Yelena’s exacting instructions while Yelena relaxed in the shade and ate ice cream. 

And there are some things that Yelena does alone, ways she asserts her own independence. Recently, she went on a week-long business trip to Boston, meeting with a potential new employer, figuring out what kind of work she can do while she’s in recovery. (She’s only a few thousand dollars away from affording her much sought-after flamethrower ring.) 

Kate misses her like crazy whenever she’s gone, but it’s also good for them to spend some time apart. That way, Kate can hang out with her friends, and talk with Clint on the phone for an hour, and grab a coffee with Jack, and do all of the things she can’t do when Yelena’s around, because she can never bring herself to be far from Yelena when she’s there. And it helps that Yelena misses her as well. When she comes back, she’s barely through the door before she’s pushing Kate onto the bed. 

They haven’t said it yet. Those three words. Kate knows she’s in love, is sure of it more than she’s been sure of anything in her life (and she’s Kate Bishop, so that’s saying something). She’s in love. This all-encompassing love that she can feel in every cell of her body. This certainty she’s never had before, that this is it, this is her. But she wants Yelena to take the lead on this, wants to let her set the pace. Kate knows it’s going to take time. She knows she might have to wait quite a while longer.

But there are times when Yelena rests her hand on her knee, or cups her cheek when they’re kissing, or looks up at her when her tongue is on her, or says “I like you, Kate Bishop - a lot,” with a warm smile on her face, that tell Kate that even if it’s unsaid, it’s already there. 

Kate’s interrupted from her thoughts when the man at the stand pushes out their order of funnel cake. Yelena grabs it, wide eyed and giddy at the mass of cake in front of her. Kate lifts up the Polaroid camera that’s been hanging around her neck and snaps a photo of Yelena as she gazes down at the treat in front of her.

“I think that was a good one,” Kate says as she shakes the photo, watching it develop. 

“But I want one with you,” Yelena pouts. 

“Okay,” Kate says, smiling, stepping next to her girlfriend. She turns the camera around to the both of them, Yelena leaning into her as the flash goes off. 

Photo opp over, Yelena grabs a large bite of the funnel cake greedily and shoves it into her mouth, coughing as she inhales the powdered sugar.

“What do you think?” Kate asks, watching Yelena chew thoughtfully. 

“It’s sweet,” Yelena says, smacking her lips up and down and making a face. “It’s too sweet. And greasy.”

“That’s what makes it so good!” Kate says, snagging a bite for herself. Yelena slaps her hand away. 

“Did I say you could have this?”

“No, but I know you’ll let me.”

“Why would I? What will I get in return?” Yelena asks, looking up at Kate through her eyelashes. 

Kate smirks and leans forward, kissing Yelena on her sweetened lips. Boldly, she pushes her tongue into Yelena’s mouth, licking away as much of the powdered sugar as she can. 

“Ew,” Yelena says, making a face as she pulls back from the sloppy kiss. “You are disgusting. And we are in public.” 

“You love it,” Kate smiles. 

“No, I don’t,” Yelena says flatly, but her eyes are crinkling at the corners. “Come on. Let’s keep going. I want to go on the Ferris wheel next.” 

After riding the Ferris wheel twice and eating fried mac and cheese and spending a futile hour at a sharpshooter carnival game (“This thing is nothing like a real gun!”), they finally make their way back to Kate's apartment. Which Kate has basically been thinking of as their apartment, since Yelena’s been all but living there for the last three months. Lucky and Fanny are there to greet them, and Kate takes them out for a quick walk as Yelena stays behind to rest her leg on the couch.

When Kate comes back in through the door, Yelena looks at her with a face full of excitement and longing, as if Kate had been gone for a week instead of a half hour. Like they hadn’t just spent the entire day together. 

It makes Kate’s heart melt. Coming home to her girl with her dogs in tow? It’s everything her lesbian heart could want. It’s everything she’s ever wanted, since she was, like, eight years old. 

“I wanted to wait for you to do the honors,” Yelena says, holding up the photo of them on the boardwalk, slowly getting up to her feet. 

They make their way to Yelena's collection of postcards that have taken up permanent residence on Kate’s wall. Yelena picks up a thumbtack and sticks the photo of the two of them right next to the postcard of the boardwalk. The postcard wall is littered with these photos now - photos of both of them, of Yelena, visual proof that she’s finally living the life she always deserved to lead. 

“What do you want to do next?” Kate asks as she peruses the postcards on the wall. She picks the one depicting an idyllic mountain range off of the board and holds it in her hand. “You know, the Catskills is gorgeous in the summer. We could go there next weekend, stay in a cabin up in the mountains. You’ll absolutely love it there, it's so calm and quiet. Okay, maybe you won’t love it. Well, we’ll have to see. We can go blueberry picking, that’s a classic. And there’s a ton of cute farmer’s markets-“

“I love you.” 

The postcard falls out of Kate’s hand. She turns around to see Yelena is looking at her with a simple and open expression.

“What?” Kate squeaks out, even though she knows what she just heard. 

“I love you,” Yelena repeats. 

Kate rushes towards her, drawing Yelena close to her and kissing her deeply, trying to pour all of her emotions into this kiss, trying to translate all of the love she has for this woman into the brush of their lips. Kate’s a little ashamed of the tears that are welling in her eyes. One falls down her cheek, and Yelena draws back so she can kiss it away. 

“I love you,” Yelena says again, gazing into Kate’s eyes. “I really do.” 

Kate lets out an embarrassing gasp of a sob and wraps her arms around Yelena, pulling her into an enthusiastic and incredibly tight embrace, squishing her face into her chest.  

“Don’t you maybe want to say something too?” Yelena mumbles into the fabric of Kate’s jacket.

“Oh,” Kate says, stepping back and letting Yelena go. “Oh yeah, of course. I love you, too. I mean I basically-“

“ - you’ve been waiting to say it -“

“ - for like three whole months now, yes,” Kate smiles. 

“Right. Right,” Yelena says, beaming back. 

“But I do,” Kate says, stepping closer to Yelena. “I love you so much.” 

When their lips meet again, the kiss is a lot less sweet and a lot more passionate. Kate brushes her tongue across Yelena’s lower lip while running her hand down to settle on her lower back. Yelena loops her arms around Kate’s neck, leaning forward and pushing their chests together, sighing at the contact. Kate pulls Yelena even closer, because they are never close enough, are they, her hands reaching further down to grasp at her ass. Yelena moans into Kate’s mouth at that, and overcome by a possessive need to have Yelena as soon as possible, Kate bends down and scoops her into her arms.  

“Oh, come on,” Yelena says as Kate starts up the steps to the upper floor of their loft. “I can walk up the stairs now. This is infantilizing.”

“No, it’s not infantilizing, it’s sexy,” Kate says. “I’m giving you the chance to appreciate my arms.”

“They are very nice,” Yelena admits, running an appreciative hand down her bicep as Kate carries her to their bed. 

Kate sets Yelena down gently on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of her. She plants one more firm kiss on Yelena’s lips, then grabs the hem of Yelena’s shirt and pulls it over her head. God, she fucking never gets tired of looking at Yelena’s breasts. She rests her face for a moment between them, breathing her in deeply, her arms looped around Yelena’s waist in some kind of weird erotic hug. 

“I could stay here forever,” Kate murmurs as she nuzzles her cheek against the soft curve of Yelena’s chest.

Yelena lets out a huff of a laugh, then places a finger under Kate’s chin and nudges her face up, forcing Kate to look in her eyes.

“What is it?” Kate asks.

“I’ve been thinking,” Yelena says, suddenly very quiet. 

“Yeah?” 

“Lately, I’ve been wanting to feel you - everywhere,” Yelena says. She picks up Kate’s right hand and presses a small series of kisses along her index finger. “I know we’ve been avoiding that,” she says, her lips wrapping around the tip of Kate’s finger. “And that I didn’t want it before. But I want it now. I want to feel you inside of me.” 

“You’re sure?” Kate asks.

“I'm very sure.” 

Kate nods, quickly planning how to approach this. She knows Yelena has never done penetration before, which means she wants her to be as relaxed and aroused as possible before they start. So she begins a slow path down to her lap, licking and nipping and kissing her way down Yelena’s body, paying careful attention to all of the spots she knows Yelena is sensitive to - the space under her chin, behind her ear, directly below her bottom rib. 

She carefully pulls off Yelena’s pants, taking incredible care not to disturb her injured leg. She removes her underwear and simply looks for a moment at the gorgeous sight in front of her. Yelena threads her fingers into her hair, the gesture both impatient and adoring.

“Aren’t you going to do anything?” Yelena smiles. 

“I’ll take my time if I want to,” Kate says, rubbing a hand up and down Yelena’s good leg. 

She can only look for a moment longer before she is overcome with the urge to taste, burying her head in Yelena’s lap with a suddenness that makes Yelena gasp. 

Three months in, Kate has a very good idea of all the ways to make Yelena go insane, knows how to get her off as quickly as possible. But that’s not what she wants this time. She draws it out, as long as she can, with soft licks and teasing kisses, occasionally bringing her mouth away from Yelena entirely and moving it to press against her hips, her upper thighs, the ridge right above her curly patch of hair. Yelena’s incredibly responsive above her, her fingers lightly pulling on Kate’s hair, her blunt fingernails scraping against her scalp, letting out the occasional moan that drives Kate absolutely wild. 

When Kate decides that Yelena’s had enough teasing, she returns her mouth back to her favorite spot, dragging her tongue in unrushed figure eights against the velvety skin there. Yelena curls over her as she gets close, her stomach pressing into Kate’s forehead, her thighs tensing around her ears. It’s almost suffocating, but also not at all, because Kate feels like she’s overcome the need for breathing entirely. 

When Yelena climaxes, her hand fists in Kate’s hair almost painfully, and Kate can feel Yelena’s stomach muscles twitching against her forehead as her orgasm rolls through her. 

After she’s licked her through, Kate sits back next to Yelena on the bed. Yelena kisses her desperately, eagerly ridding Kate of her clothes. Once she’s fully disrobed, Yelena swings her leg over Kate’s hips and straddles her. 

“That’s not going to be too hard on your leg?” Kate asks as Yelena settles onto her lap. 

“No, he’s behaving today,” Yelena says, looking down at her bad leg.

“Okay. Just let me know if you get uncomfortable, and we can change positions,” Kate says. 

“I will,” Yelena says, pressing a lingering kiss to Kate’s forehead.  

Kate moves her hand between them and gently presses her finger against Yelena. She feels no resistance there, Yelena’s muscles fully relaxed and ready for her. Kate slowly pushes into her, and Yelena groans as her walls clench against Kate.

“Is that good?” Kate asks, stopping her finger where it is, just the fingertip inside Yelena.

Yelena drops her head down, pressing her forehead against Kate’s, breathing heavily. “It’s good,” she gets out, her eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. “It’s good.” 

Kate presses a quick peck against Yelena’s lips, then slides her finger in the rest of the way, all the way to her knuckle. Yelena lets out another breathy moan at the feeling of her length. “Fuck,” she pants. “ Kate . It’s really good.” 

Kate curls her finger slightly, shifting her palm up to provide friction against the rest of Yelena. Yelena’s hips begin rocking against Kate’s hand and they fall into an easy rhythm as Kate rubs inside of her. The feeling of Yelena’s wet warmth around her is entirely captivating to Kate, and she has a hard time controlling her own breathing as Yelena reaches her second orgasm, pulsing around Kate’s finger.

Kate slowly withdraws from Yelena as she comes down, but Yelena barely needs a minute to recover before she places a firm hand on Kate’s chest and pushes her firmly back against the mattress. 

“My turn,” she smirks. 

Yelena moves quickly down Kate’s body, her hands seemingly everywhere at once, nipping soft bites into her neck, sucking at her collarbone, lapping at her nipples until Kate is writhing above her. 

When she reaches Kate’s stomach, her eyes glaze over with a feral kind of lust. She dips her tongue briefly into Kate’s belly button before licking a long stripe right up the middle of her toned muscles, her fingers rubbing insistent circles against the firm skin there. (Yelena probably spends more time devoted to Kate’s abs then her breasts. Kate’s learned over the past few months that Yelena is completely obsessed with them. When Kate tries to do her daily exercises in a sports bra, she never ends up successfully completing that kind of exercise.)  

When Yelena’s mouth finally reaches Kate, she’s already close. That’s the thing about being with Yelena - she doesn’t even need to be touched to feel that way. Kate’s been close for the last half hour, since she first rested her lips against Yelena bare skin. Hell, she’s been close since Yelena said “I love you.” 

Yelena splays her hands on Kate’s stomach as she dips her tongue into Kate, and Kate desperately fists into the bedsheets at the sensation of that wet muscle pushing into her. She tries to hold on as long as she can, but she barely lasts a minute before she’s toppled over her peak, coming hard onto Yelena’s tongue. 

“Aw, I was just starting to have fun,” Yelena pouts as she pulls away, biting teasingly at the inside of her thigh. 

“I’m sorry,” Kate says, putting a hand over her face. “You’re just too hot.” 

“Hmm,” Yelena says, kissing over the soft indents left by her teeth. “I think you have another one in you.”

“Well, you’d be the expert,” Kate says. 

Yelena brings herself back up to Kate, lying next to her on the bed. She draws Kate in for a surprisingly chaste kiss, her hand reaching up to cradle Kate’s face. 

“I want you to know,” she says earnestly, rubbing her nose against Kate’s, “How happy I am. And how good you make me feel.”

“You make me happy, too,” Kate says, brushing her thumb across Yelena’s lower lip and gazing back at her. “You make me so happy. And I don’t need to tell you how good you make me feel. Like, all the time.”

“Yeah?” Yelena says, reaching her hand down between Kate’s legs. “It doesn’t hurt to be reminded,” she says as she slowly draws her finger through Kate’s folds. 

“Crazy good,” Kate whimpers as Yelena presses down on her harder. “Like- fuck,” she says, as Yelena slips a finger into her. 

Yelena smiles at that response as she adds a second finger, slowly thrusting them in and out of Kate. Kate had felt wrung out from her first orgasm, and really wasn’t sure she’d be able to get off again. But as Yelena adjusts the angle and slides her fingers deeper, she can feel a second one steadily begin to build in her gut. 

This is what Yelena does to her. It’s not just the way she twists her fingers inside Kate - it’s the way Yelena’s looking at her, that expression of adoration and desire in her eyes, and that feeling she gives Kate, of being prized and wanted and wanted and cared about and absolutely and wholly loved. 

Kate lets out a shaky moan as she feels her orgasm swell up within her, and Yelena surges forward, capturing her lips in an open-mouthed kiss. 

“There it is,” she whispers against Kate’s parted lips, rubbing her thumb roughly against Kate as she crooks her fingers into her. “Give it to me, I want it.” 

Yelena’s voice and Yelena’s words shove Kate over the edge, and she squeezes her eyes shut as she comes again around Yelena’s fingers, her body tensing against Yelena’s as she gives her girl everything she has. 

Completely spent, her mind cloudy with dopamine, eyes still closed, she reaches over and grabs Yelena, pulling her on top of her. Yelena nestles her head into the crook of Kate's neck. They stay like that for a long, quiet moment, Kate absentmindedly rubbing her hand up and down Yelena’s bare back, letting the weight of her body bring her back down to Earth.  

“This is my favorite part,” Yelena murmurs into Kate’s neck. “We should have been doing this from the beginning.” 

Kate smiles, somewhat ruefully. “It’s okay. We’re making up for lost time.” 

Yelena hums thoughtfully. “Yes. And at least we have a string of days ahead of us with infinite time to fill.”

Kate looks down at Yelena, surprised. “That’s beautiful. What is that, a Russian proverb?”

“No,” Yelena says, lifting up her head to shoot an offended look at Kate. “It's a Yelena proverb. I came up with it.”

“What?” Kate says, a soppy grin spreading on her face. “That’s so cheesy.” 

Yelena rolls off of Kate and flops onto her back beside her, frowning. 

“I am not being cheesy, I’m being serious!” she insists. “I have been thinking about this a lot lately. What life is going to be like now. For me. For both of us. All the days we will have together. That’s something I’ve never had before. I never got that with Natasha. All this future. All this time .” 

She raises her arms out above her, framing a space on the ceiling. “Sometimes, it’s like I can see it. Right there. Right in front of us.” 

Kate looks at the empty space between Yelena's hands. And there it is, unspooling before her eyes - this long spiral of time that awaits the two of them. Endless days stretching out before her, extending into the unknown. All the tomorrows she will get to spend with Yelena by her side. 

“Do you see it too?” Yelena asks, her eyes hopeful as she glances over at Kate. 

“Yeah,” Kate whispers, staring up in wonder at the glimpse she’s catching of their shared future. “I can see it.”