Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

-

Yelena proudly stood in front of the crowd which she quickly realised was a sea of journalists and reporters. She was letting her words towards Val sink in - ‘We own you know' was ringing in her ears like a spell. For once in her life, for just a split second the Russian assassin felt accomplished.

That feeling was so foreign to her, as all of her life (well...since she gained consciousness post being exposed to the antidote) was fairly focused around guilt tripping herself and drowning in self-destructive thoughts. It all got unimaginably worse after Natasha's sacrifice. All of Yelena's days blurred in one, never-ending void. Alcohol, drugs and whatnot else she was taking started to consume her. The relief and peace never came as she kept losing herself more and more into whatever she could get her hands on.

She stopped using for a second though - it was when she found out where Natasha's grave was (it didn't matter that it's bodiless).

During when she remained clean for what she remembers to be somewhat more than a month she adopted an Akita - Fanny. Deep down she knew she couldn't handle visiting her sister's grave alone. Her mom, Melina - disappeared into the thin air after taking down the Redroom. And Alexei? He just never seemed to care enough to make contact with her first. So there she was with her Fanny girl visiting the grave.

The stone read ‘Natasha', yet Yelena will forever remember her sestra as Natalia. As the moment of grief started to overtake her soul entirely she noiticed her boss standing next to her, presenting Yelena with the revenge mission on Hawkeye.

The winter after attempting to kill Clint was the beginning of (what she thought was going to be) the end. She can't seem to recall what substances was she on for the next couple months. Maybe some coke? MDMA? It's not like it mattered her. Not to mention the amount of alcohol she poured into her system hoping for even a second of something other than depression - numbness would've been enough.

On top of her addiction Yelena started to feel bad for the ‘clean up’ work she was doing for Valentina. The assignments did not satisfy her, actually she started to develop some kind of...empathy for the ones she was killing? To be fair it probably wasn't her moral compass taking a turn though, more so her brain getting more fucked up from the drugs. But it definitely made something inside of the Russian snap.

The moment came. She ended up seeing Alexei and calling Val with a request for a more "public job". Before she was set to accomplish her last assigned kill, she decided to finally quit.

The withdrawal was hell yet she almost doesn't remember it. Her brain shut down while her body still burns from the inside every day: hands twitching, stomach knotting, chest tight like it's about to explode - she still feels the ghost of every pill, every hit and every sip; yet she cannot recall the nights she would vomit blood and scream til her throat bled. She considers it strange how her head just refuses to hold things that her body can remember so well.

'Meet the New Avengers!' Yelena's head kept repeating, as she took another deep breath trying to make the moment last for eternity. She felt like she finally found her purpose and when she looked at Alexei he whispered "Natalia must be so proud of you, Lena".

-

The TV in Kate Bishop's apartment was just playing quietly in the background as the archer herself was half asleep facing the opposite direction. It was until she caught onto a women's voice saying "Meet the New Avengers". The 23-year-old jumped at the words and immediately sat straight up on the couch, feeling like it's a fever dream. She didn't even look at the rest of the team because her eyes were automatically glued to a very skilled blonde Russian assassin she had the
dubious pleasure to fight with just last Christmas.

"YELENA AN AVENGER WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK-" she whispered angrily to herself.

Not thinking much, filled with jealousy yet some kind of joy for Yelena, she picked up her phone and texted the same 'unknown number' which she got the text informing Elenor was working for Kingpin from.

[6:02 p.m.] Kate: hi !!!
[6:02 p.m.] Kate: i really hope I got the right number :')
[6:03 p.m.] Kate: welllll it's kate! ykkk new hawkeye???? YOU'RE AN AVENGER BEFORE ME YELENA? insaneeeee. js congrats and everything
[6:05 p.m.] Kate: i'm kinda jealous and like so surprised but hey it's nice to see a bloodthirsty russian assassin turn into a hero haha! maybe we'll run into each other saving new york so i thought it might maybe be good to stay in touch right :D

[6:23 p.m] Unknown Number: Kate Bishop. Hello. I surprisingly did keep the burner I texted you from. Thank you for your congratulations. I must say you are just as chipper as I remember.

-

Yelena read Kate’s texts again as she was in a taxi to a hotel Valentina told the team to stay in until the tower was renovated.

After rereading her own text, she set the phone on her lap, watching her fingers twitch over it. Something about Kate’s excitement—it was almost… refreshing. She rarely got messages like this. Usually, it was orders, threats, or silence.

The Russian assassin was pleasantly surprised by Kate’s text. Meeting Bob made her realize that everybody needs somebody. She does have her new team including her father she now knows she’ll keep close contact with, but it was all still her team and Kate’s texts made her feel so… normal. Yelena glanced at the phone again, just because. Not that she needed to, but the messages felt… different. Not orders. Not threats. Not some dumb assignment with a ticking clock. Just words from someone who actually seemed… human.

She lingered on Kate’s words. The sheer, relentless enthusiasm. ‘How is she this awake?’ Yelena thought. ‘I fought her once. Almost broke her. And she still types like she’s bouncing off the walls.’

A small part of her, the part she didn’t usually let anyone see, wondered what it would be like to… not be alone in her chaos. What would’ve been if she had someone else than Fanny all along. Not that she would ever admit it aloud. ‘Everyone needs someone’, she reminded herself, echoing Bob’s words. She had her team. She had her father. She had a purpose. But Kate’s energy, that nervous excitement mixed with awe… it was oddly grounding.

After a moment, she texted again:

[6:28 p.m.] Yelena: How are you doing Kate Bishop? What exactly does a “new Hawkeye” do when she is not getting shot at and fought by a hired killer?

[6:31 p.m.] Kate: okay so wellll… not much yet, tbh. kamala recruited me, but I haven’t really joined a team or anything. mostly… training, running small stuff, trying not to get myself killed right? Coffee breaks are nice too :p

[6:36 p.m.] Yelena: Training and small stuff. Coffee breaks. Got it. You move fast in your words, Kate Bishop.

[6:38 p.m.] Yelena: Does “trying not to get killed” mean you almost have gotten yourself killed, or just cautious optimism?

[6:41 p.m.] Kate: haha maybe a little of both ngl ;) i try to stay alive mostly. sometimes i get lucky.

[6:44 p.m.] Yelena: Luck is temporary. Skill is reliable.
[6:44 p.m.] Yelena: But you do not lack skill to be fair, Kate Bishop. I do remember fighting you. I can say was almost not pulling my punches.

[6:47 p.m.] Kate: oh wow… thanks Yelana haha “almost not pulling your punches” sounds… terrifying ngl.

[6:48 p.m.] Kate: gotta say that i’ve learned a thing or two since then. still a lot to figure out tho :/

[6:50 p.m.] Yelena: Training, instincts, awareness. You’ve got the first two. Awareness comes with time so don’t beat yourself up too much.

[6:53 p.m.] Kate: alright noted! got it. awareness… yeah, that’s probably the hardest part

Yelena set the phone down again for a moment, watching the city streak past outside the taxi window. She didn’t need to analyze the texts too much - her instincts did it anyway. Kate’s words were fast, jumping between self-deprecation and excitement, the way someone who hadn’t fully tested themselves might talk.

She noted the little pauses, the way she emphasized certain things with punctuation or emojis. It was a pattern. Energy, nerves, awareness not quite aligned with ability. She could see it clearly—like reading someone before a fight.

Not that Yelena would say it out loud, but it made Kate… interesting. Sharp, quick, and still unpolished. The kind of person who could survive if she learned to temper instinct with attention. Yelena flexed her fingers, thinking about her own past mistakes, how much easier they could have been with a little preparation.

‘Still reckless’ the newly established avenger thought. But capable. That combination made for someone worth watching - keeping tabs on. She wasn’t invested like that, not yet anyways. But she would notice. Always notice.

The taxi pulled up to the hotel on the edge of the city. Yelena stepped out, glancing at the curb where her bags were already waiting.

She raised an eyebrow. Bags she hadn’t packed, tags she didn’t recognize. “Of course” she muttered under her breath “Valentina”.

Still, seeing her things just… there left her a little off balance. Yelena wasn’t used to anyone planning ahead for her. She flexed her fingers, hefting the bags onto her shoulders. There were no surprises she could see. The bags were sturdy and they weighed a perfectly normal another for their size.

The hotel lobby was quiet, almost sterile. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, and a concierge tapped at a computer without looking up. Yelena noted it, not because she distrusted him, but because she always noticed. It was still the ghost of Redroom. She would always notice details, patterns, look for exit routs and asses possible threats.

She set her bag down by the elevator and glanced at her phone. Kate’s texts came to mind - fast and scattered. Part of Yelena wanted to type something, to keep the conversation going. Another part… just appreciated the quiet, the ordinary hum of the city below, the fact that nothing had exploded yet.

Yelena pressed the elevator button, stepping inside when the doors slid open. She let herself notice the smooth metal railing, the subtle vibration under her boots, the flicker of the lights. All ordinary things, but ordinary was rare for her.

She looked at her phone yet again and saw a text from her boss:
[7:01 p.m.] Psycho Employer: Floor 11 Room 165. Enjoy your stay, Belova.

She chuckled quietly over the name she had given Valentina in her phone a while back as she leaned against the wall, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the screen. A part of her admitted (silently) that she liked knowing someone had thought ahead for her. Just a little. Not enough to let her guard down, but enough to make her feel like an actual person and not a worthless killer.

The elevator pinged at floor 11. Yelena grabbed her bags again, stepping out into the dim hallway. She kept her movements measured, observant, but allowed herself the faintest flicker of relief. Avenger chaos could wait. For now, she could just… exist in a hotel room with her bags already in place, waiting.

[7:04 p.m.] Yelena: Thanks, Valentina. I’ll let you know when I start expecting traps.

The woman entered her hotel room which had keys put on a little table right next to the bathroom door. That was the first thing she noticed and she proceeded to lock the door as soon as she put her bags on the floor.

Out of a complete surprise her beloved Fanny came running at her from the room balcony.

Yelena froze mid-step, one hand still on the door lock. Her eyes flicked to the balcony just in time to catch Fanny barreling toward her, tail wagging, paws skidding slightly on the polished floor.

“Fanny” Yelena muttered under her breath, a smirk tugging at her mouth despite herself. She bent down just enough to let the dog brush against her legs, feeling the familiar chaos of fur and enthusiasm overwhelm her measured calm.

The dog barked once, sharp and delighted, before circling her and skidding to a stop at the edge of the balcony. Yelena’s eyes scanned the small room quickly, noting the table, the keys, the pristine arrangement—but her attention kept flicking back to her very dear canine.

‘Of course Valentina would make sure even the dog was here’ she thought wryly.

Yelena didn’t even want to think about how did Val manage to trace her previous shitty motel where she left the dog for the day.

Fanny nudged at her bag, tail wagging, and Yelena finally let out a quiet laugh. She crouched slightly and scratched behind the dog’s ears.

For a moment, nothing else existed. No missions. Just a hotel room, a well- locked door, and her dog insisting she pay attention.

Yelena shook her head, standing again. She glanced at her phone, thumb hovering over it, and typed quickly:

[7:08 p.m.] Yelena: Yep. Bags safe. Dog accounted for. You can quit micromanaging now, Val.

The Russian decided to try and admire the view like an average tourist. Yelena and her dog stepped out to the balcony. She observed as the city glowed orange and purple in the evening light. Yelena leaned against the balcony railing, arms crossed, letting the cool air brush against her face. The hotel seemed safe - too safe, maybe - but quiet in a way that almost made her feel… good.

Fanny padded around her legs, tail sweeping lightly against the floor. Calm, collected, perfectly unconcerned. Yelena bent slightly, scratching behind her ears.“Of course she’s calm. Someone’s got to be” she muttered, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

Her thumb hovered over the phone, flicking open Kate’s messages. The girl’s energy pulsed through the screen - fast, scattered, alive. Yelena typed deliberately:

[7:12 p.m.] Yelena: If we are going to stay in touch, as you suggested, we should actually meet sometime.

She slipped her phone in one of many pockets in her suit, watching Fanny settle at her feet. Yelena allowed herself a small, almost imperceptible smirk, thinking that maybe Kate’s personality matched her own more than she expected it to, in its very unique form.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Yelena took it out and saw a new message from Kate.

[7:17 p.m.] Kate: wait, seriously?? hang out?? i mean… i’m not gonna die if we do this right??

Yelena smirked faintly, reading the text. The girl’s energy came through even in a simple message. She typed back simply:

[7:19 p.m.] Yelena: You’ll survive, Kate Bishop.

Chapter Text

-

The next morning Yelena woke up to knocking on her door, right after she could hear a female voice from the outside of the hotel room "Miss uhhh Buhlo- excuse me... Miss Belova?" woman rambled. "You are uh- about to miss breakfast... I'm so sorry to disturb but miss De Fontaine called and said I- I should do this."

Yelena could hear how awkward it was for the other woman. She kept her frustration to herself despite the fact she hated being woken up. She took a breath and responded with a simple "I'll be right down in 5 minutes, thanks.", trying her best to hide her annoyance and remain polite.

She turned to the bedside table to pick up one of the 3 phones she had, specifically the burner she was texting Kate on. She looked at the time and her phone showed 8:45. God she loves to sleep in but guess even with no mission Val won't let her rest.

Her morning heavy face lit up with a tiny smile when her eyes were met with a notification that she had 3 new messages from none other than Kate.

[7:56 a.m.] Kate: hiiiii lena!
[7:56 a.m.] Kate: shit sorry! idk if i even can call u that
[7:58 a.m.] Kate: i was wondering if the hangout is still an option? like today? lunch maybe? yk my address anyway soooo meet here? if like u don't have plans obvi

Seeing 'Lena' on her phone made her suddenly so uncomfortable. She hated when one of her bosses would order her around and use a pet name, or when those fake americas she'd meet at clubs would try to get close to her with a forced smile and a less official nickname. Her head started spiralling as she almost wrote something terribly rude to Ka- 'Wait' she thought to herself. 'Fucking hell get your shit together' she continued. She quickly imagined Kate hurt over the text she almost sent a second ago. Yelena knew the archer would blame herself and probably never stop annoyingly apologising.

The assassin found herself texting Kate back way calmer than her instinct would tell her to;
[8:48 a.m.] Yelena: Morning, Kate Bishop. Luckily for you I do not have plans - so lunch it is. I will be outside of your apartment 2 pm sharp. Lena is okay, just do not introduce me ever with it.

Yelena glanced at the clock again - 8:50. Five minutes had already slipped by. Damn it. She pushed off the bed, letting the weight of sleep pull at her muscles one last time before shaking it off. Breakfast didn’t wait, and Val certainly wouldn’t appreciate a sluggish operative. Yelena wasn't stupid - she knew well that her boss had an eye on her anywhere she sent her.

She grabbed the nearest clean outfit - a simple black T-shirt and dark trousers - pulling them on with practiced speed. Her short hair stuck up in a messy, bedhead spike, and she didn’t bother taming it. Professionalism could perhaps wait until after her daily dosage of caffeine. The burner phone was tucked into her pocket, out of sight but close enough to keep her connected to Kate if needed.

Yelena bolted from the room, her combat boots tapping a rapid rhythm against the polished floor. The lobby was still quiet even this early, just the hum of cleaning staff and the distant clink of cutlery from the breakfast area. Yelena kept looking around but she couldn't find any other avengers, guess all the other heroes were early birds and ate breakfast sooner. She could smell the faint scent of eggs and toast before she even rounded the corner.

'Five minutes, don’t screw this up. You'll get some sleep soon'. She weaved through the few early risers, offering curt nods to polite greetings. The buffet stretched ahead, gleaming under the warm overhead lights, and Yelena made a beeline for the coffee station first. Some liquid sanity in a cup.

Plate in hand, she grabbed something quick to eat - ended up picking scrambled eggs, a slice of toast, nothing fancy and sat down at a corner table. Her body relaxed fractionally as she sipped her coffee, but her mind didn’t stop racing. Nightmares kept her up for half the night - it's not like it was unusual for Yelena though. Kate’s texts lingered at the edge of her thoughts too, persistent buzz she couldn’t fully ignore.

The women seemed lost in her thoughts. She felt weird about hanging out with Clint's mentee but a tiny, guilty part of the assassin admitted she was… kinda looking forward to the lunch. She would never admit it openly but she genuinely enjoyed Kate's presence, even her annoying rants or overly dramatic comments.

As Yelena shoveled in her breakfast faster than anyone should ever eat, she caught herself wondering how long it would take before she had to get moving again - before Kate, before the world, before all the things she usually kept neatly in line, started spilling over and before the avenger title began to take a toll on her.

'Okay I really need the extra sleep' she whispered to herself, snapping out of those overwhelming thoughts.

Yelena found herself entering her hotel room, kicking her shoes off and getting back into the bed as soon as she could. She got under the sheets almost forgetting to set an alarm up.

-

Yelena's alarm clock went off at 1pm. The nap had worked—her mind felt sharper, steadier, the nerves still there but dulled into something manageable. She lay still for a moment, letting the faint hum of the hotel’s airco soothe her before she slipped out of the sheets .

Thirty minutes to Kate’s place. More than enough time to make herself look like she hadn’t spent the morning half-feral and annoyed.

Yelena padded into the bathroom, flicking the light on and meeting her reflection in the mirror. Her short blonde hair was still sticking out wildly, but now it almost made her smirk. She dampened her hands, smoothing it back into something resembling an actual intentional style. A few strands still fell forward, but she let them - it's not like it was a date.

Still, she lingered, pulling out the small makeup bag she carried everywhere. A quick routine - concealer to hide the shadows under her eyes, a brush of powder, the faintest touch of eyeliner. She really wanted to look put together, nothing over the top just to look like she hadn’t rolled straight out of bed.

As she capped the eyeliner and set it down, she caught herself smirking again. 'She is not even your actual friend yet, so pathetic'. But she didn’t stop. She reached for lip balm, swiped it on, and checked the effect. Clean and controlled - good.

Back in the room, Yelena pulled on a different top - a long sleeve, smoothed the fabric over her shoulders, put on her boots and tightened their laces. She put everything into her pockets, checked for her burner phones, and gave herself one last look in the mirror. Not the assassin with bedhead from two hours ago. Not Val’s tired, overworked operative. Nice.

Her nerves were still there, but they didn’t choke her anymore. She could breathe. She even caught herself thinking - just for a second - she wanted Kate to notice that she tried. With that thought tucked carefully away as she has never cared about those things before.

Yelena took a cab straight from the hotel and now stood outside Kate’s apartment building. She knew the place well enough from past mission regarding Barton, but it felt different today. Her hands stayed buried in her pockets, boots scuffing lightly against the pavement as she waited, eyes flicking toward the entrance every time someone passed through. Yelena leaned back against the brick wall of the building, her hands still stuffed deep into her pockets. The burner phone said 1:59. Sharp, as promised. She wasn’t going to be the one running late.

The door finally swung open at 2:01, and out spilled Kate. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail,light blue jacket hanging half-zipped, docs untied. A bundle of energy and disarray in one person. Yelena had to admit to herself - even in jeans, a basic jacket and some pop singer shirt the Russian never heard of - Kate Bishop still somehow looked expensive and...nice?

Kate’s face lit up when she saw her, a grin breaking without hesitation. “Oh my god, you actually came on time.” She squinted at Yelena like she was trying to confirm it wasn’t a trick. “What is this, a miracle?”

Yelena raised one eyebrow, deadpan. “It is called punctuality. Very foreign to you, Kate Bishop."

Kate snorted, falling into step as she came closer. “Sure, coming from the one who ghosted me like a billion times before answering texts. Totally the punctual type.”

Yelena let out a low breath that was almost a laugh, tilting her head toward the street instead of answering. She didn’t trust herself to let Kate win that one.

“Lunch,” she said instead, firm, redirecting.

Kate bounced on her heels, already pointing down the block. “Yeah, yeah. There’s this little place, five minutes away. Cheap, cozy, and I swear they know me there—which is either a compliment or a the absolute opposite depending on how you look at it.”

Yelena side-eyed her as they started walking, boots clicking against the pavement. “If it is terrible, Kate Bishop, I will hold you responsible.” Kate smirked, walking backward for two steps just to tease. “You already do, no?” Yelena didn't respond with words just gave the other women a slight nod and playful stare. Kate spun back around, falling into stride beside her. The sidewalk was busy enough that Yelena had to pay attention, but her eyes kept catching on the way Kate gestured when she talked, or how she laughed or even just looked at Yelena trying to read her.

2:07. Yelena checked her phone once more, though there was no reason to. She wasn’t nervous, she told herself. Just… measuring. Timing. Always good to know where you stood right?

Kate glanced sideways, grinning. “You checking the clock on me already? Lenaaaaa we didn’t even sit down yet. Don’t tell me you’ve got, like, a curfew.”

“I do not,” Yelena replied flatly. This time not even noticing the nickname - well not in a negative way, that's for sure. “But maybe you do, hm? Must be hard, living under Barton’s wing.”

Kate gasped in mock offense, hand over her chest. “Okay, that's brutal! He doesn’t give me a curfew. Anymore.”

Yelena couldn’t help it - her lips tugged into the barest smirk. She shook her head, eyes forward, letting Kate’s chatter fill the space between them.

The restaurant came into view at the corner, windows fogged slightly from the warmth inside, a hand-painted sign hanging over the door.

Kate pointed triumphantly. “See? Told you it’s cute. You’re gonna love it.”

Yelena only hummed, but her stomach tightened with something that didn't feel like just hunger. Weird.

Kate tugged the door open and held it wide, bowing her head exaggeratedly. “After you, miss New Avenger.”

Yelena rolled her eyes but a laugh slipped out, light and unguarded. She was feeling almost... comfortable? “You are ridiculous, Kate Bishop.” She stepped inside, warmth and the smell of garlic and bread wrapping around her.

The restaurant was cozy, tables packed close together, a soft hum of chatter filling the space. Yelena followed Kate to a booth by the window, sliding in across from her. The assassin’s eyes scanned the place automatically, but when she looked back, Kate was grinning like she’d already won something.

“What is so amusing hm?” Yelena asked, suspicious but with a spark in her voice.

“Nothing,” Kate said, shrugging as she tossed her jacket onto the seat beside her. “You just… look like you actually approve. That’s all.”

Yelena tilted her head, lips curving. “Hm. Do not get too excited, Kate Bishop. I said nothing yet.”

As menus were already laying on the table they both took one. Kate leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Alright, super serious question - do you trust me enough to order for you, or are you gonna interrogate the poor waiter like you’re on some top-secret investigation job?”

Yelena barked a soft laugh. “I am not a CIA agent.”

Kate smirked. “That’s not a no.”

“Fine,” Yelena said, closing the menu without even looking at it. “You order, Hawkeye. Impress me.”

Kate blinked, mock-dramatic. “Oh my god, pressure. Okay. You’re not allowed to complain, deal?”

“There are no promises” Yelena shot back, but there was a lightness in her tone she rarely let out.
Kate grinned, flipping through the menu like it was a script she already knew by heart. “Okay, okay… I know exactly what’s good here. Trust me, you’ll be thanking me.”

Yelena watched her, the corner of her mouth tugging up again without permission. 'Why am I even letting myself smile?' she thought, shaking her head slightly. But she didn’t stop it. Kate had a way of making her feel… less tense, and it was disorienting, kind of in a good way,

The waiter arrived just then, pen poised, notebook open. Kate sat up straighter, grinning like she’d been waiting for this moment. “Hi! We'll take the house special pasta, one mushroom risotto, and-” she glanced at Yelena, smirk tugging at her lips “-a side of garlic bread. Trust me, she’ll thank me later.”

Yelena raised a brow but stayed quiet, arms folded loosely over her chest. The waitress scribbled, gave a nod, and left them to it.

Kate leaned forward, chin propped on her palm. “See? So seamless. That’s called confidence, Lena.”

Yelena narrowed her eyes just enough to be teasing. “Or arrogance.”

“Definitely confidence,” Kate corrected. “Besides, you’re totally gonna love it.”

“We will see,” Yelena muttered, but her voice lacked its usual sharpness.

Kate grinned, clearly pleased with herself. She reached for her water, took a sip, and added casually, “You know, letting me order for you? That’s like basically the foundation of trust. Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me your deepest, darkest secrets.”

Yelena just leaned back, theatrically rolling her eyes and said "You are so annoying, Kate Bishop."

Kate with pretend annoyance replied with "But you're still doing perfectly fine hanging out with me." She looked at Yelena after and could hold back a little giggle. In return, the assassin just looked her up and down with a downturned smile, visbly trying to hold back a chuckle.

Kate noticed. A small laugh escaped her as Kate accidentally knocked over a salt shaker while reaching for her drink that the waitress had just bought. “See? Nothing goes perfectly,” Yelena said, voice teasing but softer than usual.

Kate gave a mock gasp, grabbing the shaker before it could spill entirely. “Okay, okay, I'm clumsy. I'm owning it. You’re SO enjoying this way too much, Lena. ”

Yelena’s smirk widened. “Maybe I am.” She caught herself and quickly looked down at the menu again, hiding the faint warmth she was feeling inside. 'Maybe I am about to enjoy the friends thing with Kate' she thought.

Kate, of course, didn’t let the moment pass quietly. “Well, that's good. You should enjoy this. Even you, Yelena the Avenger.”

Yelena tilted her head, letting her smirk linger. “Be careful, Kate Bishop. You are dangerously close to being insufferable.”

Kate only laughed, a bright, careless sound that made Yelena’s chest tighten just a little - not with irritation though. She was starting not to mind.

Their drinks sweated lightly on the table, condensation dripping into small circles on the wood. Yelena traced the edge of hers with one finger, trying to ground herself in the simple rhythm instead of the warmth tugging at her chest from Kate’s laugh. Kate leaned back, stretching her legs out under the table until her boot nudged Yelena’s. She grinned, completely unapologetic. “Oh, sorry. Was that your foot?”

“It was,” Yelena said dryly, though she didn’t move hers away.

Kate smirked, pretending to glance at the menu again even though she’d already closed it. “So… totally hypothetically. If I was insufferable, would you still sit here with me?”

Yelena didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe. Though I would eventually walk out and leave you with the check.”

Kate gasped, over-the-top dramatic as always. “Cold. Heartless. Brutal.”

“Honest, Kate Bishop.” Yelena corrected, though her lips twitched.

Before Kate could fire back, the waitress returned balancing two steaming plates and a basket full of garlic bread. She set them down, the scent of garlic and herbs instantly filling the air. Kate clapped her hands together, victorious. “Here we go! The moment of truth.”

Yelena lifted her fork, cutting into the risotto with practiced calm, but Kate’s eyes were locked on her like a referee waiting for a score. She chewed slowly, deliberately dragging it out until Kate made a strangled noise of impatience.

Finally, Yelena swallowed and leaned back with maddening composure. “Hm. Acceptable.”

Kate dropped her fork onto the table with a clatter. “Acceptable? That’s all I get? Not even a ‘this is good, Kate Bishop, you are a genius, thank you so much for sharing this with me’?”

Yelena arched a brow, hiding a smirk. “You want gratitude for feeding me?”

“Yes!” Kate shot back, laughing. “It's like bare minimum, Lena. Literally.”

Yelena let her smile show this time, soft but fleeting. “Fine. Thank you.”

The sincerity in her voice caught Kate off guard just long enough for the air to shift between them. She blinked, grin gentling into something smaller, warmer. “Uh- You’re welcome.” she said slightly stuttering.

-

They finished eating, plates pushed aside with only a few stray crumbs left behind. The restaurant had filled up while they sat there, the air buzzing with conversations and clinking cutlery, but at their little table it felt strangely quiet. Kate leaned back with a satisfied sigh, stretching her arms overhead until her jacket slipped halfway down her shoulder. “See? I told you. Totally worth it. You’re welcome.”

Yelena shook her head, lips curving. “Do not get cocky, Kate Bishop. One decent meal does not make you reliable.”

Kate pressed a hand over her heart, feigning offense. “Decent? I rescued your taste buds. That was totally a five-star experience.”

Yelena didn’t answer, just let her gaze linger a little too long before she reached for her water again. Her chest felt lighter than it should have, and she hated that it was most likely noticeable.

Kate tilted her head, watching her with that unreadable grin of hers. “You’re hard to impress, you know that?”

“I do” Yelena said flatly, but the faint smirk tugging at her mouth betrayed her.

Kate leaned in across the table, lowering her voice just enough to be teasing but not a joke. “But I did impress you. A little.”

Yelena’s fork clinked softly against her plate as she set it down, her eyes narrowing - not in warning this time, but in something closer to being caught off guard. She didn’t answer right away, and that silence was loud.

Kate grinned, satisfied with the non-answer. “Knew it.”

Before Yelena could snap back, the waitress slid the bill onto the table. Kate reached for it instantly, waving Yelena off. “Don’t even start. I dragged you here, I’m paying.”

Yelena raised an eyebrow. “And if I insist?”

“Then,” Kate said with mock solemnity, tucking the check under her arm, “I’ll wrestle you for it. And spoiler alert—I’d lose, but still.”

Yelena’s smirk broke through again, unguarded this time. “That is true.”

"Let's make a deal," Kate said looking, what felt like, deep into Yelena's soul. "Next time we do this, you're paying." She grinned studying the other woman's face.

"Kate Bishop, who said there will be a next time?" She replied, dead pan.

“Um actually - you did, when you agreed to keep in touch with me, Lena.” She leaned in a fraction, eyes intent. “I know you absolutely want me as your friend.”

Yelena’s face kept its armor, but for a second the armor looked like it might be decorative rather than functional. She blinked, turned the words over in her head like a shape she didn’t have to recognise yet. “I did not say ‘absolutely,’” she corrected, tone rich with the usual sarcastic exaggerated tone.

Kate tilted her head, unbothered. “Negotiable absolutes count.” She nudged the table with an elbow, playful but steady. “Look - whether you planned it or not, you texted me back. You sat across from me. That’s a start.”

Something in Yelena - the small, private part that catalogued threats and comforts in equal measure - registered the sentence and refused to file it as meaningless. She let out a sound that was halfway between a snort and a laugh. “You are impossible” she said, softer than she intended.

“Good impossible or bad impossible?” Kate asked, immediately back on the offensive.

“Competent impossible,” Yelena decided after a beat. “… annoying, but effective.”

Kate clapped once, delighted. “I’ll take that!”

They pushed their plates away and the waitress returned to clear. Kate folded the napkin with theatrical care and stood, tugging her jacket on. “So - next time, you’re paying,” she reiterated, mock sternness back in place.

Yelena stood as well. “And if I say no?”

Kate reached into her pocket like she was about to produce a magic trick and instead produced a sincere little smile. “Then I’ll find other ways to work my way into your busy, busy schedule.” Her voice had a teasing lilt, but there was no question at the back of it.

There was a pause - a simple, ordinary one where the city hummed around the window and Yelena felt, for no good tactical reason, like answering honestly. She surprised herself by letting the corner of her mouth lift just enough to be seen. “You are very determined” she said.

Kate’s face lit up like a prize had been won. “That’s practically a yes.”

They stepped out into the afternoon, the air cooler against the warmth of the restaurant. People moved past, a bus hissed by. Kate walked a little faster, shoulders relaxed, and accidentally brushed Yelena’s hand at the side as they navigated the crowd. That brush of hands lasted no more than a heartbeat before Yelena pulled hers back, sharp and instinctive, shoving it into the pocket of her pants as if it had always belonged there.

Kate glanced over, catching the movement. She didn’t tease this time, just let the silence stretch with a tiny smile tugging at her lips.

Yelena cleared her throat, eyes fixed ahead. “Crowds,” she muttered, like it was an explanation, even though Kate hadn’t asked.

“Mm,” Kate said, noncommittal, her grin refusing to dim. She fell into step beside her again, deliberately keeping her arms tucked closer to her sides. “Totally the crowd’s fault.”

Yelena side-eyed her, annoyed at how easily she saw through it, more annoyed that it didn’t bother Kate at all.

Kate, as usual, pressed forward anyway. “So, maybe I can take you for a dessert? There’s a place a couple blocks away with chocolate tarts. Wanna come ?”

Yelena’s gaze lifted briefly toward the street ahead. She hesitated, eyes flicking to the sidewalk, then down at her own feet, and spoke in a more enthusiastic than usual voice. “Oh lead the way, Kate Bishop.”

Kate’s grin widened, pleased. Yelena simply followed as Kate led her through the busy streets of NY.

The dessert shop appeared a few minutes later, small but quite fancy. The scent of chocolate and baked sugar drifted outward as they entered. Yelena’s eyes swept over the display, lingering on the milk chocolate tart with caramel filling. She didn’t fidget or rush - her hands stayed in her back pockets - but her fingers flexed slightly, betraying a quiet anticipation.

“I’ll take the milk chocolate caramel one,” she said, careful, measured, but there was a small lightness in her tone, the faintest trace of excitement.

Kate placed the rest of the order and they slid into a booth. Yelena cut into the tart and took a bite. Her eyes closed briefly as the richness of the chocolate settled on her tongue. A soft, almost imperceptible hum escaped her, a private acknowledgment of enjoyment.

Inside, her thoughts wandered quietly. Since quitting drinking, sweets have become… this. A small reward. A pleasure she can actually hold onto. She did gain a bit of weight yet she didn't care much. It's not like she ever considered her body as a great quality of hers anyway. For most of Yelena's life it didn't even feel like it belongs to her.

She took another bite, slower, deliberate. Her shoulders eased slightly. The corner of her mouth tugged upward in a subtle, almost invisible smile. Kate leaned back, watching, quietly pleased. “Good?”. Yelena smiled with her mouth still full. She chewed for a moment, then swallowed, still smiling softly. “I do hate to admit it,” she said, voice low and almost reluctant, “but this… is very tasty, Kate Bishop.”

Kate’s grin softened into something warmer, quieter. “I’ll take that as a big win.”

Yelena picked up her fork again, cutting another small piece, letting herself linger over the flavor. The quiet hum of the shop surrounded the - soft conversations, clinking cutlery, the faint scent of cocoa in the air - and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the city had been muted, leaving just this small, shared space.

Kate watched her with a subtle tilt of her head, letting the silence stretch. She didn’t tease or comment, just observed, letting Yelena have the moment.

Yelena’s eyes flicked toward her briefly, almost caught in thought, then returned to the tart. Another bite, deliberate, almost decadent, and she allowed herself a quiet pleasure that felt entirely her own. 'I can enjoy this. And it’s okay.' She thought to herself not sure whether she's still thinking about the sweet treat or Kate's company.

Kate shifted slightly, leaning closer over the table in a way that was casual, but attentive. “You’re really taking your time with that,” she noted softly.

Yelena’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. “I am savoring it,” she replied, measured, as though explaining a procedure rather than confessing a small joy.

Another bite followed, slower still. She caught herself glancing at Kate again, just a flicker of acknowledgment, before focusing back on the tart. The sweetness wasn’t just dessert - it was a small comfort, a tiny act of disobedia against the control and vigilance that had defined so much of her life.

Kate’s grin returned, soft and satisfied. “Looks like I picked the right place,” she murmured.

Yelena finally allowed a small laugh, quiet and private, the sound barely above a breath. “Yes… you did,” she admitted, her voice soft, restrained, but carrying a subtle warmth that lingered in the space between them.

They ate in companionable silence after that, each bite stretching the afternoon out, quiet but full, and in the small moments, Yelena let herself feel it: simple, unguarded satisfaction, shared with someone who seemed to notice without demanding. She didn't even notice how she never registered what Kate had ordered herself. She was not sure whether it's the delicious chocolate tart or... Kate?

Kate leaned back slightly, eyes flicking to Yelena with that easy, knowing look, as if she could read the small victories of the afternoon without a word being spoken. She was quite observant for someone so chaotic and loud. “Ready to go?” she asked softly, nodding toward the door.

Yelena nodded once, sliding her fork onto the plate, careful and deliberate. “Yes… I think so,” she said, her tone carrying the same restrained curiosity she always had, the faint trace of something like anticipation tucked in at the edges.

They stepped out into the streets again, the city moving around them, bright and loud. Kate fell into stride beside her, hands tucked casually into her pockets. For a moment, neither spoke, letting the rhythm of their steps fill the space.

“You didn’t even notice what I got,” Kate said finally, teasing but still gentle.

Yelena’s eyes flicked toward her, lips twitching faintly. “I… was not really paying attention yes,” she admitted, careful with her words. “The tart was… enough.”

Kate laughed softly, with slight nervousness to it, an easy sound that brushed against Yelena’s defenses. "I could see that, Lena"

Yelena’s gaze drifted ahead again, just for a moment, before she allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to linger. “Very in Hawkeye's nature” she said, with a sarcastic but soft tone. There was faint warmth in her voice she hadn't had for the longest time. It was always meant for no one but Natalia. But with her beloved Natka dead how did it slip out towards... Kate?

They continued down the street, side by side, moving through the city with the unspoken understanding that the quiet, measured companionship was something they could both carry with them, even once they returned to the noise and duties of the world outside. Even usually super talkative Kate Bishop seemed to enjoy the silence of Yelena's company.

Yelena didn’t even notice how she kept glancing at Kate as they walked, her attention tugged more than she cared to admit. Kate glanced at her from the side, eyebrow raised, but said nothing.

After a few blocks, she spoke, not being able to keep quiet any longer as she was still her very chipper self. “So… you think we could make this like a regular thing?”

Yelena’s lips quirked in a faint, private smile. “I will do my best, Kate Bishop.” she said carefully, letting the word hover between curiosity and caution.

Kate’s grin returned, subtle but pleased, as they moved on, the city buzzing around them, but for once Yelena didn’t feel the need to keep up her defences, well at least the ones she became aware of since getting free from chemical subjugation.

Kate’s building wasn’t far, but neither of them seemed to be in a rush. She broke the quiet again , as she always did. “So, fun fact, this neighborhood has like three different bagel shops within two blocks. I’ve tried them all. And yes, before you ask, I do have strong opinions on which one is the best.”

Yelena arched a brow, side-eyeing her. “You are very passionate about bread with hole in the middle.”

“Excuse me, it’s literally an art form,” Kate corrected, hand gesturing as if this were life-or-death. “There are levels to it. Like, some bagels are just bread pretending to be bagels, and that’s actually a crime against humanity. But then you find the real ones, the chewy, perfect ones, and…” She exhaled dramatically, grinning.

Yelena shook her head, lips twitching despite herself. “You excite very much over food, Kate Bishop.”

Kate nudged her shoulder lightly, unfazed. “You liked the food. I could definitely tell. Don’t deny it, Lena.”

Yelena didn’t answer right away. She kept her hands in her pockets, her expression careful, but there was a quiet tug in her chest at how Kate really paid attention to things about her. She glanced briefly at the younger woman, then back at the sidewalk, the corner of her mouth pulling faintly upward. “Well, I did not deny anything.”

Kate caught the shift, and her grin softened, losing some of its playful edge. As they turned the corner building came into view a few minutes later, tucked into a street lined with brick facades and narrow stoops. Kate slowed as they approached, fishing her keys from her bag. “Here we are,” she said, tilting her chin toward the stairs.

They stopped at the base of the stoop. Yelena looked at the building and then back at Kate. "You realise that I do remember the very Kate Bishop's apartment building I have broken into, right?".

Kate seemed to cringe at herself after the assassin spoke "Oh yeah- the mac&cheese night! That did happen, yeah." She said trying to cover her embarrassment up, which made Yelena give out a little chuckle.

Kate didn't want to address her messiness again so she decided to smoothly change topics - which she wasn't so terrible at.

She spoke, leaning on the railing with casual ease. “You know, for a first hangout, you didn’t seem totally miserable and deadly. That’s a good sign, right?”

Yelena huffed through her nose, more amused than she’d admit. “I will not confirm, yet I am not denying it.”

Kate’s grin widened, but it was gentler this time, warmer. “Well, that's basically a yes.”

For a moment, neither moved. The city noise faded into the background, just the two of them standing there, the late sun catching in Kate’s long and healthy brown hair. Yelena’s eyes flicked to her briefly, then away, careful not to linger too long.

Finally, Yelena cleared her throat. “Until next time, Kate Bishop.” Her tone was even, deliberate, but there was a softness threading through it.

Kate tilted her head, smiling. “Yeah. See u um- hopefully soon!”

Yelena turned around and almost started to walk before pausing to glance back. “Hey Kate Bishop… thanks. For today.”

Kate's gaze met hers, nervous but pure, quite unreadable for the other woman. Then, with a nod, she answered, “Y- You’re absolutely welcome.”

Kate’s grin flickered back, bright but unforced, before she slipped inside the building.

Yelena lingered on the sidewalk for a moment longer than necessary after Kate had already entered the building. Her hands stayed tucked into her pockets, but her posture wasn’t as tight as it had been when the day started. She let out a quiet breath, glanced once at the closed door, and then turned, merging back into the flow of the city. The crowd swallowed her up as she decide to take the long walk to her hotel, but the faint warmth of the afternoon - the food, the walk, the... girl? - stayed with her like an ember she hadn’t expected to carry.

She had the echo of Kate’s grin still pressed faintly into her mind. The city swelled around her - horns blaring, voices rising and falling, a car stereo pulsing down the block - but none of it quite reached her.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, the kind that slipped free only when no one was looking. It wasn’t much. Just a casual hangout but for Yelena, it was more than she’d let herself have in a long time. And as she disappeared into the blur of the city, she carried it with her, tucked away like a secret she didn't know how to name.

Chapter Text

-

Yelena finally pushed open the door to her hotel room and stepped inside. Boots off, she let herself drop onto the edge of the bed. The room smelled faintly of disinfectant and laundry detergent, but underneath it all… there was something familiar awaiting.

Fanny, stirred lazily from the corner of the room, blinking blearily at the sunset light streaming through the curtains. She had slept in later than usual - Yelena hadn’t wanted to wake her when she left for lunch, and Fanny clearly approved of the extra rest. The massive dog yawned, stretching, shaking out her thick fur, and then lumbered toward Yelena with quiet deliberation.

“Ты скучала по мне ?” [in Russian: Did u miss me?] Yelena murmured, crouching slightly to meet Fanny’s calm, dark eyes. The dog nudged her hand gently with her snout, then pressed her broad head into Yelena’s side, solid and grounding.

Yelena sank back against the headboard, letting Fanny curl at her feet. The weight of the dog’s presence was soothing in a way that would give the woman a notion of home. Fanny was a constant, a reminder for Yelena that some things remained steady even when the rest of her life spun unpredictably.

Her burner phone buzzed in the back pocket, the same phone Kate kept blowing up with texts all the time. Yelena thought about it for a moment but couldn't quite hold back from reading what the archer has said. She caved in, pulled the phone out, a single message from Kate glowing softly on the screen.

[6:12 p.m.] Kate: had so much fun today :) really hope you did too

Yelena stared. The words sat there - so harmless, almost careless, and yet she had that weird feeling in her chest yet again. She wasn’t used to people asking if she enjoyed something, quite the opposite. No one cared if a mission was “fun.” No one cared if she did. The word itself felt too bright for her calloused hands to hold.

She started typing but then deleted. Tried again.

[6:16 p.m.] Yelena: It was okay.

She sighed through her nose and added another line before she could stop herself.

[6:17 p.m.] Yelena: …thank you, Kate Bishop.

The message sent. She froze, waiting, like the screen might swallow her for saying too much.

Fanny shifted at her feet, pressing her weight into Yelena. The steady warmth grounded her, but the silence in the room only made the thought louder. Gratitude wasn’t something she owed. Gratitude was a weakness, once. Natalia used to tell her there was strength in saying it, but Yelena had never believed her. Not until - apparently - now.

It’s not like she was never grateful. She was grateful to the widow that freed her. She was grateful to the Thunderbolts for giving her purpose. She was grateful to have Natalia as her sister. But it’s not like she could ever express it correctly, even if she wished she could.

Her jaw clenched. She rubbed the heel of her hand against her sternum, the pressure doing nothing to ease the ache. She didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself, but Kate had made the day feel different. Maybe not safer or easier. Just… less empty.

The phone lit up.

[6:20 p.m.] Kate: that’s a sign that we should do it again sometime. unless you don’t feel like it then yk no pressure right

Yelena swallowed hard. No pressure. The words sat heavy, as if Kate somehow knew she’d already made it complicated in her own head.

A part of Yelena wished Kate would actually know how much weight her words held, yet the rest of her dreaded the vision of the brave, but sensitive archer spiraling over every single word she wanted to say. Yelena put the phone, face up, on the nightstand. For a long while she just sat there, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, her breathing slow and uneven. She had spent years training herself not to want more than what was handed to her. To want was to be vulnerable. To reach was to get burned.

And yet - Kate Bishop asked, offered, without even realizing what she was doing. Without realizing how every easy smile and careless joke slid past Yelena’s guard before she could catch it.

Her fingers itched. She turned the phone over again. Stared at the glow.

[6:27 p.m.] Yelena: Maybe I will want see you again soon.

She read it back three times before hitting send. Blunt. Guarded. But honest enough.

Fanny’s ears twitched at the vibration when the reply came.

[6:28 p.m.] Kate: lol fair. i’ll take ur ‘maybe’ as progress. though i know i do make excellent company ;)

Yelena frowned at the screen, a sharp little huff of air leaving her nose. She was tempted to fire back something that would put the girl in her place. Instead she just set the phone down again, face down this time, the faintest smile appeared on her mouth before it smoothed away.

“Goodnight, Kate Bishop,” she muttered into the room, the words sounding strange but lighter than she expected.

She exhaled before she stood, gathering her towel, and padded into the bathroom. The mirror caught her reflection in passing - hair’s a hot mess, dark circles shadowing her eyes. She didn’t stop to look closer.

The water steamed quickly, wrapping the cramped space in warmth. Yelena stood under the spray longer than usual - for what turned out to be over an hour, letting it beat against her shoulders, against the ache she carried there. She tried not to think about Kate’s messages, or the strange warmth that had crept into her chest reading them. Tried, and failed.

When she finally shut the water off, the hotel room was dim, only the orange wash of the streetlight leaking through the curtains. Yelena dried her hair off yet it still seemed to dampen her back. She pulled on a clean white shirt and a pair of cotton underwear, slid under the covers, and felt Fanny shift closer without being asked.

After a couple of pages of “The Streets Of Crocodiles” which Bob had recommended while escaping the vault because; “it feels like a one big hallucination”, Yelena started to feel the tiredness from the intense day. Not the physical kind though. The kind that made her head feel like it’s about to explode with thoughts, and her stomach flip weirdly.

She set an alarm, on the newest burner she had, for 7:30 am in hopes she could be able to eat breakfast with her team that day. The “Kate burner phone” stayed facedown on the nightstand. She didn’t need to check it again.

Eyes closed, Yelena slowly breathed it and out. Sleep came easier than she expected, easier than usual - like for once, she won’t stay up all night scared to fall asleep because of nightmares.

-

The alarm’s buzz tore through the quiet. Yelena’s hand shot out on instinct, smacking the burner until the noise cut off. For a long second she just stayed still, face half-buried in the pillow, her body heavy with that rare weight of dreamless sleep.

Fanny stirred at the foot of the bed, stretching, nails clicking faintly against the floor as she got up. Yelena cracked one eye open to watch her dog amble toward the door, tail swaying lazily.

“Mhmmm yes breakfast,” she muttered, voice rough. She sat up slowly, tugging the clean shirt down over one shoulder, and scrubbed a hand over her face. The light filtering through the curtains was pale, washed-out, the kind that belonged to mornings too early for comfort.

She padded to the tiny table in her room next to which stood a big bag of kibble, Fanny trailing after her like a shadow. Val maybe was cruel to other humans but somehow she chose the fanciest kind of kibble to be left in the hotel for Fanny. Pouring dog food into the metal bowl was the easiest ritual she had, grounding in its simplicity. The steady crunching sound filled the quiet while Yelena leaned against the table, nursing a glass of water.

‘The Kate phone’ was still on the nightstand. Still facedown. Right where she left it. Where it should stay. Her eyes lingered toward it anyway, as if she could feel its weight stretch from across the room.

She shook it off, pulled on a fresh pair of black fitted jeans and her leather jacket. The lobby downstairs would have bearable coffee, some food and her team. A breakfast that was supposed to be routine, ordinary. Yelena told herself she was going because it was good strategy to keep close. Because she should.

As she exited her room leaving Fanny behind, a quiet thought pressed in, uninvited: if Kate texted again.

She pushed it down, hard, and opened the door. The hallway smelled faintly of bleach. Her boots echoed as she made her way out into the elevator.

As she arrived into the dining area and the team had already gathered at a table near the back. A carafe of burnt coffee sat between them like a centerpiece.

Walker was loading his plate a second time, cutting into rubbery pancakes like they were gourmet. Bob lounged opposite him, one elbow on the table, smirking every time Walker took it too seriously. Ghost picked apart a croissant, flakes scattering across her plate. Bucky sat at the end, coffee in hand, as if the bitter drink was the only thing anchoring him to the moment.

Yelena slipped into the empty chair. The spread in front of her was an uninspired mix of fruit, toast, and coffee. She didn’t bother with small talk.

“You finally joined us,” Walker said, grinning.

Yelena’s eyes cut to him, flat. “Congratulations, Walker. Very bright observation.”

Bob chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “She’s chipper this morning guys.”

Ghost smirked faintly under her hood. “That’s one word for it.”

Their rhythm carried on - Walker bragging, Bucky observing quietly, Bob teasing, Ghost’s dry retorts. Normal. Expected. Yelena let it wash over her as she stirred her coffee, watching the liquid swirl. She tried a bite of toast too.

Still, her thoughts weren’t here. They were upstairs, facedown on the nightstand, glowing faintly in her imagination. The Kate phone.

She chewed slowly, jaw tight. Did Kate text again? Did she leave it at “excellent company ;)”? Or worse- did she send something softer, something Yelena wasn’t ready to see?

“Something on your mind?” Bob asked suddenly.

Yelena blinked. He was watching her, head tilted.

She narrowed her eyes. “Eat your food, Bob.”

Walker grinned, stabbing his fork into his pancakes. “She’s hiding something. Look at her. Definitely hiding something.”

Yelena’s chair creaked as she leaned back, gaze sharp enough to slice through him. “If you keep talking, Walker, I will hide your body. I will do it so well that even Valentina won’t be able to find it”

Ghost’s soft snort almost passed for laughter.

Only Bucky didn’t join in. He sipped his coffee, silent, but his gaze lingered on Yelena’s face just a second too long, like he could read every unspoken thought.

Bucky never talked much, especially to Yelena. She did know it was most likely because, even though she wasn’t actually related to Nat, she still had her mannerisms that probably reminded him of the dead assassin - that once was very dear to him.

He set his mug down with the smallest clink. His eyes flicked away before Yelena could pin him with a glare, but the look was enough. Not judging, not prying - just seeing too much.

Yelena hated that.

She tore a piece of toast in half, more forcefully than necessary, and shoved it into her mouth like that would end the conversation before it started. But of course, Bob couldn’t leave it alone.

“You know,” Bob drawled, leaning forward on his elbows, “when someone looks that distracted over some burnt coffee and dry toast, it usually means there’s… other stuff keeping them occupied.”

Walker perked up like a dog catching a whistle. “Ohhh, she’s got a secret.”

Yelena rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Yes, Walker. My secret is that I do not want to hear you speak ever again.”

“See?” he grinned. “Deflection. Classic.”

Bob’s grin widened. “What is it, Yelena? Midnight rendezvous? Mystery man?”

‘Randezvous? What the fuck’ she thought to herself. ‘I do not do that’ her thought continued.

The table’s noise dimmed just enough for Yelena to feel the weight of Ghost’s faintly amused silence and Bucky’s steady non-involvement. Heat prickled at the back of her neck.

She set her knife, that she always kept in her boot, down with a sharp clink. “The next one of you who assumes anything about my private life will be eating through a straw.”

That shut Walker up - mostly because Ghost muttered, dry as ash, “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” and he nearly choked on his pancake.

Bob smirked, raising both hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. No more questions.”

But Yelena knew the damage was done. They’d sniffed out something. Even if they didn’t know what it was, she hated that they felt it. That something in her guard had shifted just enough for them to notice.

Her jaw flexed. She drained the last of her coffee and pushed the mug away, leaning back in her chair. Routine. Focus on routine. That’s what kept her sharp.

Still, her brain wouldn’t stop replaying Kate’s texts and words like a stuck record.

And when she caught Bucky watching her again, quiet and too perceptive for her liking, Yelena’s stomach twisted. Because unlike Walker and Bob, he didn’t look amused. He looked like someone who knew exactly what it meant to carry ghosts and let someone new slip through anyway. He had been there before.

She dropped her gaze back to the table, fists tight in her lap.

By the time Yelena slipped away from the table, the coffee had gone cold and her patience thinner. She left Walker’s laugh echoing behind her, Bob’s smart remark chasing it, Ghost’s silence holding them together. But it was Bucky’s eyes she still felt like a weight on her back, following her into the elevator.

The doors closed with a dull scrape, and for the first time since she sat down, she exhaled. Short, sharp. She pressed her finger against the 11th floor button like it might stop her chest from clenching.

Her room greeted her the same way as always: too clean, too temporary. The curtains had shifted in her absence, letting a hard slice of daylight spill across the bed. Fanny lifted her head from her spot, tail thumping once in lazy recognition before settling back down.

“хорошая девочка,” [in Russian: Good girl.] Yelena muttered, kicking off her boots.

The silence was louder here. Just her, Fanny’s slow breathing, and the faint hum of the hotel vent.

Her eyes drifted toward the nightstand. The phone sat where she left it.

Yelena dropped into the chair by the window, elbows braced against her knees. She told herself she wasn’t looking at it. She told herself she didn’t care if another message came.

But she did.

Her hand twitched against her thigh. She flexed her fingers into a fist before they could betray her. She’d lived her adult life learning control - over her body, over her instincts, over the soft, breakable parts inside that were taken advantage of back in the Red Room. And somehow a twenty-two-year-old archer with bad timing and worse jokes had cracked straight through.

“Idiotic,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Completely idiotic.”

Fanny shifted, as if in answer.

Yelena leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. The small cracks there were sharper in daylight, the lines jagged like the scars covering her body. She felt that same jaggedness inside her chest - split between the comfort of routine and the raw itch of wanting more.

That was the worst part. Wanting.

She was not allowed to do that. Red Room didn’t train her to seek friendship, comfort and…softness.

Yelena shifted in the chair, foot tapping restlessly against the carpet. She glanced at the phone again.

She hated herself for it, but she got up anyway. Crossed the room in three strides. Picked it up like it might bite her.

The screen lit under her touch. One new message.

Her pulse spiked ridiculously as if blowing up buildings wasn’t a part of her job. She swiped it open before she could second-guess herself.

[7:45 a.m.] Kate: rlly hope ur not regretting hanging out with me already. but if u are, pls don’t tell me. my hawkeye ego is fragile.

Yelena stared. The corner of her mouth twitched, unwilling, almost-smile. Fragile ego. As if the girl guarded any fragility of hers at all. She was loud, careless - and still, somehow, unafraid to offer pieces of herself to others just like that.

Her thumb hovered.

She could ignore it. ‘Keep the guard high, the walls intact.’ she thought.

Instead, her fingers moved on their own.

[7:47 a.m.] Yelena: You are tolerable at times.

She hit send. Short. Safe enough.

The dots appeared instantly. Kate was waiting.

[7:47 a.m.] Kate: wow. that’s like the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me before coffee. careful, you’ll spoil me. ;)

Yelena’s head dropped back against the wall, a sigh slipping out through her nose. Spoil her. As if.

Her chest still felt too warm too.

She replied anyways.

[7:48 a.m.] Yelena: Just to let you know, I have already had my coffee, Kate Bishop.

The typing bubbles blinked again, a rapid-fire rhythm.

[7:49 a.m.] Kate: so what you’re saying is you’re like ready to hunt down and fight meee? already? not fair.

[7:49 a.m.] Kate: we should fix this. over coffee :p

Yelena stared at the screen, jaw tightening. Coffee. As if it were that simple. As if sitting across from Kate Bishop in broad daylight, with nothing but caffeine and silence to fill the air, wouldn’t be the most reckless thing she could agree to.

Her thumb hovered again, indecisive. She could shut it down. Push her away before this spun any further.

And yet… the idea lodged itself in her chest, stubborn, like Kate always managed to do. Yelena felt the warmth creep higher up her neck.

[7:52 a.m.] Yelena: You are too persistent.

The dots returned almost instantly.

[7:53 a.m.] Kate: guilty. but persistence is a hawkeye trait no? c’mon and say yessss. worst case, you get free extra caffeine and best case you realize i’m excellent company. again.

Yelena let the phone fall against her thigh, dragging her hands down her face. She exhaled, slow and deliberate, letting the phone rest in her hand. Coffee, the word echoed in her chest like it had weight, like it carried the threat of something she wasn’t sure she could handle. So weird.

She stared at the screen longer than she should have, imagining Kate leaning over a café table, one elbow propped casually, that familiar smirk curling at the corner of her mouth with her blue eyes glimmering just like they always did. The thought made her chest tighten. ‘How the fuck do I even remember Kate Bishop’s eye color’ Yelena thought.

She could back out. She could toss the phone across the room, retreat into her careful, but miserable life, pretend none of this mattered.

And yet… she couldn’t.

[7:55 a.m.] Yelena: Fine. Coffee. Do not make me regret this.

Almost instantly, the reply came:

[7:55 a.m.] Kate: yes! see you in… say, 40? I’ll grab a table and send u my location. & don’t worry, i won’t judge you for being secretly happy to see me ;)

Yelena’s chest tightened. Happy to see her? She let the phone slip back into her jacket pocket, pressing it against her side, as if keeping it close might anchor the strange feeling in her stomach.

Yelana slipped her hands into the pockets, and stood in the quiet of the hotel room, boots on, jacket zipped. One foot in front of the other seemed impossible and necessary at the same time. She hated that this simple coffee, this tiny gesture, had made her pulse so unpredictable.

Her reflection caught her eye in the mirror. Undereye circles. A tangled mess of hair. But the faint line of her mouth - tight, careful, resisting, yet betraying her - made her pause. ’You’re fucking ridiculous’, she muttered, and yet she couldn’t stop the faint twitch of a smile.

She decided to quickly put of some mascara amd eyeliner, but she didn’t bother using concealer though, because those shadows under her eyes didn’t seem so noticeable today.

30 minute walk. That’s all it would take. And somehow, that seemed like an eternity.

Yelena took a slow breath, rolled her shoulders, and stepped toward the door. Fanny padded behind her with quiet, deliberate steps, and for a brief moment, Yelena allowed herself to imagine sitting across from Kate, the sunlight catching in her hair, the city noise falling away, and nothing else existing but the small, sharp thrill of anticipation.

‘Focus on the routine,’ she reminded herself, ’but… maybe let this one slip through’.

She closed the door behind herself leaving Fanny in the room. The elevator dinged softly as she stepped in. Boots against tile, her heartbeat syncing with every step down.

-

She found the café easily enough, tucked on a quiet corner, sunlight spilling across the windows. And there she was - Kate. Leaning casually against the edge of a small table outside, one leg tucked under the other, wearing a very purple sweatsuit, hair catching the light just so, that careless smile already plastered across her face.

Kate looked up as Yelena approached, eyes lighting up - not the bold, teasing smirk she usually wore, but softer. Just a flicker, enough to make Yelena’s chest squeeze.

“Hey,” Kate said, voice light but warm, holding the chair for her like she’d expected Yelena all along.

Yelena’s mouth went dry. Hey. She nodded once, stepping into the space, settling into the chair opposite Kate. Not too close but not too far. The familiar distance of careful boundaries.

“Wow,” Kate murmured, leaning back, “you actually came.” Her grin tugged at the corners of her mouth, teasing, but it didn’t reach her eyes - those bright, full of life eyes.

“Every time I show up you seem so surprised, Kate Bishop.” Yelena said trying as hard as she possibly could to keep her usual sarcastic facade - while inside her entire body felt as if there was a thousand ants crawling under her skin.

Kate’s smile softened just a fraction, like she’d noticed the tightness in Yelena’s jaw, the careful posture. “Maybe I’m just glad you didn’t bail on me,” she said lightly. Her eyes flicked up, catching Yelena’s for a heartbeat, then away again, like testing the waters.

Yelena’s fingers drummed lightly against the table. “Bail? I- I do not bail.” The words came out harsher than intended, sharp edges cutting through the quiet. She cleared her throat, letting it pass for confidence. “I just… make sure it’s worth the effort and my time.”

Kate chuckled softly, that warm, teasing sound that made Yelena’s chest tighten again. “Well,” she said, leaning a little closer, elbows resting casually on the table, “I hope you think today’s worth it. I’ve got a good feeling about this coffee and I already ordered for both of us.”

Yelena’s eyes flicked down to the table, and for the first time, she allowed herself a small inhale. Good feeling. It wasn’t a fight, so why was she so tense. Just… a simple, fragile moment suspended between them. She finally dared to glance at Kate, noting how the sunlight caught strands of her hair, how her eyes seemed calmer, more patient than usual. “I’ll judge the coffee, not the company,” Yelena said, voice lower, controlled - but the faint smile on her mouth betrayed her.

Kate raised an eyebrow, leaning back just enough to smirk, amusement dancing in her gaze. “Judging me already? That’s harsh, Yelena. I thought you were supposed to be mysterious, quiet, deadly even. Now you’re just ummm- let’s say…charmingly suspicious.”

Yelena nearly choked on her saliva. ‘Charmingly suspicious?‘ The words felt like a spotlight on the part of her that wanted to let go. She forced a slow, careful exhale and set her cup down. “That is not the way people usually describe me.”

The waitress arrived, setting down two steaming cups with a soft clink. Yelena’s black coffee sat before her, simple and dark, while Kate’s cinnamon latte gave off a faint swirl of spice despite the warmth of spring. Kate’s fingers curled around her cup, foam brushing the edge of her lips as she took a careful sip. “Cinnamon, even in spring,” she said casually. Her gaze flicked up at Yelena, bright but patient. “Figured you’d want something that ‘actually is considered coffee’. Am I wrong?”

Yelena lifted her own cup, letting the warmth settle against her palms. “I tend to prefer my coffee black and not smelling like a whole pastry,” she murmured, tone flat but measured, as if it could hide her inexplainable nervousness.

Kate’s smirk softened, leaning back just slightly. “Suit yourself, Lena. But you know,” she said, voice lighter now, teasing but careful, “if this goes well, I might start making spring cinnamon my permanent excuse to see you.”

Yelena looked at her, eyes narrowing just a fraction. Not annoyed. Not amused either. Just… calculating cautiously. She took a sip of coffee, letting the taste anchor her, letting the words hang between them.

Sunlight spilled across the table, pooling over the two cups. Kate stirred hers lazily, watching Yelena over the rim of her cup like she had all the time in the world. And for once, Yelena didn’t pull away. She didn’t look down. She just let the quiet pass, letting it stretch, letting it linger.

After a second Kate broke the silence, per usual, with “Your eyes are so interesting”.

Yelena’s gaze snapped, sharp and wary, like a soldier catching a misstep in an alley. “Interesting?” she repeated slowly, each word deliberate, as if testing the air between them. “Is that… a compliment or…?”

Kate leaned forward. “Depends on how you take it,” she said lightly, but there was an honesty in her tone that made Yelena feel in a way she didn’t expect to. “They’re… different. Like kinda green but with a bit gold and slightly brown. And maybe a little tired. But like- in a good way.”

Yelena blinked, caught off guard. The words weren’t a tease, weren’t an attempt at flattery. They were careful, observational, the kind of attention that made her feel… exposed in the smallest, most uncontrolled way possible. She set her cup down, steadying her hands, steadying herself. “I see,” she said quietly.

Kate’s eyes softened, her teasing edge retreating just a fraction. “You don’t have to respond,” she said, lifting her cup in a small, gentle toast. “Just… let me notice sometimes, Lena.”

Yelena studied her, noting the unusual softness in Kate’s expression. It was almost foreign…tender? And for a brief, fleeting second, Yelena let herself imagine saying something more than she usually would. Saying something honest.

Instead, she sipped her coffee, letting it ground her. Letting the quiet stretch. Kate watched her, patiently, like she wasn’t going anywhere, and Yelena realized - slowly - that maybe she didn’t mind that. Not from Kate, at least.

The warmth of the coffee, the sun on her scarred skin, the quiet weight of Kate’s attention - it all pressed into her chest in a way that made her pulse uneven and steady at the same time.

“Maybe,” she finally murmured, voice low, careful, “you’re not as reckless as you seem, Kate Bishop.”

Kate’s smile returned, slow and knowing, like she’d been waiting for that tiny crack to appear. “Careful, Yelena,” she said, playful but soft, “you’re starting to sound like someone who might actually stick around.”

Yelena almost choked on her coffee at that, but she swallowed, letting the moment hang. The sun, the quiet street, the tiny café table - it was ordinary, mundane even. And yet, in that ordinary, impossible moment, everything about Kate seemed just enough to unravel her carefully maintained guard.

Kate stirred her latte, still watching Yelena. After a quiet moment, she tilted her head.

“So… Lena,” she said slowly, deliberately, “what’s your last name? I feel like I’ve been calling you just Yelena forever, and u call me the whole ‘Kate Bishop thing’ and, well… I kind of want to know. Don’t you have one?”

Yelena froze mid-sip, the question landing like an unexpected weight. She blinked at Kate,

Archer didn’t think too much and without hesitation she blurted out “Isn’t it like Natasha’s? The uh- Romanoff?”

The memories of Natka went flashing through Yelena’s head.

A part of her did want to avoid any mention of Nat and leave Kate alone right there and then, but she couldn’t. Not right after she let the other woman compliment her, not after she started to see Kate as a friend so easily as she never did with anyone, and definitely not right after she started to let her guard down around someone who wasn’t Natalia.

She just blinked at Kate, unsure how to navigate the curiosity in those bright, patient eyes.

“Uh…” Yelena started, throat dry. “…Belova.” She said it carefully, almost like testing the word on her tongue, measuring it for danger.

Kate’s smile widened, a soft laugh escaping her. “Belova, huh? That fits… somehow.” She leaned back slightly, hands wrapping around her cup. “I like it. Makes calling you just Yelena feel kinda…lazy, actually.”

“That’s one way to put it” Yelena replied before she set the cup down carefully, letting her fingers linger on the rim a moment longer than necessary. She could feel Kate’s eyes on her, almost insistent - but not terribly pushy.

“So,” Kate said, leaning forward, chin resting on her hand, “Belova. Is that like a lot to live up to, isn’t it? Feels like a name that comes with a story. You know, the Bishop comes with its baggage too” Her voice was gentle now, still teasing lightly but with genuine curiosity.

Yelena let out a quiet, almost humorless chuckle. “A name doesn’t… tell everything,” she murmured, eyes tracing the faint patterns in the wood of the table. “…Sometimes it just weighs you down, which I bet you would know.”

Kate nodded slowly, her gaze softening further. “Yeah I get that. But I think people… they carry what they choose to carry. And maybe…I don’t know uh- maybe some things are lighter when you share them, just a little.”

Yelena felt very weird again. She wasn’t used to sharing. Not like this. “…Maybe,” she said finally, voice low, careful. “…Maybe they are.”

Kate’s smile deepened, bright and warm, as though she’d won a quiet victory. “Good,” she said simply. “Because I’m not going anywhere, Yelena Belova. And I don’t really plan on letting you hide, either, you know?”

Yelena blinked, caught off guard. The warmth in her chest prickled again, and she looked away for a moment, focusing on the steam curling from her black coffee instead of the sudden flutter in her stomach. When she dared glance back, Kate’s gaze met hers, steady and filled with that infuriatingly easy confidence that made her pulse stutter.

“…You are very insufferable,” Yelena muttered, almost smiling.

Kate’s laugh was soft, light, carrying in the quiet morning. “Oh totally. But only for the people I like though.”

Yelena froze. Almost dropped her cup. Almost cursed under her breath. Instead, she took a measured sip, letting the bitter warmth steady her pulse. Because right now… Kate Bishop liking her, just enough to keep her around as her friend, was a complication she wasn’t ready for - but she didn’t want to push it away either.

Yelena tried to drown in the background noise of the café, but her focus kept slipping back to the woman across from her. Kate was watching her again, but not in the way enemies or strangers did. Just… steady. Like she was memorizing the shape of Yelena in this quite ordinary morning.

Yelena hated how it made her chest tighten. Again.

“So,” Kate said, tapping her spoon against the saucer absentmindedly, “do I get to like call you Belova from now on? Or do I need special clearance for that?”

Yelena’s lips twitched, almost betraying a smile. “If you say it too much, it will stop sounding like a name and start sounding like you are interrogating me.”

Kate grinned. “Good. That’s literally the vibe I was going for.”

Yelena rolled her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders eased - just a bit. “You are annoying.”

“And yet,” Kate leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs out comfortably under the small table, “you’re still here. Which means either you are actively torturing yourself with hanging out around me, or you’re secretly enjoying yourself.”

Yelena stiffened, then shifted in her seat, careful not to react too strongly. “…Do not assume so much, Kate Bishop.”

“Mm,” Kate hummed into her cup, sipping her cinnamon latte with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “You didn’t deny it though.”

Yelena exhaled sharply through her nose, staring into the swirl of her coffee like it could save her from the heat creeping up her spine. She wasn’t used to this - someone chipping away at her defenses not with force, but with warmth. With patience. With smiles that somehow felt more dangerous than knives.

“You talk way too much,” Yelena muttered finally.

Kate tilted her head, grin widening. “Yeah. But you kinda listen. Which is why this works.”

That caught Yelena off guard. She blinked, trying to form a response, but the words tangled before they reached her tongue. Instead, she found herself watching Kate laugh softly at her own joke, sunlight across her face.

And for a dangerous second, Yelena let herself wonder what it would be like to sit across from her again tomorrow. And the day after that. No… she couldn’t. Right?

Chapter Text

-

Kate kicked the door open as her dog immediately jumped her. She gave him a few pats on the head and flopped onto the couch, tossing her bag onto the floor like she didn’t care if it landed upside down. Apartment smelled like takeout and floor cleaner - the cleaning lady must’ve been here when Kate was enjoying her little morning coffee.

She yanked her phone out and grinned when she saw Yelena’s texts still sitting there.

[7:55 a.m.] Kate: yes! see you in… say, 40? i’ll grab a table and send u my location. & don’t worry, i won’t judge you for being secretly happy to see me ;)

Kate smirked at her own words, reading them again. ‘Yeah, definitely getting under her skin.’ The thought made her pulse skip, and she laughed out loud, curling onto the couch.

She had fancied Yelena since she fought her on that rooftop - actually when the Russian was beating the living shit out of her and Clint. It wouldn’t be surprising for anyone because, as Kate thought, Yelena was pretty and dangerous, therefore everyone would find her attractive.

She never thought they’d ever speak again after that little unplanned sparring session on Christmas, so she just kept the assassin in her mind as sort of a fantasy that would never have to be addressed.

Though after she contacted Yelena so impulsively after seeing the press report on the New Avengers, Kate decided to ‘grow up’ and promised to herself to keep Lena as just a friend. She was surprised someone so low-key and composed would want to be around her messiness anyway.

Kate kept flirting with Yelena just because it was part of her personality, in some way. She just couldn’t help it.

As Lucky - Kate’s rescued, one-eyed Lab jumped onto the couch, she started to nervously pet his long coat. Her thoughts remained messy which wouldn’t be new for her very-ADHD-self, if not for the fact that, it was the one thing about herself she was so sure of that kept bothering her.

Since she became aware that relationships are a thing she never saw herself in a serious one. Commitment was the one thing the brave Kate Bishop has always avoided. She remembered something about some attachment styles or whatever - that her therapist mentioned. Kate didn’t listen to her when it came to that though. She just was convinced she could never want someone for more than a couple dates and quick sex. Let alone give a fuck about their emotional baggage.

It’s not like Kate was heartless and selfish. Quite the opposite- she never wanted to lead someone on, always specifying the dynamic very early. And yet, Yelena lingered in her head in a way that made Kate frown at herself. Something about her made it impossible for Kate to put her into a category or label their relationship as just “flirty banter, but nothing more”.

Obviously Kate made sure Yelena could never read into her confusion.

“Keep it casual,” Kate muttered under her breath, like saying it aloud would convince her brain. She liked Lena, yeah, sure - but no-strings-attached has always the plan. No big emotions, no… whatever people normally did when they actually liked someone. Yelena probably had no idea how casual worked, for that matter - not casual too. She’d already spent half the morning hovering on polite, careful, ‘I’m not going to ruin everything’ energy. Classic Yelena.

Kate grinned faintly at that. She’d have to handle that. She got this kind of idea in her head, that she had to protect Yelena from herself.

‘Or maybe… just let it be fun. Small, harmless, easy.’ She kept going back and forth.

Kate knew she was lying to herself about that. Fun was fun, but Lena wasn’t… normal. Not in the “dangerous assassin” way - everyone already knew that - but in the subtle ways that made Kate feel like she needed, wanted to walk on eggshells around Lena.

She unexpectedly snapped from her thoughts. She typed fast, impulsive:

[10:02 a.m.] Kate: btw that coffee this morning? total lifesaver. u have no idea how badly i needed caffeine before dealing with… well literally anything lol

Of course she had to share this with her. It was harmless, so noncommittal. Kate smirked at the thought that Lena would probably overanalyze it.

Then, like she couldn’t help herself:

[10:03 a.m.] Kate: also u were kinda nice today. maybe even slightly fun. dont tell anyone i said that ;)

Kate grinned at her own words, shaking her head. She could practically hear Lena rolling her eyes through the text, maybe tensing like she always did when Kate teased her. Flirted.

Lucky hopped off the couch, circling her feet and whining softly for attention. Kate bent down, scratching behind his good eye, and laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You think I’m insane.”

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

[10:05 a.m.] Yelena: Slightly fun? Bold of you to assume I consider seeing you so pleasurable.

Kate’s smirk widened. Exactly the reaction she wanted. She typed back almost instantly:

[10:06 a.m.] Kate: oh come on, i can tell. there was a tiny hint. barely noticeable. but it was there!! you’re welcome ;)

She paused, thumb hovering over the send button, thinking maybe she was getting carried away. Nah, this was still pure fun. Small. Easy.

Her thoughts drifted again for half a second, the kind of second where she almost admitted to herself that “fun” with Lena might be… more than just fun. She shook her head, scrolling through Yelena’s response again, and forced herself to laugh. “What are you even thinking, Bishop,” she muttered, sending the text anyway.

Kate leaned back into the couch. Her phone buzzed again, but she didn’t pause before checking it - why would she? Acting first, thinking later, that was kind of her thing.

She grinned at Yelena’s reply, feeling a little thrill. Yep. This was cool. Nothing too heavy. Just teasing, small victories and maybe helping Yelena get in touch with her less guarded side at times. That’s what Kate did. She was always cheerful, always moving - even when her brain occasionally ticked over little thoughts she didn’t need at the moment. It was easy to be like that, actually. Easier than pretending she wasn’t a mess under the surface. Acting on impulse let her skip over the “what ifs” and just… do. Text. Joke. Flirt. Laugh. Make the morning better - hers and maybe, hopefully Lena’s.

Kate’s smile lingered a little longer than usual, and she noticed it again: this didn’t feel like the usual rush of impulsive texting. Normally, she’d send a message, laugh at her own jokes, and then shove the phone aside, barely thinking twice. This- this little back-and-forth with Lena- was different.

Her chest felt a little warmer, a little tighter, kinda in the “uh-oh-I’ve-gotten-attached” way from developing any hint of interest in someone. It wasn’t straight up bad, though. It was more like noticing the edges of a painting she hadn’t seen before - suddenly aware that maybe the picture wasn’t just pure nonsense.

She shook her head, trying to dismiss it, but it stayed anyway. This wasn’t about some routine flirt, or a joke to pass the time, or even a harmless ego boost. This felt different. She felt alert in a way she didn’t know she was capable of. Usually, impulsive meant careless. This - this made her cautious in a way that felt exciting and not just restrictive.

Normally, her impulsive banter was just noise - fast jokes, quick flirtations, distractions. But with Lena, every text hit differently, stirring a mix of excitement and that caution she wasn’t used to. Part of her wanted to lean into it, to enjoy the rush of connection and the way Lena made her feel… seen, worthy, electric. Another part, the part that had always avoided attachment, screamed to stay careful, to keep things simple. Kate could’ve felt herself teetering between thrill and fear, wanting the sensation she never craved before, and dreading the consequences it may have both on her and Yelena, all at once.

Kate stared at her phone, the last text from Yelena still on the screen. “Slightly fun? Bold of you to assume I consider seeing you so pleasurable.”

The words weren’t flirty or overtly kind, but they weren't dismissive, either. It was a perfectly balanced counter-punch, exactly what she’d come to expect from Yelena. The response felt like an invitation to a game, a witty verbal sparring match. Normally, Kate would have a witty retort ready in seconds, but she didn’t. Her fingers hung in the air over the keyboard, frozen. The usual impulsiveness was gone, replaced by a strange, new hesitation. The playful banter that always felt so effortless now seemed…significant. The warm, tight feeling in her chest returned. Fuck. It was the thrill of the chase, but with a new layer of genuine care underneath it. She wanted to win the game, but she also didn't want to mess it up.

"It's just a text, Bishop, c’mon" she muttered to herself, but her heart wasn't in it. It wasn’t just a text though. It was a conversation with Yelena, and that made all the difference. This wasn’t like any of the other casual flings she’d had. This was Lena. Someone who tried to actually see Kate as an equal, not someone who needs to grow up or get it together. Lena, who was just as guarded as Kate was when it came to vulnerability, but in such a different way.

Kate leaned back against the couch, her thoughts a tangled knot of confusion and excitement. A quiet moment settled over the apartment, broken only by the gentle thump of Lucky's tail against the floor. She had to decide what to do. She could keep the conversation light, playful, and noncommittal, sticking to the established dynamic that she knew worked. Or, she could be…open.

What did that even mean? To be open with Yelena? It was a frightening thought. It probably meant vulnerability, something she had meticulously avoided. It meant admitting that she might not be as perfect as she pretended to be. It meant facing the fact that deep inside, she wasn't just interested in a harmless game with Yelena - she was interested in her.

She closed her eyes, trying to make sense of the overwhelming mix of emotions. It was a chaotic storm of fear, anticipation, and a deep, undeniable longing. The desire to keep things casual was at war with an equally powerful desire to simply see what could happen.

After a long moment, Kate finally opened her eyes and picked up her phone. Her fingers, no longer guided by pure impulse, moved with a newfound deliberation. She typed a new message, then deleted it. Typed another, then deleted that one, too. “Great, I’m turning into Yelena” she thought.

The words felt too serious, too revealing, too…real.

Finally, she settled on something that was a little bit of everything - a dash of her usual humor, but with a subtle hint of the truth. Good.

[10:15 a.m.] Kate: ok ok, you win. i’ll concede that the feeling is not mutual, and that i will go back to being slightly lonely now. happy?

She hit send before she could change her mind, a knot of anticipation tightening in her stomach. It was a risk, a subtle admission that her enjoyment of their meeting was more significant than she let on. It was a slight crack in the carefully constructed wall she had built.

A moment passed, then another. The silence from her phone felt deafening. The anxious feeling grew, and she began to wonder if she had pushed it too far. Maybe Yelena would just stop responding. Maybe she would see Kate's vulnerability as a weakness and retreat. “Great Bishop, you fucked it up.” she jumped into a conclusion.

Just as she was about to shove the phone under a couch cushion and forget about it, it buzzed with a new notification. She snatched it up.

[10:19 a.m.] Yelena: Do not be ridiculous, Kate Bishop. You are a lot of things, but lonely cannot be one of them.

Kate read the text again, a slow smile spreading across her face. It wasn’t a romantic or affectionate message, but it was…something! It was an acknowledgment. A sign that Yelena was paying attention. She saw Kate, just the same way she tried to see Lena. She tried to notice.

And suddenly, the fear partially melted away, replaced by a potent wave of exhilaration. It was a conversation, a quiet negotiation for a kind of intimacy Kate had never allowed herself to have. The casual, no-strings-attached plan was beginning to feel less like a safe haven and more like a cage. Kate decided she wanted to give this a try - the whole not-avoiding thing. Even if it wasn’t going to work she still tried, right?

Her heart settled back into a steady rhythm. The thrill of it all was overwhelming, but in a tolerable way. She was stepping into the unknown, letting go of her detached confidence. It was kind of terrifying, but exhilarating. This was what it felt like to genuinely try for something, and it was a new feeling for Kate. She had always been this master of deflection, of avoiding anything that felt too deep. But somehow now it felt right to switch it up a notch.

The phone screen lit up again.

[10:21 a.m.] Yelena: I want to take my dog, Fanny, on a walk. I do know New York is an absolutely terrible place for it but I do not have a choice. Take your dog and meet me in the Central Park at 8, Kate Bishop.

Kate couldn’t quite wrap her head around it; “She wants to see me, NOW?!” she muttered under her breath in disbelief.

A smile that felt both shocked and ridiculously happy stretched across Kate’s face. This wasn’t some sort of test. Yelena wanted to see her. She wanted to see Kate Bishop. The impulsiveness that the archer had always prided herself on - the kind that led to spontaneous coffee dates and witty banter - was now being mirrored back at her by the most guarded person she knew.

It was an invitation, a challenge, and a surrender all at once. Yelena was inviting Kate into her life, and in her own blunt, Yelena way, she was admitting that she wanted to spend time with her.

Kate read the message again, her brain finally catching up. Take your dog and meet me in the Central Park at 8, Kate Bishop.

She looked down at Lucky, who was just now beginning to stir from his nap. “Guess what, buddy,” she said, her voice a little breathless with excitement. “You’re going on a play date.”

Lucky yawned, then stretched, his one good eye blinking up at her as if to say, Are you sure you’re not messing this up?

“No,” Kate said, a new kind of confidence settling in her chest. “Uh- I don’t think so, at least.”

She quickly typed a response. This time, she was back with no hesitation. Just a simple, genuine excitement that bubbled over and landed on the screen.

[10:25 a.m.] Kate: i’ll come! lucky too!!

On a second thought, she added;

[10:25 a.m.] Kate: central park is kinda big but imma assume you’re already like stalking my phone… so you’ll find me :,)

Kate smiled again, a little thrill running through her. She was doing it. She was trusting this new confusing feeling. She wasn't avoiding or deflecting. At least, for now… She was putting her faith in a connection she didn't fully understand. Neither did Yelana - as far as Kate saw. It was terrifying, yes, but it was also the most exciting thing she'd done in a long time, as if running around, saving the city with a bow and arrow wasn’t her occupation.

She put her phone down. The screen went dark, but the feeling of anticipation remained, humming under her skin. She had done her part. Now, all she had to do was wait for 8 o'clock. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.

-

At 7:30 p.m., Kate found herself in a full-blown state of Yelena-like-anxiety. She'd spent the last few hours trying to distract herself - rewatching old movies, working out, eating half a bag of chips, and reorganizing her quiver - but nothing worked. The excitement she had felt that morning had curdled into a mix of nerves and a sudden, urgent need to not mess this up. This was so crazy, so unlike her. She was a superhero, she was Kate Bishop,she ran into danger with a smile, but this? A simple walk with a girl who made her feel weirdly seen and confused and electric all at once? This so was new, so different… this was terrifying.

She glanced at the clock for the tenth time in as many minutes. It was almost time. She was dressed in her "casual but cool" outfit - dark blue jeans, a simple purple hoodie, and a dark green corduroy jacket. Her hair was let loose, her natural wave pattern showing, a style she hoped looked effortless.

Lucky, sensing her energy, was a whirlwind of motion. He whined softly, circling the front door with his tail wagging furiously.

"I know, I know," Kate said, picking up his dark purple, leather leash. "I'm ready. Let's go before I chicken out huh?"

She attached his leash, and they headed out. The elevator ride down felt impossibly long. When they finally reached the lobby, Kate took a deep breath, steeling herself. She was doing this. She was going on a walk with Yelena Belova. That Yelena herself proposed. No big deal. But the feeling in her chest was telling her otherwise.

As she stepped out of her building and onto the sidewalk, the evening air was cool and crisp. The streetlights cast a soft glow on the pavement, and the city hummed with a different kind of energy than it did in the daytime. It was quieter, more intimate.

She pulled out her phone, about to text Yelena that they were on their way, when her phone buzzed with an incoming message.

[7:40 p.m.] Yelena: I see you, Kate Bishop. You're early. I am not even there yet.

Kate stopped in her tracks, a wave of relief and amusement washing over her. Of course, Yelena was already watching her. And of course, she had noticed Kate's eagerness.

She grinned, a genuine, unburdened smile that reached her eyes. The anxiety that had been plaguing her vanished, replaced by the familiar rush of their playful dynamic. This wasn't a formal outing or a… date. It was a walk with Yelena. And Yelena, in her own way, had just kind of told her that she was looking forward to it, too.

Her heart rate, which had been a frantic drumbeat against her ribs, finally began to slow. The tension that had held her stiff all afternoon melted away. This was their rhythm, she realized. The playful jab, the subtle observation, the silent acknowledgment of something more.

Kate shoved her phone back into her pocket and began to walk toward the park, a new bounce in her step. Lucky, picking up on her shift in mood, pulled a little on his leash, eager to get going. The city lights seemed brighter, the air smelled cleaner, and the low rumble of traffic sounded almost like music.

The walk to Central Park, which should have taken over fifteen minutes, felt like two. By the time they reached the entrance, the last remnants of daylight had faded, leaving the sky a deep indigo. The park, usually teeming with people, was quiet, with only a few joggers and dog walkers scattered along the paths.

Kate found an empty bench near a lamppost and sat down, letting Lucky sniff around a small patch of grass. She pulled her phone out again. No new messages. She looked up, scanning the path ahead, half-expecting Yelena to suddenly materialize from the shadows.

A few minutes passed. Then, she heard a soft, familiar sound - the padding of paws on pavement. She turned her head and saw Yelena with a large, beautiful, fluffy Akita. They were a few yards away, walking with a calm, practiced ease.

Yelena's face was pretty unreadable as always, but her eyes held a glint of something that Kate had come to recognize as a quiet amusement. As they approached, Yelena's dog - Fanny, Kate remembered - waddled over to Lucky, sniffing him with a polite, almost cautious curiosity. Lucky, for his part, seemed to have met his soulmate, as he started to excitedly wag his tail.

"So you do stalk my phone," Kate said, a smirk playing on her lips. "I totally knew u did."

Yelena's expression didn’t change, but a slight corner of her mouth twitched. She walked over to the bench and sat down next to Kate, but far enough for their knees not to touch. "I do not," she said, her voice even. "I just started tracking your phone. Not the same thing, Kate Bishop."

Kate’s smirk widened. "Oh, really? What's the difference, then hm?"

"Stalking is obsessive. It is… emotional," Yelena said, her gaze steady. "Tracking is a practical precaution. It is a way of knowing if your reckless self safe. Or, in this case, a way of knowing where to meet you when you say to just find you."

Kate’s breath hitched. The humor left her face, replaced by a stunned silence. Yelena was admitting to tracking her, but not in a way that felt invasive. It felt… protective. Caring.

"Oh," Kate managed, her voice barely a whisper. "Okay. That's… yeah- that’s okay."

Yelena held her gaze for a moment longer, then nodded toward the path to the left of them. "We should walk. It is getting late."

"Yeah-" Kate said, a rush of heat in her cheeks. “Yes, let’s go” She looped her arm through Lucky's leash, and they began to move, falling into step beside Yelena and Fanny, the two of them and their dogs walking side-by-side into the quiet night. The conversation was over, but the subtext of it hung in the air between them, a silent promise of something more sincere.

The path they were on twisted and turned, and soon they were deep in the quiet heart of the park, away from the city's glow. The only light came from the very few streetlights and the moon, casting long, dancing shadows of the trees and their dogs.

Kate noticed that Yelena’s hands, which were still in the pockets of her vest, were clenching and unclenching. Her shoulders were a little rigid and she kept on constantly swallowing her saliva in a nervous manner. She was stressed. A flash of empathy ran through Kate - she knew what that felt like. She had just gone through, whatever this frantic state is, right before she left. It made her want to bridge the awkward gap between them.

"So," Kate began, her voice a little softer than usual. "What kind of music are you into?"

Yelena’s head snapped toward her, the sudden question clearly catching her off guard. "Music?" she repeated, as if the word itself was alien.

"Yeah, you know, songs. Bands. What do you listen to?" Kate clarified, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Yelena was silent for a moment, her brow furrowed in concentration. It was clear she was taking the question seriously, searching for the right answer. "I kinda listen to just, you know… old music?"

Kate couldn't help but grin. It was such a Yelena answer - efficient, noncommittal, and completely lacking in any personal detail. "Okay, but what if you could only listen to one song for the rest of your life, what would it be?"

Yelena slowed down her walking, turning to face Kate more. The dogs, sensing the change of pace, slowed down too, their leashes tangling slightly. "That is a ridiculous question, Kate Bishop. I do not think in such categories."

"It's not that serious," Kate laughed, feeling her own leftover nervousness fading away. "It's just a fun hypothetical, Lena. C'mon, give me something."

Yelena’s eyes darted away, a hint of something shy in her expression. "Okay. Fine. A-ha. ‘American Pie’ by Don McLean.”

Kate’s jaw dropped. "No way," she said, her voice full of genuine delight. "That's… that's a solid choice. Why that one though?"

Yelena shrugged, a little of her usual composure returning.

“I just have some uh..good memories with it.” the Russian said.

A beat of silence hung in the air, the kind of quiet that felt full of unsaid things. Yelena's answer was a window into a part of her Kate rarely got to see. It was a glimpse of a different person, one with memories and feelings she kept locked away.

Kate’s mind raced. The words "good memories" seemed to echo in the space between them. She really wanted to ask more. She wanted to know who she had listened to that song with, what those moments were like, what about them made them "good." It felt like a crucial piece of a puzzle she was trying to solve, a chance to understand the person next her.

But she also knew better. Very unlikely for herself, Kate knew some things were very off limits. She knew that pushing too hard, too fast, was a line you didn’t cross with Yelena, even though her natural curiosity was killing her. It was the same instinct that told her not to pry about the Red Room or her past as a hit woman. ‘Some doors were kept closed for a reason, and a direct question might shut this one forever’ she had to keep reminding herself.

Instead of asking, Kate just nodded slowly, a small smile returning to her face. "That's a very good reason," she said softly. "A song with good memories attached to it is always nice."

The quiet settled between them once more, but this time it was different. It was more comfortable. The dogs, sensing the change in energy, seemed to walk in closer sync.

After a few more steps, Yelena broke the silence. "Your shirt," she said, her voice flat, as if stating a fact.

Kate looked down at her purple hoodie, then back up at Yelena, confused. "Huh, what about it?"

"The other one," Yelena clarified. "The one with the uh… singer? Or whoever- You wore it when we went out for lunch."

Kate's mind raced, trying to remember what she had worn, not fully able to comprehend the fact that Yelena paid so much attention to her, even her random shirt. "Oh, that was Reneé Rapp shirt," she said, a smile pulling at her lips. "It was her tour shirt."

Yelena stopped walking and looked at Kate, her head tilted slightly in a way that Kate knew meant she was processing. "Is she... good?"

"Good?" Kate laughed. "Lena, she's AMAZING.. She writes her own music, she's been on Broadway, and her fan base is literally so cool - it’s a bunch of gay woman. I've been to two of her concerts, and her voice is like no one else’s."

Yelena's eyes narrowed slightly. "You went to a concert where you had to stand in a large group of people for a long time?"

"Yeah," Kate said, surprised by the intensity of the question. "Why?"

"It does not sound like a logical use of time," Yelena said, but her tone was a mix of genuine confusion and curiosity. "And you paid money for it, a lot - I assume?"

"Yeah, I had VIP tickets, so - yeah, I paid a bit," Kate admitted with a grin. "But it was totally worth it. I mean- It's not about being logical. It's about the experience. The energy. It's..." Kate searched for the right words. "It's like a…shared moment. With thousands of other people who love the same thing you do. It's pretty cool."

Yelena looked at Kate, then down at Fanny, who was now sniffing a bush with great focus. "I see," she said, though her voice made it clear she didn't entirely. “Still not a fan of the huge crowd.”

Yelena repeated, her gaze settling back on Kate. "So this Reneé Rapp… also has a song with good memories for you?"

Kate's heart skipped a beat. She had almost forgotten their earlier conversation about "American Pie." Yelena hadn't, though. She had remembered Kate's words, connected the dots from a random outfit to a sincere confession about a song with pleasant memories. It was another small, but significant, sign that she was paying attention, that she was listening, that she saw Kate.

"Oh yeah," Kate said, her voice soft and full of sincerity. "Yeah, she has."

They began to walk again, the silence no longer heavy, but comfortable and full of unspoken words. Lucky and Fanny trotted ahead, their leashes held loose as they explored. Kate found herself walking a little closer to Yelena. She couldn’t shake the awe of how special this was - the conversation where every word, every gesture, carried more weight than she had ever thought possible.

"You know," Kate said, breaking the silence again. "I could play you some of her music sometime. If you... wanted."

Yelena stopped and turned to face Kate, her expression unreadable. "I would like that, Kate Bishop." she said, adding after a beat “I can’t guarantee I will be very fond of it though.”

Yelena, in her own way, had said yes. It was another small step, a door opening just a crack. The fact that Yelena had hesitated, had warned her she might not like it, didn’t bother Kate at all. It was honest. And after an evening of small, careful steps toward each other, honesty was the most valuable thing she could get.

"So," Kate said, picking up their conversation as they started walking again. "What's the best part about having a dog?"

Yelena's gaze softened as she looked down at Fanny, who was now trotting with a proud swagger, her tail held high. "They do not ask questions. They do not judge. They simply… are."

"Oh, I get that," Kate said, thinking of Lucky, her one-eyed confidant. "He's always there, you know? No matter how bad a day is, he's always happy to see me. It's... a simple kind of love. No strings attached."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Kate winced. No strings attached. It was the phrase she had used to convince herself that her feelings were harmless, easy. Now, it felt like a lie. She glanced at Yelena, but the Russian’s expression was unreadable. Had she noticed? Had she picked up on the unintended irony in Kate's words?

"I do not know about 'no strings attached,'" Yelena said, her voice low. "Fanny requires quality food. Water. A clean place to... do her business. There are many strings. But they are good strings. Necessary strings."

Kate’s heart did a little flip. Yelena was talking about a dog, but her words felt like a response to Kate’s deeper, unsaid anxieties. It almost felt like she was saying that connection, even with its complexities and demands, wasn't such a bad thing.

"Yeah," Kate said, her voice a little shaky. "Yeah, you're right. Necessary strings."

They continued their walk, their conversation now a quiet hum of shared understanding. The topic was dogs, but the subtext…

It was something real. Something that had strings. And for the first time in her life, Kate Bishop found that she wanted to pull them.

Kate and Yelena moved in sync, their shoulders occasionally brushing, and this time, Yelena didn't flinch now. It was a small, almost imperceptible thing, but to Kate, it was everything. She felt a quiet triumph in her chest, a small victory in a battle she didn't even know she was fighting.

The walk continued for another hour, the conversation shifting from music to their dogs, and then, slowly, to their lives. Yelena spoke in short, deliberate sentences, while Kate filled in the blanks with her usual rambling. She talked about her archery training, the frustrating chaos of her mother being in jail, and the weird reality of being an aspiring superhero. Yelena, in turn, offered small, carefully chosen glimpses into her world - the surprising comfort of the new hotel, the quiet routine of caring for Fanny, the constant, low-level awareness of her past. She didn't reveal anything Kate didn't already know though, but the act of sharing, of trusting Kate with these small, mundane details, felt like a true gift.

As they approached the edge of the park, Kate felt a pang of sadness. The walk was ending. "Well," Kate said, her voice a little too bright, a little too loud. "This was… good. Really good."

Yelena stopped, and Kate did too. Lucky and Fanny bumped into each other, their playful energy a stark contrast to the sudden seriousness between their owners.

"Yes, it was." Yelena said, her eyes fixed on Kate's. "I liked walking with you, Kate Bishop."

The words hung in the air, a final, sincere acknowledgment. The silence that followed was different from any they had shared before. It wasn't playful or tense - it was a heavy, quiet anticipation. Neither of them wanted to leave.

"So, when can I see you, Lena?" Kate's voice was soft, barely a whisper in the quiet night. The bravado she'd been using all evening was gone, replaced by a raw, honest vulnerability. This wasn't a joke or a distraction. This was a question she genuinely needed to know the answer to.

Yelena's eyes, which had been fixed on Kate, now flickered to the side. She was thinking, processing, her mind a whirlwind of possibilities and protocols. Kate watched, her heart in her throat. She had put herself out there, and now she had to wait.

"Tomorrow," Yelena said slowly, "I am... training."

Kate's heart sank. She had known it was a possibility. Yelena's life was one of an avenger, and her schedule was likely filled with briefing and sparring sessions. She was about to offer a simple ‘Oh, okay then’ and retreat, when Yelena spoke again.

"The day after tomorrow," she continued, her voice gaining a quiet confidence. "We could walk again. Same time, same place. If you’re interested."

A genuine smile, free of any nervous jitters, spread across Kate's face. The cool night air felt a little warmer.

"I would totally like that," Kate said, her voice filled with a quiet sincerity. "See you then, Lena."

Yelena’s gaze softening as she finally looked at Kate again. "Yes. See you soon, Kate Bishop."

They lingered for another moment, a silent, comfortable space stretching between them. Then, with a quiet nod, Yelena turned and walked away, her Akita trotting calmly by her side. Kate watched her go, a sense of peace settling over her. Just like she wanted - she was not holding back anymore. She was going all in… well at least, giving it a try.

Chapter Text

-

The clatter of forks on porcelain and the low rumble of conversation filled the large dining room. Yelena sat at a long table with the rest of her team. Walker sat on the opposite side of the table next to Ava, as Yelena sat between Bob and Bucky - who sat at the top of the table. Alexei didn’t even live in the hotel with them, because he said thay he will only move into a true Avengers tower - well, who would blame him?

Yelena’s breakfast, a precise and boring arrangement of chewy bacon and pancakes with maple syrup, sat untouched. Her thoughts, however, were everything but still. They were a chaotic echo of a just as chaotic person - Kate Bishop.

She stabbed a piece of bacon with her fork but didn’t bring it to her mouth. Instead, she stared past the plate, past the table, past Walker’s voice droning about some “team coordination exercise.” Her phone, hidden beneath the table, felt like it weighed a hundred kilos in her pocket. The memory of every single interaction she ever had with the archer, kept replaying in her head like an annoying commercial she couldn’t mute.

She had not planned to enjoy it. She never planned things like that. Jokes were fine, little jabs were fine. But the way Kate’s words made her chest tighten? That was not fine. It was messy. Vulnerable. Not her.

Just as much as inviting Kate Bishop anywhere was ‘not her’. Yet, she did it just the day before. Yelena couldn’t even comprehend what had gotten into her. The invitation had just…slipped out.

She didn’t regret it though. Even if she wanted to hate it, she simply couldn’t. Talking to Kate made Yelena feel like she hates herself less. Like the whole friends thing maybe wasn’t as bad as she thought it will be. Jesus, she is stopping to seem like herself.

Bucky said something at the head of the table, and Bob laughed too loudly, pulling Yelena’s attention for half a second. She blinked, realizing her fork was still poised midair. Slowly, she lowered it back down, hiding the twitch of frustration in her jaw.

Her brain kept circling the same problem: Kate didn’t even try. She just talked. Texted. Teased. She was chaos personified, blurting things without strategy, without analysing every word. Yelena had spent her whole life measuring every move, calculating what was safe, what could be used against her. Kate Bishop didn’t know the meaning of caution like that.

And yet - Yelena almost envied it. Or maybe she was drawn to it like a moth to flame, knowing she could get burned but leaning in anyway.

“Not hungry?” Bucky’s voice broke through her storm. His blue eyes glanced at her untouched plate.

Yelena’s mouth twitched in irritation - at him, at herself, at everything. “Nope,” she said, pushing the pancakes aside like it was no big deal.

But actually, she wasn’t even hungry. Not for food. She was hungry for… distraction. For something simple. For that next message, the next impulsive spark from Kate that she could pretend to dismiss while secretly saving it in the back of her mind.

Yelena’s attention drew back to Bucky as he spoke; “Well, you better have strength for today because they have just decided you’re training with me.”

Her head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “They? Or you?”

Bucky smirked, that irritating, knowing kind of smirk that reminded her too much of Natka. “Does it matter?”

Yelena rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “It matters if I am about to be bored to death.”

Bob chuckled around a mouthful of food, Walker added some smug comment about “discipline,” and Ava didn’t even look up from her plate. The noise of it all grated against Yelena’s skin. She shoved her fork onto the plate with a clatter, suddenly restless, the itch in her chest refusing to quiet down.

She knew training with Bucky meant focus. Control. Masks up, walls locked. She didn’t mind it actually - he was one of the few who understood the weight of red in her ledger. He was able to understand Natasha, so he might as well get Yelena, right?

But this morning, the thought of controlled sparring, drills, repetition… felt suffocating.

“Don’t worry, we won’t actually spar” Bucky said with a mixture of a smirk and serious concern on his face.

Yelena’s brows shot up. “Then what? You want me to read some kind of metal arm manual with you? Very thrilling.”

Bob snorted, Walker muttered something under his breath that sounded like childish, and Ava kept ignoring them all like she had perfected the art of selective hearing.

But Bucky didn’t rise to the bait. He just kept watching her, steady and calm in a way that made Yelena want to throw her untouched knife at his head, which he caught in time with ease.

That damn patience. Natasha had it in her too, in her own sharp way. Yelena had always hated being on the receiving end of it.

“It’s not about fighting,” he finally said, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “It’s about control. You’re distracted.”

Her chest tightened, more defensive than she wanted to admit. “I am not distracted.”

His eyebrow arched. One look. That was all it took for the denial to fall flat between them.

Yelena tore her gaze away, jaw set. She hated being read so easily by him. Hated even more that he wasn’t wrong. The itch in her chest wasn’t from lack of sleep or hunger. It was Kate. Kate Bishop, who managed to crawl under her skin without even trying. Yelena could fight armies, but apparently she couldn’t fight that.

She exhaled sharply through her nose and muttered, “Fine. Okay. But if you bore me, Barnes, I am leaving.”

He gave the faintest ghost of a smile, the kind that said he’d already won something without needing to rub it in. “Deal.”

Yelena grabbed her phone from her pocket under the table as she stood. She didn’t check it, didn’t dare, but the weight of it was impossible to ignore.

They ended up in an empty gym, as Bob, Walker and Ava went to one of Val’s vaults so Ghost could practice her abilities while John probably tried to annoy Bob as much as he could to get Sentry out - which would never end with a success. Maybe it was for the better.

The gym smelled of sweat, dust, and disinfectant - the same dull scent as every training room Yelena had ever stepped into. Normally it grounded her, made her body switch on, but this morning it just felt suffocating. Bucky tossed a training knife at her without warning. She caught it midair, blade spinning once, twice, before locking into her palm.

“You want me to stab you? That is your plan?” Yelena asked, tilting her head, her tone dripping with mockery and thick Russian accent.

Bucky’s expression barely shifted. “I want to see if you can focus.”

Her lips twitched, half amused, half irritated. “Maybe I do not want to.”

He didn’t take the bait. Instead, he stood in front of her with that maddening calm, shoulders loose, metal arm glinting under the harsh gym lights. Yelena’s grip tightened on the knife. She hated how steady he was, how hard he was to shake. Подонок. [in Russian: Jerk]

“You’re off balance,” he said simply.

She spread her stance wider, knife poised. “I am standing perfectly fine.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Her laugh came out sharp, a little too sharp. “You are a fortune teller now?”

Bucky didn’t move, didn’t smirk, didn’t blink. “No. Just someone who knows what it’s like when your head won’t shut up. When something’s getting in and you don’t want it to.”

The words dug in more than she wanted to admit. She spun the knife faster, the urge to throw it spiking like a reflex. Maybe she wanted to see if he’d actually bleed. Or maybe she just wanted him to stop seeing through her.

Because he did. He always did. Not because he was Barnes, not because of all his brutal training or the war or the Winter Soldier thing. No - because every time his gaze lingered on her, Yelena knew he obviously saw fucking Natalia.

And it hurt.

Not cause she wanted to be Nat, but because she knew she could never be. Yelena could feel the ghost of her sister between them every time Bucky softened around her, every time he steadied his tone like he was handling glass. It was so obvious how badly he missed Natalia, needed her, and all Yelena could ever be was a shadow that stung too much to look at directly.

She hated that role. She hated the way it sat on her shoulders like a borrowed coat - too big, never fitting right.

And yet she couldn’t tell him to stop. Because part of her… understood.

“You think too loud,” Bucky said, voice steady, dragging her back from the spiral.

Her jaw clenched. “Maybe I like noise, okay?”

His eyebrow twitched, the closest he came to amusement. “Maybe. Or maybe you don’t know what to do with quiet.”

That was enough to snap her. She lunged forward, knife flashing as she moved - not to strike, not really, but to force him to react, to move, to stop talking.

Metal clanged as his arm caught her wrist, the impact reverberating up her arm. For a heartbeat, instinct took over - twist, pivot, break the hold - but he was too fast, too steady. He didn’t counter like an opponent; he matched her like a damn mirror.

The struggle lasted seconds, then stilled into a locked stance, his hand around her wrist, her knife a breath away from his throat. Her chest rose and fell faster than it should have.

And still - Kate flickered at the edges of her thoughts. The bright, unfiltered voice, the way she was so open without hesitation, the warmth she hated herself for wanting. Yelena bit down on it hard, focusing on the blade, on Bucky, on the silence pressing in.

His eyes searched hers, blue and unbearably calm. For a second - just a second - she thought she saw it again: the ache, the shadow of Nat he couldn’t shake.

Yelena’s throat tightened, though she’d die before admitting it. She yanked her wrist free, stepping back with a scoff. “You are terrible at pep talks.”

Bucky didn’t move, didn’t argue. Just stood there, like he’d already read everything he needed from her. That made her want to throw the knife at him all over again.

Instead, she spun it once more in her hand, muttering, “Do not look at me like I am her.”

The words came out harsher than she planned, sharper. They cut the air between them.

Bucky’s jaw shifted, the faintest shadow of guilt flickering across his face. But his voice stayed quiet. “I know you’re not her, Yelena.”

For a moment, silence stretched long and heavy. Yelena’s pulse hammered in her ears, the weight of her phone like a stone in her pocket. She wanted to break it - throw the knife, curse him out, laugh it off, text Kate something stupid. Anything to stop feeling like she was being pulled in two directions at once.

Her knuckles whitened around the knife handle. She hated silence almost as much as she hated being seen. Both pressed against her like a weight.

“You say that,” she finally muttered, pacing two steps across the mat, “but I see it in your- your eyes. Every time. You think I don’t notice?”

Bucky stayed where he was, watching her, too patient. That patience felt like sandpaper against her skin. “You remind me of her,” he said at last, voice low, not careful but honest. “But you’re not her. And I wouldn’t want you to be.”

Yelena scoffed, the sound sharp, masking the flicker in her chest. “Good. Because I would be terrible replacement.”

“Not a replacement,” he corrected. “Just… you.”

Her throat tightened, but she twisted it into a smirk, flipping the knife in her palm like she wasn’t two seconds from throwing it straight at the wall. “Congratulations, Barnes. That is probably the most sentimental thing you have ever said to me. Maybe you are not complete robot after all.”

Bucky didn’t flinch. He let her words land and slide off, as if he was used to being a wall for other people’s fire.

Yelena turned away, pacing again, restless, fighting the storm inside her chest. Natasha’s ghost. Bucky’s gaze. Kate’s ridiculous texts. She felt strung too tight, like every part of her was pulling in a different direction.

And then the damn phone buzzed in her pocket. Just once, sharp and insistent.

Her heart jumped before she could stop it. She knew who it was. Nobody else texted her at ten in the morning with zero shame. Nobody else made her want to check immediately, like the world might tilt if she didn’t.

She violently took out the phone from her pocket and tossed it onto the gym flooring. It was sort of an instinct.

Yelena kept her back to Bucky, forcing her breathing even. “Training is over,” she said abruptly, sliding the knife onto the nearest bench.

“You’re running,” Bucky said, not accusing, just stating.

She turned her head enough to shoot him a glare. “I do not run. I leave when I am bored.”

Bucky didn’t move toward her, didn’t close the distance. Instead, he let his gaze settle on her like a weight she couldn’t shrug off. “No, Yelena.”

Yelena froze mid-step, one boot hovering over the floor, every instinct screaming at her to bolt. “Excuse me?” Her voice was sharp, defensive.

“You’re staying,” he said again, slow, measured, leaving no room for argument. “Jesus I’m not here to babysit. You don’t need me, I get that too. It’s just- you can’t walk away from this - and you know it.”

Her brow furrowed, knife still clutched in one hand, the other balled at her side. “And why is that my problem?”

Bucky stepped closer, but not aggressively. Calm, steady, careful. The kind of proximity that made her skin prickle and her chest tighten. “Because you think you’re in control. You think control means shutting off everything that messes with you. But right now, you need to get it together. You need… focus.”

Yelena huffed, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. “Ha- Focus, yes. That is why I came here, to stab you with a knife in a very precise demonstration of-” She stopped herself, realizing she was yelling at him and making herself look ridiculous. Which, of course, was exactly what he wanted.

Bucky’s eyes softened ever so slightly, a flicker she almost didn’t catch. But it was enough. Enough to remind her of Natka, enough to make her throat close, enough to remind her why she hated this role she always fell into - echoes of someone else, shadows, comparisons.

“Just look at me,” he said quietly.

She balked. “No.”

“Yelena,” he said, tone leaving no wiggle room. “Just… look. That’s all.”

She hesitated, jaw tight, then allowed her gaze to flicker toward him. The metal arm caught the light, the muscles beneath his shirt tense yet relaxed in a way that screamed years of control and loss. She saw it - the weight he carried, the way his jaw set when memories flickered behind his eyes. And in a jarring instant, she realized she could see Natasha in him too - the care, the grief, the love, the unspoken ache - and she felt herself shrink a little under it.

But she could never be Nat. Never. Not in his eyes, not in her own. She was Yelena: unstable, impulsive, broken, messy.

“You’re not her,” he said again, voice low, steady. “And I don’t want you to be. You’re…” He paused, searching for a word she wouldn’t argue with, “…you.”

Her chest constricted. She wanted to scoff, to mock, to throw the knife and storm out, but instead she swallowed, feeling the pull of him anchoring her. Anchoring her to this room, to this moment, to the fact that escaping wasn’t going to solve anything.

“Fine,” she muttered finally blinking the faintest bit of tears away, voice tight. “I stay. But do not think this means anything.”

Bucky didn’t smile. Didn’t mock. Just nodded once, turning back toward the center of the gym. “C’mon let’s talk” He said then added; “You can throw the knife at me if that helps with whatever makes you so..” He didn’t finish. Instead he just swallowed and nodded at his words.

Yelena’s jaw tightened, the faintest flare of defiance sparking in her chest. She picked up the knife again, spinning it idly in her fingers, letting the cool metal calm some of the chaos roaring in her head. “Talk while sparring? That is… multitasking. Very American,” she muttered, her accent thick with sarcasm.

Bucky raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Instead, he mirrored her stance, letting his metal arm hang loose but ready, watching her with that infuriating calm. “Then let’s start. You move, I move. But we talk too.”

Yelena’s steps faltered slightly as she gripped the knife tighter, the gym around them fading into a blur of metal and concrete. Bucky mirrored her movements, careful but unyielding, matching her speed, keeping her contained without crushing her.

“You’re tense,” he said quietly, his voice cutting through the rhythm of their sparring, low but firm. “Every strike, every spin… you’re holding too much.”

She spun under his arm, letting her knife trace a wide arc that he easily deflected. “I do not… I am not holding,” she muttered, chest tight, voice sharper than intended. “I am… precise. Careful. Controlled.”

“You think that’s what this is about?” he asked, sidestepping another strike. “You think control will make it easier?”

Her hand stilled mid-spin. She swallowed, jaw tight. “I… I do not know what you mean,” she said, though her voice cracked slightly, betraying the chaos under her calm exterior.

“I know you’re thinking about her now,” Bucky said softly, his eyes holding hers for a moment too long. “About Nat.”

Her grip on the knife faltered, and for a heartbeat she felt that old familiar anger flare - anger at being compared, anger at being measured against a ghost. But it was tangled with something else, something sharper, rawer. Pain. And longing. And… guilt.

“I am not her,” she whispered, stepping back, but Bucky didn’t let her go. He matched her retreat, careful, close enough that she could feel the quiet strength radiating from him. “No,” he said, voice steady. “But you carry it all the same. The reminders. The… weight. And it hurts you.”

She twisted the knife, spinning it through her fingers like a lifeline. “I… I do not know how to stop thinking,” she admitted quietly, almost to herself. “About… everything. About her. About… Kate. About…” Her chest constricted, and she let the words trail off, too tangled to speak clearly.

Bucky didn’t let the pause hang too long. His stance shifted subtly, nudging her forward as he caught her knife in a quick, controlled parry. “Who’s Kate?” His voice was quiet, careful, but firm, grounding her in the moment even as the question cut straight through the chaos in her chest.

Yelena’s hand tensed around the knife. “Who…?” She hesitated, blinking rapidly, caught between annoyance and something she couldn’t name. “Kate Bishop. Friend. Sometimes… confusing.” Her voice faltered slightly, and she spun away, letting the knife slice the air as much to cover her words as to attack.

“Ahhhh - Clint’s trainee girl hm? Confusing how?” he continued asking, blocking Yelana’s strike with ease, his movements fluid. “Tell me while we move. I want to see.”

Her chest rose sharply, heat rushing to her cheeks. “I… do not know!” she snapped, spinning under his arm and thrusting the knife forward, which he caught smoothly. “She… she texts. Talks. Makes… things happen in my head that are not logical. And I… I do not know why I care!”

Bucky let her words sink into the rhythm of their sparring, moving in sync with her steps. He didn’t counter aggressively -just enough to keep her on her toes, forcing her to stay present. “Sounds like you kinda care a lot,” he said quietly.

Yelena froze mid-spin, the knife quivering slightly in her hand. “Сука- Do not… do not tell me that!” she muttered, almost whining, and lunged forward again, more out of frustration than intent to hurt.

He caught the knife mid-thrust, his metal arm pressing lightly against her forearm, holding her just long enough to make her muscles tighten. “I’m not saying anything except that you’re tangled up in this thing. And avoiding it won’t help you untangle.”

Her jaw clenched, and she spun, letting her momentum carry her across the mat as she tried to shake the words - and the feelings - they brought with them. “Tangled… yes! That is perfect! That is exactly it. I… I do not understand what is happening. With Kate. With…” Her voice faltered, throat tight. She felt a flicker of helplessness she hated admitting.

Bucky’s eyes softened, following her movements. “Then don’t think, Yelena. Just spar. Move. Feel it, don’t solve it. That’s why we’re doing this, no? You’re too wired, too busy trying to control everything. Let yourself move.”

Yelena exhaled sharply, letting the knife spin in her palm again, the motions chaotic but precise, her limbs responding without thought. She spun under his arm again, letting the knife flow through the air, but her mind was somewhere else entirely. Each movement felt both deliberate and meaningless, mechanical yet unintended.

Her chest tightened, a low, unsteady heat crawling up her throat. Why does she feel like this? she wondered, ducking another parry. With the team, it was all noise and obligation, routine and expectation. She could comfort with Bob, argue with Walker, roll her eyes at Ava, bitch at Alexei - it was so predictable. Safe in its own dull way. But Kate… Kate didn’t follow those rules. And somehow, just talking to her - even in text, even in a stupid message - sent Yelena’s mind into a dizzy spiral.

She pushed the knife forward, and Bucky caught it easily, just enough to keep her grounded, just enough to make her stumble a little in her own thoughts. “I don’t get it,” she muttered under her breath, spinning to reset. “Do all… friends make you feel like this?” Her voice carried a trace of frustration, sharp and brittle.

Bucky mirrored her movements, shifting fluidly, letting her strikes fall just short. “Friends?” he asked, voice low. “Not at all.”

Yelena’s chest rose and fell faster, frustration knotting in her stomach like a fist. Her movements jerked slightly, less fluid, more abrupt, as if her body was trying to expel the confusion she couldn’t name. She spun, thrust, ducked - each strike precise but edged with irritation that made Bucky’s easy parries almost effortless.

“Then why does she huh?” she spat, voice tight, almost bitter, twisting the knife in her hand as if she could wring sense out of it. Her boots scraped against the mat as she darted forward, and Bucky caught the blade mid-thrust again, steadying her hand. The pressure was gentle but firm, grounding her in the sparring even as it reminded her of everything she wanted to run from.

“She… she makes me think. About things I do not want to think about. About… about care. About wanting. About…” Her voice cracked slightly, her frustration leaking through her usual defiance. “I do not… I do not have that with anyone else! Not here. Not with the team. Not even with… anyone.”

Bucky didn’t respond immediately. He mirrored her spin, stepping around her, letting her strikes brush past him harmlessly, letting her vent without judgment. “Sounds like she’s important to you,” he said quietly, almost conversationally, but there was weight behind it, a subtle acknowledgment that made Yelena’s chest tighten further.

“Important?!” she snapped, spinning away sharply, the knife catching the light in a glittering arc. “I… I do not know what she is! Confusing! Annoying! Bright and reckless and loud! And uh- ” She faltered, her voice dropping, frustration mixing with something else - helplessness.

“Sounds like you do care,” Bucky said softly, his calm anchoring her energy as it drove her crazy.

Her grip on the knife tightened so hard her knuckles ached. “блят [in Russian: fuck/damn] …I do not want to care!” she hissed, pivoting under his arm, letting her momentum carry her across the mat. “I do not- do you understand?- I do not want to feel like this! Like… like I am unraveling and I… I…” She cut herself off abruptly, throwing the knife onto the mat in frustration, the clatter echoing off the walls.

Bucky’s metal arm caught the knife before it hit the floor, holding it suspended between them. His blue eyes held hers, steady, unwavering. “You’re frustrated because you don’t know how to handle it, I get it,” he said softly, “because you’ve spent your life being controlled. Now you always want to be the one in charge. And well…this… something doesn’t fit your rules.”

Yelena exhaled sharply, spinning away again, fists clenched, trying to shove down the heat in her chest. “It is not rules! It’s… annoyance! And I… I hate it!”

“Mhm,” Bucky said quietly, moving closer, letting her movements push against him without resistance. “That means it’s real. Jesus...you don’t have to fight it, Yelena.”

Bucky’s gaze didn’t waver as he mirrored her movements, letting her spins and thrusts brush past him without stopping her - but there was a weight in his eyes now, heavier than before. His voice dropped, low and careful, cutting through the noise of her own spiraling thoughts.

“I know what you’ve been through,” he said, voice steady, but soft. “The Red Room… the conditioning, the training, the punishments, the—everything. I’ve seen it on her, first hand. On… Nat. I know how much it took from you. How much it still does.”

Yelena froze mid-spin, the knife catching the light and clattering against her leg as she nearly dropped it. The words hit like a hammer. Her chest constricted, hot and tight, and she swallowed hard.

“Wha… what do you—” she started, voice cracking with a mixture of anger, disbelief, and a vulnerability she didn’t want to acknowledge. “How… do you even know that it affects me like it affected Natalia?”

Bucky didn’t answer with words. He just moved closer, stepping into her rhythm again, letting his presence be both a wall and a grounding point. “I’ve seen it, Yelena. I’ve seen the way your body moves, the way you react. It’s all the same. I’ve seen her scars, the… the ghosts that don’t leave. You don’t have to say it for me to know.”

Her grip on the knife tightened until her knuckles ached again. A jagged mix of emotions surged inside her - disbelief, shame, a flash of anger that he could see so clearly through her. Yelena knew Nat was incredibly close with Bucky, but somehow she never thought that it meant he knew all of what happened to them.

“Do not… do not look at me like that!” she hissed, pivoting sharply and letting the knife slice through the air. Her legs shook, her chest heaving. “I… I am not…”

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” Bucky interrupted gently, moving with her, parrying her strikes without trying to stop her energy. “You don’t have to hide it. You don’t have to- be so alone.”

Yelena’s throat tightened. The words, the acknowledgment, cut sharper than any knife could. She faltered in her movements, spinning with less control, letting the blade dip too close to the mat. “You… you don’t understand,” she muttered, voice rough. “You… you have no idea…”

“I understand more than you think,” Bucky said softly, letting her words hang without forcing her to explain. “I’ve seen what it does to people. What it did to me. To people who were… made to forget they were human.”

Her chest felt like it might explode. Rage, grief, fear - they all tangled together in a hot, sharp knot. “Made to forget… human… yeah, I know!” she shouted, spinning again, letting her knife slash through the air. “I know! I know! And you think… you think I… I should just… what? Get over it?”

Bucky caught her wrist mid-thrust again, steadying her without stopping her completely, letting her feel the friction of restraint and safety at once. “No,” he said quietly. “Not get over. But maybe… let someone see. Even just me or the team. Out of all of us it was you who helped Bob the most. You saved us, Yelena. Saved by proving to Bob he’s not all alone.”

Yelena froze mid-spin again, letting the words sink in as her chest heaved, knuckles white around the knife. His gaze didn’t flinch, didn’t soften into something sentimental, didn’t offer false reassurance. It was just steady, measured, the kind of look that didn’t ask her to perform, didn’t try to fix her, didn’t demand anything from her.

She let out a slow, bitter laugh, almost a cough. “Let someone see… yeah, right. I… I tell myself that, Bucky. I tell myself that all the time.” She spun under his punch, letting the knife trace the floor lazily, more a marker of her rhythm than an attack. “But it never happens... I say the words. I repeat them like a mantra. But… actually… it never works. Or I never let it.”

Bucky’s parry was light, not stopping her motion, just nudging her just enough to keep her body busy. “Because it’s hard,” he said quietly. “Because it’s… dangerous in a way. You were trained to survive by not trusting, and mange holding everything inside.”

She hissed, spinning back, kicking at the mat, frustration vibrating through her in waves. “Dangerous… yes! That is exactly it! I am trained to survive. I am trained to control, Bucky. To not…” Her voice caught, faltering. “…to not let anyone see me. I can’t… I can’t just-”

“Just what?” His voice was gentle, but there was no pity in it. Just observation. Truth. He stepped into the rhythm of her spins again, letting her feel the counterweight of his presence. “Just let them in?”

Yelena’s hand dropped the knife for a fraction of a second, her fingers brushing the mat, her chest rising unevenly. The silence between them was heavy, almost suffocating, filled with all the things she refused to admit. “…I… I do not know if I can,” she whispered, barely audible.

“You don’t have to know,” Bucky said softly, guiding her movements without forcing them. “But by your reaction, it’s safe to say you already started to let someone in and now you’re trying to back out of it…Am I wrong?”

Yelena froze mid-step, the knife hovering lazily between her fingers as if its weight could anchor the storm in her chest. She didn’t spin, didn’t lunge. Her boots pressed into the mat, mind whirling faster than her body had moved in years. “…Maybe,” she admitted, voice low, brittle, almost unwilling to give sound to the admission. “…maybe I did.”

Bucky’s metal arm moved just slightly, nudging her hand without interrupting her hold, letting her feel the subtle control, the unspoken understanding. “Then you already know what it feels like,” he said softly. “To let someone see chaos and not have to run.”

She laughed, bitter, sharp, the sound bouncing harshly off the concrete walls. “Chaos… yes. That is… exactly it.” She spun once, letting the knife trace a wide arc, letting the motion mask the tremor in her chest. “And yet- how the fuck am I supposed to… I… I do not even do it with the team! I… I do not know how to… with anyone!”

Bucky let her movements carry her forward, catching the knife in a light parry that kept her momentum alive but gave her space to breathe. “Then maybe it’s not about us - the team, you know,” he said, voice low, careful. “Maybe it’s about her.”

Her body jolted, the knife slipping slightly in her palm. “…Her?” she hissed, twisting under his arm, spinning almost too fast, letting the messy motion mirror the confusion inside. “…Kate?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said quietly. “Kate.”

She exhaled sharply, boots scraping the mat, knife spinning lazily. “I… I do not understand,” she muttered, more to herself than him. “I… she makes everything… different. Not… easy. Not predictable. And I… I… I do not know what to do with it. I… I try to control it, to push it away. But I… can’t. And I hate that I… care at all!”

Bucky’s parry nudged her again, letting her feel the balance, the push-and-pull of the sparring. “Then maybe that’s the point. You’re letting yourself feel something. Even if it scares you. Even if it doesn’t fit your rules, and you can’t name it yet.”

Her chest heaved, knife spinning in her hand, the heat of frustration and the tang of confusion mixing into something raw, sharp. “…And I… I do not know if that is… okay,” she admitted, voice cracking slightly. “…I… I have never… I… I do not have anyone else make me feel this way. Not Bob, not Walker, not Ava. Not even Nat, really.”

Bucky didn’t answer immediately. He just mirrored her movement. The silence was thick. “Then maybe that… that’s the reason she’s different,” he said finally. “Maybe it’s not supposed to be easy. Maybe it’s supposed to make you think, make you… feel. Not control, not survive, but… feel, Yelena.”

Yelena’s grip on the knife tightened and loosened in rapid, chaotic pulses. “…I… I do not know if I can let myself feel just like that,” she muttered. “…I do not know if I can just… let her see it, let her… me…”

“You don’t have to have everything figured out,” Bucky said softly, guiding her with subtle pressure against her movements. “But you can’t pretend it isn’t happening. And that’s… that’s the first step.”

Her boots slowed against the mat. Her knife traced lazy, unsure arcs, her body stiff with unresolved tension. Kate’s name lingered in her mind like a spark she couldn’t shake off, bright and unwelcome and necessary all at once. Yelena truly realized that maybe saying she should let someone in wasn’t enough. Maybe she had to actually allow it.

Yelena’s movements slowed almost imperceptibly, the knife tracing lazy arcs in her hand as the storm in her chest didn’t quiet so much as it found a rhythm. Bucky mirrored her step for step, parry for parry, letting the spar carry them both through the hours. Neither spoke much beyond the quiet nudges of observation and the occasional reminder to breathe, to move, to just feel.

The gym lights shifted with the passing sun, painting long streaks across the floorboards, and Yelena realized with a start that they had been at it for hours. Her chest was tight, muscles burning, sweat slicking her hair to her forehead, but she felt… lighter, somehow. Not unscathed, not fully understandable, but the chaos in her chest had been shared, held up, mirrored, not forced into hiding.

Bucky finally lowered his metal arm, letting her knife fall to the mat with a soft clatter. She blinked, chest rising and falling unevenly, the silence stretching between them like a bridge neither wanted to step off too quickly. Afternoon had crept in without either of them noticing, the quiet buzz of the hotel beyond the gym now filtered into the space where only the rhythm of their sparring had existed.

Yelena gave a humorless laugh, brushing sweat from her brow and letting the knife rest by her side. “Hours?” she muttered, voice hoarse, a flicker of disbelief in her tone.

Bucky’s gaze softened, a small nod acknowledging the effort, the movement, the emotions. “Yeah. Hours. You didn’t do so horrible, Yelena.”

Chapter Text

-

Kate woke up with the kind of spring in her chest that could only come from knowing she’d see Lena again quite soon. The morning sun was spilling through her window, Lucky curled up on her lap, snoring softly. Normally, Kate would have spent the first hour scrolling through news feeds or grabbing coffee, but today felt… different. There was a lightness to the day, a “no pressing matters at Bishop Security & no villains to chase” kind of energy that made her grin.

She sat up, letting Lucky tumble off the bed with a soft thump, and grabbed her phone. Clint. Perfect. She had to check in with him.

[9:12 a.m.] Kate: yo, hawkeye. how are you, old man? anyone you know that’s gonna try to burn nyc today, or is the city giving me a break?

Her thumb hovered over send, smirking. She could practically hear Clint’s voice in her head.

Almost immediately, the response came:

[9:13 a.m.] Clint: Well as far as I know - no fires, no villains, no spontaneous alien invasions. Apparently, the city is being boring today.

Kate laughed aloud. “Boring… gotta fix that.”

She typed back fast, excitement bubbling:

[9:14 a.m.] Kate: perfecttt. hope u don’t mind me coming out to the farm then.

Kate paused mid-text, staring at her phone, then looked out the window at the sprawling city below. “A thousand miles… yeah, that’s a whole lot of driving, especially for someone who can’t really drive..” she muttered, tapping her fingers against her knee. She glanced at Lucky, who was wagging his tail like he knew a new adventure was brewing.

And then it hit her.

Her eyes lit up. “Oh. Ohhhh. Lucky, u better like it 10,000 feet high.”

She dug through her stuff in a flurry of movement, Lucky darting between her feet, and pulled out her helicopter keys from a top shelf above her bed. Yep. A helicopter. Sitting quietly on the roof of the now empty apartment that once belonged to Elenor, looking all sleek and fancy. She hadn’t flown it in a few months - or maybe a year or two…but hey, her uncle taught her it when she was 18, plus she’d watched enough private pilots do it and maybe skimmed a manual or two. How hard could it be?

[9:19 a.m.] Kate: i’ll be there soon! taking a helicopter ;p

“Pizza dog,” she said, brandishing the keys “get ready for absolutely no traffic, no boring highways, just a quick way to Bartons’.”

Lucky barked, hopping excitedly down the stairs of her loft, and Kate laughed, scratching behind his good eye. “Yes, my good boy. I knew you’d approve.”

Within minutes, she had her bag stuffed with essentials: snacks, a couple of water bottles, her quiver (because, priorities), a first aid kit, and a few backup batteries for her phone. She tossed Lucky’s travel blanket and a small bowl into the bag too. “We’re not roughing it,” she said, “we’re flying it. Style matters, even at 10,000 feet.”

Clint’s text buzzed again, probably after reading her earlier message:

[9:35 a.m.] Clint: KATE! Did you just say helicopter?

Kate grinned as she typed back:

[9:36 a.m.] Kate: yes. helicopter. i kinda have one. dw, i watched like… a tutorial. totally competent.

She paused, then added, just for dramatic flair:

[9:37 a.m.] Kate: if you don’t hear from me in a few hours, send a search party. or pizza for lucky. whatever works.

Kate snapped her phone shut with a smug little grin, she whistled for Lucky as she picked up her stuff and slipped on a basic black sweatsuit alongside her daily pair of docs. “C’mon, big guy. Taxi time.”

The streets outside her loft buzzed with morning traffic, horns blaring and the smell of bagels and coffee drifting from the corner carts. Kate flagged down the first yellow cab she saw, Lucky trotting beside her with his tail swishing proudly like he owned the whole block.

The cab wound its way uptown, weaving through morning traffic until it rolled to a stop in front of the tall, gleaming high-rise that once belonged to Eleanor Bishop, who know was serving her time in jail. Even after everything that had happened here - the mess with arresting Jack, the arguments, the lies - the place still loomed like it owned half the skyline.

Kate slid out of the taxi with Lucky bounding at her side, tail smacking her legs. She tilted her head back, eyeing the glittering glass windows stretching into the sky. “You know, Lucky,” she muttered, fishing for the keys in her pocket, “if my mother hadn’t been a lying criminal, this would actually be kinda cool.”

Inside, the lobby was marble and classy carpet, all sterile wealth. The doorman gave her a wary glance, but after a beat he recognised the young Bishop girl in her and proceeded to say “Welcome back, Miss Bishop”. Lucky, typically, reacted with a happy bark and a tail wag.

The elevator ride up felt endless, each floor ding echoing in her chest. When the doors finally opened onto the penthouse level, Kate was hit with a faint perfume she hadn’t smelled in months - Eleanor’s signature scent clinging to the walls like a ghost. She wrinkled her nose, shaking it off. “Not today,” she told herself under her breath, tugging Lucky along.

She crossed the still-pristine living room and walked up the stairs to the rooftop.

The sunlight hit her face like a jolt of caffeine, and there it was.

The helicopter. Parked right where it had always been, gleaming black against the concrete landing pad that stretched across the building’s roof. Sleek. Totally out of place and absolutely dangerous. Awesome.

Kate grinned wide, heart pounding with the same mix of thrill and panic she’d felt the first time she ever picked up a bow. “Oh yeah,” she whispered. “We’re really doing this.” Lucky barked and bounded toward the pad, tongue lolling. She dropped her bag beside the cockpit, ran a quick hand over the hull, and exhaled. She flicked switches, toggled dials, put on the headset and muttered to herself, “Okay, Kate Bishop. You got this. How hard can it really be, right?”

The rotor blades whirred to life, shaking the tiny cockpit, and Kate’s grin widened. “Yup. This is waaaaay better than a boring road trip would be.”

As the city shrank beneath her, the thrill of doing something impulsive, and ridiculously fun made her feel alive in a way that only fighting and shooting her bow has ever made her feel. And… maybe- Yelena? ‘No not now’ she thought to herself.

“Focus, Kate.” she said as Lucky’s ears flapped in the wind beside her, and she leaned back, letting herself enjoy it. A thousand miles to the farm? Piece of cake. She had a helicopter, an adventurous spirit, and absolutely no plan. Perfect. Pure Kate Bishop.

The helicopter cut through the clouds with a hum that was steadier than Kate’s nerves. She had one hand locked tight on the cyclic, the other fidgeting between the collective and the dash, tapping against dials she only half-remembered the meaning of. Lucky was sprawled in the copilot seat with his tongue out, ears flapping in the vibration, looking like he’d been born for the skies.

Her phone buzzed in the cup holder she’d wedged it into. The screen lit up with Clint Barton. She sighed, then hit the Bluetooth icon, adjusting the headset over her ears.

“Kid,” Clint’s voice crackled through, sharp and exasperated. “Tell me you are not actually in that helicopter.”

Kate grinned, biting her lip. “Well… depends. Do you want me to lie to you, or do you want the truth?”

“Kate!”

“Relax! I’ve totally got this. Totally safe. I even remembered to check the fuel - well, I think. The gauge is looking good.” She glanced at the dial, narrowing her eyes at the tiny arrow, then quickly looked away before panic could set in.

“You think? That’s not a phrase you use in aviation!” Clint groaned. “You could’ve just… driven, Kate.”

“A thousand miles, man! I don’t even know how to drive, remember? And besides, this is way cooler. You should be thanking me, honestly. I’m proving that I can handle all kinds of travel for missions.”

There was a long silence on the other end. Then a low mutter: “Laura will kill me for letting you do this.”

Kate’s grin faltered, her chest tightening just a fraction. She focused on the horizon, the wide stretch of blue and endless cloud. “Yeah,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice breezy, “well… good thing you didn’t let me. I decided. It’s my thing.”

He didn’t argue. He never did when her voice dipped like that. He just exhaled and said, “Fine. If you run into trouble-”

“I’ll improvise. C’mon, you trained me. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Don’t answer that,” Clint shot back quickly.

Kate chuckled, tapping the side of her headset. “Copy that, Hawkeye. Over and out.”

She hung up, letting the whirr of the blades fill the silence again. For a while she just flew, trying to soak in the view, the insane freedom of it. But her mind drifted. Inevitably.

Yelena.

The thought of her name alone made Kate’s pulse spike harder than any turbulence could. It was like gravity pulling her chest tight. She hated how much space Yelena had carved out in her head, hated that no amount of jokes or casual texts could cover up the way her stomach flipped at the idea of seeing her again.

And yet, she didn’t really want it to stop.

-

The farmland rolled out beneath the helicopter like a patchwork quilt, greens and yellows stitched together under the glare of the midday sun. Kate squinted through the windshield, the rotor blades thumping hard above her head, and finally spotted the Burton property.

“There it is, Lucky,” she said, pointing out the crooked fence line and the wooden barn that sat stubbornly against the field. Her pulse quickened - not from the sight of the farm itself, but from what waited there.

Landing.

Kate tightened her grip on the cyclic, trying to remember everything her uncle had drilled into her years ago. Descent slow, steady, keep the nose level. Easy. Totally easy. Right?

“Okay,” she muttered, sweat pricking at her temple, “this is the part where I don’t make us lawn ornaments.”

Lucky whined softly, sensing her nerves. She shot him a grin. “Don’t look at me like that, Pizza Dog. You trusted me when you stayed with me. You gotta trust me now.”

The helicopter dipped lower, fields swelling closer in the glass. Clint’s house grew bigger by the second, the shooting target standing in the yard, bikes propped against the fence. Kate’s heart lurched. No pressure. Just don’t crash in front of Clint’s entire family.

She eased the collective, the chopper wobbling with every minor overcorrection. “Steady… steady… dammit- fucking steady.”

The skids hovered a few feet above the ground, the wind from the rotors flattening grass in wide circles. She bit her lip so hard it hurt, nudging the cyclic forward just a hair. The helicopter bucked, tilted, then lurched back level.

“Holy-” Kate caught her breath, eyes wide. “Nope, nope, I got this, totally got this.”

And then - thump.

The skids touched the dirt, bouncing once before settling with a metallic groan. Dust shot up around them in a wild cloud, and Lucky barked furiously as if he’d just been through battle.

Kate froze for half a second, staring out at the blur of earth and sky, then let out a laugh that was half hysterical, half triumphant. She killed the engine, the rotors slowing with a lazy whine, and leaned back in her seat. “Oh my god. I didn’t die. We didn’t die. Lucky - we’re alive!”

The dog barked again, tail thumping so hard it rattled the seat.

From the porch, Clint stood with his arms crossed, his head shaking slowly as the dust settled around his boots. He looked like a man who was both horrified and not surprised at all.

Kate threw open the cockpit door, hopping down onto the dirt like she’d just stuck a perfect Olympic landing. She threw her arms wide and called out, grinning like a maniac:

“Told you I could do it!”

Clint just sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Bishop… you are gonna give me gray hair.”

Kate grinned wider, Lucky bounding at her side as they started to walk to the house. “You already have them.”

Kate hadn’t even noticed the front door moving until a familiar voice came from behind Clint:

“Katie! So glad to see you.”

She froze for a moment, blinking through the sun rays, and then saw her - Laura Barton, standing on the terrace, hands on her hips, smiling wide, the sun catching her hair just right. Kate felt a mix of happiness, excitement, and a little bit of guilt for how long it had been since she’d really seen the Bartons.

“Laura…” Kate started, her voice catching unexpectedly. The helicopter, the miles, even Lucky bouncing beside her - all of it melted away in the warmth of that smile.

Laura’s eyes crinkled, and she took a step forward, then another, arms opening before Kate could even think. “I haven’t seen you since Christmas, and suddenly I see you here all the way here” she said, her tone all warmth and teasing scold rolled into one. “Katie, I- I thought Clint was exaggerating. You actually flew here? A helicopter?”

Kate’s lips twitched, half-grin, half-lump in her throat. “Yeah… I kinda picked an unconventional mean of transport, haven’t I?,” she admitted, running a hand through her hair, dust and sweat catching in the sunlight. “But, uh… I made it.”

Laura laughed softly, the kind of laugh that made Kate’s chest feel like it was full of sunbeams, and crossed the last few steps to hug her. Kate stiffened at first - unused to the maternal warmth Laura has always radiated with - but then melted into it, letting the embrace ground her. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this, this unconditional welcome from someone who saw her as… her.

“I actually kinda.. missed you guys” Kate whispered when they finally pulled back slightly. Her voice wavered, though she tried to play it off with her usual smirk. “I… I didn’t think I’d feel this… emotional, you know.”

Laura reached up, brushing dust off Kate’s shoulder like she was brushing off worry itself. “Oh, honey, you’re allowed. Your daily life is a lot. I’ve seen him live it. But you’re here now, and we’re so glad to see you.” Her eyes flicked to Lucky, who was wagging furiously at her legs. “And look at you, bringing the dog and all your chaos with you again.”

Kate laughed, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. “Yeah… chaos, that’s me.” She took a deep breath, looking at Laura properly now, really seeing her - the warmth, the laughter, the calm that made the farm feel like home even from a thousand miles away.

Clint, who had been silently watching the exchange with his usual mix of exasperation and quiet pride, finally stepped forward, shaking his head with a grin tugging at his lips.

“Hey, kid…” he said, voice rough but soft at the edges. “Aren’t you gonna hug me too?”

Kate blinked, torn between laughing and feeling a little guilty. “Oh! Uh… right!” she exclaimed, stepping toward him. She threw her arms around Clint, just enough to let him feel her warmth but not enough to knock him over - which, knowing Kate, could’ve easily happened.

Clint’s laugh was low and rumbling, a sound that made the tension in her chest ease a fraction. “There we go,” he said, patting her back. “You really are insane, you know that?”

“Insane, yes. Alive - too,” Kate replied, pulling back slightly to grin at him. Her chest still felt tight, but in a good way, the kind that made her feel connected, grounded. “And… well, worth the helicopter crash risk, apparently.”

Clint rolled his eyes, but there was a softness there too. “Yeah, yeah. Just… try not to give Laura and me a heart attack the next time you show up, okay?”

Kate laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Deal,” she said, glancing at Laura and Lucky, both of whom were practically vibrating with happiness. “Seriously though… it’s so good to be here.”

Laura grinned, tugging Kate’s arm as she guided her through the door. “Come on. Let’s get you settled. You and Lucky deserve more than a dusty landing strip welcome.”

Kate followed, her heart still racing from the flight, but also from this. The hug, the words, the feeling of being truly seen and loved - it was grounding, overwhelming, and… incredibly comforting. She smiled wide, and for the first time in a long time, felt like maybe she’d found somewhere that could almost, just almost, feel like an actual family to her.

Kate dropped her stuff next to the door and sank into the couch in the big living room, Lucky sprawling at her feet as Laura bustled around, setting out Kate’s bow from the bag. She glanced around, noticing small details - the old kids’ drawings pinned on the fridge, Clint’s arrows lined up neatly in a corner, the subtle hum of normal family life she’d craved for more than she realized.

“So… the kids?” Kate asked finally, trying to sound casual as she twisted the edge of her sleeve. “Are they around?”

Laura shook her head, smiling softly. “They’re at school today. Busy little bees. Cooper, though… he’s back at Stanford. The history thing he chose seems to suit him well - the last time he called me he gave me a whole ten-minute lecture on the War of 1812”

Kate chuckled, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “Yeah… that sounds like him” She paused. “I… haven’t seen him in a while. Or the kids, really. It’s… weird how much can change while you’re busy… you know, running around doing everything else. Nathaniel must have grown like 5 feet since December.”

Clint leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with that quiet, assessing look he always got when something was on his mind. “Hmm,” he muttered, then shook his head. “You’re not thinking about them too much, are you?”

Kate gave a small, distracted laugh. “Maybe a little… It’s just-” she cut herself off, realizing she didn’t even know exactly what she was feeling. Ugh…Yelena.

Clint stepped closer, his tone shifting gently. “Kate… your mind just disappeared somewhere there for a second. You’re thinking about more than just the flight, aren’t you?”

She looked up at him, eyes catching the sunlight spilling through the window, feeling suddenly very exposed. “Yeah… maybe.”

He gave her a small, understanding nod. “Alright. How about we go outside? Get some fresh air. I’ve got some targets set up. You can shoot a few. Clear your head. Trust me, it helps.”

Kate blinked at him, the suggestion simple but oddly grounding. “You think that’ll solve this?”

Clint smirked, picking up a few practice bows from the corner. “It’ll tell me if something’s bothering you. And if it’s just the usual chaos in your brain… well, at least you’ll hit some targets while thinking about it.”

Kate laughed softly, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. “Uh- okay… I’ll take you up on that. Just don’t laugh if I miss.” She got up and took out her bow from the back.

Clint chuckled. “Kate, the day you miss is the day I’ll come back from my retirement - which I’m not planning doing ever again.”

Kate chuckled and rolled her shoulders, leaving Lucky in the house with Laura, as they stepped out onto the field. The sun was warm on her face as she positioned her bow, nocked an arrow, and let it fly toward the first target. It thudded into the center with a satisfying ping. Clint raised an eyebrow but stayed silent for a second.

“You’re… too good,” he said finally, shaking his head. “Way too good, kid.”

Kate grinned, shrugging casually, but her fingers tapped against the bowstring, restless. “Well even though it’s flattering it may be just beginner’s luck. Or maybe… motivation. Hm- who knows.” She forced a casual laugh, hoping Clint wouldn’t notice the slight flush in her cheeks.

“Motivation?” Clint prompted, frowning as he lined up his own shot.

“Yeah… you know, someone I’m… thinking about. Makes me want to impress them, hit the target and all,” Kate said, her voice light but the words carrying more weight than she intended. She glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction. Clint’s brow quirked.

“Oh?” he said, voice teasing, but not prying. “Someone, huh? That ‘someone’ who’s got you practicing archery on a farm instead of… whatever it is you usually do?”

Kate bit her lip, nodding slowly. “Yeah… it’s… complicated. Not really complicated, just… new. And exciting. And terrifying.” Her laugh was small, almost embarrassed. “But mostly exciting. Yeah.”

Clint’s gaze softened. “Hmm. Sounds kind of serious… or at least someone’s made an impression.” He let out a low whistle. “Guess you’ve got that… spark in your eyes. Haven’t seen that since… well, actually, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen that look on you before.”

Kate shook her head quickly, pretending to focus on the next target. “Don’t make it sound like a big deal. It’s… just someone. Someone I like spending time with. That’s all, man.”

“Uh-huh,” Clint said, drawing his arrow back. “Just someone, huh?” He let the arrow fly, and it hit a bullseye with perfect precision. “You’re making it sound like a villain who’s plotting something. Don’t tell me you’re… smitten, Kate.”

Kate laughed nervously, her cheeks heating. “Maybe. Okay, fine… yes, like a little. But it’s… different. Not like… anyone before.” She fiddled with her bow, trying to focus on the next shot rather than her racing pulse.

“Different, huh?” Clint repeated, studying her. “Well… you’ve got that look. That light in your eyes. Even you are not usually this… distracted. You’ve got someone who matters, don’t ya, kid ?”

Kate exhaled slowly, letting her bow lower. “Yeah… someone matters. I guess kinda matters a lot.” She paused, then added quietly, almost to herself, “More than I expected anyone to…”

Clint nodded, not pushing further, sensing the delicacy of it. “Alright, kid. You don’t have to tell me who it is. But… whoever they are, sounds like they’ve got sort of a good effect on you.”

Kate smiled softly, letting herself sink into that feeling for a moment. “Yeah… they do.” And even though she didn’t say the name, didn’t even think about saying it out loud yet, just admitting it - carefully, but finally out loud - felt good.

She drew another arrow, letting it sail straight into the target. Bullseye.

“Guess you’re right,” she said with a small grin, almost to herself. “Maybe… maybe this is all I needed to figure some stuff out.”

Clint chuckled. “Or maybe the bow’s just better than your brain at hiding secrets.”

Kate laughed, shaking her head, but her eyes lingered on the target. She fired another arrow, the bowstring snapping forward with a sharp twang. Dead center again. Normally, she’d throw in a smug little remark about her own greatness, but her chest was too tight, her mind too full.

She muttered under her breath, almost without realizing, “God, Yelena would make fun of me so hard for acting like this. Overthinking just like she does.”

The words left her lips before she could snatch them back. Her eyes went wide. She froze, bow still raised, pulse spiking so fast she thought she might choke on it.

Clint’s arrow slipped from his fingers mid-draw, thunking into the hay bale a good six inches off the bullseye. His head snapped toward her, brows shooting up.

“…Yelena?” he repeated slowly, like he was testing if he’d actually heard her right.

Kate’s stomach dropped. Shit. She lowered her bow so fast it nearly clattered out of her hands. “I- uh- I mean- it’s not- uhhhh…” she stammered, heat rushing up her neck.

Clint just stared at her, unreadable. He blinked once, then again, and let out a low, baffled laugh. “Yelena. You mean that Yelena? Red Room assassin, Russian accent, Natasha’s sister, tried to kill me more than once- that Yelena?”

Kate winced, chewing her lip so hard it almost bled. “Yeah…apparently that Yelena.”

For a long beat, Clint didn’t say anything. Just stood there, bow slack at his side, staring at her like she’d just told him she had a terminal illness. His hand dragged down his face, pausing at his chin as he glanced at Kate again. His expression wasn’t sharp or angry, more like heavy, like he was balancing too many thoughts at once. The kind of look that told her this wasn’t just going to blow over.

Kate shifted on her feet, bow gripped tight against her hip. Her stomach was twisting itself into knots, heat prickling the back of her neck. “Okay,” she said quickly, words tumbling out like arrows shot too fast. “Before you say anything - before you do the whole ‘dad talk’ thing- just… let me explain, k?”

Clint raised an eyebrow, but stayed quiet, letting her squirm. Which, honestly, was worse.

Kate groaned, dragging a hand down her own face. “It’s not- it’s not like I picked her out of a lineup, right? It’s not like I said, ‘oh hey, the assassin who broke into my apartment and tried to kill my mentor, let’s see how that goes.’ It just… happened. She happened. And now I can’t…” She broke off, chewing her lip raw. “I can’t get away… I don’t want to.”

The silence stretched, broken only by Lucky’s faint barking in the distance, muffled by the house. Clint finally lowered his bow completely, tucking it under one arm. “Kate,” he said carefully, “you realize who we’re talking about, right? She’s…” He trailed off, exhaling slowly, shaking his head as though even saying it out loud felt surreal. “She’s a loaded gun. Not exactly the girl-next-door.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never been much into a girl-next-door type anyway.” Kate laughed nervously, though her voice cracked. “But yeah, no kidding. Believe me, I’ve had the whole ‘self-preservation versus insanity’ talk with myself about a million times.” Her laugh faded into a sigh, and she looked down at the grass. “But it doesn’t matter. Because even when I try to tell myself she’s dangerous, that it’s too scary, too complicated-” she glanced up, eyes earnest, almost pleading “- it still doesn’t stop me from wanting to see her like all the time. And from missing her the second she’s gone.”

Clint studied her for a long moment, his frown softening into something less like judgment and more like concern. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t crack a joke. Just waited, letting her keep going.

Kate’s shoulders slumped, her grip on the bow loosening. “And I know I shouldn’t feel this way. She’s sharp and half the time I think she could break me in two if she wanted - Actually most the time… well anyways - But then she’d look at me - like, really look at me - and suddenly it’s like… like maybe I’m not too much anymore. Like she sees me. Not just your protégé, not Eleanor Bishop’s daughter, not some spoiled kid trying to play superhero. Me.”

Her throat tightened, but she pushed the words out anyway. “I mean- do you know how rare that is? For someone to see me and not just… treat me like I’m stupid? Or brush me off? Or make me feel like I’m tagging along?”

Clint’s eyes softened at that. His jaw worked, like he was trying to form the right words but couldn’t quite land on them yet.

Kate exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “God, I sound ridiculous. I know, okay ?” She kicked at the dirt with her sneaker, bow dangling loose at her side. “But it’s real. At least… it feels real. And that’s kinda terrifying. Because what if I’m wrong? What if she doesn’t feel the same, or worse, what if she does and it blows up in my face anyway?”

She paused the rambling, staring at the bullseye she’d nailed a few minutes ago, suddenly resentful of how simple that target looked compared to the mess she just made by simply saying Yelena’s name.

Clint finally spoke, voice low. “Kid… I don’t think you sound ridiculous.”

Kate blinked, startled by the gentleness in his tone.

He shifted, resting his bow against the fencepost. “I think you sound like someone who cares. A lot. Maybe more than you’re ready to admit. And yeah, Yelena’s complicated. Hell, she’s dangerous. But…” He hesitated, the shadow of Natasha’s name hanging unspoken between them. “…I’ve seen her fight for people. I’ve seen her care, even when she doesn’t want to. So maybe it’s not impossible… it just… won’t be easy. That’s for sure.”

Kate’s chest tightened, a flood of relief and fear colliding in equal measure. “So… you’re not gonna tell me to run the other way?”

Clint sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not gonna lie- I’d feel a hell of a lot better if this crush of yours was, I don’t know, on a barista or a librarian or one of those kid avengers that Kamala girl is pairing you up with… or literally anyone who hasn’t tried to kill me. But…” His lips quirked faintly, almost a smile. “If this is real for you, I’m not gonna tell you to stop. Just… be careful, Kate. ”

Clint leaned back against the fence, his gaze drifting past the fields, past the neat rows of targets like he wasn’t really seeing them anymore. His voice dropped, quiet and steady, the kind of tone Kate knew he only used when he was stepping into memories that still had teeth.

“You know…” he began slowly, “the first time I met Nat, she wasn’t the Natasha Romanoff that everyone thinks about now. She was different. Sharp edges, no roots, just orders.” His eyes flicked to Kate, then away again. “After I-“ He took a deep breath and continued “After I didn’t… you know… kill her… she didn’t suddenly turn into some polished hero right after joining SHIELD. She didn’t immediately know how. She stumbled. She pushed people away. She wanted to be seen as more than just what she’d been made into, but she didn’t even know who that was yet.”

Kate held her breath, listening. He didn’t talk about Natasha often. Never really.

Clint’s mouth twitched into something that was almost a smile, but not quite. “Back then, I saw her fight like hell to find herself. To become this hero she is remembered as. And it wasn’t just me around, either. Bucky was… well, he was just starting to get free of Hydra’s leash. They were basically two people who had their entire lives stolen from them, their choices ripped out of their hands.” He let out a soft, humorless laugh. “It wasn’t pretty. Some days, it was truly a disaster. He saw her and couldn’t stop seeing all the things she reminded him of - training, pain, control…And she… she couldn’t sometimes stand the weight of being that constant reminder.”

Kate’s chest ached, watching the way his expression softened with the memory, his thumb rubbing idly at a scar on his hand.

“They fought through it,” Clint continued. “Eventually the thought of that horrible shared past became a… comfort.But it took time - years - for both of them to stop defining themselves by what was done to them.” He paused, letting the wind stir the grass around them. “Look I just want u to understand that… Yelena… she’s carrying all of that too. She lived through the same machine Nat did. Worse, even, because she was all alone after Natasha managed to break away. And she had no big escape to set her free- not until those vials came along for for years. She was trapped in her own head. Every choice stolen before it was even hers to make.”

Kate swallowed hard, the words landing heavy. Clint’s eyes finally met hers, sharp but not unkind; “You look at her, and maybe you sometimes see someone who’s terrifying and impossible but… you also see her. And what I see - what Nat would’ve seen too - is someone who’s still figuring out how to manage on her own. And if you’re gonna be part of that? It won’t be easy, kid. She’ll push you away, test you, probably even scare the hell out of you. I just need you to remember it. You don’t want to hurt her… and I can’t have you hurt yourself.”

After a beat he continued “But… if you’re stubborn enough - which we both know you are - then maybe you’ll help her find the side of herself she doesn’t think she has. She has a lot to learn about people… that they’re not always there just to use her. She’s still learning how to live outside of all that. She’s still fighting ghosts you can’t see. Just like… Nat did.”

Kate’s fingers tightened around her bowstring, throat tight. “So… what you’re saying is… she might not know how to… be with me- I mean- with someone?”

Clint tilted his head, weighing his answer. “She doesn’t know how to be with herself. I’ve seen her, Kate.” His gaze softened again, like he was making sure the words landed without crushing her. “But that doesn’t mean she can’t get to know. It just means whoever stands beside her… they have to be steady enough to handle when she falls apart.”

Kate blinked quickly, fighting the sting in her eyes. For once, she didn’t try to joke or deflect. Her voice came out small, almost a whisper. “God, I- I don’t know if I’m steady enough.”

Clint studied her for a long moment, his silence pressing heavier than any lecture could. Then, finally, he pushed off the fence, walking the couple of steps to stand in front of her. His hand rested briefly on her shoulder - awkward, tentative, but grounding.

“Kid,” he said quietly, “you’re steadier than you give yourself credit for. You’ve already been steady for me when I didn’t even deserve it. Remember the Tracksuit mess? Christmas? You stuck around when anyone else would’ve bolted.” He squeezed her shoulder gently before letting go. “That counts for something.”

Kate’s throat worked, and she tried to laugh it off, but the sound cracked halfway out. “Yeah, well… maybe I’m just too stubborn to quit.”

Clint huffed, the closest thing to a laugh she’d get out of him right now. “Stubborn’s not a bad thing. Nat was stubborn. Yelena’s stubborn. Guess it runs in that whole assassin family.” His expression softened, like he could see her nerves spilling out no matter how hard she tried to mask them. “Look. Wanting someone like that around… it’s not about fixing them. It’s just about showing up. Over and over. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

Kate’s fingers fumbled with the grip of her bow, restless energy buzzing through her. “I know, I know, but uh- what if I screw it up? What if I’m not enough and she realizes it? Or worse- what if I actually am too much?”

Clint leaned back again, arms folding, his voice steady as an anchor. “Then you learn. That’s the only way it works. Nat used to tell me she was too much all the damn time. Thought she’d break everything she touched. She thought she was a… monster. Truth was…” His eyes flicked skyward, heavy with memory. “…she was the best of us. She just couldn’t see it.”

Kate went still, the ache in her chest catching her off guard.

He glanced at her again, his mouth quirking just enough to soften the words. “I’m not saying you and Yelena are Nat and me… or for that instance Nat and Buck. You’re not. You’re you. She’s her. But don’t count yourself out before you even start. She already sees you as steady enough, does she not? You’ve got fight, kid. And heart. That’s… not nothing.”

Kate blinked, startled by that last part. Her brows pulled together. “Wait- huh? What do you mean, she already sees me as steady enough?”

Clint smirked faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he hadn’t meant to give that much away. “I mean exactly what I said.” He bent down to scoop up an arrow stuck in the dirt, dusting it off with deliberate slowness. “She wouldn’t stick around if she didn’t.”

Kate’s heart lurched. “She… stuck around because she has nowhere else to go, Clint. Or maybe she’s just bored. Or maybe she just likes Lucky.” Her words tumbled out too fast, trying to outrun the hope building in her chest.

Clint gave her a look, sharp and skeptical. “Kate, I’ve been on the wrong end of Yelena’s attention. She doesn’t spend her time on things she doesn’t decide to spend it on. If she’s choosing to be around you? To let you see pieces of her she doesn’t hand out lightly? That’s not nothing either.”

Kate swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. “But what if I can’t keep up with her? She’s- she’s unpredictable, Clint. And brilliant. And completely out of my league.”

“You’re doing it again,” Clint interrupted gently.

She frowned. “Doing what?”

“Cutting yourself down before anyone else gets the chance.” His voice was even, calm, but his eyes didn’t waver from her face. “You’ve always been your own worst critic, Bishop. You hide it under all those jokes, under that confidence, but I see it. And if I see it? Don’t think Yelena hasn’t.”

Kate winced, looking away, her sneakers grinding at the dirt. “Yeah, well… that’s the part that scares me. If she sees it, then she’ll realize maybe I’m not worth it.”

Clint sighed. For a moment, he looked every bit the tired man who had lived through too many battles, carried too many ghosts. Then he straightened and fixed her with a look that was softer than it was stern.

“Kid, Nat used to say the same thing about herself. Over and over. And you know what I told her?”

Kate’s eyes darted back to him, searching. “What?”

“That anyone who couldn’t see her worth wasn’t worth her. And she hated hearing it. Thought I was just blowing smoke.” His mouth twitched, a ghost of a smile. “But I meant it. Still do.”

The words hung heavy in the air between them.

Kate’s chest ached, but it was a different kind of ache now- sharp but warm, like something breaking open to make space for more. She bit her lip, fiddling with the bowstring again. “So… you think… you think maybe I could be good for her? Like if I don’t screw it all up?”

Clint’s eyes softened, a rare gentleness threading through his voice. “I think you already are. She just has to let herself believe it. And you? You’ve gotta let yourself believe it too.”

Kate stood there in silence, staring at the bullseye down the range, but her mind was a thousand miles away - chasing the sound of Yelena’s laugh, the way her eyes sharpened and softened in the same heartbeat, the way she’d once called Kate “annoying” with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her mouth but meant more than any compliment ever could.

Her grip on the bow tightened, steadier now. “Okay,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper but carrying weight. “Okay. I’ll…try.”

Chapter Text

-

Kate sat on the Bartons’ back porch, legs tucked up beneath her, staring out at the expanse of fields that glowed gold under the lowering sun. The world out here was so quiet, so still, it almost felt wrong that her head could be this loud.

Clint’s words had been circling in her chest all afternoon, settling and resettling constantly. ‘She already sees you as steady enough.’ God, even just thinking it again made her throat tight.

Not to mention the confusing fact that lingered in her head, that Natasha used to be with…Bucky? As in the Winter Soldier? That was not some Avenger trivia Kate was familiar with. Or anyone outside the team for that matter.

The screen door creaked softly behind her. Kate didn’t turn - she didn’t need to. A gentle presence lowered itself beside her, the faint scent of laundry detergent and chamomile tea preceding her. Laura pressed a mug of hot tea into her hands without a word, her smile kind but knowing.

Kate blinked, caught off guard. “Oh- you didn’t have to-”

Laura shook her head lightly, brushing it off. “Didn’t seem like you were gonna get up anytime soon. Figured you’d want something to drink, Katie.”

Kate gave a tiny huff of a laugh, but it was short-lived. The warmth of the tea seeped through her fingers, anchoring her in the present even as her chest swelled with things she couldn’t quite grasp. She hadn’t even realized her eyes were stinging until Laura’s hand brushed lightly against her shoulder in a quiet gesture.

That simple kindness unraveled something. Kate bit her lip, blinking hard, but the tears burned hot anyway. She ducked her head, trying to laugh it off. “God, I’m such a mess. I don’t even know why I’m-”

“You don’t need a reason,” Laura said gently, cutting through the air like she’d done this before- like she’d sat in this exact kind of silence with Clint, or maybe… Natasha?

The name alone pressed harder against Kate’s ribcage. Natasha. She hadn’t expected Clint to talk about her today, not like that. Not so open, not so raw. She knew how much weight it carried. And now… now all she could think about was how impossibly high the bar seemed. What Nat had survived. What Yelena was still surviving.

Her throat tightened again. She clutched her mug like it was the only thing keeping her steady. “You know… I never really had someone like this before. Someone who… actually…” Her words faltered, tangled. She shook her head, exhaling shakily. “I don’t even know what to call it.”

Laura didn’t press. She simply shifted, tucking her knees up as well, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Kate in the fading light. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was safe.

And that safety made Kate’s thoughts spiral deeper. Eleanor had never sat beside her like this. Never handed her tea without a speech attached, never noticed when Kate was unraveling unless it had some price attached to it. Comfort with her mom had always been a transaction. With Laura, it was just there.

Kate sniffed softly, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat. “You’re… really good at this. You know that, right?”

Laura smiled, faint but warm. “At what, Kate?”

Kate gestured vaguely, eyes wet but lips quirking. “At… I don’t know. Making people feel like they’re not falling apart, even when they kinda are.”

Laura’s gaze softened. “I’ve had some practice.”.

Oh… yeah. Kate didn’t ask with who. She didn’t need to.

She sat back against the porch rail, eyes fixed on the far horizon, but her mind was filled with Yelena. Sharp edges and cutting remarks, the way she laughed like she didn’t want to but couldn’t help it, the way her eyes seemed to strip Kate down to her bones and still didn’t look away.

Laura took a sip from her own mug, the steam curling into the spring air. She didn’t look at Kate right away, just let the quiet stretch in that patient way of hers. Then, almost casually, she said, “Clint mentioned what you told him earlier.”

Kate’s stomach dropped. She shifted the mug in her hands, eyes snapping toward Laura. “He… what? Oh my God- he told you? Of course he did. I mean, why wouldn’t he? It’s not like I made a total fool of myself or anything.” Her voice pitched high, too quick, and she winced at her own rambling.

Laura’s mouth curved into that small, calm smile that didn’t give away much but still managed to be reassuring. “He didn’t make fun of you, Katie. He doesn’t do that. At least not in situations like this.”

Kate groaned softly, burying her face in one hand. “No, but he probably told you how obnoxious I sounded. I just- I dunno. It’s different when you’re actually saying it out loud, right?”

“Yeah,” Laura said, voice steady. “I know it is.”

Something about that made Kate pause. She pulled her hand away, brow furrowing. For the first time that day, she studied Laura- not as Clint’s wife, not as the closest thing she had to a caring mother, or as the woman who seemed to have endless patience, but as someone who’d lived through all of this in her own way.

Kate bit the inside of her cheek before blurting out the thought that had been clawing at her since Clint’s little speech earlier. “What was it like? For you and Clint, I mean. You weren’t… you know, part of all that.” She waved a hand vaguely, trying to capture the chaos of Avenger-level insanity without having to say the words. “Not like him… or Nat.”

Laura’s gaze didn’t waver. She leaned her elbow against the porch rail, looking out at the horizon as if the answer might be written there. “Hard,” she admitted simply. “And good. Both at once.”

Kate blinked. That wasn’t the polished answer she’d expected.

Laura went on, her tone quiet, thoughtful. “When he came home, sometimes it felt like he was halfway somewhere else. His head was still on missions, still in fight, with her. And I had to learn not to take that personally. I was never jealous of her, though. She was… part of our family. And with time I learned… he wasn’t shutting me out. He was… surviving. The job takes things from you. It took things from him. From Natasha it did too. I just tried to be here, steady, when they needed a place to land.”

Kate’s chest tightened, the words lodging deeper than she expected. A place to land.

She swallowed hard, voice smaller now. “And… was that enough? Just being here?”

Laura turned to her then, finally meeting her eyes. There was no hesitation. “It was. It had to be. Because it’s never about matching their world exactly, Katie. It’s about giving them a reason… to come back.”

Kate’s grip on her mug trembled slightly. Her mind flashed instantly to Yelena- her grin, her guarded silences, her laugh. A reason to come back.

Her throat worked, and she nodded, even as her voice came out rough. “I don’t know if I can be that for her. Even as a friend, let alone… uh- whatever…”

Laura’s hand brushed lightly against her arm, grounding. “Katie, just… don’t think about it too much. Just be a good… friend, when she needs one.”

Kate bit her lip, heart pounding, because somehow that sounded both terrifying and impossible but somehow… doable. She took a deep sip of her tea, letting the warmth anchor her for a few seconds longer before finally breaking the silence. “Hey…” she began hesitantly, eyes still on the horizon, “did you… I mean, did you know about Bucky and Natasha? Like… all of it?”

Laura’s gaze softened, thoughtful. She let out a slow exhale, stirring her own mug absentmindedly. “I knew some,” she admitted. “Clint and her told me bits and pieces over time. Enough to know how hard it was for both of them… but I never needed to know all the details. It wasn’t my place. What mattered was… they got through it. And they had each other to come back to.”

Kate nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Yeah… that’s what Clint said too. About Yelena. About seeing her even when it’s hard, and not counting her out. I guess… that kind of makes sense. Maybe.”

Laura gave her a small, encouraging smile, and for the first time, Kate let herself lean back against the rail, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a fraction. “Maybe,” she echoed, softly.

The weight of the conversation slowly lifted. Kate, feeling the edges of her usual humor creeping back, nudged Laura gently with her shoulder. “You know, if I keep moping like this, you’re gonna start thinking I’m some kind of pathetic kid and not the next Hawkeye.”

Laura chuckled quietly, shaking her head. “Katie, you do that enough on your own. I don’t need to think it for you.”

Kate grinned, letting herself relax a little more. “Okay, fine. Yup. Then I’ll just settle for being the slightly dramatic, completely unprepared hero-in-training that is probably way too easy to read.” She paused, pretending to think seriously, “And possibly can’t manage serious relationships.”

Laura laughed softly, the sound gentle in the late afternoon air, and Kate felt a bubble of warmth at how normal it felt.

The distant hum of the school bus made Kate perk up, her ears straining to catch it. A moment later, the familiar squeal of brakes and shouts reached them. “That must be Nathaniel and Lila!” she said, eyes brightening.

Laura’s eyebrows lifted with a quiet smile. “Then I think it’s time to bring that tea break inside, huh?”

Kate hopped to her feet, balancing her mug carefully. As they stepped inside, the front door burst open and Nathaniel and Lila practically flew in, laughter and chatter spilling over them.

Kate’s grin widened, and her arms lifted automatically. “Hey! Guess who just flew a helicopter and survived the world of grown-up feelings?”

The two kids froze for a second, then burst into delighted exclamations, rushing to hug her both at once. Their energy, their happiness, was contagious, and Kate laughed, letting herself be swept up in it. For the first time that day, she felt lighter, just like she did when she woke up, before all that weight that has come upon her… even with Lena still lingering in the back of her mind.

Laura followed behind, smiling quietly at the scene, letting Kate bask in the chaotic, perfect noise of an almost full family,despite the absence of Clint who was taking a nap upstairs.

Kate crouched down so she was closer to Nathaniel’s height. “Alright, little man, tell me everything. Did you behave on the bus today, or am I gonna have to lecture you, hm?”

Nathaniel giggled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I behaved! Mostly! Lila sat next to me so I didn’t get distracted!”

Kate raised an eyebrow at Lila, who was smirking. “Oh, really? You’re protecting him from himself, huh?”

Lila shrugged, playful. “Somebody’s gotta make sure he doesn’t run around a driving bus.” She glanced at Kate, eyes glinting. “Hey, if you want, you could shoot some with me. I’m actually pretty decent - I mean - that’s what dad said. But he’s boring. And you could show me some tricks!”

Kate laughed softly, ruffling Nathaniel’s hair. “That’s tempting, Lila… really tempting. But sadly, I’m not staying for long.” She gestured vaguely toward the porch as if that explained it all. “I’ve got a… hangout tomorrow in New York. Someone I promised to meet. Big city, big plans, you know?”

Lila pouted dramatically, but there was a sparkle in her eyes. “Ah, so a… date is more important?”

Kate threw her hands up, laughing, but her voice carried that signature rush of words she always seemed to spill when she was caught between nerves and excitement. “No! Not exactly a… date! Well, I mean, maybe. Sort of. I wish…It’s complicated, obviously- don’t worry, you don’t need to understand the logistics of some grown-up. It’s just someone I’m hanging out with, okay? Nothing dangerous. Maybe. Probably not. But definitely in New York. Definitely tomorrow. Definitely some walking around. And maybe some… um… conversation, if I don’t fu- I MEAN- mess it up.”

Nathaniel tilted his head, clearly trying to keep up with her rapid-fire explanation. “Uh… okay?”

Lila crossed her arms, smirking. “Sounds like a lot. You sure you can handle it, Bisop?”

Kate stuck out her tongue, grinning. “Oh, don’t even- yeah, obviously. Totally. Like I’m 100% professional in all aspects of… whatever this is.” She waved her hands vaguely again, as if that clarified anything.

Laura’s voice cut in from the kitchen doorway, calm but firm. “Katie, enough rambling. And you two,” she glanced at the kids, her tone soft but unmistakably authoritative, “stop torturing her with questions. Go do your homework first. Then maybe you can bother her again later.”

The kids groaned in unison but obeyed, shoving past Kate with exaggerated sighs and laughter, heading upstairs towards their rooms.

Kate exhaled, letting herself slump a little against the counter, still smiling despite the lingering fluster. “You’ve got a way of shutting down my charm, huh?” she muttered, shaking her head, though the smile never left her face.

Laura chuckled, coming to stand beside her. “Someone’s gotta keep you in check, Katie. You’d talk their ears off otherwise.”

Kate leaned against the counter, mug in hand, letting the warmth seep in again. “Yeah… yeah, I suppose that’s fair. But seriously- New York tomorrow? With… Lena!? I mean… how is that even real? Like now I’m here and tomorrow I’ll be there and probably very nervous but happy- I-”

Laura just smiled, letting her sit in that buzzing, tentative excitement, letting the room feel like it could hold a little magic and a little chaos all at once.

Kate sank onto the couch, tea - now colder - in her hands, heart buzzing with the mix of excitement and nerves. She dug her phone out of her pocket, thumbs hovering over the screen as if just touching it might make the courage appear.

‘Okay. Okay, just… text her. Keep it normal. Don’t trip over your own words. Totally doable.’

Her fingers moved almost of their own accord.

hi. just flew to Iowa but wish i was in ny with u.

can’t stop thinking about tomorrow.

see you soon - dw not that i’m excited or anything…

She paused and deleted. And wrote something and deleted again. And again. No. Too dumb. Too flirty. Too… ugh.

Finally she typed:

Kate [6:21 p.m.]: heyy lena ;) i’m very looking forward for to tmrw. let’s meet at 9 cuz i lowkey have to fly to a helicopter to ny from iowa

Satisfied. Well, mostly…she pressed send.

Her thumb hovered over the screen afterward, staring at the the lack of those tiny dots that meant Yelena was… well, probably doing whatever Yelena did when she wasn’t responding immediately.

Minutes passed. The tea turned cold in her hands. Kate tapped the screen again, unconsciously. Nothing.

Of course, she muttered under her breath. Why would she answer immediately? She’s… Yelena. Busy. She told me she will be.

She set the mug down on the coffee table, curling her legs beneath her, trying not to drown in her own spiralling thoughts. She didn’t even know when she laid down and drifted to sleep.

-

Kate didn’t even know she was asleep until the sharp buzz against her thigh startled her awake. She jerked upright on the couch, hair sticking out on one side, heart thumping like she’d been caught doing something illegal instead of drooling into a throw pillow.

For a split second, she was disoriented - sun gone from the windows, the house quieter than it should be. Then the phone buzzed again, and her pulse spiked.

Her screen lit up with Yelena’s name.

Kate rubbed at her face with both hands, trying to shake off the grogginess. “Okay, Kate, don’t look desperate,” she mumbled to herself, already fumbling for the phone. “Normal. Chill. Totally not pathetic.”

The lockscreen preview glowed at her:

Yelena [8:05 p.m.]: You? Take a helicopter to New York? Really?
Yelena [8:06 p.m.]: You are ridiculous.

Kate’s chest tightened in that way it always did when Yelena’s words landed - so blunt, dry, so painfully Lena it made her heart stumble. A grin spread over her face before she could stop it, until she was practically burying herself in the throw pillow just to smother the undignified squeak threatening to escape her throat.

She reread the texts once. Twice. Three times. Each time her smile got dumber, more impossible to wrestle down. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, every word option spiraling into either too much or not enough.

But before she could even type, the phone buzzed again.

Yelena [8:08 p.m.]: Wait. You were being serious? You actually flew a helicopter by yourself? That is not good.
Yelena [8:08 p.m.]: Even for you, Kate Bishop, it was an obviously unsafe idea.

Kate blinked, her grin faltering into surprise. Her heart skipped in a completely different way now, the kind that tightened her throat. Yelena never texted like this- clipped, sure, but not… worried. Not like this.

Another message came through.

Yelena [8:09 p.m.]: I can track your location if you want me to. I can drive. Iowa is not that far.

Kate’s breath hitched. She sat all the way up, pillow sliding off her lap as she stared at the words like they’d materialized out of some alternate reality. Yelena Belova - deadpan assassin, the most unbothered person ever - was offering to drive to damn Iowa. For her.

Totally cool.

Her thumbs shook over the screen, caught between wanting to respond immediately and just staring in disbelief. Was she still dreaming ? Because it for sure felt like it. The buzzing in her chest wasn’t just giddy anymore; it was… overwhelming.

Then another bubble appeared before she could get a word out.

Yelena [8:10 p.m.]: For that matter, why are you even in Iowa?

Kate pressed the phone against her chest for a second, heart hammering so hard she swore Laura might hear it from the kitchen. A wild laugh threatened to break out, tangled with the burn of tears in her eyes. Yelena wasn’t just teasing her anymore - she was concerned. She cared.

Kate’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, half-typed words blinking back at her before she backspaced them out again. What was she even supposed to say? Yes, please come rescue me from my own dumb choices? No. Way too desperate. But the thought of Yelena actually showing up - of her walking through the front door of the Barton house like she belonged there - made Kate’s chest feel like it might combust.

The problem was, she did want her to come. She wanted it so badly it ached. Because as much as she tried to play off the whole helicopter stunt as just another “Kate Bishop thing,” the idea of flying it back to New York alone, after she had barely managed to land it on a field, had been sitting like a stone in her stomach all day. She’d never admit that out loud - God forbid Yelena knew she was in over her head. The thought of Lena helping felt so good. Or even just Lena’s voice beside her, even if it was just nagging her the whole way? That she could handle.

Her thumbs twitched. She typed:
Kate [8:12 p.m.]: nooo, no, it’s fine. very good on my own ;p

She stared at it for three seconds, then deleted it. Too dismissive. Too fake.

She tried again:
Kate [8:13 p.m.]: you really don’t have to. i wouldn’t want you to waste ur time on me

Deleted. That sounded like a dare, like she was pushing Yelena away. And the truth was, she didn’t want her away. Not at all.

Kate groaned and flopped back into the couch cushions, dragging the pillow over her face like it could block out her own spiraling. Her heart hammered, faster with every vibration of the phone still clutched in her hand. Yelena was waiting.

Another sticking point was… Iowa. The Bartons. Clint.

Kate chewed the inside of her cheek. That part wasn’t just awkward - it was dangerous territory. Yelena had never exactly loved the Barton topic because it was very reminiscent of Natasha’s death, and Kate wasn’t stupid; she could read between the lines of their history, even if neither of them spelled it out. And yeah, sure, she and Clint had kind of made up, sort of patched over the mess between them. But having Yelena be here, at his house, with his family? That could go badly.

Really badly.

Fuck.

Her phone buzzed again.

Yelena [8:16 p.m.]: You are taking too long to answer. That means you are not fine.
Yelena [8:16 p.m.]: Just let me get you, Kate Bishop.

Kate’s stomach flipped. She could practically hear the daring way Yelena would say her name in person. And yet, underneath it, she thought she heard something else - fear.

She sat there, thumbs frozen, staring at the little message window like it might save her if she just… waited long enough. But it didn’t. The screen stayed blank.

Her chest squeezed. This was Yelena. She wanted her here. But if Lena showed up and saw her here, at Clint’s house, would it all backfire? Would it undo everything they’d been carefully building?

Kate swallowed hard, fingers shaking as she finally started typing.

Kate [8:17 p.m.]: okay so full disclosure, i’m at the barton’s

She stopped. Deleted. That sounded like a confession, like she’d been caught.

She tried again.

Kate [8:18 p.m.]: soooo, funny story, i may or may not have impulsively decided to fly a thousand miles and then kinda… been babied by the Barton family for the day.

She read it back, winced. Too casual. Too much like a joke when it wasn’t.

She groaned, raking her hands through her hair until it stuck up worse than before. Finally, with her heart hammering so loud she swore the walls might hear it, she just let her thumbs go, rambling in a way she knew she’d regret the second she hit send.

Kate [8:20 p.m.]: okay fine. i’m at clint’s. the Barton house. if you don’t wanna come after that i totally get it, i mean, obviously it’s complicated and maybe kind of a minefield for you and i probably should’ve just said i was in iowa and left it at that but i don’t wanna lie to you and give u some kind of shock when u do come and now i’m rambling which is probably making this worse so yeah. i get it. if you don’t wanna. i’ll figure it out.

Kate stared at the message. It was a mess. It was way too much. It was everything she didn’t want Yelena to see - her desperation, her fear, her inability to play it cool in these kinds of situations.

And yet… her chest felt lighter just looking at it. Like, for once, she wasn’t hiding.

Her thumb dropped. Message sent.

Kate threw the phone onto the pillow beside her like it might burn a hole in her hand, then shoved her face into her palms. ‘Oh my god, Bishop, you are the worst.’ she thought.

The seconds dragged. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Each one stretched her nerves tighter, until she was sure she’d snap.

Then the buzz came. One short vibration that had her snatching the phone back up like she’d never let it go in the first place.

Yelena [8:21 p.m.]: You talk too much even over text.

Kate’s stomach flipped. Then another bubble appeared.

Yelena [8:21 p.m.]: I’ll track your phone. I am coming overnight.

Kate’s breath caught, a laugh slipping out half-wild, half-shaky. Relief flooded her chest so fast it was dizzying. Yelena wanted to come - which, logistically, was insane - but also the most Yelena thing ever.

Kate shot up so fast the pillow tumbled off her lap and onto the floor. Her whole body was buzzing, her grin completely unstoppable. She clutched the phone to her chest for one second, then scrambled to her feet, practically tripping over the throw blanket tangled around her legs.

“Laura!” she hissed under her breath, half-running toward the kitchen like a kid on their way to annoy their mother- even though she had absolutely nothing to hide except her own flailing heart.

Laura was at the counter, calmly rinsing dishes, hair falling loose from the bun she’d tied up earlier. She didn’t even look surprised when Kate skidded to a stop, nearly colliding with a chair.

Kate pressed her palms against the edge of the counter, leaning in with wild, sparkling eyes. “Okay, don’t freak out, but-” she cut herself off, breathless, shaking her head. “Actually, freak out a little, because this is… crazy. Yelena’s coming.”

Laura set the dish towel down, finally turning toward her with that calm, unshakable expression that was somehow both grounding and knowing. “In the morning?”

Kate blinked. “Wait, how did you- could you see my phone? Or- am I that transparent?”

Laura just lifted a brow, lips quirking faintly. “You’ve been vibrating just as much as the phone ever since she texted you the first time. I had a guess.”

Kate groaned, burying her face in her hands before peeking through her fingers. “Ughhh, Why. Just why…. But yes. Yeah. She’s coming. Like- actually. She said she’d track my phone and be here by morning.”

The words tumbled out of her so fast she had to suck in a breath just to keep going. “Which is insane, right? Because it’s Iowa, and it’s your house, and there’s history with Natasha, and God, what if she hates that I’m even here, and what if she-”

Laura reached out, gently but firmly catching one of Kate’s wrists, lowering her hands. “Katie. Breathe.”

Kate sucked in air, chest rising, and for a moment her frantic thoughts stalled under Laura’s steady gaze.

Laura’s voice softened, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in it. “You want her to come, don’t you?”

Kate’s throat tightened instantly. She nodded before she could stop herself, voice small but fierce. “More than anything.”

“Then that’s what matters,” Laura said simply, giving her wrist a little squeeze before letting go.

Kate’s lips wobbled into a smile, tears prickling at her eyes again- God, what was wrong with her today? She laughed, nervous and giddy, spinning halfway in a circle before collapsing into one of the chairs at the table. “Oh my God, she’s actually coming. What if I forget how to talk to her? What if I-”

Laura set a fresh mug of tea in front of her, cutting her rambling off with a look that managed to be both amused and reassuring. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Yeah. Of course. Cool.

In some strange way, Kate didn’t feel out of place. She felt… steadier. Nervous as hell, yes, but steady, like the ground was already bracing her for tomorrow.

Kate barely had time to calm down before the front door swung open with a familiar creak, followed by the chaotic shuffle of boots and voices.

Clint’s voice echoed from the doorstep as he noticed Kate sitting at the table, a mix of surprise and amusement. “Well, look who decided to be awake!”

Kate hadn’t even realized Clint and the kids had left for a bit, and now they were back, barging in like a small, cheerful tornado.

Her mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. “Oh! Uh… hey! Didn’t… I mean… didn’t expect you back so soon,” she managed, words tripping over themselves.

Clint raised a brow, glancing at her with that sly, knowing grin. “Figured. You were dead asleep when we left.”

Kate’s ears flushed. “Uh… yeah. I might have been.” She waved vaguely at the couch as if that explained everything. “It was… uh… necessary. Long flight. Helicopter stuff. You know.”

Nathaniel ran past her toward the living room, squealing something about some dog he saw at Walmart, while Lila jabbed her elbow into Clint’s side, dragging him along for the inevitable chaos.

Kate exhaled slowly, trying to recover her composure. She caught Clint’s eye briefly, and the smile faltered into a more serious expression. She quickly got up and leaned close to him, lowering her voice. “Hey… uh… so… something kind of big just happened.”

Clint tilted his head, curious. “Oh? Something big, huh?”

Kate swallowed, heart hammering. “Yeah. Yelena… she’s coming. Tomorrow. She’s actually… she’s kinda coming to get me.”

Clint’s expression flickered, but only for a second before he nodded. He looked Kate up and down, letting the information sink in. “That’s… yeah- that’s good. Sounds like you’re excited.”

Kate’s cheeks flushed, and she nodded vigorously. “Yeah! Excited, nervous, panicking a little, but mostly excited. I… I just told Laura.” She paused, voice trailing slightly. “She said it’s okay.”

Clint gave her a small, approving nod. “It is Kate. She doesn’t even have to come in if she doesn’t want to see me… which I’d totally understand… But make sure she knows she’s welcome.”

Kate let out a shaky laugh, looking down at her hands. “Yeah. Right- okay. I’ll definitely do that.”

Clint smirked. “You’ll be okay, kid. And she will too”

Kate felt a tiny bubble of courage settle in her chest. The ambience of the house - the kids, the laughter, - suddenly felt grounding and somehow not overwhelming at all.

“And… uh…” she added, voice dropping to a whisper, “thanks for not freaking out about inviting her here. It’s your safe place, I should’ve asked.”

Clint’s grin softened. “It’s fine by me, Kate. You always find your way. And apparently, you’ve got friends who’ll drive across states to prove it.”

Kate’s laugh was quieter this time, more genuine, but it still carried that nervous edge that had her bouncing on her toes. “Yeah… I guess I do.”

She let herself sink into the moment, Clint’s calm presence grounding her, and somewhere in the back of her mind, that small, electrifying thought: Yelena was on her way.

Chapter Text

-

The morning light spilled through the Barton kitchen window, thin and golden, catching on the steam rising from Laura’s coffee mug. The house was quiet - for once - except for the faint occasional creak of the floorboards. Clint went out to drive his children to school, so naturally the constant noise of Nathaniel simply being around was gone, as well as the hum of music usually coming from Lila’s room.

Kate sat at the table, her knee bouncing so hard it made the spoon in her cereal bowl clink against the edge. She’d been up since six, though “up” was a strong word. She hadn’t really slept.

She was very aware that Yelena would most likely arrive around 2 or 3 p.m., but she couldn’t bear the wait regardless. Kate Bishop was obviously not ‘the patient type’ but even for her - this was strange and annoying.

Before she’d been so good with casual, and now? Even the idea of a simple drive with Lena turned her into a complete mess.

She’d checked her phone no less than a dozen times in the past hour, just in case Yelena had texted something like I changed my mind or car broke down or never mind, you’re too much trouble. But no - the last message still sat there, sharp and solid:

Yelena [11:54 p.m.]: I will be there afternoon.

Kate still had around 6 hours of wait. God.

Laura moved around the kitchen quietly, setting down a plate of toast beside Kate’s bowl. “Eat something,” she said in that even, no-argument tone that could probably calm an explosion.

Kate looked down at the toast like it was a bomb. “I’m not really thinking ‘bout hunger at the moment- uh…” she waved a hand vaguely, “You know…”

Laura sipped her coffee, unbothered. “You’ll need the energy if she’s anything like what I’ve heard.”

Kate groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Oh my- did Clint talk about her?”

“Only a little.” Laura’s voice was too innocent to be trusted.

Kate peeked up through her fingers. “Define ‘a little’.”

Laura smiled over the rim of her mug, eyes soft but knowing. “Well, Nat talked about her too, you know.”

Kate’s head shot up, instantly alert. “Wait- really? Like…actually talked about her?”

“Mhm.” Laura set her mug down with a quiet clink. “Quite a lot actually. It was always so… warm. Protective.” She tilted her head slightly, remembering. “She said that - when they were kids - Yelena was kind of her polar opposite - that Yelena was so considerate and emotional, but also very athletic and fast. Nat herself was stubborn but persistent… and sharp and protective. A little too good at pretending she didn’t need anyone.”

Kate blinked, something tugging deep in her chest. “Yeah… that tracks.”

Laura gave her a knowing look. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

“Hey!” Kate protested, pointing at herself, indignant. “I am- okay, fine, maybe a little stubborn. But at least I don’t brood in corners and glare at people.”

Laura chuckled. “No, you just fly helicopters without a license.”

Kate froze mid-eye roll. “…Clint told you that I don’t have one, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Laura said, fighting back a smile. “Though to be fair, he also said he was impressed you survived the landing.”

Kate groaned, burying her face in her hands again. “God, I’m never living that down.”

For a few moments, the kitchen settled into a companionable quiet again. Laura turned back to her mug, but her tone softened when she spoke next.

“You know,” she said, “Nat worried about Yelena. Even when she said she didn’t. She wanted her to have something better… a life that wasn’t just fighting.”

Kate’s chest ached a little. “Think she’d be okay with me… I don’t know, hanging out with her?”

Laura smiled gently. “I think she’d be glad Yelena found someone who makes her laugh.”

Kate’s mouth curved into a small, crooked grin - the kind that wasn’t really confident, but close enough to pass. “She doesn’t laugh that often. But when she does…” She trailed off, eyes distant for a moment, remembering the last time - Yelena’s quick, startled laugh at something stupid Kate had said on the walk around the Central Park, the way it softened her whole face. “It’s kinda like seeing a solar eclipse.”

Laura tilted her head, warmth in her voice. “Hm. That rare?”

“More like… that blinding.”

Laura’s laugh was quiet, fond. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”

Kate sighed, slumping back in her chair. “Oh yeah, I am…”

-

The clock ticked ten. Then eleven. Clint still didn’t come home, Kate guessed he was just running some errands.

She tried watching a random show on Netflix that someone once recommended to her - Arcane? Or something like that - but she couldn’t focus. She tried helping Laura fold laundry; she got distracted and ended up talking to Lucky instead. By noon, she was pacing the porch, Clint’s old S.H.E.I.L.D hoodie half-zipped, hair a mess, phone in hand like it might speed up time if she stared at it hard enough.

By one-thirty, the hum of the highway beyond the fields made her heart stutter every few minutes - each car a maybe. She kept stepping out onto the porch, scanning the distance, pretending she wasn’t doing exactly that.

Then - around two - a faint dust trail appeared down the long dirt road leading to the Barton house.

Lucky barked once and trotted to the end of the fence as if he knew before she did.

Kate froze, breath catching.

The car rolled closer, a black old-looking Mercedes - which didn’t suit Yelena at all, slowing as it neared the gate. And then she saw it - saw her. Blonde, flipped-to-the-side, short hair, sunglasses on, one hand steady on the wheel.

Yelena Belova.

Kate’s brain immediately short-circuited.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” she muttered, pacing a small circle before catching her reflection in the window. “Okay. Chill. Be cool, Bishop. Be chill.”

She wasn’t chill.

By the time Yelena parked and stepped out, Kate had gone completely still on the porch - wide-eyed, frozen halfway between running to her and pretending she’d just happened to be there.

Yelena shut the car door and looked up. She was dressed in gray trousers and a black knitted sweater. The sunlight caught on her face, on the faint curve of a smirk. She looked so… good, in literally anything.

“You are staring,” she said, voice dry and accented, as she slung her backpack over her shoulder.

Kate blinked rapidly. “No, I’m- uh- observing- like a professional- uh… people observer.”

Yelena arched an eyebrow. “You mean ‘staring’.”

“Okay, fine, staring,” Kate admitted quickly, breathless. “But in a respectful, non-creepy, you look really good in daylight kind of way.”

That earned her a faint exhale of amusement. “Not creepy at all, Kate Bishop.”

Kate grinned, heart hammering. “You missed me though, right?”

Yelena didn’t answer right away - but the tiny, almost imperceptible softening of her expression said enough.

Kate’s grin faltered just slightly as she studied Yelena closely. The smirk, the sunglasses, the controlled posture - it was all there, the familiar shield she always carried. But her chest ached in recognition, because she could see past it.

There was a flicker in Yelena’s eyes when she glanced at the house. The mask of effortless numbness barely concealed it.

Kate swallowed, heart twisting. She knew that look. She’d seen it before - on people like Clint, who’d survived too much, carried too much, and had to convince the world they were untouchable just to breathe. She knew that being here was definitely costing Yelena something.

“You okay?” Kate asked softly, voice low, instinctively leaning forward a little. “You don’t have to… I mean, you’re here, but-” She waved vaguely at the house. “I get it. It’s… a lot.”

Yelena blinked, just once, sharp, but not dismissive. Her smirk softened into something unreadable. “I’m fine,” she said, clipped. “Don’t worry, Kate Bishop. I am good at handling a lot.”

Kate’s chest tightened, and she shook her head. “No, Lena. I mean… I see you. I see past the… you know-” Her words stumbled, hesitant but sincere. “I know this doesn’t come easy.”

Yelena froze for half a heartbeat, then let out a short, humorless laugh. “You are…observant ,” she muttered, almost a growl, but the tension around her eyes softened for a second.

Kate grinned faintly, heart racing. “Somebody has to be. Otherwise you’d just… hide it all and stuff, you know?”

For a moment, Yelena’s facade cracked, just enough for Kate to see the fatigue there - the quiet, steady weight of someone who had carried too much alone. And then she blinked, shifted, and her smirk returned, sharper, more controlled.

“Whatever you say.,” Yelena said, shaking her head, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward almost imperceptibly. “But… okay. Let’s see this… family chaos you’ve been hiding from me.”

Kate laughed, breathless, chest tight in the best way and the worst way at the same time. She felt it all at once - the thrill, the fear, the excitement, and the quiet understanding that whatever came next, Lena had chosen to be here, even if it hurt to do it.

Kate stepped down from the porch, careful but eager, her unlaced Docs crunching against the gravel. “Welcome, then,” she said, grinning as she motioned toward the house.

Yelena followed, her combat boots clicking against the stairs, a measured pace, but her eyes flickered to the archer every so often. And Kate, heart hammering like it had a pulse of its own, realized she didn’t have to do anything else but meet her halfway. Even if just for today, it was still progress.

They both stepped indoors, Yelena’s boots soft against the floorboards. She stopped just inside the doorway, eyes sweeping over the house - the photographs, the soft clutter, the kind of quiet warmth that couldn’t exist in safehouses, hotels or rented apartments.

Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

Kate caught it though - that flicker of something heavy. “Hey,” she said softly, careful now, “you okay?”

Yelena didn’t answer right away. Her gaze lingered on a framed photo on the wall - Natasha holding a baby that Yelena probably figured was one of Barton’s. It hit her like a punch. She blinked hard, forcing her voice steady, she finally spoke as if stating a soulless fact. “This house… smells like her. Laundry and soap. She used to… borrow his shirts, I assume.”

Kate’s chest ached. She stepped closer, quiet, not wanting to break whatever fragile thing had just surfaced between them. Yelena turned toward her, eyes sharp again - defensive. “I am not sad, Kate Bishop, don’t look at me like this.”

Kate smiled softly. “I never said you were.”

That seemed to knock some of the tension out of the air. Yelena exhaled slowly, gaze drifting toward the kitchen. “Is his wife here?”

“Oh, yeah. She probably went upstairs if she’s not in the kitchen.” Kate managed a crooked grin. “She’ll probably come down any minute.”

It only took seconds before footsteps padded down the stairs. Laura appeared in the doorway wiping her hands against her jeans, hair loose, eyes warm and steady as a hearth.

“Oh!” she said, blinking once as she took in Yelena. Her face didn’t flicker with surprise, just that easy, practiced welcome that made Kate even more grateful Lena agreed on coming inside. “You must be Yelena.” She stepped forward with a small smile and an automatic, careful gentleness. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

Yelena’s jaw tightened for a fraction of a second - habit, shield - but she put out a hand anyway, the motion controlled and precise. “Yelena Belova,” she said, voice clipped but not unfriendly. “Thank you for… uh- letting me come.”

Laura took the hand as if it were nothing, like meeting assassins and spies for tea was a normal Tuesday. Well, for her it kind of was. “Of course. Our house is always open. Come in - sit. Want some tea? Or actually- I’ll make you coffee, Yelena. You must be very tired after that drive. ” She glanced at Kate with that small, amused look the woman had perfected.

After a short while Laura settled two mugs on the table and sat across from them, watching Yelena with an unreadable expression that was mostly kind. “You must be tired from the drive,” she said again. “You’re welcome to make yourself comfortable. If you want to… you two can still stay the night and drive tomorrow. But that’s only if you - Yelena, are fine with it?”

Yelena just nodded, downturned smile spreading across her face. She didn’t relax all the way - her shoulders still held that low hum of tension - but she sat slightly lower on the chair. She kept her sunglasses on for a few moments, then took them off slowly and laid them on the table.

Kate sat down beside her before she realized she’d moved, knees almost brushing Yelena’s. “So… are you hungry? We have leftover pie. Laura makes an excellent pie, which is a totally useless data point but-” Kate stumbled over her own words and then stopped, because Yelena actually gave a little, real laugh. Not mocking, not mean - an actual humor.

Laura’s eyes softened at the sound. “Nat used to love cherry pie,” she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. She caught Yelena’s quick glance at the name and didn’t flinch. “She’d steal the biggest slice when no one was looking.”

For a moment the air went thin. Yelena swallowed, fingers tightening around the mug. You could see a whole list of things cross her face - memory, regret, something like longing - and then she straightened as if resetting her posture. “Yeah… that- sounds like her.” Yelena said, and there was no melodrama in it, only a factual softness. It landed gently between the three of them.

Kate’s hand found Yelena’s under the table before she noticed she’d moved - a casual, almost accidental squeeze. Yelena’s reaction was tiny: her eyes flicked to Kate, something unreadable passing there, yet she allowed the contact, subtle and steady.

Laura poured another cup and pushed it toward Yelena. “Listen,” she said, voice completely ordinary and absolutely steady. “You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. But you’re welcome here. All of you.”

Yelena’s mouth flicked once, like acceptance more than gratitude. “I do not… need to be coddled,” she said, but it was softer than her usual barbs. “But thank you.”

Laura hesitated only a second before she pushed herself up from her seat and gave them both a small, knowing smile. “I’ll go work in the garden. Call if you need anything.” She lingered at the threshold for a beat, then left - the door closing quietly behind her like the world outside had agreed to cede them a little private time.

The living room shrank to only the three of them: Kate, Yelena, and Lucky’s occasional snores. For the first time that afternoon the noise fell into something gentle instead of jagged, and Kate realized she could actually hear Yelena breathe.

“Sooo,” Kate said, trying for breezy and landing somewhere between hersay and real, “wanna take a walk? Unless you’re planning to I don’t know- interrogate the photo frames for battle stories.” She nudged Lucky with her foot and the dog thumped his tail in approval.

Yelena gave a small half-smile - an expression that still managed to look like a flash of steel. “Walk,” she said. “We were supposed to take one anyway, weren’t we, Kate Bishop? In the city though, there are only concrete ways and echo. Here… it is nicer.”

They slipped out the back door. The air hit them - dry, afternoon warmth that smelled like wood smoke and cut grass. The yard opened into the long sweep of the nearby fields: low hills rolling into one another, a crooked path that vanished into a far line of trees, the sky enormous and unthreatening. Lucky bounded ahead and then turned to look back, as if escorting them.

Kate fell into an easy stride beside Yelena, grateful and nervous in equal measure. “So- field life,” she said, letting words spill because silence felt too heavy sometimes. “You ever do country things, ‘cause you grew up in…uh- Ohio, didn’t you? Like- ride a horse or inadvertently join a tractor parade?”

Yelena snorted softly, the sound almost like a laugh. “I have never ridden a horse. I have run when chased by dogs.” Her eyes darted to Kate then, an eyebrow curving. “Not the same.”

“Trust me,” Kate said, grinning, “You’d probably be better at it than me anyway. My mother- she made me take those equestrian lessons…and uh- I sucked.” She swallowed and then added, quieter, “Also… thank you for coming. I- I know this isn’t exactly your scene.”

Yelena looked at her, full-on, for the first time since she’d walked up the drive. The fuck-you armor that usually sat around her shoulders had softened - just a little. “You needed it,” she said plainly. “You wanted me to come. I am not superstitious, Kate Bishop, but I do not ignore your desperate invitation attempts.”

Kate felt a stupid, thrilled jolt in her chest. “Desp- me?! No. Never, Lena.”

They walked on, the world folding away into rows of grass and the high hum of insects. Eventually they slowed and ended up next to an old, lone fence, that made a perfect place to sit. Kate hopped up and perched on the top rail; Yelena settled beside her, boots on the lower board, their shoulders nearly touching. Lucky nosed at both their hands, seeking attention, then flopped down.

Kate could feel Yelena’s tension in the taut line of her back and the way her fingers clenched now and again at the seam of her sweater. She didn’t pry - not yet. Instead she offered something small and immediate: “You can totally tell me to shut up anytime, but- Clint said you’d been through… a lot. He used the words ‘same machine’ which sounded ridiculous until he explained. You don’t owe me anything, like the whole file, but- if you want to say something, I’ll listen. No judgment. Mostly. Maybe a little poke, but I’ll keep it gentle.”

Yelena twitched, which it looked as if she held her initial response back, as she tried to search for a different one. For a long moment, she just watched the horizon. “Natka told me once,” she began slowly, voice low, “that people who have been made do not always want to be saved. Sometimes they want to know if they can be left alone and still choose.” She turned her face toward Kate, the faint sunlight catching the short sweep of her hair. “I- I thought I did not need anyone. I thought needing was weakness.”

Kate’s throat tightened. “And now?”

“Now,” Yelena said, and the single word was a small, honest thing, “I am tired of measuring everything for threat.” Her fingers flexed. “Being… here… it is like being around things that were touched by someone who decided to keep living. It hurts. It also… it shows a door that has been… closed for a time.”

Kate swallowed, trying to shape the right response out of a mess of nerves and want. “You don’t have to, you know, open it all at once,” she said instead. “Small cracks count, for sure. And-if you ever want someone on the other side of the door? I assure you, you have that.”

Kate had almost slipped out a ‘I’ll stand there. Even if I’m loud and awkward.’

Thank god she held back. She can’t do it.

Not yet, that’s for sure.

Yelena’s expression flickered - confusion, then something that might have been gratitude. “Well you do- uh- stick around,” she agreed. “And decide to consecutively show up and all.” She glanced down at Lucky, who had appropriated half her boot as a pillow, then back up at Kate. The corners of her mouth lifted for a beat. “But you do not run. Which is kind of good. But it also annoys me.”

“That’s my secret weapon,” Kate said, pretending to puff up with bravado and failing because her chest felt too full. “Or my tragic flaw. Depends on the day.” She shifted on the rail, turning so that she could look right at Yelena. “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer too… I just wanna ask.”

Yelena’s eyes narrowed, not in suspicion but assessment. “Go on.”

“Does it- does it hurt less when you let someone else see it? Not the story, not everything, but even just the little parts?” Kate asked, clumsy but sincere.

Yelena looked at the fence post, then back at Kate, and for once she didn’t hide. “Sometimes,” she said after a beat. “It hurts. Things remembered are always so… painful. But when someone stays, and does not leave because the memory is heavy - those memories become maybe…uh- smaller, or at least, not all of the time.” She breathed out. “I have not often met people who cared. That is… new.”

Kate’s shoulders dropped. “I’m staying. You’ll have to literally kill me. Which probably wouldn’t be hard for you- whatever… I mean - even if you make me watch you throw knives at a scarecrow later I’ll still be ready to disturb your peace constantly.” She grinned, then her face softened. “No- seriously. I’m not going to bail.”

They sat like that for a long while, the kind of silence that was companionable rather than empty. Sunlight moved across the field; Lucky snored softly, the dog equivalent of contentment. Yelena’s body loosened minutely, a visible exhale.

After a moment Yelena shifted, rolling her shoulders as if to shake off a remembered weight. She surprised Kate by reaching an impulsive hand across and covering Kate’s fingers with her own- firm, almost possessive in a way that made Kate’s stomach swoop. “You are very messy, Kate Bishop,” Yelena said, not unkindly. “But you are steady in a way I did not expect.”

Kate’s brain zeroed. It all felt both like a dream and too real at the same time.

Messy.

Yeah, that for sure.

“Oh damn- high praise coming from you,” Kate replied, breathless, her smile honest enough to make her eyes prickle. She laced her fingers over Yelena’s. “I’ll take it.”

Yelena’s fingers lingered over Kate’s for a heartbeat longer than necessary before she pulled back, tucking her hands into her lap like nothing had happened. The brief contact had been deliberate, but now she masked it with a shrug, crossing her arms over her sweater. “Do not get used to that,” she muttered, voice low, almost playful, but there was an edge to it - warning Kate understood perfectly.

Kate’s grin faltered for a second, then widened again. “Oh, trust me,” she said, trying to sound casual, “I never do. You kinda know… I notice. Like every time you pull yourself back like it’s a reflex. And uh- I’m… okay with that.” Her words stumbled, but she didn’t back down. She remembered what Clint had told her just the other day. She really wanted Yelena to know she could be seen, without being forced.

Yelena’s eyes flicked to hers, sharp and unreadable, and Kate felt that familiar tight twist in her chest- the one that said Yelena was calculating, weighing, deciding what to reveal and what to bury. “You are… persistent,” Yelena said finally, voice clipped. “Stubborn, too. And so messy.” She let out a short, humorless laugh, but her gaze softened fractionally, betraying more than her words allowed. “You observe… too much… especially for not ever being a spy.”

Kate let out a breathless chuckle, after which she leaned closer just a little, careful, cautious. “Yeah, maybe. But guess that’s what people do when they care or something.” Her smile was soft, patient. “And it’s not like you’ve made it easy to care for you, Lena.”

Yelena’s jaw twitched. She looked away toward the horizon, lips pressed into a thin line. The faint blush on her cheeks betrayed the tension she tried to mask, though her posture remained stiff. “Not easy,” she repeated, almost a whisper. “No. But not careless, either. I… do not let people in. Not really. Not… uh-” She stopped, huffing slightly as if frustrated with her own words.

Kate’s chest squeezed at the faint vulnerability, the crack in her armor. She didn’t push further, just let her presence be steady, letting the silence carry the weight of what Yelena couldn’t say. Finally, the Russsian let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh, shifting so that her shoulder brushed Kate’s once again. “You are…so so persistent,” she murmured again, softer this time, “and you… do not leave.”

Kate’s grin softened into something warmer, more intimate. “I won’t,” she said simply. “I’ll do whatever not to. I mean - not because I have to, but because I want to be here. Even if it’s messy. Um- even when it would probably be a lot easier to leave… I kinda just… don’t want to.”

Yelena’s gaze flicked to her, guarded, sharp, yet something fragile hovered behind her eyes- quiet acknowledgment, though she refused to give it a name. “You… are so reckless,” she said quietly. “And too loud. Too…” Her words trailed, incomplete, leaving room for thought, for interpretation, for everything she refused to admit.

Kate reached out again, just letting her fingers brush Yelena’s scarred forearm lightly, not forcing. “Yeah, loud - I know,” she said softly, voice low, “but I think I’d rather be loud and messy than… not be here at all. So, I’m staying, Lena. For however long it takes for you to…” She stopped, realizing she couldn’t finish the sentence without stepping over the fragile line. “Just… for however long you let me.”

Yelena’s lips pressed together for a moment, then a faint smile curved at the corners. She turned slightly, enough for their shoulders to brush again. “Well- I hope you do not completely regret that… you stay” she said, but her voice was warmer now, softer, reluctant.

Kate’s heart thudded in her chest. “Exactly. I stay,” she said, letting the words sink between them like a promise, steady and deliberate. “Cause you’re worth it. And maybe because… you’re a bit less scary when you let me see those cracks. Tiny, tiny cracks. But still cracks.”

Yelena’s gaze dropped for a beat. Then she met Kate’s again, firm and so unreadable, yet less impenetrable than before. “Do not get used to me showing them,” she said, voice clipped but softer than before. “It is… inconvenient. Unnecessary.”

Kate chuckled quietly, heart still racing. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, though she didn’t move her hand away. “For now though… I’ll take whatever inconvenience I can get from you.”

And for a few minutes, neither spoke. They sat side by side on the fence, fingers almost brushing. The world outside the fields seemed to pause, letting them exist in the quiet messiness of the present. The tension that had clung to Yelena was still there, taut and real, but Kate knew something had shifted- ‘a door’ slightly ajar, a crack just wide enough to see the light. And she really would wait this time. Patiently, messily, stubbornly, because she didn’t want to miss what might come through it.

The assassin shifted slightly, her fingers drumming against the rough wood of the fence. The afternoon light cut across her face, painting a pale line of gold along her cheekbone. For a long time, neither of them spoke, not even Kate - just the rustle of the wind in the fields and Lucky’s soft panting beside them. When Yelena finally did, her voice came out low and steady, but distant.

“Ha- I used to think I was so…good at silence,” she said. “In the- the Red Room, they shape you into quiet. The- the conditioning makes your mind stop shouting at you. But it never actually stops, you know, Kate Bishop? It just… moves underneath everything.”

Kate listened carefully, chin propped on her hand. “So what you’re saying is that silence is, like… fake peace, kinda?”

Yelena huffed out a tiny, humorless laugh. “Fake everything. It may look peaceful because it’s easier than explaining the noise. Easier than letting anyone close enough to hear it. At least… for me.” Her eyes flicked to Kate, then away. “You are loud enough that sometimes it makes me angry. But other times, it makes me… remember that being alive can sound like that.”

Kate’s heart pulled tight, a strange mix of ache and wonder. “You know,” she said softly, “for someone who claims to hate emotions, you’re really unintentionally good at describing them.”

Yelena rolled her eyes, but the edge of her mouth lifted, almost against her will. “Do not flatter me. I am still better with knives than feelings, Kate Bishop.”

“Yeah, I got that memo,” Kate said, a faint grin tugging at her lips. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You ever think about - like - what you want? After all this avenger stuff? After the missions and the saving the world and fighting with you team thing?”

Yelena went quiet again. Her gaze drifted toward the where the sky was just beginning to slip toward late afternoon - soft blue melting into pale orange. “I do not know what I want,” she said at last. “Every time I start to think of it, it feels like a… trick. Like it will be taken away again.” Her voice dropped a little lower. “Uh- Natka… wanted something simple. A home. People. A second chance. I never understood that before. I thought she was… weak for it.”

Kate tilted her head. “You don’t think that now, do you?”

Yelena’s fingers tightened against the fence rail. “Now I think… she was the strongest of all of us.” She let out a breath, almost a laugh, but it cracked halfway through. “And I hate that she will never see this. This new team... Me… You.”

The archer swallowed hard, her throat suddenly tight.

What did it even mean? ‘You’?

“She sees it,” she said quietly. “I mean, uh- I don’t know how the whole afterlife physics works, but-” she gave a small, crooked smile “-I think she’d want you to have… you know- all of it.”

Yelena didn’t respond right away. Her jaw worked for a moment, like she was grinding her thoughts down to something manageable, something less raw. The faint breeze tugged at her hair, catching a few stray strands that fell across her cheek. Kate had the sudden, stupid urge to reach out and tuck them back. She didn’t.

Thank God she didn’t.

Instead, she watched - the way Yelena’s fingers curled around the rough wood, the way her breathing hitched just barely when Kate mentioned Natasha wanting her to have all of it. It wasn’t the usual, quiet grief that crossed her features. It was something naked, unguarded, almost startled.

For a second, Yelena looked young. Not the assassin, not the hardened survivor, but the version of herself that had never learned how to build walls so tall they cut off the light. Her hazel eyes flickered toward the field again, blinking hard like she could hide the wetness gathering there.

Kate’s chest squeezed. She’d seen flashes of Yelena’s pain before - the sharp, biting kind that came out as sarcasm or sudden distance - but this was so different. Soft and real. It was like watching a storm lose its noise, leaving only the ache of the air after it.

“Hey…” Kate said, gentle now, almost whispering. “You don’t have to- you know- ”

But Yelena shook her head once, sharp but not angry. “Do not,” she said quietly, eyes still fixed on some far point beyond the field. “Do not say something that will make it harder.”

Kate frowned, confused, but she stayed still. She didn’t move, didn’t reach for her. Even though she wished she could. She just waited.

Yelena’s voice dropped lower, rough with her accent. “You say things like it costs nothing, Kate Bishop. But it does. To hear them. To feel them.”

Kate blinked, realization dawning slowly. She could choose to be offended, at how Yelena had no idea it costed Kate a whole ton to not run from serious feelings. She could dismiss the Russian’s feelings with a simple ‘It’s not that hard. If I can do it, you can too’. But she didn’t.

Instead she spoke softly. “You mean… to believe them.”

Yelena turned to her then, eyes sharp - too sharp - and for a heartbeat, Kate saw all of it. That desperate instinct to survive alone. And then, like a switch being flipped, it was gone. Her shoulders straightened, her posture realigned, her tone cooled back into something more familiar.

“Yes,” Yelena said simply. “Believing is expensive.”

Kate felt the shift. The space between them - small as it was - suddenly felt wider. Colder. She could almost hear the walls coming back up, brick by invisible brick.

Yelena must’ve noticed the way Kate looked at her then, because she offered a faint, almost teasing smirk that didn’t reach her eyes. “You make very dramatic faces, you know. All this…” She gestured loosely toward Kate’s chest. “Expression. It is a lot.”

Kate forced a shaky laugh, trying to meet her halfway. “Yeah, well… somebody’s gotta balance you out. You’re all shadows and some other mysterious shit. I’m, like… a mess of unprocessed feelings.”

Yelena’s mouth curved, the barest hint of real amusement slipping through. “A terrible combination.”

“Deadly, even. Yup” Kate agreed softly.

After a while of silence, Yelena glanced sideways, just once, and spoke. “You should not look at me like that.”

Kate blinked. “Like what?”

“Like you are waiting for me to-” Yelena stopped herself, the words snagging in her throat. Her jaw tensed, and she looked away again. “Сука- Never mind.”

Kate swallowed hard, heart pounding at the sudden slur in Russian. “Okay,” she said quietly, before letting out a forced chuckle. “Guess I won’t.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t so peaceful anymore - it was careful, like both of them were balancing on the same thin line, afraid to break it. Yelena’s hands had gone still again, fingers locked together, as if holding herself in place.

But even then, Kate noticed something again - Yelena hadn’t moved away. Her shoulder still brushed against hers, the barest, steady point of contact.

Kate let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and murmured, almost to herself, “Believing might be expensive… but I’m willing to overpay or whatever.”

Yelena didn’t look at her this time. But the corners of her mouth twitched, just enough to be seen. “Kate Bishop. So impossible.”

“Yeah,” Kate whispered, a small smile tugging at her lips. “But you’re still sitting with me so…?”

Yelena didn’t answer, but her fingers flexed once against her knee - like maybe, for a split second, she wanted to reach out. Then she didn’t. The silence settled again, softer this time, full of everything neither of them could quite say yet.

They stayed on the fence for a time. When they wandered back toward the house, the smell of what seemed to be turkey drifted through the open kitchen window - and Kate’s mouth watered. Laura was again on the back of the house, hands dirty from planting something, and she squinted at them with that same soft smile she’d worn all afternoon.

Kate’s chest felt too full and empty at the same time. This whole thing may not be ‘a lot’ just for Lena, it was plenty for the archer too. Just different kind of a lot.

Chapter Text

-

When they stepped back inside, all Yelena could smell around the house was dinner - something warm and steady, like comfort made tangible - but for Yelena, it all felt heavy. Every corner of this place carried a memory that didn’t belong to her but still clung to her like smoke.

Laura had mentioned Nat once so far, in passing - just her name, nothing more - and even that was enough to make Yelena annoyingly uncomfortable.

Only god knows how much did the assassin wish to bring her sestra back. She’d do anything.

But it’s not possible. She’s gone for good. And this was all that Yelena had left - a bunch of moments she couldn’t even be a part of, captured by the Bartons’ camera.

Fucking amazing.

Yelena’s gaze once again stuck to the photo by the staircase: Natasha laughing, holding one of the Barton kids when they were smaller.

She could feel a lump forming in her throat. ‘My Natka’ she thought to herself.

Yelena was well aware that one of Natasha’s biggest desires was a family. Not the weird, mission, patchwork kind that they both knew from Ohio. She wanted this big, happy family - with a loving husband - perhaps Bucky and a couple of kids she would’ve probably been the best mother on earth for.

As Russian’s thoughts drifted even further away, her sadness started to shift into rage as she realized it wasn’t even the fact that Natasha… sacrificed herself, that kept her from getting a real family. It was Red Room. That forsaken graduation ceremony.

Yelena’s mind raced even more when her thoughts landed on Kate. She was so good. So… understanding. She wasn’t sure how could she possibly deserve this kindness and lightness.

“Would she think I’m a monster if she knew that I’m not even a real woman anymore…” Yelena quietly, almost inaudibly mumbled to herself, lost in her own mind.

“What did u say, Lena?”

Yelena’s head snapped up, eyes flicking toward Kate, who stood a few steps away, holding a glass of water she must’ve just poured for herself. Her voice had been light, curious - not prying, just… there. Hm.

“Nothing,” Yelena said quickly, her tone sharper than intended. The word hung in the air, and she instantly regretted it.

Kate blinked, taken aback for only a moment before she set her glass down on the counter, trying to read Yelena’s face. “You sure? ‘Cause I kinda heard you speak.”

“I said nothing, Kate Bishop,” Yelena repeated, quieter this time. The sharpness was gone, replaced by exhaustion. She turned away, pretending to study one of the photos hanging on the wall again, even though it hurt to look.

The silence stretched for a moment - heavy, but not hostile. Kate lingered, her fingers tapping nervously against the counter. She was probably trying to figure out how to reach the other woman, how to not make things worse - at least that’s what it looked like to Yelena.

She kept glancing at the archer, as if gauging whether to speak or not, but Yelena didn’t trust her own voice enough to fill the quiet.

Everything here reminded her of Natka, which her mind could not handle so well. The calm, the warmth, the safety. It was everything Natasha had once wanted, not only for herself but also for Yelena.

And then there was Kate.

Yelena didn’t understand what it was about her - the chaos, the lightness, the way she made even the quiet seem alive. It should have been irritating, that relentless energy, that constant need to talk and fill every space. But now, standing here, surrounded by echoes of a life she could never have, Yelena really could see that Kate’s noise was the only thing keeping her from drowning in silence.

It made no sense. None of it. The laughter that tugged at her even when she wanted to stay detached, the way her pulse reacted before her thoughts could catch up, the sudden want to let Kate in, the confusion between grief and something far more dangerous. She didn’t know how to separate the two anymore.

“Do you want some?” Kate’s voice broke through, uncertain but hopeful, as she gestured towards the now-empty-glass.

Yelena blinked, forcing her attention back to Kate. “Yes, I’d like some…water. Thanks.”

Kate nodded quickly, as if almost relieved, and busied herself at the counter. Yelena watched her - the slight tremor in her hands, the nervous chatter starting back up as she moved. It was disarming, in a way that left Yelena unsteady.

When Kate handed her the glass, their fingers brushed, and something in Yelena’s chest tightened - brief, sharp, inexplicable.

She told herself it was nothing. Just the house. Just too many ghosts pressed too close.

But when Kate smiled - small, uncertain, but still there - Yelena’s heart didn’t listen.

Сучка.

Kate visibly hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking between Yelena and the living room. The tension radiating from the blonde was practically visible - the kind that hung in the air, brittle and cold. Yelena was standing too still, like she didn’t know what to do with herself in a place this warm.

“Hey,” Kate said suddenly, trying to sound casual. “You, uh… wanna watch something? Clint’s got like a thousand old DVDs and I think you’d like… I don’t know- enjoy a classic.”

Yelena frowned, confused. “You want to… watch a movie?”

“Yeah,” Kate said, shrugging, forcing a grin. “You know, the thing normal people do when they’re trying not to think too much. Come on, I promise I won’t make you watch anything stupid. Probably.”

Yelena opened her mouth, clearly about to refuse, but Kate was already grabbing the remote and plopping down on the couch like the decision had been made for both of them. The assassin stared for a long moment before sighing, and finally sitting - a careful distance away.

Kate noticed, of course. Just like she did with the stiffness in Yelena’s shoulders, the way her hands stayed clenched in her lap, the way her gaze stayed fixed on some invisible point rather than the screen. So she picked the first random movie she saw - Singin’ in the Rain.

The opening chords of the music and the cheerful chatter of the actors on screen filled the room, a strange, lighthearted rhythm that felt almost invasive in the quiet weight of Yelena’s thoughts. She tried to focus on the screen, tried to let herself follow the story, but her mind refused. It kept circling back to Natasha, to the warmth of a life she could never touch, and then - without permission, without warning - to Kate.

Kate was relaxed, unselfconscious, humming quietly along with the music in that soft, easy way that made her seem impossibly human. As the film went on, the archer carelessly tossed a brown fuzzy blanket on top of them.

Yelena found herself watching her - the tilt of her head, the subtle way she leaned into the couch cushions, the way her fingers drummed lightly against her own leg. It was a dangerous kind of observation, one that felt like leaning too far over a cliff without knowing how to stop herself.

Her body betrayed her before her mind could protest. A single inch, barely noticeable, but enough for her shoulder to brush Kate’s as she adjusted her position. Somehow the instinct to pull away that was heavily engraved in her mind, alongside the widow training didn’t quite seem to kick in.

The contact was so light it should’ve been inconsequential, but the warmth it carried startled her. Yelena’s chest tightened, and she froze, her fingers clutching the blanket as if it could anchor her to something safe.

Kate, thankfully, didn’t pull away. She just shifted slightly, tilting her head toward Yelena in a way that was natural - like she hadn’t even noticed the small breach of space. Even though she probably did. The assassin’s heart hammered in her chest, a rhythm far too loud for the calm of the room.

Yelena’s hands tightening around the blanket. “Ugh,” she muttered, voice sharp, a little too loudly. “This movie… it is ridiculous. Who even likes this bullshit?”

Kate’s eyes flicked toward her, brow raised, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Really? You mean the singing and dancing? The bright, happy stuff?” she teased, her voice light, playful, but with that careful edge that made Yelena pause.

Yelena gave a short, defensive huff, avoiding Kate’s gaze. “Of course not. I… I mean, it’s… childish. Stupid. Too much nonsense. Nothing for people who’ve have… lived,” she said, her words tripping over themselves, almost reminiscent of the way Kate herself spoke.

Kate didn’t reply immediately, just let the comment hang in the air as she watched Yelena’s shoulder inch closer under the blanket. Her smile widened. She knew. She always knew when someone was pretending. When Yelena was pretending, even when she tried to hide it behind that harsh, sharp tone.

“You like it,” Kate said finally, her voice softer now, teasing turned gentle. Not a question. Just a statement, easy, casual.

Yelena froze. Her eyes flicked to Kate, then back to the screen, mouth opening like she was about to argue, then closing again. She swallowed, caught. “I… maybe…can only admit it is not completely terrible,” she muttered, her tone mutating somewhere between defiance and confession.

Kate chuckled softly, leaning a fraction closer, careful to respect the invisible line Yelena hadn’t quite crossed yet. “Thought so,” she said, almost to herself. “It’s… fun. You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to, but… I’ll keep it our sweet little secret.”

Yelena’s chest tightened again, a mixture of relief and something far more confusing. She wanted to protest, to claim she didn’t need to be understood, but the small warmth of Kate’s presence - and the acceptance it carried - made her feel stupidly… safe.

Yelena’s body, heavy from the overnight drive, finally gave in. The warmth of the blanket, the soft glow of the TV, and the faint, steady presence of Kate beside her were too comforting to resist. Her head, almost on its own accord, tilted and rested lightly against Kate’s shoulder. She didn’t fight it, she was way too tired to do so. Her breathing slowed, the tension in her muscles unspooling in the quiet lull of the movie. Sleep came fast, merciful, and unthinking.

When she woke, it wasn’t the film that pulled her from the edges of sleep but the sound of footsteps from outside the house - light, hurried, familiar. Her eyes shot open, and the first thing she noticed wasn’t the TV, but the warmth she was still pressed against. Her body stiffened immediately. Heart hammering, she cringed inwardly. She had slept against someone - very certain someone to be exact - and now she had to reconcile that with the defensive, trained part of herself that demanded distance.

Yelena shifted quickly, trying to pull herself away without drawing attention, her hands clutching at the blanket like it could shield her from the embarrassment she suddenly felt. Her defensive mood flared hotter than ever, sharp and brittle.

The door opened, and footsteps announced themselves more clearly - louder, accompanied by chatter and giggles of children. Clint’s voice carried into the room, warm and easy. “Hey, we’re home!”

And just like that, the spell of quiet, the fragile intimacy Yelena had almost allowed herself to feel, shattered. The presence of the children, of Clint’s casual authority and ease, reminded her exactly where she was - and exactly who she wasn’t. Her body recoiled further into itself, shoulders tight again, gaze darting away from Kate. She forced a scowl onto her face, trying to mask the lingering warmth, the sense of exposure, the shame that she had let herself rest against another person, even for a few stolen minutes.

Kate, sensing the shift immediately, didn’t comment, just let her settle into her sudden armor, hands still carefully placed on her own lap, a silent understanding passing between them. Yelena, meanwhile, refused to look at Kate again, mentally bracing herself for Clint and the kids, for the intrusion of normal life into the precarious bubble she’d allowed herself to inhabit.

Clint stopped in the doorway, a young boy hanging off his arm, and grinned when he saw the two of them on the couch. “Well, well,” he said, voice carrying that infuriating blend of teasing and warmth. “Didn’t think I’d come home to see you two turning movie time into a nap.”

Yelena’s spine straightened immediately. “I was not sleeping,” she said flatly, her accent heavier now, betraying her irritation - or maybe embarrassment. “I was only… resting my eyes because this film is very weird.”

Clint chuckled, shaking his head. “Uh-huh. Sure. You probably looked very critical with on Kate’s shoulder.”

The kids giggled, and Yelena’s expression darkened further. She stood abruptly, snatching the blanket off her lap like it had betrayed her too. “You are seeing things, Barton,” she muttered, brushing invisible lint from her vest and stepping away from the couch.

Kate looked like she was biting back a laugh. “She was super awake, actually. Like, totally analyzing the plot structure in her sleep.”

Yelena shot her a glare sharp enough to cut glass, and Kate only grinned wider.

“Relax,” Clint said, setting his bag down and gesturing for the kids to go upstairs. “You’re allowed to rest, Yelena. We don’t exactly keep visitor charts around here.”

“I do not need your permission to rest,” Yelena said stiffly, crossing her arms. “I simply do not… rest next to people.”

That earned a raised eyebrow from Clint. “Right. Of course. My mistake.”

Before she could fire back, the screen door creaked open, and Laura stepped inside, her gloves still dirt-smudged from the garden. “You’re back pretty quickly.” she said with a small smile, looking between her husband and kids. “And it looks like you two managed to survive being left alone for a few.”

Kate opened her mouth, but Clint beat her to it. “Oh, they did more than survive. Yelena was just catching up on some, uh… high-quality American cinema.”

Laura glanced at the paused image on the TV - Gene Kelly mid-dance - and then at Yelena, who was visibly trying to disappear into the floor. “Singin’ in the Rain, huh?” Laura said, her tone far too kind to be teasing, but her eyes gleamed just a little. “That’s a good pick, Katie”.

After a beat Laura glanced at her kids then at Yelena, and she quickly spoke. “Oh my- of course they didn’t introduce themselves-”. She shook her head and turned to Lila and Nathaniel who were still bustling around the kitchen. “Nate, what have we taught you- and Lila you’re old enough to mind your manners- Just come on!”.

Lila bounded forward first, all bright-eyed curiosity, while Nathaniel hung back slightly, peeking out from behind the counter. Laura ushered them both closer with a gentle nudge.

“This is Yelena,” she said, still half laughing. “She’s a friend of Kate’s.”

Nathaniel tilted his head, studying Yelena with the blunt curiosity only kids could get away with. “Who are you, really?” he asked, his voice small but clear.

The question hit harder than it should have. Yelena’s breath caught for a fraction of a second, something tight and fragile flickering in her chest. She opened her mouth to give the simple, easy answer - to brush it off like she always did - but no words came.

Finally, she exhaled. “I’m…” Her voice came out quieter than expected, rough around the edges. “I’m Natasha’s sister.”

The room shifted - like air had been sucked out and replaced with something heavier. Lila’s expression softened, and even Nathaniel stopped fidgeting. Clint froze mid-step, his hand resting on Laura’s shoulder as if grounding himself.

“Oh,” Nate said after a long moment, his voice careful, uncertain. “Like… Aunt Nat?”

Yelena swallowed hard, forcing a small nod. “Yup,” she said softly. “Like Aunt Nat.”

Her accent wrapped around the name, gentler than usual, and it visibly made something twist in Kate’s chest, which Yelena caught with the corner of her eye.

Lila’s voice came next, a whisper more than a question. “She used to tell us stories about you.”

Yelena blinked, startled. “She did?”

Lila nodded, smiling a little. “Yeah. She said you were brave, and very funny.”

A broken sound escaped Yelena’s throat before she caught it - half a laugh, half something else entirely. She looked away, jaw tightening, her eyes fixed on the floor as if that could stop the ache building behind them. “Yeah, of course she would say that,” she said finally, her voice trembling despite her best effort to sound composed.

Clint stepped closer, his expression unreadable but his tone softer than usual. “You know that she talked about you a lot. Especially here.”

Yelena’s throat worked, but she couldn’t speak. The house suddenly felt too alive with memories - every photo frame, every quiet hum of domestic life, every echo of Natasha’s laughter still clinging to the walls.

Kate moved before she could think, brushing her hand lightly against Yelena’s arm. The touch was tentative, grounding. Yelena didn’t pull away. She’d never admit that, but maybe, just maybe she needed the grounding of Kate’s touch.

Clint, recognizing the need to shift the atmosphere, clapped his hands together. “Alright, that’s enough standing around. We’re about to eat the world’s best turkey. Lila, can you make sure the place settings are straight? And get water glasses, too. Nate, you’re on ice patrol.”

“Sure,” Lila mumbled, already moving toward the cabinet with the practiced efficiency of a teenager who’d been doing the same chore for years.

Kate turned to Yelena, her eyes warm with a concern that made Yelena’s stomach twist. “Come on, Lena. Let’s help Laura. It'll be less… emotional in the kitchen.”

Yelena nodded stiffly, following Kate into the kitchen. The warmth of the room - Laura bustling, the scent of fresh bread - was overwhelming, but the warmth radiating from Kate Bishop next to her was the actual danger. It felt like a current, pulling her in.

“You holding up?” Kate asked quietly as they stood side-by-side by the counter, waiting for instructions.

“I am managing, Kate Bishop,” Yelena snapped, her default defense mechanism. The thought of Kate seeing how completely shattered that simple conversation had made her was unbearable. ‘She is so good. She cannot see me like this.’ Yelena thought.

Kate didn't flinch. She just picked up a bowl of mashed potatoes, looking over the rim at Yelena with that unwavering stare. “Mhm. But if you try to make a distraction by setting the turkey on fire, I’m tackling you. I’ll try - at least. Just a warning.”

Yelena let out a breath that was halfway to a laugh, quickly smothering it with a scowl. “Not a bad idea, actually. Even though you would definitely fail. It’s uh- Too much domesticity. It makes me soft.”

“No,” Kate whispered, moving closer to pick up a ladle, their arms brushing. “It just makes you tired of fighting. There’s totally a big difference.”

“Does she ever even hold back with words?” Yelena muttered, the question more a statement of disbelief.

Kate tilted her head, her smile turning soft, but still retaining that slight, challenging edge. “Not usually. Why? You want me to stop seeing you, Lena?”

She was really not only Hawkeye but Hawkear too. Especially compared to Clint…

Yelena glared, lifting a bowl of Greek salad Laura had set down for them to carry. “I…want you to stop acting like you understand everything about me, when you understand practically nothing, Kate Bishop.”

“I understand that you like old music and apparently films too, you’re secretly a giant sap, and that you have approximately two feet of emotional wall that you keep slamming down every time someone says anything nice,” Kate retorted, holding the bowl steady as Yelena gripped it too tightly. “That’s kinda not nothing. That’s like, a whole personality profile.”

“Трахни тебя,” [in Russian: Fuck you] Yelena muttered under her breath, a mix of genuine insult and grudging affection.

Kate just grinned. “I decided I’m just gonna assume that means you love my personality profile. Come on Lena, dinner time.”

They carried the potatoes and the salad to the table. Everything was now set, as Yelena sat in the most dangerous spot: sandwiched between Kate and Clint.

The noise of the Bartons was immediate: silverware clanking, Nate asking for milk, Lila checking her phone screen under the table only to be silently intercepted by Clint’s sharp look. It was sensory overload, a loud, overwhelming tide of family that was so far removed from Yelena’s life it felt fictional.

The dinner proceeded, a steady flow of easy conversation and the distracting, comforting noise of family. Well more foreign than comforting to Yelena…

The turkey was savory and the sides were rich, pulling Yelena's focus into the simple, physical act of eating.

Clint, however, was not done. He leaned back in his chair, picking up a water glass. "Alright, logistics time," he said, directing his gaze primarily at Kate. "You two are planning to head back tomorrow, right? Out to the city?"

Kate nodded, taking a large, enthusiastic bite of mashed potatoes. "Yep! I mean- Yelena has a dog and probably a ton of some important Avenger stuff so- "

"Wait," Clint interrupted, a suspicious look crossing his face. "How are you driving back? You flew your chopper out here, Kate, and last I checked, you still couldn’t drive for the life of you."

Yelena stopped mid-chew and lowered her fork, her eyes narrowed at Kate. "Kate Bishop! You genuinely cannot drive a car?"

Kate waved a dismissive hand. "It's a technicality! I just... I don't really have a license. And I tend to forget about things like 'yield signs' and 'stopping.'"

Clint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You flew that bucket of bolts, the helicopter, all the way from the city, but you can't manage navigating a Mercedes?"

"The helicopter," Kate explained, looking proud, "is safely parked out in your back field, actually. I managed to fly it out here, remember? Kinda barely- but I still did! It's fine. It's just cars. I get distracted by uh- squirrels."

Yelena stared at Kate, an astonished look slowly turning into a smirk. She was truly something else. "Of course. You flew a far more complicated machine, but a small car defeats you. You are a true legend, Kate Bishop."

"See! At least you appreciate me!" Kate beamed, elbowing Yelena lightly in the ribs.

Clint ignored them both. "Okay, so the chopper stays here, then, until you figure out your life. But you still need to get back. I'm not driving with you. I’ve got his soccer practice in the morning." He said nodding at Nate.

Yelena, having almost finished her food as she was a fast eater, looked at Clint with a cool certainty. "I will drive. I drove the first way, no? I borrowed Bucky’s car for this. I can drive a car."

“You borrowed James’ car?”

Yelena shrugged. “He was not using it.”

“Does he know that?”

“I left him note,” she said matter-of-factly. “And his motorcycle. Fair exchange.”

Kate tried, and failed, not to grin. “Yeah, I’m sure he’ll totally agree with that logic.”

Clint just laughed. “You flew here in a helicopter, can’t drive to save your life, and she’s the one stealing cars. What a team.”

Yelena tilted her head, pretending to study him. “You make it sound like problem.”

“It is a problem,” Clint said, grinning.

Clint raised a brow, that insufferably knowing smirk tugging at his mouth. “It’s not a problem. Just sounds… familiar.”

Kate squinted at him. “Familiar how?”

Yelena could probably guess what the answer was and she didn’t quite want to hear it. Talking about Natasha was one painful thing but having Clint talk about her - was straight up gut wrenching. To her torture, Kate’s curiousness was one of her most prominent traits, so no surprise she’d ask.

She watched Clint as he leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming with something between fondness and pain. “Well… you two sound exactly like me and Nat on our mission in Budapest.”

Budapesht.

The words hit harder than she expected, even though she expect what Barton’s answer will be. Yelena’s fork stilled midair. The table noise dulled for a fraction of a second - just long enough for her to feel the ache bloom behind her ribs. She didn’t look up. She didn’t trust her face to stay steady if she did.

Clint noticed. “Yelena, I-,” he said softly. “I miss her too. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine.” The words came out too fast, too practiced. She set her fork down with a small clink. “It is uh- good that you… talk about her. She would not want to be erased.”

Laura’s voice was warm but heavy with empathy. “She’s still part of this house, Yelena. Always will be.”

Yelena gave a small nod, forcing her gaze back to her plate. Spending time at Barton’s was not at all easier than she thought it will be. She knew she didn’t belong at this table. And yet, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she didn’t stand up and leave either. Maybe it was the understanding that Natasha would want her to get along with them. Or maybe it was the desire to seem ‘normal’ and ‘over it’ so Kate could see her as… worthy?

Something brushed her leg, snapping Yelena out of it. Kate’s knee. A small nudge under the table, barely there, but still.

A quiet reminder: I see you.

Of course she did.

-

Dinner wound down. Lila and Nate were shepherded upstairs, their chatter fading into the stairwell. The house settled into that soft hum — quiet now, yet still full of life. Yelena lingered a moment, her eyes flicking toward the stairs as if she could catch a fragment of little Natka in the fading echoes of the children’s laughter.

“I’ll help with the dishes,” she said, standing. Her voice was calm, but her body thrummed with a tension she couldn’t name. She gathered the plates, noticing the lingering warmth in her chest from Kate’s small nudge under the table - a touch that shouldn’t have mattered, but it did more than she wanted to admit. Just like every single time she had allowed Kate to touch her.

Kate’s voice floated from the living room, light and impatient. “Lena, I’m gonna go practice outside with Clint. You know, archery stuff. Safety first and all that jazz.”

Yelena blinked at her retreating figure.

Of course Kate is going, she’s restless. Of course she belongs outside, in the air, where nothing weighs like memories.

Yelena felt a strange pull in her chest, equal parts relief and envy. ‘She moves freely. I’m still trapped…’

Alone with Laura, Yelena began rinsing the dishes. Hot water ran over her hands in a steady rhythm, causing some of her fresher scars to sting. It wasn’t entirely her fault - the scars - some of them were souvenirs from previous missions. The rest on the other hand… was not so accidental.

Yelena was committed to the physical act of cleaning - scrubbing, rinsing, stacking - it was soothing in a way that talking or sitting could never be. It grounded her. Yet each clink of a plate against the counter sounded louder than it should have, like an echo of the life she could never fully inhabit.

‘This isn’t my life’ Yelena thought, feeling the familiar twist of guilt curl in her stomach. She felt like she had no place there. Even though she knew, others thought she did.

Laura leaned against the counter, voice soft, grounding. “You don’t have to do everything perfectly, Yelena. Go easy on those plates.”

Yelena’s lips pressed into a thin line. Perfection was defense. It meant survival. She was taught anything else was weakness. She let the plate drip a little longer than necessary. Her reflection shimmered in the steel sink - tired eyes, tense jaw, hands stained faintly with soap and turkey juice. She wanted to hide, to vanish into the floorboards, to escape all reminders of Natasha’s absence and Kate’s presence. Yet she stayed, letting the mundane motions anchor her to the now.

The pull of Kate’s company lingered in her mind, distracting her in ways she didn’t trust herself to examine. Those little touches all throughout the day, fleeting as they were, replayed like a spark she couldn’t snuff out.

‘Why does she have this effect on me?’ Yelena wondered, she saw Kate is strong but incredibly delicate at the same time… She knew she couldn’t keep her at distance.

She wanted her. As her friend, partner. But not only that… Her touch was so different than anything Yelenas has ever felt before. It didn’t demand or take… it was just so present, and comforting.

The thought made her chest tighten, guilt mingling with longing. This was not allowed. None of this was allowed. Yet she decided to get herself together, instead of running away, she stayed, drying the last plate with careful precision, counting each movement to keep her thoughts in check.

The house smelled like a mix of roasted turkey and soap - warm, domestic, impossible. Yelena let herself linger on that impossibility, letting a fraction of her defenses lower. All she could do was pretend she belonged, if only for this small, fleeting moment.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly, almost to herself, almost to Laura.

Laura’s reply was quiet, knowing. “For what?”

“For… letting me be here. Without asking too much.”

Laura’s nod was gentle, but it carried weight. Yelena swallowed the lump forming in her throat, and for a fraction of a heartbeat, she let herself feel the quiet tether of warmth in the room. The grief didn’t vanish, but it softened, held at bay by the ordinary, grounding rhythm of dishes, warm water, and a presence that did not demand anything from her.

Outside, Kate’s laughter drifted faintly on the night air, a bright, chaotic counterpoint to the stillness inside. Yelena’s chest tightened again. She felt tired in a new way - not from travel, not from fights, but from existing in the same space as life itself, and almost being allowed to touch it. Existing in the same space as the precious Kate Bishop.

The sound of the back door opening broke the stillness. Yelena turned her head slightly, watching Kate step inside with her bow slung lazily over her shoulder, cheeks flushed from the cold night air. Clint followed a moment later, laughing at something she’d said.

“You know,” Kate said between breaths, “I’m, like, objectively great at archery, but apparently, I have the ‘grip of a nervous raccoon.’ His words. Not mine.”

Clint smirked. “I met a talking raccoon once, so if the quiver fits…”

“Ha. Ha.” Kate tossed him a look before setting her bow by the door. “Anyway, it’s dark and I’m freezing. I’m retiring for the night before I embarrass myself further.”

“Good plan. Gotta admit - retirement is cozy,” Clint said. “You two can crash whenever. Coop’s room is yours when he’s gone, Kate. You know that.”

Kate nodded, stretching out her arm with a groan. “Thanks, man.”

Yelena kept her eyes on the sink, on the last dish she’d been drying for far too long. She felt Kate’s presence before she heard her footsteps - that small, chaotic warmth brushing against the edges of her stillness.

Laura, drying her hands, broke the silence that had quietly formed between them. “I know you’re tired, Yelena, Natasha’s room is still there. It’s been… kept the same.”

The words landed like a punch.

Natasha’s. Room.

Yelena froze. Her heart gave a sudden, painful jolt. “Her room?” she repeated, her voice thin, almost fragile.

Laura nodded softly. “Yeah. We- we couldn’t bring ourselves to change it. You can use it tonight if you want. It’s… warm. Still smells a little like her, somehow.”

The towel in Yelena’s hands went still. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. The thought of being surrounded by Natasha’s things - her scent, her clothes - was both unbearable and magnetic. Part of her longed for it, starved for it, wanted to sit in that silence and remember every laugh and argument they ever had. But another part - the louder, terrified part -knew it would break her. She knew that it could be an easy way for her to… want to drink, or take something.

She knew she couldn’t afford that damn relapse, no.

She managed to nod once. “Thank you,” she murmured. “But maybe… maybe later.”

Laura gave a small, understanding smile, the kind that didn’t pry. “Of course. Take your time.”

As the older woman alongside her husband disappeared upstairs, Yelena stayed rooted in place, staring at the towel clutched in her hands. Her pulse drummed against her ribs, erratic, uneven. The idea of sleeping in Natasha’s room felt like standing on the edge of something sharp - like she’d cut herself open on the memories if she dared to touch them.

Kate’s voice came from behind her, softer now. “Hey, Lena. Everything alright?”

Yelena didn’t turn around. “They kept her room,” she said flatly, her accent thick.

“I know.” Kate’s tone was cautious, as if she knew she was stepping into dangerous ground. “You don’t have to go in there if you don’t want to.”

“I do not know what I want,” Yelena admitted before she could stop herself. The honesty startled her. “Part of me wants to sit there all night. The other part… wants to never see it. Ever.”

Kate took a step closer. The floor creaked softly under her weight. “Then don’t decide yet,” she said gently. “You don’t owe anyone that. Even your sister.”

Yelena turned then, finally meeting her eyes. Kate’s face was lit only by the low kitchen light - soft shadows under her eyes, her brown long hair slightly messy from the wind. She looked real, unguarded.

“I don’t want to stay in that room alone, Kate Bishop,” Yelena said quietly, her voice cracking just a little on the last word. “But I can’t sleep on the couch. It would be very inconvenient for everyone.”

Kate’s brows lifted slightly, understanding dawning. “Uh- maybe you want me to-”

“Yes,” Yelena cut in, more abruptly than she meant to. She knew what Kate was implying. And she couldn’t really do it on her own, which she knew as well. Having the archer close seemed… unthreatening and familiar. “If you don’t mind. Just… for tonight.”

Kate blinked, a little surprised but quick to recover. “Oh- I mean- Yeah. Of course I don’t mind,” she said. She didn’t smile - not the teasing one Yelena expected, anyway. Just something small and soft that carried no judgment at all. “You want me to grab your stuff… from the car? Pretty sure you had that backpack on the passenger seat.”

Yelena hesitated. Every instinct screamed to take it back - to say never mind, to retreat behind her sharp edges again. Letting someone that close felt like walking into fire.

But she didn’t take it back.

“Yes,” she said at last. Her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll wait here.”

Kate nodded once, quiet and sure. “Okay.”

As Kate disappeared outside the door to fetch the assassin’s things, Yelena exhaled shakily and pressed her palms against the counter. Her reflection in the dark window stared back - tired, wary, but softer somehow.

You let someone stay.

You let her stay.

It terrified her more than any mission ever had. But maybe, just maybe, that was the point. And maybe Bucky was right - it was what she should have done a long while ago.

Chapter Text

-

The silence pressed in like fog - soft, but heavy enough to drown in. Yelena sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, boots still on, staring at the wall without seeing it. Her backpack sat by the dresser, exactly where Kate had left it after bringing it up from the car. Half-zipped, half-forgotten - a strange monument to the fact that she’d let someone do something for her.

That was still sinking in.

Her fingers tapped against her leg restlessly, the rhythm sharp and uneven. Every part of her felt restless - like her body didn’t know how to exist without an objective. Waiting was not something she did well. Waiting left too much room for ghosts to linger.

And they were everywhere here.

The scent of detergent to the air, but underneath it was Natasha - old cherry perfume, it was one of those that stayed long after its bottle was empty. Every inhale felt stolen. Every piece of this place hummed with her absence - a picture of her and Bucky in a dusty frame on the dresser, one of her leather jackets hung on the chair, even a glock 26 as she always kept one around.

Yelena had trained herself how to block out grief, to compartmentalize, to live her life. But here, there was nowhere to hide. No mission to focus on. No assignment to complete. Just this - a room too warm and too quiet and the knowledge that she was sleeping under the same roof her sister once called safe.

Her throat tightened yet again.

She didn’t even notice when her hands balled into fists, nails digging crescent moons into her palms. “You’re fine” she told herself. “You’ve been fine…”

But the truth was, she still wasn’t fully sure she knew how to be fine without a fight.

The the bathroom door creaked. Yelena’s head snapped up - instinct, automatic - but the sound that followed wasn’t danger. It was the soft shuffle of socks against the tiles, a quiet exhale, the soft opening of the bathroom door as.

And there was Kate.

In her Christmas pj’s, which she must’ve gotten from the Bartons. Hair slightly damp from a quick shower, falling in uneven waves over her shoulders. In her arms, a pillow and a folded duvet, held tight against her chest.

Yelena’s heart stuttered once - brief, sharp - then fell into a nervous rhythm that had nothing to do with fear.

Kate hesitated in the doorway, eyes flicking to the floor, then to Yelena. “I, uh… brought my stuff,” she said quietly, her voice gentler than usual. “Figured you didn’t mean it metaphorically when you said you wanted me to stay.”

The words hit something deep in Yelena - a tiny thread of relief she didn’t want to admit was there.

“I did not,” she said, and her voice came out steadier than she felt.

Kate nodded once, stepping inside. The faint smell of soap and rain trailed in with her. “Okay,” she said softly. “Good then.”

The door clicked shut behind her, the sound oddly final.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Kate stood by the bed, her pillow clutched awkwardly, looking at Yelena like she might spook if she came too close. It was ridiculous. Yelena had faced death, bullets, fire. But somehow this - one girl, one quiet room - felt infinitely more unpredictable.

Finally, Kate crossed the last few feet and set her things down on the far side of the bed. The mattress dipped under the weight, a subtle shift that sent a ripple through the air.

“Go shower and I’ll sit here,” Kate said softly, smoothing the edge of the duvet with unnecessary precision. “Then I’ll just uh- wait until you fall asleep. You look exhausted.”

Yelena gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “I do not sleep easily, Kate Bishop.”

“Me neither. Lately.” Kate paused, then smiled faintly, her tone light but not teasing. “Thinking too much. Horrible habit.”

Yelena tilted her head, studying her. The way Kate said things - so easily, so unguarded - was disarming. “About what?”

Kate shrugged, eyes on the blanket. “People. Things. Mostly… how to stop thinking about both.”

Yelena’s lips parted, but no words came. She looked away instead. Her chest felt unbelievably full - like grief and something else entirely were fighting for space.

She could still smell Natasha on the air. She could still hear Clint and Laura’s voices, soft and careful when they said her name.

And now Kate was here. Not asking about Avenger stuff or training, not cracking jokes every second. Just existing, quietly, beside her.

It was unbearable.

“Kate Bishop,” Yelena said finally, her voice low, her accent more prominent than usual.

“Yeah?”

“You know that I am not good at this, don’t you ?”

Kate frowned slightly. “At what?”

“This.” Yelena gestured vaguely at the air between them. “Being around people.”

Kate didn’t laugh. She didn’t fill the air with words, like usual. She just nodded once, the faintest motion, her eyes steady on Yelena’s face. “That’s yeah- that’s okay. I can handle silence.”

Something cracked open inside her then - small, quiet, but real.

She looked down at her hands, the scars, the small burns, the marks of someone who’d never been built for this kind of closeness. “You should not stay too close,” she said quietly, more to herself than to Kate. “I don’t see how the whole friend thing could be good for you.”

Kate’s voice was calm, certain. “You don’t get to decide that for me at all, Yelena.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

Yelena wanted to argue - to say she was right, that everyone who got close to her ended up gone, broken, buried. But she didn’t. The fight drained out of her before it could start.

Yelena stood, needing to move before the air crushed her. She crossed to her bag and pulled out a pair of underwear, soft black sweatpants and a slightly faded NEW AVENGERS T-shirt Alexei had once tossed at her at a team dinner with a grin and a comment about “The greatness and pride of being an Avenger”, right before she left on her little Iowa trip. She’d rolled her eyes, called him a fool - and kept it anyway.

Without another word, she slipped into the small bathroom, locking the door behind. The light was sharp, unkind. Steam began to fill the air as she turned on the water, the hum of pipes being the only sound in the quiet house.

She undressed quickly, the movements mechanical. Her gaze flicked down briefly - to the violent scar that cut across her lower abdomen, a relic of the so-called “graduation ceremony.” It wasn’t the only one, there were others, of course - a jagged mark near her hip, smaller nicks along her legs, a not-so-small cut on her arm (from the day Nat and her were chased by Antonia around Budapest), slits all over her forearms and many other missions she couldn’t remember.

She stepped under the water, and the heat hit her all at once - sharp, almost burning. She stayed still, letting it sting. It was grounding. It reminded her that she was here, that she was real. Steam curled around her face as she tilted her head back, water running through her hair, down her neck, over her shoulders. The ache in her muscles finally eased.

The memory of the room - of the archer standing there with her ridiculous Christmas pajamas and that honest, steady gaze - pressed at the edge of her mind. The warmth that shouldn’t have followed her here did.

After a few minutes, she turned off the water, reaching for a towel Laura must’ve prepared for her.

She pulled on her clothes. The Russian didn’t bother drying her hair completely - it clung to her neck as she stepped out of the bathroom.

Kate was still there, sitting cross-legged on the bed, her duvet half-unfolded beside her, scrolling idly through something on the phone but not really reading it. Her head lifted the moment Yelena entered, and that small, unguarded smile tugged at the corner of her lips - the kind that made Yelena’s stomach twist with something she didn’t have a name for.

“Hi, Lena,” Kate said softly, setting the phone down. “Gotta say that was quick.”

Yelena paused by the doorway, one hand resting on the frame. “It’s not like I was going to have an entire spa night there.”

Kate’s smile widened just a little. “Yeah, you’re probably right. You look-” she hesitated, eyes flicking down briefly before she caught herself, “-uh.. calm. Kinda.”

Yelena raised a brow. “You are a bad liar, Kate Bishop.”

Kate’s grin softened into something more real, less performative. “Okay, fine,” she said, voice lower now, no longer playing around. “You look uh- you know… good, actually.”

Yelena blinked, her body going still mid-step. “Good?” she repeated, like the word didn’t make sense coming from Kate Bishop’s mouth. Was that a compliment?

Yelena considered them distractions, manipulation. But no… this one wasn’t that at all.

Kate tilted her head slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. You just… do. You look softer, I guess. Um- it kinda suits you.”

For a moment, the silence between them stretched too thin. Yelena felt it in her chest - a sudden, uncomfortable awareness of the space she took up, of the fact that Kate’s eyes lingered just long enough to notice things no one else did before. Her throat felt dry. “That is not true,” she said quickly. “I look dead.”

Kate laughed softly, the sound so light it nearly disarmed her. “Even if you did, which you absolutely don’t,” she said, shrugging. “You pull it off.”

Yelena squinted at her suspiciously. “You always say stupid things like this, or only when you are trying to make me uncomfortable?”

Kate leaned back against the headboard, feigning thoughtfulness. “Honestly? A little of both.”

“Hmm.” Yelena crossed her arms, pretending to scowl, though the corner of her mouth twitched. She tried to brush past the strange flutter in her chest, but it clung stubbornly, refusing to leave. Her mind scrambled for something - anything - to even the ground again.

“You are unbelievable,” she muttered finally, before blurting out, “And you always look good.”

It slipped out faster than she could stop it. The air in the room shifted instantly not necessarily awkward, just… suspended.

Kate froze, her smile faltering for a split second, replaced by something softer. Her eyes widened slightly, as if she hadn’t expected Yelena to throw the words back. “HA- Wha…What?” she said quietly, almost a whisper.

Yelena realized what she’d said half a second too late. She straightened, her body instinctively falling into that soldier’s rigidity she always defaulted to when things got too close. “I mean,” she said, frowning as if it might undo it, “you just do. I am stating a fact.”

Kate’s mouth fell open - literally fell open - like her brain had just glitched.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she stammered, sitting up straighter. “You- you just said I look good?”

Yelena blinked, slow and steady. “Yes?”

Kate looked at her like she’d just admitted to being an alien. “You can’t just- Oh my god- you can’t say that like it’s the weather, Lena! You’ve never- you don’t do compliments.”

Yelena frowned, genuinely puzzled. “It is not a purposeful compliment. It is observation.”

Kate’s eyebrows shot up. “Observation?”

“Yes,” Yelena said simply, stepping further into the room as if proximity could clarify it. “You always look nice, even when you are dressed in blindingly purple clothes. It is an objective truth. Like saying the sky is blue.”

Kate made a small strangled noise. “Objective- Lena, people don’t say that kind of thing unless they mean it, like, personally!”

Now it was Yelena’s turn to stare, utterly lost. “I do mean it personally. You are you. You look… good.” She paused, trying to find a more neutral word, but nothing came. “There is no trick, Kate Bishop.”

Kate blinked rapidly, her cheeks flushing pink. “God- I can’t believe you’re actually for real.”

Yelena’s brows furrowed further. “Why not? It is not a false statement.”

Kate made a helpless little laugh, rubbing a hand over her face.

“I do not know what to say, Kate Bishop. Guess it is everyone else’s fault for not telling you that out loud,” Yelena said flatly, completely sincere.

That did it- Kate laughed, half-embarrassed, half-overwhelmed. “Yeah, no, for sure.” She looked up at Yelena again, still flushed. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. I didn’t know you thought-”

“Of course I think,” Yelena cut in, defensive without knowing why. “You are very pleasant to look at. You are… bright. And loud. But somehow it all works in your favour.”

Kate froze again, speechless.

Yelena frowned harder. The reaction made no sense. To her, it was factual - Kate was expressive and strangely appealing, in a way that made rooms feel less heavy. But the way Kate’s expression softened - like the words had weight Yelena hadn’t intended - made her pulse hitch.

“You are making the weird face again,” she said, crossing her arms. “What is wrong with you?”

Kate laughed quietly, shaking her head. “Nothing’s wrong. Just- you have no idea what you sound like, do you?”

“I sound like myself,” Yelena muttered, trying to sound unbothered even as confusion twisted under her ribs. It’s not like she was planning to shower Kate with compliments when she said it first. But it’s also not like she didn’t mean - whatever Kate was insinuating - that she did. Not when it landed like this.

Kate’s eyes lingered on her for a moment too long, still a little breathless, still pink around the edges. “Yeah,” she said softly. “That’s kind of the problem.”

Yelena didn’t know what to do with that. She looked away, the heat under her skin betraying her, and muttered, “So confusing, Kate Bishop.”

Kate smiled faintly, her voice still unsteady. “Oh- literally right back at you.”

Yelena’d meant what she said. She just didn’t understand why saying it was apparently crossing a line she didn’t know existed.

Yelena exhaled sharply, the room still thick with whatever had just happened. Her pulse was steadying, but her thoughts weren’t. Compliments. Confusion. Kate Bishop. All of it sat under her skin like a splinter she couldn’t quite reach.

She turned away from Kate, pretending to inspect the far corner of the room. “I will take the floor,” she said flatly. “You can have the bed.”

Kate blinked. “Huh- What? No. You’re not sleeping on the floor, Lena.”

Yelena’s jaw tightened. “It is fine. I have slept in worse places.”

“That’s not the point,” Kate said, a hint of firmness sneaking into her voice. “It’s your room now.”

Yelena’s head snapped slightly toward her. “It’s not mine. It is Natasha’s.”

The name came out quiet but sharp, like it hurt to say.

Kate’s expression shifted immediately, something gentler in her voice now. “Yeah. But she’d want you here. Not on the floor.”

Yelena didn’t answer. Her gaze dropped to the floorboards, tracing the grooves in the wood. The logic was simple, but it felt wrong. She didn’t belong in this bed, in this room, surrounded by traces of her sister’s life.

“I am not taking your space,” Yelena said finally.

Kate shook her head. “You’re not.”

The silence stretched thin again - not awkward, just taut. Yelena stood there a moment longer before giving a short, resigned nod.

She closed the bathroom door and flipped the light switch. The sound was final but grounding. She crossed to the bedside lamp, thumb hovering over the switch for a second too long before turning it off. She laid on the bed pulling Nat’s old duvet on top of herself. The room dark, the only light left coming faintly through the curtains - silver-gray against the floorboards.

Kate was sitting up on the bed, her duvet gathered around her legs, eyes following Yelena in that quiet, unreadable way she had. “You can try to sleep,” she said softly. “I’ll stay up a bit.”

Yelena frowned in the dark. “You do not need to.”

“I know,” Kate said. “Um- my dad used to sit with me when I couldn’t fall asleep. He’d hug me or scratch my back - said it made my brain slow down.” She let out a small laugh. “Guess it worked, ‘cause I fell asleep in no time then.”

The words hit something in Yelena she didn’t expect - something small and bruised that still flinched at the idea of touch meaning safety. The Red Room had made sure of that. Touch had been a command, a consequence, a correction. It belonged to discipline. Abuse. Not comfort.

Post Red Room the only person she’d trusted to reach her was Natka. Maybe Alexei, for a split second, back when her and Nat were on that mission in Russia. And after she lost her sister, even the thought of letting anyone near her felt impossible. For a long time, Yelena had built her world out of space - space between herself and others, space where hands couldn’t find her.

She’d learned to handle hugs now, in small doses. Bob’s, Alexei’s - they weren’t horrible. They just didn’t sink in all the way.

But this - Kate, sitting in the dark, her voice a little shaky but gentle - felt different. Like the kind of nearness could never take anything from her.

“Would it be… Ah- weird if I-” Kate hesitated, eyes flicking to Yelena’s shoulder, “if I touched you? I don’t know- Maybe it could help you sleep. You don’t have to say yes, of course.”

The instinct to refuse rose fast, sharp. Distance was what Yelena had known best. But Kate respected her. She just asked, quiet and uncertain, like she already expected a no.

And somehow, that made it easier to say yes.

Yelena nodded once, a small, deliberate movement, before she realised Kate couldn’t see her so well. “It’s okay, Kate Bishop.” she finally said, her voice quiet.

They both turned onto their left side in the bed. Kate moved carefully - no sudden gestures. Just the slow lift of her hand, resting it lightly against Yelena’s arm. Not gripping, not holding. Just there.

The warmth of her palm burned through Yelena’s skin. Her body tensed on instinct, every muscle ready to pull back. But Kate didn’t move, didn’t push. The touch stayed gentle, steady.

It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.

The weight of the day began to slide off her, inch by inch. Her chest loosened; her breaths started to fall in rhythm with Kate’s, the same quiet pattern.

Yelena let herself relax into the pillow, her gaze fixed on the wall. For the first time in years, she felt at peace.

Kate didn’t say another word. She just stayed, her thumb now brushing absently across Yelena’s arm once, twice - an unconscious rhythm that made something deep inside Yelena unclench.

The warmth of Kate’s hand lingered lightly on her arm, tentative, careful - like she was afraid of doing too much, but wanted to be close anyway.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Kate’s fingers traced down the line of Yelena’s forearm - the faint scars, the relics of not only surviving missions but surviving self destruction. Not pressing, not poking, just moving lightly, as if memorizing her history by touch.

Yelena froze, pulse quickening. Every instinct told her to recoil. But Kate’s touch wasn’t probing or intrusive. It was cautious, respectful.

“Kate…” she whispered, voice low.

Kate’s hand paused, hovering just above her skin. She drew in a soft breath. “ I-,” she stuttered. “I’ll be careful. I won’t… overstep. You just… let me be here. That’s it.”

Yelena’s shoulders loosened fractionally, though her heart still raced. The gesture was so simple, yet it unsettled her more than bullets or fire ever had.

Her mind flicked to the scars - did Kate see them and think she was… fragile? Damaged?

“Ah… you don’t think I am messed up?” Yelena asked softly, almost a whisper.

Kate’s thumb hovered for a moment before brushing lightly along one of the smaller scars. “Messed up?” she echoed, voice careful. “No. You’re… you. You’re just fine. And um- I…I like you being you.”

Yelena blinked, chest tightening in a way she didn’t expect. Fine. Just fine. That small, grounded acknowledgment carried more weight than any praise. She realized she hadn’t just leaned into the touch because it was safe - she craved it. She wanted the closeness, the quiet presence, the careful attention that didn’t demand anything from her.

Her mind flickered to the name she had used earlier - “Kate”- not the usual playful ‘Kate Bishop’. She felt her cheeks heat slightly at the realization. Affection. She hadn’t intended it. She hadn’t meant for the name to carry softness, or intimacy, or any hint that she was letting someone in. And yet… it kind of had.

Yelena tilted her head fractionally toward Kate, feeling the warmth of her shoulder. The subtle nearness, the carefulness of Kate’s touch, made her body relax against instinct, muscle by muscle. Every rational warning - this is temporary, this is risky, this could hurt - was muted by the strange comfort in Kate’s attentiveness.

Kate’s thumb brushed another scar slowly, deliberately, and Yelena exhaled, letting herself unclench. Her pulse slowed, her muscles loosened. The tension in her chest melted into something quite unfamiliar - trust, fragile but real.

“You… don’t have to say anything,” Kate whispered, hesitant, as if speaking too loudly might break the delicate bubble between them.

“I… am okay,” Yelena finally said, voice low. Not entirely true, but closer than it had been all day. The fact that Kate was here, careful, respectful, letting her exist in her own space, made her feel something rare: acceptance.

Kate’s fingers lingered, brushing lightly along Yelena’s arm again, hesitant, like she was testing the limits of closeness. “Good to hear,” she murmured, voice soft. “I just… can’t fuck this up.”

Yelena’s mind drifted back to the word she had used - the heartfelt ‘Kate’. She hadn’t meant for it to slip out, hadn’t meant to sound… warm, or soft, or close. And yet hearing Kate respond, still herself - nervous, careful, teasing lightly at the edges - made her feel somethimg new, that she couldn’t name.

She shifted just a little closer, leaning slightly into the warmth, careful, aware, curious. The room darkened, silver-gray light from the curtains casting faint patterns across the floorboards. The nervousness, the care, the quiet tension - they all blended into something intimate and steady.

Her chest rose and fell in rhythm with Kate’s, the gentle brush of fingers grounding her. Yelena let the quiet carry her, the warmth and consideration of someone genuinely careful, until sleep, slow and steady, began to pull her under.

Kate didn’t go anywhere. She stayed, hand resting lightly against Yelena’s arm, careful not to press too hard.

For the first time in years, Yelena allowed herself to let go - not fully safe, not fully unguarded, but enough to surrender, even slightly, to the presence of another. And before she could even say ‘Goodnight’ her eyelids grew completely heavy, as she drifted off.

-

The first thing Yelena registered was sound.

A high, insistent chirping that drilled through the fog in her head, pulling her up from somewhere deep. For a second, she didn’t know where she was - just the faint warmth against her, the soft fabric under her cheek.

Then her eyes opened.

Kate.

Literally inches away.

Her hair was a mess - dark strands sticking to her forehead, her lips parted slightly as she blinked groggily toward the sound of the alarm.

And Yelena realized, with a sudden jolt of clarity, that their faces were dangerously close. Too close. Her breath caught; she could feel the warmth of Kate’s exhale against her skin.

Her whole body tensed instantly. She didn’t remember moving this close during the night. Didn’t remember turning toward her, or the way they both ended up under one duvet.

Kate groaned, reaching blindly toward the nightstand until her fingers smacked the phone, silencing the alarm.

“Wh- why is your alarm so early?” Yelena asked, her voice rough, accented, low from sleep.

Kate blinked blearily, still half-buried in the pillow. “Mine, Lena?” she mumbled. “That’s all for you, Lena. You’re the one who’s gotta be back in New York for her important Avenger stuff.”

The words hit like cold water. Right. The car drive. The return to noise, structure. She should’ve been relieved. Instead, her chest felt oddly tight.

She shifted, realizing too late how close they still were. Kate’s eyes flicked open fully then - sleepy, something between blue and gray, unfocused for a second before landing squarely on Yelena’s face. Their gazes locked. Neither of them moved.

Kate’s voice came out quiet, uncertain, a touch hoarse. “Morning.”

Yelena blinked once, trying to find something to say, something that didn’t sound like panic. “You… are too close,” she managed.

Kate’s cheeks flushed instantly, but she didn’t move right away. Her voice came out in a quick tumble: “Oh- yeah- sorry… Uh- you kinda rolled this way in your sleep and I didn’t wanna- uh- wake you up, ‘cause you looked- peaceful? Not that I was watching you sleep, that’s weird, I just- uh…yeah.”

Her ramble broke the tension like a tiny crack in glass. Yelena blinked at her, torn between exasperation and something slightly warm. “Stop this ramble, I beg of you,” she muttered, rolling onto her back to put some space between them.

Kate smiled faintly, her voice softer now. “Yeah- yeah, I- sure.”

Yelena sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over her face. Her heartbeat was still uneven, the echo of closeness lingering under her skin. Yelena froze for half a beat, unsure what to do. She forced herself to stand, reaching for her bag near the dresser, breaking the moment before it could turn into something heavier.

Kate’s voice followed, gentle, still a little sleepy. “Slept good, at least?”

“Yeah- actually… I did,” Yelena said automatically, slipping her boots back on. “It is just early.”

Kate nodded, biting her lip. “Right. Early.”

Yelena picked up her backpack, her movements quick, efficient, but her mind lagged behind - stuck on the warmth that still clung to her skin, the way Kate had said her name half-awake, soft and precious.

She caught her reflection in the dresser mirror - hair messy, expression unreadable. “Thank you,” she said finally, not quite looking at Kate.

“For what?”

“For… staying.”

Kate’s smile was small, lopsided. “I mean- Anytime, Lena.”

Yelena hesitated, the use of the nickname landing heavier now. Then she nodded once at the bathroom door, sharp, almost military again. “I’ll go get myself together.”

Kate’s expression flickered at the formality, but she just nodded.

Yelena locked the bathroom door behind and began to brush her teeth quickly, her reflection sharp and pale in the mirror. Same face, same dark circles - only this morning, something felt different. Lighter, maybe. Or just less empty. She rinsed, wiped her mouth, and pulled out fresh clothes from her backpack as she took off her pyjamas.

She changed into a white fitted tee and dark jeans, tugging the hem straight. The fabric felt too soft for the tightness in her chest.

She put all of her stuff away and was ready to leave the bathroom, Yelena had this feeling something was missing.

She reached into her bag again, found her small makeup pouch, and unscrewed the cap of her eyeliner. The stroke was steady, familiar - one swift motion across each eye, and after that she just smudged it out. That was enough.

Nat used to tease her for it. “You’re the only Black Widow ever to wear damn cat-eye on missions.”

Yelena had shrugged, saying, “It makes me feel slightly less disgusting… Plus makeup is fun.”

She hadn’t realized how true that felt until now.

When she looked back up at herself, her fingers brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Ready.

Except she wasn’t.

Her eyes flicked toward the door, where faint light leaked through the crack, carrying the smell of coffee and something warm - Kate’s perfume, probably.

Her chest tightened again. The night kept replaying in fragments: the warmth of Kate’s hand on her arm, the sound of her breathing, the softness she hadn’t meant to lean into.

It shouldn’t mean anything. It didn’t. It couldn’t.

And yet, every time she blinked, she could feel it again.

Yelena exhaled sharply, grabbed her stuff, slung the backpack over one shoulder, and stepped out into the room and then into the hallway.

When Yelena appeared downstairs, kitchen smelled like coffee and some kind of tea. Laura was already there, hair pulled into a messy bun, smiling softly when Yelena entered. “Morning, sweetheart. Coffee’s fresh.”

“Thank you,” Yelena said, voice quieter than usual. She picked up the mug and downed it in one sip.

Kate appeared a second later, black hoodie half-zipped, wrinkly purple sweatpants and her Docs, still sleep-warm. She looked at Yelena for a beat longer than necessary before smiling. “Hey. You ready?”

Yelena nodded once. “As I will ever be.”

Lila padded in behind her, still half-asleep, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. “You’re really leaving?” she mumbled.

“Yes,” Yelena said gently. “You need your peace and quiet back, no?”

Lila grinned faintly. “I have a younger brother, so peace and quiet don’t exist really”

Laura leaned against the counter, watching the exchange. “Drive safe, okay? And text when you get there.”

Kate took a few tiny sips of her tea,and then gave a quick, but tight hug. “Yes, ma’am.”

Yelena just gave a short nod. “We will.”

Clint appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Nah, you two are not gonna leave before breakfast.”

Kate shrugged, her gaze switching between Clint and Yelena. “We’ll grab something on the road.”

A quick hug followed - Laura’s - warm and lingering. “Come back sometime, Yelena.” she whispered before letting Yelena go.

The Russian weirdly didn’t completely hate Laura’s hug. It’s thanks to this short trip and how she finally understood why Nat had liked to be there so much.

Clint just gave Yelena a shoulder squeeze, before capturing Kate in his embrace and whispering something to her ear, that made her give a tiny nod. Then the front door opened, letting in a breath of cool spring air.

Kate slung her bag over one shoulder, and her bow over the other. As Yelena quickly put on her boots.

She yelled for Lucky, and as the dog came running, she clipped him to the leash onto his collar, turning to glance at Yelena. “Good to go?”

Yelena simply nodded, before adding: “Aren’t you saying goodbye to the little one?”

Before Kate could answer, a thump sounded from the stairs, followed by a muffled yawn. Nathaniel appeared in dinosaur pajamas, hair sticking up in every direction. He rubbed his eyes and blinked blearily at the scene in the doorway.

“You’re leaving already?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Kate turned instantly, her voice softening in an easy way. “Hey, buddy. Yeah, we’ve got a long drive ahead.”

Nate trudged closer, dragging his blanket behind him like a cape. “You’ll come back though, right?”

Kate crouched down to his level, smiling. “Of course I will. Someone’s gotta keep beating you at darts.”

That earned a sleepy grin. “You didn’t beat me last time.”

Kate gasped dramatically. “Excuse me- you cheated!”

Nate giggled and turned toward Yelena, still half-hiding behind Kate’s shoulder. “You’ll come back too?”

The question caught Yelena off guard. She hesitated, words stalling somewhere between her chest and her throat. Kids weren’t supposed to look at her like that - open, trusting, expectant. They never had before.

She cleared her throat. “Maybe,” she said finally. “If Kate Bishop does not annoy me to death during the car drive.”

Nathaniel grinned wider. “She probably will.”

“Hey!” Kate protested, nudging him lightly, which only made him laugh harder.

Clint’s voice cut in from the kitchen doorway. “He’s not wrong, you know. You’re not exactly known for keeping quiet, kid.”

“Funny,” Kate muttered, rolling her eyes as Clint came closer, looking far too awake for the hour.

Laura followed behind him, smiling softly at the sight of Nathaniel wrapped in his blanket between them. “You should get going before he decides to come with you,” she said, giving Yelena a knowing look.

Kate stood, and Nathaniel tugged at her sleeve. “Can I hug you bye?”

“Duh,” she said, leaning down as he threw his arms around her neck. She squeezed back tight, pressing a quick kiss to his messy hair before he pulled away and turned expectantly toward Yelena.

Yelena blinked, straightened a little. “What?”

Nathaniel shrugged, small shoulders lifting. “You too.”

She froze for half a heartbeat - instincts, walls, all of it rising at once - but Nate just waited, smiling that same easy, unguarded smile his sister once had. So Yelena bent down slightly, awkwardly, and let him hug her.

He was warm. Small. Fragile in a way that felt terrifying and grounding at the same time.

“Bye,” he said simply, muffled against her jacket. “You smell like Lucky.”

Yelena blinked. “That’s… unfortunate,” she said, dead serious.

Kate laughed quietly, and even Clint cracked a grin. “Take care of each other,” Laura said gently, giving them both one last look - maternal, warm, steady.

Kate nodded. “We will, Laura.”

Clint reached out, gave Yelena’s shoulder a final firm squeeze. “Drive safe, Belova,” he said. “And don’t let her play her chaotic playlists the whole way.”

Yelena raised an eyebrow. “She already threatened me with her music once.”

Kate scoffed. “Threatened? It’s called taste.”

Laura shook her head, amused. “Go before you wake the rest of the house.”

Yelena pulled her jacket tighter, glancing once at the Bartons - Clint’s steady look, Laura’s quiet kindness, Lila’s soft expression, Nathaniel still waving with his blanket half slipping off his shoulders.

Then they walked down the stairs, the assassin still holding Lucky’s leash, as she turned toward the car, toward Kate.

Yelena and Kate threw their stuff onto the back seat, Lucky hopping in immediately, tail wagging. Kate slid in the car, settling into the passenger side with that familiar half-grin.

“I drive all way,” Yelena said, keeping her tone neutral. Her hands found the wheel, steadying herself before starting the engine. Driving felt like control - that’s mainly why Yelena liked it a lot.

Kate tilted her head, eyes tracing the dashboard. “Good. Don’t wanna risk crashing your car… Well- Bucky’s,” she said, light, teasing—bu - Yelena felt the tension beneath her words. It wasn’t playful; it was soft, like a question she didn’t dare voice.

Yelena ignored the flutter in her chest, pulling out of the driveway. The road ahead stretched empty, open. The hum of the engine and Lucky’s soft breathing filled the car.

She glanced at Kate once, out of the corner of her eye. Sleep had left her hair messy, eyes still soft, and something in the way she leaned back made Yelena’s chest tighten. She shook it off, focusing on the road. She had to.

Kate broke the silence anyway. “Music?”

Yelena considered it. Music distracted, but it also reminded her of everything she didn’t want to feel. “Yes,” she said carefully, “but make it good, Kate Bishop.”

Kate chuckled quietly, leaning back. She connected to the car’s sound system and started playing - what sounded like - her daily playlist; a mix of pop and indie.

The warmth of Kate’s presence was close but not imposing. Yelena felt it under her skin, the reminder that she could allow someone near without losing herself completely.

The road curved lazily ahead, fields being the only thing surrounding them. Yelena sat angled toward the window, watching the blur of green and brown, as she managed steering the vehicle.

Kate broke the silence first, of course. “Random question- Ah…You ever think about relationships?” she asked, voice light - like she wasn’t really asking.

Yelena’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Kate shrugged one shoulder. “Like… dating... The whole romance thing.”

Yelena’s lips pressed into a line. “Нет.” she said flatly.

Kate figured that stood for ‘no’ and found herself in her usual sea of words. “Yeah, no… I- Didn’t think so… I mean- Not ‘cause you’re not pretty…or nice… or se- I MEAN- it’s just that u don’t uh- strike me as the type, you know?”

Yelena shot her a sideways look. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” Kate said quickly. “I’m not exactly the relationship kinda girl either.” Her tone softened, almost amused. “Never thought I was, to be fair. I’m better at… short-term things.”

Yelena tilted her head. “Short-term things?”

Kate gave a small grin. “Fun. Hookups. Things that don’t turn into a total shit show.” She said it so casually, like it was just another personality trait - like she’d practiced keeping her voice light when she said it. “I like sex. I like people. Just not the part where you have to codependent.”

Yelena went quiet, eyes fixed on the window again. Something about that - the openness of it, the comfort in saying what she wanted - made her chest feel strange. She’d never had the chance to want like that. In the Red Room, even the idea of connection had been poisoned - control disguised as training, obedience mistaken for loyalty. The thought of belonging to anyone felt too close to being owned again.

Kate glanced at her. “You look like you’re judging me,” she said, teasing but cautious.

“I am not judging,” Yelena said quietly. “I just… don’t understand. You say you do not want to depend on someone, but you still give them… something.”

Kate smiled faintly. “Yeah. But only what I choose to give.”

That sat with Yelena - heavy and sharp. She kept her gaze forward, the corners of her mouth tightening.

Choice. That was the difference.

She wanted to say something, to ask if it ever really worked that way - if you could give just enough without losing anything - but she didn’t. Instead, she murmured, “Sounds complicated.”

Kate grinned. “That’s life, Lena.”

Yelena didn’t smile back, but the faintest flicker of one ghosted across her lips before she looked away again.

The road hummed beneath the tires - steady, rhythmic - a sound Yelena could almost lose herself in. The conversation lingered in the air like smoke, thin and inescapable.

Kate’s words still echoed: I like sex. I like people.

Yelena tried to swallow down the unease curling in her chest. Sex. It was such an easy word for Kate - said like it was nothing, like it belonged to her. For Yelena, it never had. The idea of it sat in her stomach like rusted metal.

“I don’t… think I could ever do… that.” Yelena said finally, her voice low.

Kate glanced over, brow furrowing slightly. “Do what?”

“Be with someone like- you know,,” Yelena said, eyes fixed ahead.. “It is not just… strange. It is-” She exhaled sharply. “It feels like giving up control. Letting someone touch you, decide things for you. It feels too much like…” She trailed off.

Kate didn’t push. It was just silence. Only the low hum of the car.

In her head, Yelena could still feel the ghosts of what the Red Room had taken - how they’d trained her to be a weapon. There was no softness left in that kind of survival. The thought of letting someone close, of being seen like that, felt impossible. Disgusting, even. Not because she didn’t want connection - but because she still couldn’t tell where wanting ended and conditioning began.

Kate’s voice was soft when she finally spoke. “Yeah. That’s- Um- not for everyone.”

Yelena glanced at her, surprised by the absence of pity. Kate’s tone carried understanding.

Kate looked outside the window, at the fields which they were passing . “You don’t owe anyone that kind of trust,” she said simply. “Not until it feels like it’s… yours to give.”

Yelena stared at her for a short moment, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. Then she focused her gaze on the road again.

Chapter Text

-

The highway unrolled in front of them like a thin silver thread, stretching out from the flat fields toward a horizon that finally began to curve.

Morning had long passed, and the light now had that pale, afternoon tint - the kind that made everything look washed out.

Yelena’s hands rested on the steering wheel, steady but tight. Her knuckles were pale against the leather. The road hummed beneath them - a low, constant sound that left her too much room to think.

Kate hadn’t said much since the last time. She was humming along the music, as she was watching the scenery change - the open plains fading into rows of trees, then the beginnings of rolling hills as they crossed into Indiana. Every once in a while, she’d glance at Yelena like she wanted to say something, but each time she stopped herself.

The air in the car wasn’t tense, exactly - just aware.

Yelena’s mind kept circling back to the night before - to Kate there, her voice small but steady when she said you look good.

To the way Yelena had said it back without thinking.

You always look good, Kate Bishop.

She had heard the words echo in her head all morning, loud and stupid. Every time she blinked, they replayed - the look on Kate’s face, that split-second shock, the warmth that followed.

It was unbearable.

Yelena adjusted her grip on the wheel, eyes fixed straight ahead. “Stop thinking about it,” she muttered under her breath.

Kate looked over. Before she turned off the music. “Huh- What?”

“Nothing,” Yelena said quickly.

Kate tilted her head. “Really? ’Cause that totally sounded like-”

“I said nothing, Kate Bishop.”

Kate smiled faintly, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Sure, mhm- Sure. Totally normal person behavior. Talking to yourself while driving through the middle of nowhere.”

Yelena sighed through her nose. “Has anyone ever told you - you are irritating?”

“Yeah. You. Like a thousand times. Thanks, Lena,” Kate said easily. “You’re weirdly quiet for someone who almost had a conversation with themselves just a second ago. Just saying.”

Silence fell again - but not the same kind as before. This one had texture, like the air between them was carrying something fragile.

They passed through another stretch of road - farmland broken up by small towns, signs for antique malls, diners. Kate leaned closer to the window, her breath fogging the glass. “God, I forgot how flat this state is. It’s like the world just… gave up on topography.”

Yelena gave a quiet hum of agreement. “It is more like… too open. You can see everything. Makes you easy to find.”

Kate turned back to her, curious. “Damn- That’s really how you think of it? Visibility?”

Yelena’s eyes stayed on the road. “Да, Always.”

Kate watched her for a moment longer, studying the way Yelena’s shoulders stayed squared, the way her eyes never wandered. “You ever get tired of that?”

“Of what?”

“Being… on guard like all of the time.”

The question hung in the air long enough that Kate probably regretted asking.

Then, finally, Yelena spoke - quieter than before. “You don’t turn it off. You just… get used to the noise.”

Kate nodded slowly, her hand reaching to adjust the AC vent - which looked like she was just giving herself something to do. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” Yelena said simply.

They drove in silence again, the hum of the road the only sound between them. After a few minutes, Kate broke it softly:

“Hey. Uh- About last night-”

Yelena’s grip tightened almost imperceptibly on the wheel. “What about it?”

Kate hesitated. “You- I, um… said some things. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t make you- I don’t know- uncomfortable or something.”

Yelena’s jaw flexed. “Why would I be uncomfortable?”

“I don’t know. Because I talk too much? Or because I-” she stopped herself, sighing. “Never mind. It was just- nice. That’s all.”

Yelena risked a glance at her. “You think I do not say nice things?”

Kate let out a small laugh. “No, I think you say honest things. Which is kinda… worse, sometimes.”

That made Yelena’s mouth twitch, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “You are very random.”

“Maybe,” Kate said softly, “but you didn’t deny it.”

The car rolled on. Soon, they hit the outskirts of Indianapolis.

Kate leaned her head against the window, watching the blur of headlights. Her voice came out low, barely above the hum of the tires. “I keep thinking about what you said - about people getting too close to you.”

Yelena’s throat tightened. “What about it?”

“I think you’re wrong,” Kate said simply. “You don’t damage people. You just… scare them a little first.”

Yelena’s lips parted - but no words came. She stared ahead, the lines on the highway reflecting white and yellow, flashing under the car like heartbeat pulses. God.

“Scare them,” she repeated finally. Then she said with a sarcastic kick to her tone. “That is… nice.”

Kate smiled without looking at her. “It’s a compliment, actually.”

Yelena shook her head, but she didn’t argue. The road stretched on - sharper turns, the landscape darkening into late afternoon, as they headed east.

And even though neither of them said another word for miles, something in the air felt different - less cautious, more known.

It wasn’t comfort, not exactly. But it was close enough.

The sky had folded itself into darkness by the time they were passing by Ohio. Headlights washed over the empty highway, carving brief tunnels of light through the early night. The hum of the tires had settled into something hypnotic.

Kate had dozed off for a while, her head leaned against the window. The soft rise and fall of her breathing was the only proof she was still there - steady, calm.

Yelena didn’t mind the quiet. She preferred it when the world didn’t ask her to talk.

But when Kate stirred again - stretching, mumbling something incoherent before sitting up - the silence broke like glass.

“What time is it?” she asked, voice groggy.

“Almost ten,” Yelena said. “Still six hours to city.”

Kate groaned, rubbing her eyes. “Six? I swear this drive is cursed.”

“You are dramatic,” Yelena replied, though her tone was lighter than it should’ve been.

Kate grinned faintly, glancing at her. “You like that about me.”

Yelena didn’t answer. The truth was she really liked Kate. Even the slightly annoying parts - she found endearing. She just kept her eyes on the road, but Kate caught the faint flicker of something that might’ve been a smile before it vanished.

For a few minutes, all that existed was the sound of the car and the occasional whoosh of a passing truck. Then Kate spoke again - softer this time.

“Can I ask you something kind of personal?”

Yelena’s hands stayed steady on the wheel, but her mind was far from that. She kept her eyes focused ahead, as she spoke with false calmness “Depends what kind of personal.”

“The ‘you can tell me to shut up’ kind,” Kate said.

“That covers many possibilities, Kate Bishop.”

Kate smiled faintly. “Well- Okay, fine. I’ll risk it anyway.”

She hesitated - the pause long enough that Yelena glanced over, curious. Kate was looking at the dashboard, not her.

“Do you ever… want it? To… Um- fall in love. I mean- I know I asked about relationships but… that’s kinda different, isn’t it?”

Yelena’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, just slightly. The question hung there, soft but heavy - like Kate had dropped it into the space between them without realizing how deep it would sink.

“Love?” she repeated, careful, as if testing the word in her mouth. It felt foreign - not ugly, not impossible - not anymore - just… unfamiliar. “I do not know, Kate Bishop.”

Kate turned toward her, curiosity written all over her face. “You don’t know?”

Yelena shook her head once. “I never wanted it.”

The hum of the tires filled the pause. She could hear her own breath, too steady, too rehearsed. The words came out flat, but her chest ached with how true they were.

“In… Red Room,” she said finally, voice low, “you do not want things. You survive because you obey. Affection was… weakness. And after I was freed, I thought-” She stopped, jaw tightening. “I thought I was built wrong for it. For… ahhh- All of that.”

Kate was quiet - no interruption, no attempt to fix it. Just listening.

Yelena exhaled through her nose, the faintest hint of a bitter laugh escaping. “Even now, I do not know what I am supposed to feel. People say love is bright, or loud. But when I think of it… it is quieter. Even with… Natka. It was like standing close to fire but not burning.”

Her eyes flicked sideways for a heartbeat - just long enough to catch the way Kate was looking at her. Not with pity. Not with confusion. With something else entirely.

It made Yelena’s pulse stutter.

She turned back to the road quickly. “But… I think someone made it feel less… dangerous,” she said, barely above a whisper. “And that is new for me.”

The words left her before she could stop them. And she regretted them instantly - because they sounded like a confession, even if she didn’t mean them that way.

Kate didn’t answer. But Yelena could feel her - still, watching her, the weight of her attention almost overwhelming. The kind of silence that said more than words ever could.

Yelena’s chest felt too tight. She wanted to say something else - to smooth it over, to turn it into a sarcastic comment. But there was no taking it back now.

So she kept her eyes on the highway, trying to force her voice steady. “Сука- Kate Bishop, just… do not look at me like that again.”

Kate blinked, surprised. “Like what?”

“Like you want me to say shit I cannot take back, all the time.”

The question still hung in the air, regardless of Yelena’s response, but it wasn’t about love anymore. It was about her - about them - whether either of them would say it out loud.

Yelena’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel again - until her knuckles whitened. She kept her eyes on the road, refusing to look at Kate, even when she could feel her gaze pressing against her like heat.

“You already know the answer, Kate Bishop,” she said finally. The words came out steady, though her pulse was anything but that.

Kate was quiet for a long second. “ Well- I mean- Now, I think I do,” she said messily, but softly. “I just uh- Didn’t wanna- assume… stuff.”

Assume. As if that could make any of this simpler. “It does not matter,” she said too quickly, her accent thickening as the words tripped. “It is not- I do not know what it is, anyway.”

She could feel Kate’s eyes flick toward her again. “Lena…”

The way she said it - soft, careful, stripped of teasing - made Yelena’s throat go tight. She swallowed hard. “You ask if I ever want love. I never wanted it. Not before. I thought I was missing that part. Like it was cut out with everything else.” Her voice faltered, and she inhaled sharply. “But now I think maybe it was just asleep or something.”

Her grip on the wheel loosened for the first time. She wasn’t sure why she said it. Maybe because the empty landscape around them made it easier - the road stretching endless, hiding the truth in motion.

Kate didn’t say anything. She just watched her - and that silence felt heavier than anything she could’ve spoken.

God, was this really the moment for Kate Bishop to become silent? Really?

Yelena’s voice dropped to a murmur. “It is strange. I look at… you and I don’t feel… danger. Or guilt. Or the need to kill or run.” She paused, the words trembling between her teeth. “I feel… quieter. But not empty.”

That was as close as she could come to the truth.

Kate turned her face toward the window, but Yelena caught the flicker of color on her cheek from the corner of her eye - that small, flush she tried to hide.

The sound of the tires filled the space between them again. Yelena exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that left her ribs sore. “It is probably nothing,” she said, almost to herself. “I am not good at… naming things.”

Kate’s voice came out hushed, almost afraid to break whatever fragile thing hung between them. “Yelena… pull over. Please”

Yelena’s fingers clenched the wheel in confusion, the tremor in her hands betraying the calm she tried to project. She pulled the car over with a jerk, the tires crunching against gravel. The engine cut, and silence slammed into her like a punch.

Lucky woke up from his sleep. He whined in the backseat, then shifted nervously, low growl mixed with uncertainty. Yelena’s gaze flicked toward him - small tether to reality, as her chest felt like it was splitting in two, desire and doubt in a brutal tug-of-war.

Kate didn’t wait. She yanked her door open and stomped out, boots sinking into the damp grass of the roadside field. The wind whipped her hair across her face, but she didn’t care. Her whole body was coiled, every movement sharp, frantic, like she was trying to outrun something inside herself.

“Kate- what the fuck-” Yelena muttered, yanking her own door open, stepping out, leaving Lucky behind.

Yelena’s chest felt like it had been hollowed out, then filled with fire. “Kate- Пиздец [in Russian: Damn it], wait!” Yelena barked, voice rough, more panic than command. She stepped forward, the tension in her shoulders coiling tighter. “Just stop!”

Kate spun toward her, hands flailing slightly, her voice coming out breathless and uneven. “I- What the fuck, Lena?! You just… you just-” She gestured wildly, as if the field itself had betrayed her. “Fucking confess… and then what?! Say that it’s nothing?! Why?!”

Yelena’s throat tightened. Her pulse was hammering like a drum. ‘Because I can’t. I can’t let this happen.’ She thought, but the words wouldn’t come out, only the jagged edge of panic that made her bark at Kate again.

“I- Kate!” she yelled, voice cracking. “I cannot! You don’t understand- this is complicated… Kate Bishop, please…”

Kate froze for a second, chest heaving, then stepped closer anyway, voice louder, rawer: “I bet it fucking is… But- I don’t care! I care about this! About… you!” She stopped, voice catching, eyes wide. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m saying! I’m- shit, I’m losing it- Just- Fuck.”

Yelena’s hands shook, fingers curling into fists, then unclenching uselessly. “I can’t, Kate! I cannot!” she yelled, louder than she’d meant. “I am not safe for… this!”

Kate blinked, confusion and raw emotion painting her face. “I don’t care about being safe! I care about you! Can’t you listen to me for once!? I- shit, Lena, look at me!”

The wind howled between them, tugging at Yelena’s clothes, tangling Kate’s hair in wild strands that caught the faint glint of the car’s headlights. The air was sharp and cold, but Yelena barely felt it - everything in her was heat and static, tangled nerves and pulse.

Kate stood only a few feet away now, chest rising fast, eyes bright and wet in the dim light. “You keep saying you can’t,” she said, voice breaking between breaths, “but you are. You’re right here. You said all this and… You didn’t shut down - you stayed.”

Yelena shook her head, but she couldn’t look away. Her throat felt raw. “I stayed because-” she started, then stopped, the rest caught behind her teeth. ‘Because of you. Because I don’t know how to leave when you look at me like that.’

Kate took another step closer, slow but sure, her hands trembling at her sides. “Hm? Why did you, Lena?”

“Because I don’t know how to stop wanting this,” Yelena snapped - not angry, but desperate. The words tore through her before she could filter them. “I don’t know how to stop wanting you close.”

Kate’s breath caught. The world went impossibly quiet - the cars in the distance, the wind, even the steady hum that always lived under Yelena’s skin - all of it dimmed until there was nothing but her heartbeat and the sound of Kate’s unsteady exhale.

“Then… I don’t know- just don’t,” Kate said softly.

Yelena’s jaw tightened, the old reflex - run, retreat, rebuild walls - flickering under her skin like muscle memory. But when Kate stepped forward again, close enough that Yelena’s breath brushed against her collarbone, she didn’t move. She couldn’t.

“I am not…” Yelena started, but her voice failed her. “You don’t know what this means.”

Kate’s voice was low, steady now, as if something inside her had settled. “Maybe not. But I know what it feels like.”

They stood there, inches apart, breath mingling in the cold air. Yelena’s hand twitched at her side before she lifted it - hesitant, slow - reaching toward Kate’s face. Her fingertips hovered for a heartbeat before brushing along Kate’s jaw. The warmth of her skin hit like a shock.

Kate didn’t move away. Her breath hitched, lips parting slightly. The smallest tremor ran through her, not from fear, but from the unbearable weight of restraint.

Yelena’s heart pounded so hard it hurt. Every inch of her screamed to stop - to pull back before she crossed a line she couldn’t uncross - but Kate’s eyes stayed on her, shiny, bluish gray, wide and open and so alive.

Yelena’s chest ached with how close they were - close enough to feel the rhythm of Kate’s breath brushing against her, close enough that the world seemed to fold inward and vanish around them.

Her fingers lingered against Kate’s jaw, the rough pad of her thumb grazing the soft curve of her cheek. So soft and warm. It shouldn’t have felt like this - grounding and terrifying all at once.

Kate didn’t look away. Her pupils were wide, blown out with something that made Yelena’s stomach twist - fear and want, both mirrored in her own chest.

“Lena…” Kate breathed, her voice breaking on the name.

The sound of it - gentle, unguarded - made Yelena’s resolve fracture. Her thumb moved before she could stop it, tracing the edge of Kate’s lower lip, featherlight. She could feel the tremor that ran through Kate, see the way her lips parted just slightly, like she was waiting.

And for one suspended moment, Yelena almost let herself fall.

Almost let her hand cup the side of Kate’s neck, almost stood that final inch higher - because the air between them was unbearable, and her body knew what it wanted even if her mind refused to name it.

But the instinct hit her just as hard: Don’t.

Don’t ruin it. Don’t make this something it shouldn’t be.

Her breath hitched sharply, and her hand froze mid-motion. “If I…” she began, voice breaking, “if I do this, I will not know how to be normal after.”

Kate’s eyes softened, glistening faintly under the early night. “As if this has ever been.”

Yelena’s heart twisted. God, she wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe in a world where she could want something and not destroy it. But wanting and having were never the same thing - the Red Room had made sure she knew that distinction too well.

Her hand slipped from Kate’s jaw, falling uselessly to her side. “You don’t understand,” she said, voice low, rough. “Everything I touch… it breaks.”

Kate shook her head, a small, sharp motion. “You’re wrong.” Her voice trembled, but she didn’t back away. “Well… I’m here and not so broken so...”

That lodged somewhere deep in Yelena’s chest. She stared at Kate, at the defiance in her eyes, the fear beneath it, the unbearable tenderness that neither of them had the right to feel.

“I might - you know,” Yelena said quietly.

Kate swallowed, the motion visible in the dim light. “I’ll take my chances.”

Yelena felt it then - a wave of something between longing and surrender. She wanted to close the distance, to let herself have just one moment where she didn’t feel like a weapon.

She leaned in before she could stop herself. Just close enough that Kate’s breath shivered against her mouth, close enough that the heat between them could have tipped into something irreversible.

But she pulled back. One inch away. Her eyes closed, her pulse roaring in her ears.

Kate didn’t move either. She just breathed - shaky, deliberate, holding herself there in that impossible space between restraint and permission.

Yelena’s voice came out barely above a whisper. “You make it too easy to forget what I am.”

Kate’s answer was just as soft as raw. “I guess that’s the point.”

For a moment longer, they stayed like that - two breaths, one heartbeat apart - before Yelena pulled back, her chest trembling with what she hadn’t done.

“Get back in the car, Kate Bishop,” she said finally, voice low but uneven.

Kate blinked, still caught between heartbreak and understanding. Then she nodded once, slowly, and turned back toward the car.

When Yelena followed, she could still feel the ghost of Kate’s warmth on her fingertips - proof that she had almost crossed the line, and proof that she’d wanted to.

The drive started again in silence - heavier this time, stretched thin between them like wire.

Lucky had curled back up in the backseat, his breathing soft and steady again.

Kate stared out the window, her reflection fractured across the glass by passing light. Her arms were crossed, her jaw tight - not angry, but overwhelmed.

Yelena kept her eyes on the road. The steering wheel felt slick beneath her palms, though she wasn’t sure if it was from sweat or the remnants of adrenaline still pumping through her veins. Her pulse hadn’t steadied. She doubted it would anytime soon.

She’d almost kissed her.

God. She almost kissed Kate.

“Yelena?” Kate’s voice broke the quiet. It wasn’t sharp anymore, just tired - softer in a way.

“Hm?”

Kate hesitated. “Um- We should probably stop soon. Lucky’s gonna need to pee after all this driving. And…” she glanced at the clock glowing faintly on the dashboard. “You’ve been driving for hours. You need a break too.”

Yelena nodded once, too quickly. “Yes. There is… food soon. And gas. I saw a sign.”

Kate didn’t argue. She just hummed in quiet acknowledgment, resting her head back against the seat.

They passed another few miles like that - just the hum of tires and Lucky’s faint snoring - until Yelena pulled into a lonely roadside diner and a forgotten gas station. Neon light flickered against the pavement, half the letters in the sign burned out.

Kate unbuckled her seatbelt slowly. The motion was deliberate, careful, like she didn’t want to mess up whatever fragile calm they had rebuilt. “You want to go in, or…?”

“I will stay with the dog and get gas,” Yelena said quickly, too quickly. “You go get food.”

Kate frowned, eyes softening. “You sure?”

Yelena nodded, gaze fixed straight ahead. “I am sure, Kate Bishop.”

For a second, Kate didn’t move. Then she sighed and reached for the door handle. “Okay. I’ll get something for you too.”

Yelena almost said ‘Don’t bother’. But the words caught. Instead, she said quietly, “Thanks.”

Kate gave her a faint, understanding smile. “Sure, Lena.”

Yelena stepped out into the spring night, the air thick with the smell of gasoline and damp earth. The hum of insects filled the quiet, blending with the distant rumble of the highway. She slid her card into the reader, waited for the click, and set the nozzle in place. The numbers on the screen climbed - finally something solid, something she could control.

Lucky stretched in the backseat before she let him out. He circled the patch of grass beside the station, nose buried in the weeds, tail wagging lazily. Yelena followed, her boots crunching against gravel, every step grounding her back in something real.

By the time she rounded the car again, Kate was walking out of the diner with two paper bags in hand, steam curling into the night air. Their eyes met briefly across the lot - neither spoke, but the look was enough.

Kate handed her one of the bags as she climbed back into the car. “Got you something,” she said quietly.

Yelena nodded, voice barely above the hum of the idling engine. “Let’s go, Kate Bishop.”

She got Lucky back in, and slid into the driver’s seat again. The road stretched ahead, now completely dark and endless. They ate in silence - but now it felt less sharp, more like a truce. The sound of Lucky’s tail occasionally thumping breaking the stillness.

After some time, Kate leaned back in her seat, turning toward Yelena. “We’re… not gonna talk about it, huh?”

Yelena froze. She didn’t look at Kate at all. “About what?”

Kate gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “You know what.”

Yelena stayed silent.

Kate ran a hand through her hair, the exhaustion in her voice seeping through. “I don’t get it. You can be so damn forward and low-key - but when it’s about you, well this, you just…” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “I don’t even know anymore.”

Yelena’s throat felt dry. Of course Kate Bishop wouldn’t let that go. “It is not simple.”

“Yeah,” Kate said quietly. “I figured.”

For a moment neither spoke. Finally, Kate exhaled. “You know, I’m not mad.”

Yelena glanced at her. “You should be. I mean most people would be furious if someone just… ah- you know.”

“Maybe,” Kate admitted. “But I’m not. It’s just… complicated, I guess.”

Yelena’s mouth curved slightly, bitter at the edges. “That is the understatement of the century, Kate Bishop.”

Kate huffed a small laugh. “Yeah. Well- Guess it is.”

They drove for a few more minutes again, before Yelena said, so softly, that Kate almost didn’t hear it, “I did not mean to hurt you.”

Kate looked over, her face illuminated faintly by the glow of the headlights. “You didn’t, Lena,” she said. “You just-” She paused, searching for the word. “Um- Confused me. In a way that feels kind of… worth it, though.”

Yelena’s chest constricted again - not from fear this time, but from something achingly close to hope.

Kate shifted, curling slightly toward the window, her voice softer now, almost fading with the hum of the road. “Don’t beat yourself up, Lena. Still not going anywhere.”

And just like that, she leaned her head against the glass again, the reflection of outside lights brushing across her face. Within minutes, her breathing evened out - slow, steady, the kind of rhythm that made the car feel almost too still.

Yelena didn’t move. Didn’t turn any music on. The silence was easier to sit in now, even if her mind wasn’t.

She kept her eyes fixed on the road, but her thoughts refused to stay in one lane. The way Kate had looked at her out there in the dark. The way she’d said her name like it meant something. The way she’d understood her, or at least tried as hard as she could to do so.

Every mile that passed pulled them closer to something Yelena wasn’t ready for, but couldn’t turn away from either.

By the time the city lights began to flicker on the horizon, Kate was still asleep, her head tilted slightly toward Yelena’s side of the car. Lucky snored softly in the back again, curled up between the seats.

Yelena slowed as the skyline unfolded - the familiar stretch of concrete and steel, the faint pulse of life even at 1 a.m. The streetlights hit the windshield in fractured flashes as she pulled up in front of Kate’s apartment building.

For a moment, she didn’t wake her. She just watched - the way Kate’s lips parted slightly with each breath, the way her hand rested loosely against her thigh. Something unguarded. Peaceful.

Yelena exhaled, steady but quiet. She turned off the engine. The hum stopped.

“Kate,” she said softly, her voice more gentle than she meant it to be.

Kate stirred, blinking awake, eyes unfocused before landing on her. “We’re here?” she murmured.

Yelena nodded once. “We are.”

Kate smiled sleepily, running a hand through her hair. “It’s crazy you drove all the way here.”

“I know,” Yelena said.

Their eyes met in the dim glow of the streetlight - a brief, fragile pause suspended between exhaustion and something else. Something far more than simple affection.

Then Kate nodded, quietly, like she understood more than Yelena had said. She reached for Lucky’s leash and her bag, and spoke to her dog. “Come on. Let’s get you upstairs.”

The street was quiet, only the soft buzz of the streetlight above them and the distant sound of the city bleeding through the stillness.

Kate stood with Lucky beside her, leash looped loosely around her wrist. The dog’s tail brushed against her leg, lazy and rhythmic, like he knew better than to interrupt.

Yelena shut the car door and walked around to her side, the click of her boots against the pavement too loud in the quiet. The night air smelled faintly like pizza from the place next to them and gasoline.

They stopped a few feet apart in front of the building - not awkward, just stuck.

Kate’s voice broke the silence first, tired. “You don’t have to walk me up.”

Yelena shrugged. “And you will manage on your own huh? Somehow you weren’t so independent when it came to getting back to New York.”

Kate let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “So sweet, aren’t you?”

Silence again. Just the wind, the faint jingle of Lucky’s collar.

Yelena’s chest felt tight again - too full and too hollow at the same time. Every part of her was buzzing, still caught somewhere between restraint and the memory of almost touching Kate’s lips.

Kate shifted her weight, looking up at her. “You good, Lena?”

Yelena opened her mouth, but no sound came. There were too many things she could say - all of them too much. So instead, she did the one thing that didn’t feel like breaking, even though she once considered it that.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Kate’s waist.

Kate froze - just for a second - then melted into it, arms sliding around Yelena, cheek pressed against the assassin’s forehead.

Yelena let out a slow, uneven breath. Her pulse was wild, too fast. But the second Kate leaned into her, something inside her stilled. The world went quiet - no noise, no training, no running. Just warmth. Just her.

It wasn’t careful, and it wasn’t perfect. Kate’s hair tickled her jaw, and Yelena’s hands trembled slightly where they rested on her back. But it was real.

She didn’t know how long they stood there - maybe a few seconds, maybe forever - before Kate spoke, voice muffled against Yelena’s hair. “You sure you’re not staying?”

Yelena swallowed. “No, no, Kate Bishop.”

Kate pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes tired and soft, like she understood everything Yelena hadn’t said. “Then… go,” she whispered. “Before you…change your mind.”

Yelena nodded once. She let go slowly - fingers lingering longer than they should’ve - then stepped back.

Kate gave a faint smile. “Text me when you get to the hotel, okay?”

Yelena’s voice was quiet, almost rough. “Sure.”

Kate hesitated, then turned toward the door, Lucky trotting beside her. She looked back once, just as she reached the steps. “Goodnight, Lena. And thank you. For coming to Iowa. ”

“Goodnight, Kate.”

Kate.

And when she was gone, the smell still clung to Yelena’s skin - proof that she’d let herself feel good, even just for a moment.

Chapter Text

-

It had been a few days since the road trip.

In that time, Yelena had buried herself in training - drills, sparring, anything that could quiet her mind. She was first in the gym and last to leave, often pushing herself until her hands trembled and sweat ran cold down her back. Valentina called it “dedication”,Bucky called it “distraction”.

Fanny didn’t understand any of it. The hotel staff adored her - took her on walks, fed her treats, even let her nap in the lobby when the cleaning crew passed by. But she still waited by the door every night, ears twitching at every sound that wasn’t Yelena’s footsteps. When the door finally opened late in the evening, the dog would bark once, tail wagging like a metronome - equal parts relief and scolding.

Yelena always crouched down, rubbing behind Fanny’s ears with tired hands. “Missed you too, Fanny girl,” she’d murmur, voice hoarse from shouting orders or arguing with Walker. But even with Fanny pressed close, her mind was somewhere else - in between flashes of Kate’s laugh and the silence that followed.

They hadn’t texted much. A few exchanges - “Alive?” “Yes.” “Same.” - before the conversation fizzled into nothing. Training, exhaustion, longing - it all blended into one. Yelena wasn’t sure how to deal with the want, which she had never experienced before. And Kate - well apparently she just didn’t want to press.

It was during one of those late sessions - the kind where the gym lights buzzed and the air smelled like metal and sweat - that Bucky decided to pick a fight again.

Not a real one. Just the usual verbal sparring while they traded blows.

“So,” he said, ducking under her swing and catching her wrist, “you’re gonna tell me why you’ve been training like you’re trying to out-punish yourself?”

Yelena twisted free and landed a kick to his ribs - not hard enough to bruise, but close. “I am training because that is my job, Barnes.”

“Uh-huh.” He rolled his shoulder, smirking. “And definitely not because you want to stay distracted from that Hawkeye girl?”

Yelena froze for half a second, then moved faster. “Call it what you want. I am just… busy.”

“Right. Busy not texting her.” He caught her punch midair and pushed her back lightly. “You told me this story, remember? The whole ‘she’s different, she talks too much, she’s chaos’ thing?”

“Do not mock me.”

“I’m not mocking you.” He chuckled, stepping closer. “I’m saying maybe you should quit pretending you don’t want her. You do.”

Yelena glared at him, breath sharp. “You think you know everything, huh?”

“I know you stole my car last week and somehow made me forgive you.” He shrugged, grabbing a towel. “So yeah, I’m a little invested in your questionable life choices.”

Her mouth twitched - the closest she got to a smile then. “Ты мудак.” [in Russian: You’re an asshole]

“Yeah, and you’re lonely,” Bucky said, perfectly understanding Yelena's insult in Russian, as he spoke it too. “It’s a god damn Friday night. You should call her. Or, hell, let me meet her. I wanna see what kind of person makes you nervous.”

Yelena scoffed, throwing the towel at his face. “You? Meet Kate Bishop? Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” he said, grinning. “I’ll be nice. You two can talk about arrows or whatever it is that makes you blush.”

“I do not blush.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Yelena rolled her eyes, turning toward the punching bag again - but her hands hesitated just a second before she struck.

Maybe Bucky was right.

She knew he was.

Bucky didn’t leave. He just moved on to the weights, humming something under his breath that was too smug to be innocent. Yelena wrapped her hands again, more for something to do than because she needed to.

“You’re staring at your phone like it owes you money,” Bucky said without looking up.

“I am thinking.”

“That’s what the kids are calling it now?” He smirked.

Yelena shot him a glare, but it didn’t stick. Her thumb was already hovering over Kate’s name. The last texts between them stared back like a challenge.

She sighed, dropped the wraps onto the bench, and typed before she could stop herself.

[9:02 p.m.] Yelena: Meet at a bar in 2 hours? Up&Up in Greenwich Village.

She hit send, jaw tight.

In seconds she saw a reply come through.

[9:03 p.m.] Kate: oh yeah sure lena! see u there!

Bucky caught the motion. “There it is. The face of someone pretending they didn’t just plan a date.”

“It is not a date,” Yelena said, snatching her water bottle.

He grinned. “Sure. You, me, and Hawkeye Junior. Sounds romantic already.”

Yelena froze halfway through a sip. “Wait. You?”

“You said you didn’t want me to meet her. So, naturally, I’m inviting myself.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “You are- I don’t have words anymore.”

“Mhm,” Bucky said, shrugging. “But admit it - you want backup.”

Yelena exhaled through her nose, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. “Fine. The three of us. Two hours. You pay.”

“Deal.” He tossed a towel over his shoulder, grinning wider. “This is going to be fun.”

She quickly typed again.

[9:05 p.m.] Yelena: Don’t ask questions but Bucky will be there too. Sorry in advance.

Yelena was done with Bucky. Also she had a hangout to get ready for, and as she turned back to the door, her pulse was different now - faster, restless.

Two hours suddenly felt very close.

-

The shower did nothing.

The steam blurred the mirror, but not enough to hide the exhaustion under her eyes. She wiped the fog away with the side of her hand, studying the reflection like it belonged to someone else - someone steadier.

She dressed in the first things that made sense - dark jeans, the knitted green sweater she liked because it didn’t look like she was trying. Her hair was still damp when she brushed it back, the smell of soap and mint clinging to her skin.

Too clean for how her chest felt - restless, uneasy, like she’d swallowed static.

She checked her phone again. 9:45.

Kate hadn’t said anything else since her last text. Neither had Yelena. The silence felt heavier than any argument.

She did her makeup - well eyeliner and concealer, and dried her hair. It didn’t occupy her time nor mind enough, though.

Yelena sat on the edge of the bed for a while, elbows on her knees. Fanny was sprawled on the comforter, half asleep, tail flicking lazily. “You are lucky, Fanny,” she murmured. “No feelings. No… stupid plans.”

The dog huffed softly, as if in agreement.

Yelena exhaled, straightened, and started gathering her things and putting them in her pockets - phone, wallet, keys. She paused halfway through tying her boots, hands stilling.

Her mind cut back to Kate. To the way her voice tilted upward when she was teasing. To that look she gave her right before she fell asleep in the car - soft, unaware, completely disarming.

It should’ve been easier, this thing. Whatever this was. But it wasn’t. It was like standing on ice and pretending she didn’t feel it cracking underneath.

She rubbed her hands together, restless. And then her brain began moving to a different place. The thought of the bar - the smell of alcohol, the hum of conversation - sat heavy in her stomach.

She hadn’t been in a bar in weeks. Maybe longer. Not since she’d started staying sober.

Back then, the drinks had quieted the noise. But somewhere between now and then… Kate became that kind of escape. A safe one. So why did it feel like walking straight back into danger?

Yelena stood, pacing once, twice. The air felt thick.

“It’s fine,” she muttered. “It is just a place. You are not that person anymore.”

But she didn’t believe it. Not fully.

She tried watching the TV to fill up her mind and time, until she had to get going.

When the clock hit 10:35, she finally slung her leather jacket over her shoulders and left. The elevator hummed all the way down.

Bucky was already waiting in the lobby, leaning against the wall like he owned the place, dressed in dark blue jeans, a blue Hanley and a brown leather jacket. He looked her over once, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You clean up nice, Belova.”

“Do not start,” she warned, but her voice lacked bite.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, pushing off the wall. “Cab’s out front.”

Yelena nodded, adjusting her jacket. Her hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting - thumb either brushing the edge of her sleeve or playing with a ring on her pointer, over and over.

Bucky held the door open for her as they stepped out into the night air. The city hum pressed close around them, headlights flashing, the distant sound of sirens bleeding into the streets.

The cab was already waiting. Yelena slid into the backseat first, Bucky following after. As the driver pulled away from the curb, the hotel lights faded behind them.

Yelena leaned her head against the window, watching the reflection of the passing buildings blur. Her pulse hadn’t slowed since she’d hit ‘send’ on that message.

Soon the cab rolled to a slow stop in front of The Up & Up. Kate was waiting near the door, hands shoved in the pockets of her blue jean jacket, other than that she had a purple long sleeve and tight black jeans, one foot tapping idly against the pavement. She looked up the second the cab pulled up, eyes catching the headlights, and that smile broke across her face - the one that made something in Yelena’s chest shift no matter how much she hated that it did.

Bucky leaned forward in his seat to get a look through the window. “That’s her right?”

Yelena didn’t answer. She was already reaching for the handle.

“Cute,” Bucky said under his breath, mostly to himself, like he was confirming a theory.

Yelena shot him a warning look over her shoulder. “Not another word.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

The cab door opened with a creak. Cool air met her as she stepped out, boots hitting the pavement. Kate straightened a little when she saw her, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Hey,” Kate said, casual, like she wasn’t practically bouncing on her feet. “You’re on time.”

“I am never late,” Yelena replied. “Matter of fact - I am surprised you are so punctual.”

Kate grinned. “It’s your lucky day.”

Bucky stepped out from the other side, shutting the door behind him. “Nice to finally meet you. James- Bucky. Barnes.” he said, tone easy, offering Kate a small nod.

Kate blinked once, then twice - the kind of pause that wasn’t shock, more like holy shit, this is happening. “Yeah, uh- you too. I’m Kate. Um- Kate Bishop. Kinda weird meeting, like, you-you. But whatever.” She cleared her throat, pretending she was fine. “Big fan of your emotional growth arc, by the way.”

Bucky’s brows lifted, amused. “My what?”

“Your-” Kate waved her hand vaguely, like she was editing herself in real time. “Never mind. Please, god- Forget I said that.”

Yelena pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is already a disaster.”

Kate laughed, bumping her shoulder lightly against Yelena’s arm. “Relax, Lena. I’m just making conversation.”

“Oh Lena, huh?” Bucky said, clearly holding his laugh in.

Yelena's eyes narrowed dangerously, a clear threat aimed directly at Bucky's head. "Shut up, Barnes."

Kate just grinned, completely unfazed. "Hm. Anyway, are we standing out here all night, or are we going in?" She motioned toward the heavy, unmarked door of The Up & Up.

Yelena grunted, pushing past both of them to take the lead. "You pay, remember, Barnes."

Bucky sighed dramatically, fishing his wallet out as they followed Kate into the dimly lit, narrow space. The air inside was warm and thick with the scent of aged wood, citrus, and subtle, expensive alcohol. The Up & Up was quiet, sophisticated, and exactly the kind of place Yelena thought Kate might enjoy, but also dark enough to not feel intimidating.

They found a small, intimate booth in the back, upholstered in light browm leather. Yelena slid into the corner seat, instantly assessing the exits and the patrons - a habit she couldn't break. Kate settled next to Yelena, making the space feel instantly smaller. Bucky took the spot across from them, as he looked around the bar. They barely opened their menus, as a server in a crisp white jacket appeared.

"Good evening. What can I get for you?"

Kate was quick. "Oh, I'll take... maybe something sweet? The Cosmotropolis? That sounded good. Oh- and on tequila please.”

Bucky nodded. "I'll do something with whiskey, please. I’ll trust your pick."

The server turned to Yelena. Her stomach tightened, a cold, familiar knot. She had rehearsed this moment in her head, back in the hotel room. It's just a drink. It's just a place.

"Can I get um... a Coke?" she asked, the word sounding foreign and clumsy on her tongue in this environment.

Kate paused and looked sideways at Yelena. Bucky didn't react, just watched the server.

The server, professional to a fault, didn't blink. "Of course. Will regular Coke do or do you want it diet?"

"Regular," Yelena said, trying to inject some authority into her voice.

The server nodded, jotting it down. Then she turned to Bucky.

"And for you, sir, you trusted my pick," the server said, her smile practiced and warm. "Since you requested whiskey, I think you’d enjoy our Screen Door Slam? It’s made with Maker's Mark Bourbon, Aperol and Honey. It’s one of our most popular robust drinks."

Bucky looked thoughtful for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "Sounds great."

"Wonderful. I'll have those right out," the server said, gathering the menus and disappearing into the low light.

A small silence settled between the three of them. Kate slowly swiveled her body so she was facing Yelena more, one arm stretched along the top of the booth.

"A Coke, Lena?" she asked, her voice quiet, the teasing edge gone. "I- I didn’t know you don’t drink. I mean you suggested a bar so-"

God, she picked a bar because it was neutral territory, a place for normal people to gather. Because she knew the smell, the noise - she thought she could master the environment, prove she wasn't that person anymore. But the look in Kate's eyes - soft, not judging, just knowing - made the air thin, threatening to expose the messy history Yelena kept so carefully buried. The fragile sobriety she fought for was not a conversation to have under the buzzing lights of a cocktail bar. The truth was too heavy, something she’d rather swallow than expose.

Sweep it. Now.

Yelena forced a harsh laugh that didn't reach her eyes.

"It is fine, Kate Bishop," she said, her voice sharp, cutting through the sudden sincerity. "I have work tomorrow. Training. I need to be sharp."

Bucky, visibly sensing the topic needed to be torched immediately, decided to take the initiative and shift the conversation.

"She's right," Bucky said easily, sliding into the role of distraction. "Well, you’re probably aware, Kate. Doesn’t Sam have you train sometimes with those other kids?”

Kate’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah! Kind of- I mean training is an overstatement. We’re still figuring it out - me, Kamala, Cassie, and America. Sam’s been helping. He calls us the ‘rookie rotation’, which now that I say it - sounds cooler than it is.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, leaning back in the booth. “God, I still can’t believe how professional he’d gotten.”

Kate grinned, resting her chin in her hand. “Are you two close or just like… work buddies?”

He hesitated just a fraction - not enough for anyone who didn’t know him. “Both,” he said at last, voice casual but not really. “Sam’s… persistent. Won’t stop trying to make me talk about my feelings.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “And does it work?”

Bucky’s lips twitched like he wanted to deflect. “Sometimes,” he said. Then, softer, almost to himself, “He’s a good man.”

Yelena caught that shift - the way Bucky’s tone changed mid-sentence. The way his eyes didn’t quite focus for a moment, like they were somewhere else.

It reminded her of the few times she’d heard him mention Natasha - always like something heavy had just brushed by him.

She didn’t pry. She knew what it looked like when someone kept grief folded up and tucked inside their ribs. It was almost comforting - knowing she wasn’t the only one still living like that.

Before the silence could stretch, the waitress returned, balancing a tray in one hand.

“Here we are,” she said warmly, setting each glass down with practiced precision. “Cosmotropolis on tequila for you, ma’am,” she said, sliding the pinkish drink toward Kate. “Screen Door Slam for you, sir,” she added, placing Bucky’s amber drink with a faint clink of ice.

“And for you,” she turned to Yelena, tone still polite but softening just slightly, “a regular Coke.”

Yelena nodded once, meeting her eyes briefly. “Thank you.” she murmured.

The waitress smiled, stepping back. “Enjoy. If you need anything just call for me.”

Kate picked up her drink immediately, examining the color like it was art. “This looks way fancier than the name, wow.”

Bucky raised his glass. “Cheers, guys.”

Yelena hesitated, then lifted her Coke. The glass felt cool, grounding against her skin.

The sound of the toast was soft - just the dull chime of glass against glass. Kate’s laughter followed it, light and easy.

Yelena’s throat was dry when she took the first sip. The sweetness hit her tongue hard - too familiar, almost nostalgic.

She stared down into the dark fizz, the bubbles popping like static in her chest.

The smell of alcohol hung faintly in the air - sharp, clean, reminding her of too many things she’d decided to forget. The first time she’d tried to drown silence. Not a single time she’d succeeded, as she started to realize it didn’t work.

Her grip tightened on the glass. The condensation made her fingers slip a little, but she didn’t let go.

Time slipped quietly after that - not slow or fast, just fluid in the way moments did when no one was watching the clock.

Bucky told a story about Sam trying to cook dinner and nearly setting off the fire alarms at an apartment in Riga, and Kate almost spit out her drink laughing. Somewhere between Kate’s mock impression of Sam’s ‘Cap voice’ and Bucky’s deadpan reenactment of the chaos, the edge in the air dulled.

It wasn’t loud in the bar, but the space around them felt alive. The low murmur of conversation, the clink of glass against wood, the slow hum of music - it all blurred into a kind of calm Yelena hadn’t expected.

She didn’t talk much - just enough to stay in it. Every time Kate turned toward her, though, she found herself saying something, small things that didn’t matter but felt strange in her mouth: dry humor, tiny corrections, half-formed answers that still managed to make Kate smile.

It was so disarming - that smile. It came so easily, like it wasn’t pulling from anything else.

By the time the server returned to check in, Kate’s Cosmotropolis was mostly gone. She ordered another one without thinking. Bucky smirked, clearly entertained but didn’t comment.

A half hour later, the flush on Kate’s cheeks had deepened. Her words ran together a little, lighter and freer. She wasn’t drunk, not really, but tipsy enough that her laugh came easier and her posture softened - head tilted toward Yelena, elbow on the table, fingers tracing the condensation from her glass.

“Okay,” Kate said, pointing a little too dramatically, “but I swear, you both have literally the same ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ expression. It’s terrifying.”

Bucky chuckled. “That’s military trauma for you, Bishop.”

Yelena rolled her eyes. “He was in air force. And you are dramatic.”

“Me?” He gestured with his drink. “You literally entered this bar like it was a tactical op.”

Kate snorted, half-covering her mouth. “She totally did. You saw the exit scan thing too, right? Full security sweep before sitting down.”

“I am not hearing this,” Yelena muttered, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her.

Bucky leaned back, grin smug. “Oh that’s what it is for you- ha. You’re blushing.”

“I am not-”

Kate giggled, cutting her off. “Oh, you totally are.” She leaned closer and said, barely above a whisper. “It’s adorable.”

“See, now I am leaving,” Yelena said flatly, starting to move, but Kate gently grabbed her shoulder with an easy laugh.

“Don’t,” she said, grinning up at her. “We’re messing with you.”

Something about the way she said it - soft, unguarded - made Yelena stop.

Her arm relaxed. Slowly, she sank back into her seat, her Coke long gone but her pulse still quietly restless.

Across the booth, Bucky was smiling into his drink, the kind of knowing look that meant he’d say something later. Maybe tease her. Maybe tell her to stop pretending she wasn’t enjoying herself.

Kate turned back toward her, chin propped on her hand again. “You’re not that good of a liar, you know.”

“Excuse me?”

“You act like you hate being around people, but you’re actually… kind of good at it. You listen. You notice stuff. You make it easier for other people to talk.”

Yelena blinked, thrown off by the gentleness of it. “That sounds exhausting.”

Kate laughed again, softer this time. “I don’t know - maybe. But you’re good at it anyway.”

Bucky stood a minute later, muttering something about ‘grabbing another one’ He left them with a wink that felt more like strategy than courtesy.

The booth suddenly felt smaller.

Kate had gone quiet, tracing circles on the table with the tip of her finger. Her other hand rested near Yelena’s leg now - not close enough to touch, but close enough that Yelena noticed.

The light overhead flickered faintly, gold and dim.

Kate looked at her then, really looked - eyes glossy with the soft blur of a mild buzz, expression open and vulnerable in a way Yelena had never fully seen sober. “You’re staring,” she said quietly, half teasing, half not.

Yelena hadn’t realized she was. “You are loud,” she replied, voice lower than before.

Kate smiled, slow and drowsy. “You like it.”

She should’ve said no. Should’ve rolled her eyes, deflected, built the distance back. But the words didn’t come. Instead, there was that pull again - the one that made her chest tight and her pulse steady all at once.

Kate shifted slightly, her knee brushing Yelena’s. She didn’t move it away.

The sound of glasses clinking behind them, laughter from another table, the faint slide of the waitress’s shoes - all of it blurred into background noise.

Without really deciding to, Yelena’s hand drifted under the table. Just a small motion, subtle enough that Kate might’ve missed it if she wasn’t watching. Her palm rested lightly on Kate’s knee - not claiming, not possessive. Just there.

Kate froze for a heartbeat, her breath catching the tiniest bit. Then she exhaled - easy, calm, like she’d been waiting for it.

Yelena’s thumb moved once, absent, tracing a slow half-circle through the fabric of Kate’s jeans. She didn’t look down, didn’t make it a moment. She just kept it there, like it was natural - like she wasn’t quietly terrified of what it meant.

Kate smiled again, smaller now, less bright but more real. “You’re not as terrifying as you think you are, you know.”

Yelena looked at her then - the blush in her cheeks, the softness around her mouth - and something in her chest unknotted, just slightly.

“Do not tell anyone,” she murmured.

Kate grinned, eyes half-lidded. “Cross my heart.”

Yelena’s hand stayed where it was. She didn’t pull away this time.

Yelena’s insides felt warm, too warm. Not the kind that made her dizzy like vodka ever did - this was cleaner, stranger, like every nerve in her skin had just woken up. It was different from every drug she ever took, as well. The air pressed against her in slow motion, thick with perfume and citrus and the faint bite of whiskey from across the table.

She wasn’t used to this. Not the quiet that buzzed inside her ribs. Not the way her lower stomach tightened for no reason when Kate’s muscles tensed every time she’d trace a lazy circle on her leg.

It wasn’t danger, and it wasn’t fear - those she had known too well. She felt coiled and heavy and light all at once, a confusing cocktail that made her feel sort of good.

Her thumb still lingered on Kate’s knee. Just the smallest movement - a circle, a press - something to make sure it was still real.

Kate’s smile hadn’t faded. Her eyes flicked down briefly, not shy, just aware. Then back up again.

Yelena swallowed hard, unsure why her mouth had gone dry. She’d been in interrogation rooms that felt less intense than this.

And then - the spell cracked.

“Hope you two are behaving,” Bucky’s voice cut through the air, smooth and unbothered.

Yelena’s hand snapped back like she’d touched a live wire.

He set three glasses down with an almost theatrical clink - a new drink for himself, another glass of coke for Yelena, and something bright pink for Kate.

“Wait-” Kate blinked, laughing. “I didn’t order another one!”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky said, sliding into his seat, “you look like a ‘three-drink minimum’ kinda girl.”

Kate laughed louder, a sound that made Yelena’s pulse slow just enough to hide how startled she’d been.

Bucky leaned back, glass in hand, studying them both over the rim. His expression was neutral - too neutral. “So. What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” Yelena said too quickly.

Kate smiled into her drink. “Yeah, nothing at all.”

“Mhm,” Bucky hummed, clearly unconvinced, but mercifully dropped it. “You together are trouble.”

Yelena reached for her fresh glass Coke, fingers brushing the condensation like it could ground her. The sound of the frizz - soft and constant - gave her something to focus on.

She risked a glance sideways. Kate was leaning into the backrest again, her laugh easy and cheeks flushed. Every time she smiled, the room seemed to move with it.

The air thickened, the hum of the bar folding into a low, golden rhythm. The kind of hour that didn’t feel real - just warm and suspended.

Kate’s third drink disappeared faster than the pervious two. Her words loosened, weaving into laughter that melted into Yelena’s skin like sunlight she hadn’t realized she missed.

Bucky was talking about something - that big fight at some airport in Germany, or maybe a story about Sam getting cornered by reporters. Yelena couldn’t tell anymore. She just kept nodding at the right parts, her mind only half tethered to the conversation.

Because Kate kept looking at her.

Not just looking - seeing.

Her face was flushed, hair messy now from the way she kept tucking it behind her ear. There was a brightness in her that the low light couldn’t dim, and every time she laughed, Yelena felt it - like static crackling under her ribs.

Her own beverage sat almost untouched. She didn’t need it anymore. The fizz had gone flat, but her pulse hadn’t.

Kate said something - a joke, maybe - and nudged her shoulder, gentle, familiar. Yelena didn’t even think before she smiled back. It felt foreign and real, like something she hadn’t done in years without meaning to.

Bucky caught it. She knew he did. His smirk was soft this time, not teasing - more like understanding. He sipped his drink, watching her for a second before glancing away, letting the silence stretch.

Yelena shifted in her seat. The booth was too small, the air too warm, or maybe it was just her.

Kate leaned in a little, her knee brushing against Yelena’s again. The touch lingered.

“Lena,” she said quietly, voice slower now, the edges rounded by tequila. “You’re doing that thing again.”

Yelena blinked. “What thing?”

Kate’s smile curved, lazy and knowing. “Pretending you’re not having fun.”

Her throat tightened. “I am not pretending.”

“Then prove it,” Kate said, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I do not know what that means.”

“It means stop overthinking. Just… be here.” Kate’s voice softened on that last part - not a challenge, more of an invitation.

Yelena opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come.

She let out a shaky breath, fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “You are drunk.”

Kate’s grin widened. “A little.” She paused, then, softer, “But you make me feel safe drunk, you know?”

Yelena froze. The air between them shifted - heavier, quieter.

Safe.

She looked at Kate, really looked, and for a second, she almost forgot where they were.

Something inside her - that cold, locked-away part - twitched like it wanted to move.

Bucky stood again, muttering something about the bathroom. His tone was easy, but Yelena caught the glance he gave her on the way out - a quiet warning wrapped in care. Be careful.

As soon as he was gone, Kate leaned back into the booth, her head tipping just slightly toward Yelena’s shoulder.

“You smell nice,” she murmured, voice small now, honest in a way that knocked the breath from Yelena’s chest.

Yelena’s pulse stuttered. “That is laundry detergent. And soap. I lost my perfume long ago.”

Kate giggled, the sound half-dreamy. “Then I like your soap.”

It was such a stupid, harmless thing to say - and yet Yelena felt her entire body react, that slow pull of warmth curling beneath her skin.

Her hand twitched where it rested on the side. She wanted to move it - to softly brush Kate’s knee again. Or… see if she could put it on her thigh. To do something small and human and completely reckless.

And to her own utter shock - she did.

Yelena felt it before she even realized she had moved - her fingers, almost without thought, brushing against Kate’s thigh. The contact sent a strange pulse up her arm, a heat she couldn’t ignore. Her stomach twisted, tight and restless, betraying the careful control she always tried to maintain.

Kate’s reaction was immediate. She froze, breath hitching slightly, and Yelena felt it like electricity jumping between them. Yelena’s pulse slammed in her ears, a rhythmic warning and thrill all at once.

Part of her wanted to pull back, to pretend this wasn’t happening - she was supposed to be cold, cautious, untouchable - but another, louder part of her was aware of the warmth under her hand, the subtle tension in Kate’s body, the sharp intake of breath that made her chest tighten even more.

Her stomach fluttered, a strange, insistent pressure she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in… well never. Was it… arousal?

The word refused to leave her mind, unwelcome but insistent. She swallowed, fingers still resting on Kate’s thigh, feeling the pulse of life there, the nervous tremor that matched her own.

Yelena’s mind screamed for retreat, for control, but her body betrayed her entirely. Every nerve ending was alive, buzzing with awareness, pulling the assassin's closer to the girl next to her. The low, soft laugh Kate tried to force out - nervous, breathy - didn’t soothe her, it lit her up further, sparking heat straight down into her stomach.

She tried to anchor herself to the glass in front of her, to the cold, hard reality of the bar, but it was pointless. Every glance at Kate, every small shift in the booth, made her stomach coil tighter, made her pulse drum louder. Yelena had never felt like this - so exposed, so raw, so achingly real.

And even as a small, controlled part of her screamed at the recklessness of it, another part of her, the part that had been buried under years of training, orders, and survival, whispered that she didn’t want to stop. Not now.

Yelena’s hand flexed once against Kate’s thigh, not enough to move - just enough to remind herself she was touching her on purpose.

Kate turned her head, slow and cautious, like she was afraid to startle something fragile. Her eyes caught Yelena’s, wide but steady, and the sight of it almost undid her. There was no panic there. No hesitation. Just quiet surprise and something deeper underneath.

She could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips now, a steady, traitorous thrum she couldn’t hide. She’d been trained to notice microexpressions - shifts in breathing, posture, threat - but nothing in the years of conditioning prepared her for this. For watching someone’s cheeks flush because of her.

Kate didn’t pull away.

If anything, she seemed to lean closer, the space between them shrinking by the inch.

The air felt heavier now, warm enough to make Yelena’s clothes stick slightly to her skin. Her mouth was dry. Her hand burned with restraint.

She could have moved it - should have - but she didn’t.

Kate laughed then, quietly, a shaky sound that broke through the silence like a spark. “You’re- uh- that’s- wow, okay.”

Yelena blinked, thrown off by the words, by how light her voice sounded compared to the thundering in her own head. “What was that?”

Kate looked at her, lips curving in a nervous smile. “Nothing. Just- you’re not subtle, you know that?”

“I am not?” The words came out flatter than she meant.

Kate shook her head, still smiling. “Nope. You’re really not.”

She wanted to look away, to scoff, to shut it down. Instead, she found herself watching Kate’s mouth as she talked, the way it moved around the words, the faint shimmer of gloss catching the light.

A dangerous habit, that.

Her hand still hadn’t moved. She felt Kate’s leg tense slightly beneath her fingers, and for a second Yelena thought about pulling back - about ending this before she said or did something she couldn’t get out of. But then Kate’s breath came out softer, steadier, and she realized Kate didn’t want her to stop.

Yelena’s stomach flipped.

“You’re making it hard to think,” Kate said suddenly, voice low, the kind of tone that sent heat crawling up Yelena’s neck.

She swallowed, tried to steady her breathing. “Then do not think, Kate Bishop.” she said, because it was easier than saying ‘Me too’.

Kate’s eyes widened, and Yelena immediately wanted to take it back - it sounded too blunt - but then Kate smiled, soft and nervous, and the panic in her chest loosened again.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. The kind that hummed in the space between them, that made Yelena acutely aware of every inch of distance she hadn’t yet closed.

Kate’s hand moved - just a little - until her fingers brushed Yelena’s wrist. The contact was barely there, but it jolted through her anyway.

Yelena froze. Her instincts screamed at her to control the situation, but she couldn’t. Couldn’t even breathe properly.

Kate’s voice was quiet, trembling only slightly. “You’re uh- shaking.”

“I am not,” Yelena said - but her own voice betrayed her. It wasn’t steady.

Kate’s thumb moved, tracing along the thin scar that cut across Yelena’s wrist. “You are, Lena.” she said, and then softer, “It’s okay, though.”

Yelena didn’t understand how two words could hit so hard.

It’s okay.

Like permission. Like forgiveness. Like a language she’d never learned but had been waiting to hear.

Her throat ached. She wanted to say something back, something sharp and deflective to keep the air from getting too real - but nothing came. The only thing she could focus on was the soft warmth of Kate’s skin against hers and the sound of her own breathing.

Her pulse jumped again.

The pressure in her chest wasn’t fear anymore. It was something she didn’t have a name for - something alive, hungry, terrifying in its simplicity.

What if this was… how love was supposed to feel like, all along?

She wanted to move closer. Just a few inches. Enough to feel the edge of Kate’s hair against her shoulder, maybe. Enough to make it real.

But she didn’t. She stayed still.

Because stillness was safer.

Because she was already too far gone.

Kate smiled then, small and lopsided, and Yelena knew she’d noticed all of it - the shaking, the stillness, the want.

And the worst part? She didn’t seem scared at all.

The sound of Bucky’s boots on the floor reached her before she saw him.

Yelena’s hand slipped back from Kate’s thigh like nothing had happened, but her pulse was still wild under her skin. The warmth Kate had left behind didn’t fade.

Bucky slid into the booth again, completely unaware - or pretending to be. “So,” he said, dropping into his seat and taking a long drink, “Sam just texted me. Says I need to ‘get some sun.’ Thinks dragging me to Louisiana again will fix things.”

Kate laughed, light and easy, though Yelena could still feel the tremor in her own fingers. “Does it work?” she asked.

Bucky shrugged. “Not yet. He tries though. Man never quits.”

Something about the way he said it - casual, fond - made Yelena look up. His mouth had softened just slightly, the kind of softness he didn’t let out often. The same tone he used only when he talked about Natasha.

“You talk about him like you talked about your Natalia,” Yelena said quietly.

The smile faltered. Not gone - just dimmed. His eyes shifted to the glass in his hand. “Do I?”

“Yes.” She tilted her head, studying him. “You do.”

He huffed a laugh, but it wasn’t humor. “She saved me. Sam just… refuses to stop trying.”

“I mean- Maybe that’s the same thing,” Kate said softly, voice small but sure.

Bucky didn’t answer. He just swirled his drink, the ice catching faint light.

Yelena watched him for a moment - the stiffness in his shoulders, the weight under the jokes. She knew that kind of grief too well. The one that sat so long inside you it became the shape you lived in.

Even though she wouldn’t admit it out loud - Yelena had gotten closer with Bucky. And as badly as she envied how much time he got with Natka, she really wanted him to find someone like that again. Someone that couldn’t fill the hole Nat’s death had created, but just make it feel less swallowing.

“Maybe you should just… ah- go for it,” she said suddenly.

Bucky looked up, caught off guard. “What?”

“With Sam,” she clarified, shrugging. “You talk about him like he matters. Like he is… good. So maybe stop thinking and just-” she hesitated, searching for the word “go.”

His expression flickered - surprise, maybe. Then something quieter, something that almost looked like gratitude. “You’re giving relationship advice now?”

Yelena’s mouth twitched. “No. I am just saying - if something makes you feel… lighter, you should not run from it.”

He studied her for a moment longer, and there it was - that knowing glint in his eyes. The one that meant Bucky saw more than she wanted him to. “You should take your own advice, Belova.”

Yelena froze, pulse stuttering.

Because she knew he was right. Again.

Kate glanced between them, confusion and something softer passing through her expression. “Wait- what advice?”

“None,” Yelena said quickly, too quickly.

Bucky smirked, leaning back, letting it go. “Sure. Let’s keep it this way.”

The silence that followed wasn’t sharp. It was heavy, but warm - the kind that sits between people who understand each other’s damage.

Kate leaned against Yelena’s shoulder, subtle but sure. “For what it’s worth,” she murmured, “I think you’re both terrible at taking advice.”

Yelena let out a slow breath through her nose, something like a smile tugging at her lips. “That is probably true.”

Bucky chuckled, raising his glass. “To bad advice, then.”

Kate clinked her drink against his. “And even worse execution.”

Yelena lifted her Coke last, her reflection rippling on its surface.

She wasn’t sure if she was toasting to Bucky’s ghosts - or her own.

But when she looked sideways, at Kate’s head resting lightly against her shoulder, she thought that this girl was worth letting go of every single defence.

The drinks disappeared faster than Yelena realized. Kate’s laughter trailed through the space like sunlight. Bucky leaned back, finishing his own glass, clearly content to let the two of them have this moment.

When the last of the ice clinked against glass, Yelena stretched, stiff shoulders protesting. “We should go,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Kate blinked, head tilting in mild confusion. “Already?” she asked, voice still light but slower, slightly wobbling.

Yelena’s fingers brushed against the small of Kate’s back as she shifted closer. The gesture was careful, protective. Kate’s eyes widened, but eventually she nodded and they both slid out of the seats.

Bucky finished his drink and followed, glancing between the two of them. Yelena didn’t look at him. Her focus was on the faint tilt of Kate’s step, the way her body swayed just enough for it to be known that she was tipsy.

Outside, the cool night air hit them and Yelena exhaled sharply, the warmth of the bar replaced by the crispness of the city. She caught Bucky’s glance and nodded subtly.

“Check on Fanny,” she said quietly, almost a command. “I will get her home.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, but the nod was all he gave. “Got it,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Yelena guided Kate toward the curb, careful not to grab her too tightly but keeping her close enough that the girl felt anchored. Kate’s eyes flicked around, distracted by streetlights and neon signs, but the sway in her step was subtle. Not drunk, not far gone - just caught between the buzz of alcohol and the warmth of their evening.

“I didn’t expect you to… come with me,” Kate murmured, voice soft, a little surprised.

Yelena kept her gaze forward, focusing on their path. “I am not leaving you to figure out cab lines and curbs by yourself,” she said. The words were practical, neutral - yet the protection behind them was anything but.

Kate’s lips curved in a faint smile, leaning slightly into her shoulder. “Guess I should be grateful, huh?”

“Be grateful all you want to,” Yelena replied, dryly, but her pulse betrayed the warmth behind the words.

They called cabs, side by side, Yelena keeping a steadying hand near Kate’s elbow, guiding her gently toward the waiting vehicle. Kate leaned into her side when the cab door opened, a quiet reliance that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Not too drunk, huh?” Yelena asked softly, more to herself than Kate.

Kate shook her head lightly, hair falling into her face. “No, not really… just enough to be silly, maybe.”

Yelena’s jaw tightened slightly, protective and watchful. She slid into the cab first, Kate following, resting an arm against the seat as if she needed the support. Yelena stayed close, careful to mirror the distance that kept them both comfortable but close enough that she could react if needed.

She quickly stated Kate’s address, and the taxi driver just drove without a word.

Bucky’s eyes met hers through the window as the cab pulled away, a small smirk playing on his lips. He could see what she was doing - the quiet, unspoken vigilance - and the glint in his eyes held both amusement and approval. Yelena didn’t flinch. She didn’t need anyone to tell her what she already knew: she would make sure Kate got home safe, and she would do it without hesitation.

Kate rested her head lightly against the back of the seat, the faint smell of her perfume - or maybe just her warmth - curling into Yelena’s senses. So sweet, but also floral at the same time.

Yelena’s hand twitched near her own thigh, unused to the softness, the closeness, the trust. She let it rest there. Not claiming, not forcing - just keeping the space between them safe.

The city blurred past the window, but in the back of that cab, with Kate leaning slightly into her, Yelena felt an odd, careful peace. Not safe in the world - she never was - but safe enough to stay.

Chapter Text

-

After a short while they were right under Kate’s door. Yelena caught herself remembering the first time she’d been here - the night she broke in, sneaking through the window, shadows, alarms and adrenaline. That memory brought a faint smirk to her lips, one she quickly suppressed.

Kate fumbled with her keys, unlocking the door to the apartment. Yelena’s eyes swept over the familiar space - low, worn couch in the center, lofted bedroom, posters pinned to the walls, Lucky curled on the floor.

The dog spotted them and bounded forward, tail wagging furiously, circling Kate before plopping down near the couch. Yelena crouched slightly, scratching behind his ears. “Hi, Lucky boy. So sweet aren’t you?” she murmured, though her voice carried warmth this time.

Kate kicked off her shoes at the door. “You too,” she said, gesturing toward the couch. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Yelena hesitated only a moment before slipping off her boots. The floor was warm under her socks, and she sank into the couch, giving Kate space but staying close enough that the pull between them was palpable. Lucky settled at their feet.

Kate leaned back, letting out a contented sigh. “It’s so weird,” she murmured, voice soft, “Like just… being here. Just us… and Lucky.”

Yelena let the words settle. She remembered the time she’d crept through this space, every movement calculated - and now she was here voluntarily, calm in a way she rarely allowed herself.

“You’ve been here before,” Kate said quietly, looking at her. “You… remember?”

Yelena’s gaze softened, but she didn’t answer right away. Memories of that night, the thrill of breaking in, the unspoken danger, the first time speaking to Kate - it all made her chest tighten. “Yeah, I know this place.” she finally said, voice low. “Looks less crispy now.”

Kate smiled faintly, leaning closer, her head tilting slightly toward Yelena. The subtle warmth of her presence made the pull in Yelena’s chest undeniable.

Kate shifted slightly on the couch, inching closer. Her elbow brushed lightly against Yelena’s side. The archer froze, then looked up at Yelena, her pupils blown wide. “Uh…Is this okay, Lena?”

Yelena blinked.. “It… is,” she muttered, her voice low and shaky without meaning to. Her chest felt tight, a strange warmth pooling behind her ribs.

No one ever asked her if they could touch her. No one.

Kate reached her hand slowly toward Yelena’s, brushing a fingertip along the back of her hand. “Can I… touch it? I mean- Do you like uh- want me to?” she whispered, voice soft, but words tripping over themselves.

Yelena’s breath caught. Her hand felt suddenly too hot, too aware. She hadn’t realized her own fingers itched to curl around Kate’s. “You… can, Kate Bishop. Yes.” she said, almost surprised at how easy it was to let her.

The contact was electric. Her mind screamed to stay composed - she was trained to control, to dominate - but now? She wanted to fold into this, wanted to let the thrill and the warmth wash over her. Kate’s fingers traced a line along Yelena’s leg, and the assassin’s mind scattered.

She shouldn’t want this. She shouldn’t need this.

But the warmth of Kate's hand, the careful permission, pulled at her in ways she had never felt. She wanted to fold into it, let herself feel human, vulnerable, wanted.

The brush of Kate’s fingers was enough to make her pulse drum in her ears. Yelena’s breath hitched, chest tightening with a delicious tension. She could feel Kate’s warmth, the soft press of the archer’s hand against her, and every instinct screamed at her to pull back - but another part, buried deep under years of training and chemical subjugation, whispered, stay.

Kate’s fingers lingered, sliding upward, grazing her thigh. “God, I’m a bit tipsy… is this okay? Am I overstepping?” Yelena’s chest tightened further. She wanted to press closer, let the contact deepen, but her life had always taught her restraint. But maybe… she didn’t need to restrain herself. Not so much. Not anymore.

Yelena swallowed hard. Her training, her control, her walls… they all felt like they were melting away. She wanted to pull Kate closer, press her hand against her leg properly, feel that soft weight more fully - but the restraint she’d built her life around was still there, pulling her back ever so slightly.

“You are… careful,” Yelena murmured, though her voice was thick, her own words sounding strange even to her.

Kate grinned, leaning closer, brushing her thumb lightly across Yelena’s knuckles. “I…yeah. I like being careful with you,” she said softly.

Yelena’s heart slammed.

Every small permission, every careful touch, was like fire creeping along her skin. And now this - Kate saying she enjoys it.

Yelena’s thoughts were messy, scattered, entirely focused on the heat of Kate’s hand, the press of her body, the way her breath caught every time she moved just slightly closer. She wasn’t supposed to feel this human. She wasn’t supposed to crave this attention, this connection - but she did.

Kate leaned back slightly, fingers still brushing Yelena’s hand, then gave a small laugh. “Okay… okay, I have to tell you something,” she started, voice a little high and wobbling from the alcohol. “This is… not gonna come out perfect, but like- I… you’re… you’re really, really… beautiful.” She waved her hands like it was supposed to make sense, then laughed again, half embarrassed, half desperate.

Yelena froze, her heart slamming in her chest. Her training screamed at her to stay calm, to stay untouchable - but her chest felt like it was on fire. Beautiful…? She felt exposed, alive, and terrified all at once. “I… thank you?” she said carefully, voice low and rough.

Kate shook her head, leaning closer so her lips almost brushed Yelena’s shoulder. “No, seriously! Like… from the very first time I saw you. I tried to act cool and all- like, ‘oh, Russian assassin, scary, almost killed me’ - I genuinely like you uh… since the beginning!”

Yelena’s breath caught, fingers tightening on her own knees. She wanted to pull Kate into herself, to feel her fully, but part of her still hesitated, stunned at the torrent of raw emotion spilling out.

Kate laughed again, breathless, hair falling into her eyes. “I mean, come on! You’re… dangerous and funny and… and- ugh, I don’t even have the words.”

Yelena’s chest ached, throat tight, and for a second she just stared, caught between disbelief, heat, and longing. Her control, her walls, everything she’d carefully built - they all trembled under the force of Kate’s messy, drunken honesty.

“You-” Yelena started, voice shaking, “you… should not say things like that.”

Kate leaned closer anyway, eyes sparkling with mischief and sincerity. “Why not? It’s the truth. I wanted you. Still do. And, well… now you know.” Kate’s grin faltered just slightly, then she shook her head like she was dismissing a weight she didn’t want to carry. “Lena… shit, I don’t even- ugh,” she breathed, and before Yelena could process it, Kate shifted, the motion deliberate, climbing onto her lap so that her knees straddled Yelena’s thighs. The couch dipped under the new weight, Lucky’s soft whine momentarily filling the quiet.

Yelena froze, a flash of instinct surging through her. Part of her wanted - almost violently - to throw Kate onto the floor, to reclaim control, to neutralize a threat. But as soon as that thought sparked, another came snapping back: 'It’s okay, it’s Kate.'

Every instinct screamed to pull back, to put space between them. But the warmth of Kate’s body, the sudden closeness, the slight brush of her hands on Yelena’s arms and sides, made all her defenses begin to crumble. For a second she couldn’t think at all - couldn’t name the want that was twisting in her stomach. Archer’s weight was firm but careful, a grounding presence that made her feel… unreasonably exposed.

Kate’s hands moved first, brushing along Yelena’s shoulders, tracing the line of her arms, lingering just a moment too long in a way that made Yelena’s breath hitch. “God sorry- I… I don’t know if this is okay,” Kate whispered, voice trembling slightly, a mix of nerves and mischief, “but I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. And I… uh…” Her words tumbled over themselves, messy and unpolished, and Yelena felt herself melting into them, losing track of restraint.

Yelena could feel her shift again, weight moving with a careful rhythm over the assassin's lap, rocking slightly as if testing the edges of this closeness. Kate’s fingers traced along Yelena’s arms, down her sides, a teasing press here, a feather-light graze there. Every motion made Yelena’s pulse spike, her chest tightening with a delicious ache she couldn’t name.

“I…think I would uh- want to be the one doing the touching,” Yelena murmured, voice low and rough, the words tumbling out almost before she realized she’d said them. Her hands moved instantly, brushing against Kate’s waist, sliding up the curve of her back, over the sides of her torso, exploring with an urgent need that made Kate gasp softly.

Kate froze for a heartbeat, then leaned into Yelena’s touch, eyes wide, lips parted in a mix of surprise and delight. “Oh… oh wow- damn, Lena,” she whispered, breath catching, her hands pausing for just a second as if to let Yelena take the lead.

Yelena’s hands roamed over Kate’s body. Every brush, every responsive shiver, sent fire straight through her, and she realized with a jolt: she wanted this. Not for leverage, not as some calculated move. She wanted to kiss someone because she wanted them - because she wanted Kate.

Her fingers traced the curve of the archer’s waist, up along her back, lingering just enough to memorize the heat, the softness, the way her body fit so perfectly against hers. Every careful, teasing motion from Kate made her feel dizzy, unmoored, desperate. She had been close with people before, sure - but never like this. Never someone she chose, never someone she wanted entirely for herself. And the realization made her chest ache in a delicious, sharp way.

“Oh god… Lena- what… what’s happening huh?” Kate’s soft, shaky breath brushed against her ear, and Yelena shivered. Her hands tightened slightly on Kate’s sides, pulling her even closer. She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her throat, wild and uncontrolled, and she wanted more, needed more.

'I want to kiss her.' Yelena thought, her own voice trembling in the quiet of her mind. Not because she had to. Just because it made her body ache and her mind scatter.

She leaned closer, lips hovering over the side of Kate’s neck, inhaling her warmth, tasting sweet faint perfume. Her fingers tangled in the curve of Kate’s back, tracing lines, memorizing the feel of her in a way she’d never done before. And then, slowly she pressed her lips to the smooth skin, a tentative, testing kiss - soft, desperate, entirely theirs.

Kate’s small gasp, the subtle tremble beneath Yelena’s hands, made the heat pool lower in her stomach. It was real. It was wanted. Her lips lingered, moving in slow, careful patterns, brushing and pressing gently. She had never wanted to kiss someone, not before Kate, never craved it so fully and openly. And it was intoxicating, overwhelming, and utterly, deliciously hers.

Yelena’s heart slammed, chest aching, mind scattered. She wanted to mark this moment, to burn it into memory: the first time she kissed someone because she wanted to - not for duty, not for manipulation, not for control.

Her lips moved again, softer now, more confident, as her hands roamed freely over Kate’s sides, pulling her closer, pressing her warmth to her own. Everything about that moment made her want to stay here forever, lost in the heat, the mess, the first truly wanted kiss of her life, even if not on the lips yet.

Yelena’s mouth lifted from Kate’s neck, just enough to catch her breath, but she didn’t pull away. Their bodies were still pressed together, heat radiating in both directions. She wanted to slide her hands fully around Kate’s waist, under her shirt… maybe even down her pants, to feel the warmth without hesitation - that old ache of past violations, held her back.

Kate’s eyes were wide, soft, but teasing. “God, Lena- you… okay?” she asked quietly, voice low, careful.

Yelena exhaled slowly, trying to steady her pulse. “I am- uh… aware of my boundaries,” she said, words clipped, but her fingers itched to move. She wanted to anchor herself against Kate fully, to fold into her, but instead she traced small, intentional lines along Kate’s sides. Just enough contact to feel, not enough to cross the line she’d set.

Kate smirked faintly. “Mmm. I mean- yeah, boundaries. I get that. Good. But you’re kinda shaking.”

Yelena’s chest tightened, heat pooling low in her stomach. “…I am not.” But her voice betrayed her, low and rough. She shifted slightly, brushing her thigh purposefully against Kate’s under the weight of the straddle. The friction sent a sharp impulse through her. Her mind screamed at her, but she knew she didn’t want to pull away.

Kate leaned in, careful, letting their foreheads touch. “Just know… you don’t have to control it all,” she murmured. “I… I want this too. Lena, I can wait, but-”

Yelena’s hand tightened just slightly at Kate’s waist, pressing her closer. She wanted to tell Kate to stop teasing, wanted to pull her fully into herself, but the words stuck in her throat. “I… want this,” she admitted, voice low, rough, almost dangerous in its honesty. “But…” Her fingers lingered, hovering, hesitant. “…I am… cautious. Always cautious, Kate.”

Kate nodded slowly, matching her intensity without forcing it. “Then we move slowly,” she said, just above a whisper. “ I mean- we don’t have to rush.”

Yelena’s chest ached, pulse racing. The words, the nearness, the warmth - everything was a lure she couldn’t resist. She pressed slightly, just enough that their hips brushed fully, teasing, electric. The want was there, undeniable, but every careful thought of control, every shadow of her trauma, held her from letting go completely.

“I… you can follow my lead” Yelena murmured, voice low. Her hands traced along Kate’s sides again, slower this time, savoring the contact. “But…” She hesitated, letting her gaze search Kate’s, hazel on blue, unflinching. “…I do not do this often. Not willingly. Not uh- ever.”

Kate’s brow furrowed slightly, eyes searching Yelena’s face. “Lena… what do you mean? About… not willingly? Not ever?” Her voice wavered, soft, tentative, but still with that messy honesty she always carried. She leaned closer, like proximity might coax an answer, and Yelena could feel the warmth radiating from her.

The assassin’s chest tightened. She wanted Kate’s smell, the heat - but every nerve screamed caution. Her mind flicked back, unbidden, to honeypot missions: sitting across from men who underestimated her, letting them believe they had control, letting them touch her while she memorized their vulnerabilities, while she planned the kill. The cold, clinical detachment of it. The fear she had learned to swallow.

“…It is… a lot,” Yelena said finally, voice low and rough, careful. Her fingers brushed along Kate’s sides again, slow, deliberate. “I… I have… been used. My work. Missions. The…” She faltered slightly, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. “…the Red Room. As a child.”

Kate’s eyes widened, a flicker of shock, then softness. “The Red Room?” she whispered. “Oh… Lena…I read the files, but I-”

Yelena pressed slightly closer, just enough that their hips brushed, feeling the friction and warmth, letting herself feel it while keeping the boundaries firmly in place. She needed to control the pace. Needed to keep this safe, even as desire thrummed hot through her veins. “…You know that we were trained. Well… we were made to obey, to endure… men. Nasty men. Forced to- sometimes… punished.” Her voice faltered, but she kept it measured, clinical. “I was made to do honeytrap missions. Seduce men. Learn. Kill them. During… or after.” She exhaled slowly, chest tightening at the memory. “It… makes… it complicated.”

Kate didn’t recoil. She leaned in closer anyway, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Lena… Shit … God… I didn’t know,” she murmured, voice soft, messy, full of care. “I… I get why… you have to be careful. I get it. But… just know… this will be different. Not like them.”

Yelena’s heart spiked at the words. She wanted to believe it, needed to. The warmth pressing against her thighs. Every instinct screamed desire, but another part, trained for survival, recoiled. She remembered every calculated touch, every man who thought they could use her, every lesson drilled into her body and mind: let them take what they want and then strike, be sharp and never let anyone get to you.

Her own body betrayed her anyway. The brush of Kate’s hands against her sides, the subtle shift of weight, the soft, messy laugh that escaped her lips - it made her ache. She wanted to let herself melt into it, to let the want pulse unchecked, but the memories of cold, harsh punishments and sharp orders, kept her hands measured, kept her breaths shallow, kept her from going too far.

“I… I want this,” she murmured, low. Her fingers traced carefully along Kate’s waist again, memorizing heat without overstepping. “But…” Another inhale. “…I have those… walls. Built long ago. It meant survival for me, Kate Bishop.”

Kate’s hand hovered near hers, brushing lightly against Yelena’s fingers. “I’ll follow you in this, Lena.” she said softly, messy and honest. “I… want to do this… right.”

Yelena stared at her for a beat too long, heartbeat still uneven. “You do?” she asked quietly, almost testing her.

Kate’s mouth quirked into that familiar half-smile, the one that always looked like she was trying to hide nerves behind humor. “Yeah. I mean… usually I'm not so good at taking orders, but with you, I’ll be exceptionally well-behaved.”

The joke landed softly. Yelena’s chest twisted anyway. She wanted to roll her eyes, to deflect, but her hands hadn’t moved from Kate’s sides. Her thumbs kept tracing small circles against warm skin through the thin fabric, like her body hadn’t gotten the message that this was over. The heat under her palms felt too alive. She hated how much she liked it.

Kate shivered - not dramatically, just enough for Yelena to feel the tremor ripple through her. The tiny reaction burned itself into her mind like a mark she wasn’t supposed to keep.

Kate’s breath caught as she tilted her head slightly, eyes flicking between Yelena’s lips and her eyes, like she couldn’t pick which one to focus on. “You’re… kinda staring. Again.” she whispered.

Yelena blinked once, slow. “You are on my lap, Kate Bishop. It is hard not to stare.”

Kate grinned, crooked and unsure, her voice a little shaky. “Yeah, okay, that's true.”

The silence that followed sat heavy, and Yelena could feel every heartbeat of it in her throat. Her pulse hadn’t slowed since Kate first touched her. She could still smell the faint trace of Kate’s scent, feel her hands after the archer had already moved them. It was infuriating - that her body remembered things faster than her mind could forget them.

Kate shifted again, and Yelena felt the brush of her thigh - too light to mean anything, too much to mean nothing. Her breath faltered. For a moment, her hand twitched. She wanted to get lost the warmth, to keep something that had already started slipping away. But then instinct finally fully cut through the noise.

Don’t cling.

She exhaled slowly. “You should… move. It is not fair to either of us.”

Kate blinked, startled by the softness in her tone. “Oh. Right. Yeah.” She hesitated, like she was reading her face, searching for permission before moving. Yelena forced her hands still, palms flat against her legs as Kate slid off her lap.

The loss was immediate. Cold where warmth had been. Her fingers twitched, useless now, like they had forgotten what to do without contact.

Kate dropped beside her, exhaling through something that sounded like a laugh. “I might’ve said it before but you're really… intense, you know?”

“Professionally,” Yelena said, tone flat, gaze fixed ahead. The corner of her mouth almost betrayed her.

“Yeah, well, I meant emotionally, but okay,” Kate muttered. Her phone had fallen between the couch cushions; she reached for it, bumping against Yelena’s thigh.

Yelena didn’t move. She could feel the brush of Kate’s fingers, the small, careless contact that made her skin prickle. “It’s fine,” she said quietly.

Kate pulled the phone free, the screen lighting up between them. The glow caught the swell of her cheeks, the faint flush still lingering there. Yelena’s chest felt tight again, this time it was quieter though - like the ache had moved deeper, harder to shake.

Kate dug into her pocket, pulling out a tangled mess of wired earphones. She frowned, tugging at the knot. “Fuck- Seriously? How do these even-” She yanked uselessly at the cord, muttering, “Science still can’t fix this?”

Yelena watched her struggle, arms folded loosely across her chest. Her body was still buzzing with leftover heat, but her mind - sharp as ever - needed something simple to latch onto. Watching Kate fight a cable was grounding. Something ordinary.

“You know, bluetooth headphones exist.”she said finally, then added after a beat, waving her hand in the air. “You look like you are…disarming a bomb.”

Kate looked up at her, mock-offended. “Oh, you think you could do better hm?”

Yelena raised an eyebrow. “I was trained to disarm bombs, Kate Bishop.”

“Sure. Yeah. And that’s exactly why I’m not handing you my earphones,” Kate said, lips quirking. “You’d probably cut the wire just to win.”

“Only if it made you stop talking,” Yelena replied, voice low but steadier now.

Kate chuckled, half under her breath. “You love it when I talk.”

Yelena didn’t look at her right away. She just sat there, jaw tight, trying to ignore the sudden rush in her chest. But then, almost involuntarily, she murmured, “Okay, maybe.”

Kate froze, wires forgotten in her lap. When she looked up, her eyes were wide, bright.

Yelena turned her head away, pretending to study the wall, but she could feel the weight of that silence settle between them. It wasn’t exactly awkward.

The assassin looked at the earbud dangling between Kate’s fingers. Kate’s smile returned, soft but teasing. “You remember me talking about that artist a few weeks ago? Renéé Rapp?”

Yelena blinked slowly, lips pressed into a thin line. Of course she remembered. She had filed away every random thing Kate had said - every detail, every laugh, every obsessive tangent. Her memory was a weapon, and Kate’s quirks had become strangely important targets. “Yes. You have her merchandise. You saw her live too.” she said, voice flat but not cold.

Kate’s grin widened, pride bubbling up. “Yes! Exactly.” She nudged the tangled earbud cord with her knee. “Well, I’ve got this one song of hers…” She glanced down at her phone, fingers hovering over the playlist now. “It actually kinda uh- reminds me of you.”

Yelena’s chest tightened again, just slightly, though her face remained unreadable. She tilted her head, assessing the confession with the calm, measured intensity typical to her.

Of course Kate would pick a song that meant something.

Kate finally freed the earbud, holding it out toward Yelena. “You did say you want to hear some of her stuff… figured we could start here.”

Yelena accepted it, brushing her fingers against Kate’s as she took the earbud. That brief contact was enough to affect her, a quiet reminder that this wasn’t just listening to music - it was a shared, intimate moment.

Kate grinned, pressing play. The first notes filled the small space between them, and Yelena found herself leaning just slightly closer, curiosity piqued despite her usual reserve.

Kate smiled, a soft but determined curve of her lips. “Okay - here it is.” She held the phone between them, thumb hovering over the screen until the cover art for Swim by Reneé Rapp appeared. She pressed play.

The first notes filled the room - slow, aching, the kind of song that didn’t demand attention but invited it. Yelena leaned slightly closer, almost unconsciously, the earbud in her ear catching Kate’s breath beside her.

Yelena’s internal voice buzzed in the background even as she listened ‘This is unplanned. This is soft. This is risky’.

She reminded herself that things didn’t always go messy this way. That she controlled moments. Yet right now, control felt hollow.

As the lyric drifted in - “Every night I sleep underwater… Follow you like lamb to a slaughter…” - Yelena’s eyes flicked to Kate’s. The archer’s expression was so open, vulnerable in a way Yelena rarely allowed herself to witness. The song’s ache mirrored something in her, a quiet past she didn’t broadcast.

Kate’s hand found Yelena’s, fingers wrapping around the cord, taking the earbud out of her ear and guiding it gently toward Yelena’s free ear. Yelena accepted it, thumb brushing Kate’s palm. A small contact - barely there. Yet it still lingered.

The room felt warmer than before. Kate sat very still. Yelena shifted slightly, crossing one leg beneath the other, measured. She focused on the rhythm of her breath, the slow rising of the melody. The lyrics spoke of being caught, of wanting and fearing - it hit Yelena differently tonight because she knew too well what it meant to chase something she probably shouldn’t.

Kate glanced at her, lips parted slightly. “You like it?” she asked, voice quiet but hopeful.

Yelena didn’t answer right away. She let the music wash over her, strings and voice wrapping around them both. Finally, she exhaled. “It is… something, Kate Bishop.” Her voice came out low. “Not unbearable.”

Kate smiled again, leaning back on the couch, her shoulder brushing Yelena’s. The brush made Yelena’s skin crawl - in a good way. Kate rubbed her temples and blinked a few times, the last bits of tipsiness fading as she steadied herself.

After a moment of silence, Kate got up from the couch, her step stable now, as she completely sobered up.

Yelena watched Kate dig through a drawer, producing a soft T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. She returned with a small pile of clothes - a shirt and (of course) purple pants, folded neatly. “Here,” she said, holding them out. “You can… you know, change if you want. They’re mine, but… they’re comfy.”

Yelena took the garments, fingers brushing Kate’s. The fabric smelled faintly of laundry detergent and something uniquely Kate - homey, warm.

“Thank you,” she said, voice low, almost hesitant. She glanced down at the sweatpants and frowned slightly. “They are… very long.”

Kate grinned, tilting her head. “I’m tall. You’ll grow into them… or just wear them scrunched up. Totally your call.”

Yelena couldn’t help a small smirk. Scrunched or dragged, it didn’t matter. It was Kate’s scent, warmth lingering in the fabric. “I… should probably shower,” Yelena muttered, surprising herself with the casual tone. “Clean off the… day.”

Kate’s eyes softened, warm and amused. “Sure. Quick one, promise I won’t peek.”

After a short moment Yelena found herself in the shower. The water was hot, running over muscles still keyed tight from nerves. Yelena’s thoughts wandered - memories of missions and abuse, of Kate straddling her, brushing her hands softly along her sides. The juxtaposition made her chest tighten. It only reassured her: she wanted this. For herself, not as a weapon.

She slipped into the clothes quickly, the soft material a stark contrast to the rigid layers she normally wore, and caught herself inhaling the faint perfume Kate had left behind.

Afterwards Yelena padded back into the living room, brushing damp hair from her face. She perched on the edge of the couch, watching Kate pour water into a cup on the kitchen counter.

“I… I will sleep here,” she said softly, though the words carried the weight of habit more than preference.

Kate turned around, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Past that point, Lena. No couch tonight.” Her tone was firm, but not harsh, almost tender. “Bed’s upstairs. I’m gonna wash off my makeup and I’ll be right there.”

The words should have shocked her. Should have been an intrusion, a step too far. Instead, they sent a shiver straight through Yelena, the dangerous pull of wanting something she wasn’t used to yet. She shifted slightly, the oversized sweatpants bunching under her legs, and nodded once. “Acknowledged.”

Yelena’s hands fidgeted with the hem of the shirt, twisting it over her knuckles, her mind running a thousand loops between instinct and desire as she climbed up Kate’s loft bed.

Minutes passed like seconds, before she settled into the bed Yelena could hear the bathroom door open.

When Kate appeared upstairs, makeup washed away, hair in a loose ponytail, she got into bed with a deliberate gentleness. Yelena kept her eyes on the sheets, heart hammering, muscles tense. Yet, there was no tension in Kate - only a careful patience, a quiet invitation.

The weight of the day, of every calculated step, of every wall she had built around herself, pressed down. But Kate - soft, steady, human - was a reminder that sometimes the rules could bend. It turned out that sometimes it was safe to let go.

Yelena finally exhaled, a long, quiet release. And as Kate shifted closer, aligning herself just right, the chill of the room faded. The world narrowed to warmth, fabric, breath, and a sense of something fragile yet unshakable between them.

She had expected caution. Instead, she found herself letting her walls tremble, brick by brick, under the careful, chaotic gravity of Kate Bishop.

The static of Kate’s breath and Lucky’s snoring from downstairs was grounding. Yelena could feel her eyes flutter shut, but before she fully drifted off her brain registered a quiet, tentative “I’m here. I always will be. Sleep well, Lena.”.

Something melted inside Yelena as she heard the softness of Kate’s voice. She wanted to reply - to somehow match the archer’s cordiality, though she knew she probably could never - yet the sleep came overwhelmingly quickly.

Chapter Text

-

Two days wasn’t long.

Except it was.

For Kate it felt like someone stretched time out just to bully her personally.

She hadn’t slept right since that night - too wired, too aware of every place Yelena’s hands had been on her. Her couch still felt haunted. Her shirt from that night was draped on the armrest and Kate refused to move it because it still smelled a little like Yelena. That minty, leathery, sharp, annoyingly magnetic scent.

Lucky stared at her from the rug like he was waiting for her to get a grip. Kate just stared back.

She wasn’t getting a grip anytime soon.

Her mind kept circling around the same points:

Yelena on her lap.

Yelena’s breath on her neck, then lips.

Yelena’s hands - careful, trembling, wanting.

Yelena kissing her like she’d been holding her breath her entire life.

And then… nothing.

Not silence exactly - they had texted - but light, surface-level stuff. Again. It was enough to prove they weren’t avoiding each other, not enough to soothe the ache in Kate’s chest.

And she was absolutely falling for a Russian assassin.

Kate shifted on the couch, pulling her legs up, hugging her knees, forehead dropping down for a second as she breathed out slowly. It was pathetic how much she missed someone she wasn’t even sure she had.

Lucky pawed at her knee. She tapped his head and sighed, the kind that came from somewhere deep and frustrated.

Her phone seemed to stay quiet.

She forced herself up, pacing the room because sitting felt too… exposed. Too loud. Her brain wasn’t supposed to be this dramatic - she was Kate Bishop, CEO of not only Bishop Security but also impulsive confidence and “I’ll figure it out later.” But this wasn’t a later she could figure out on her own, not when she had absolutely no idea what was going on in Yelena’s head. Not since the Russian walked out of her apartment those two stupid days ago.

She considered texting.

Her thumb hovered over the screen three separate times.

She typed “hey” once and deleted it like it was a federal crime.

Then Lucky started barking - one sharp sound, the one he saved for when someone was physically at the door.

Kate froze.

The archer heard knocking.

Actual knocking.

At her actual apartment.

At eight-something on a Monday evening.

Which almost never happened since America could just make a portal, unless it was Cassie or Kamala or-

‘No. No way.’ She thought to herself as her heart stuttered painfully.

Kate hurried to the door, tried to smooth her hair and failed instantly, then pulled it open.

And there she was.

Yelena stood in the doorway in a black bomber jacket and dark gray jeans, hair slightly mussed like she’d run her hands through it too many times, jaw set but her hazel eyes soft in a way that punched straight through Kate’s chest.

Her voice was low, steady but carrying something sharp under it - maybe nerves?

“Good evening, Kate Bishop.”

Kate blinked, her brain short-circuiting because Yelena never just showed up like this. Well, not since that time she came into her burned apartment before Christmas.

“I- hi? Are you- is everything okay, Lena? Did something happen?”

Yelena stepped closer without answering right away. Her eyes skimmed the whole apartment in that way that was pure instinct. Once she seemed satisfied, she finally looked back at Kate.

“You did not answer your phone, Kate Bishop.” she said quietly.

Kate checked it.

And there she was met with 3 unread texts.

[8:02 p.m.] Yelena: I am outside.

[8:10 p.m.] Yelena: Kate Bishop?

[8:15 p.m.] Yelena: Do not tell me you died.

“Oh my god- Lena, I’m so sorry,” she said quickly, heat rushing to her face. “I didn’t hear it. I was- uh… very busy being stupid.”

Yelena let out a breath that wasn’t quite a sigh, her shoulders dropped just a little.

Not relaxed - more like relieved.

“I thought,” she said, voice careful, almost too careful, “maybe you… ah- regret what happened.”

Kate’s heart did something violent and warm and painful all at once.

“No,” she said immediately, stepping closer without even noticing she’d moved. “I don’t- Lena, I don’t regret any of it. Not even a second. I just… didn’t know if you did.”

Yelena’s throat bobbed. Her eyes dropped for a moment, like she had to rearrange something inside herself before speaking.

“I do not regret it,” she said.

Then, softer, like it spilled out before she could stop it:

“I do not regret you.”

Kate’s breath caught, because that was it. That was the thing she’d been terrified she wouldn’t hear.

Yelena shifted then, hands shoved in her pockets, shoulders slightly tense - the posture she had when she was bracing for impact. Her voice softened around the edges, almost uncertain.

“I told you, I am not… good at this,” she muttered. “Talking. Or… whatever this is.”

Kate stepped closer again, slow so she wouldn’t spook her. She lifted her hand halfway, hesitated - then Yelena reached out first, fingers brushing Kate’s wrist like a question.

Kate answered by curling her fingers into Yelena’s palm.

Heat shot up her arm instantly.

“It’s not like I’m amazing at it though. I mean- We don’t have to be good at it, do we?” Kate said quietly.

Yelena’s inhale was barely audible - but Kate felt it. Felt the tiny tremor in her fingers. Felt the way she didn’t pull back this time.

“Kate…” Yelena started, voice low. “Um… can I come in?”

Kate squeezed her hand. It was so solid, steady that Kate had to stop herself from absolutely melting into the touch.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Yeah, of course.” She stepped back, guiding her inside properly, closing the door behind them.

The apartment felt different instantly - warmer, charged, as if the air itself shifted to make space for whatever this was now.

Yelena hovered by the entrance like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to move further without permission. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so painfully soft - this woman who could snap someone’s neck with her elbow acting like Kate’s apartment was holy ground.

Kate kept their hands linked, thumb brushing gently along the side of Yelena’s knuckle, grounding her.

“Hey,” she murmured. “You’re tense. It’s just me- us.”

Yelena nodded once, small, sharp. She still looked like she was… collecting herself. Or fighting herself. Or both. Her eyes drifted around the living room, landing for a second on the shirt she’d worn two nights ago. She didn’t comment on it, but Kate saw the faint shift in her expression - the recognition, memory.

Kate swallowed. “Do you wanna- sit? Or… talk? Or-”

Yelena shook her head. “Not inside.”

There was something tight in her jaw, something restless under her skin, like the walls were pressing in on her. Kate didn’t take it personally. She had seen this before - Yelena needing open space, a place where she could breathe without people or shadows watching her.

Kate’s voice softened immediately.

“Okay. Fire escape?”

Yelena’s eyes flicked up to hers. Something passed through them - relief, gratitude, something too gentle for words.

“Да.” she said.

Kate went first, unlocking the window and sliding it up. The evening air slipped in - cool, faint scent of city smog and someone cooking dinner a few floors below. She stepped out carefully onto the metal grate, holding the frame of the window as she looked back.

Yelena followed silently, hands sliding into the pockets of her jacket again. The muscles in her shoulders finally eased a fraction once she felt the breeze hit her face.

They sat on the grated steps - Kate one step higher, Yelena one below, close enough that their legs brushed. Lucky watched them from the window, as if offended he wasn’t invited.

Kate let her fingertips rest against Yelena’s thigh, light, not assuming.

Just offering.

Yelena didn’t flinch. Actually - she leaned into it a little.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. The city did the talking instead - cars, the hum of traffic, someone yelling “BRO THAT WAS A STOP SIGN” two blocks away.

Then Yelena exhaled and reached into her jacket. She pulled out a pack of menthol Camels. Kate blinked. She’d never actually seen Yelena smoke - she knew she did, from the faint smell of her jackets and sometimes hair, but it wasn’t something she’d seen in person. It wasn’t strange since the assassin wasn’t addicted to it - she was just an occasional smoker.

Yelena opened the pack and held it toward Kate.

A silent offer.

Kate stared at it.

Then stared at Yelena.

“…You know I’m like terrible at this, right?”

A tiny smirk curved at the edge of Yelena’s mouth.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “figured. You- Well, all Americans, just choose those hilarious colourful vape things.”

Kate groaned, shoving her shoulder lightly.

“Huh- I mean yeah well- you’re kinda right. Personally though, I only vaped at a few frat parties to be fair.”

“Interesting.” Yelena muttered, taking out a cigarette for herself.

Kate’s heart did an embarrassing swan dive at that. God.

She hesitated - then plucked one from the pack anyway. “Only because it’s you.”

Yelena lit hers with a small metal lighter, flame flickering gold against her face. For a second the glow caught her eyes - something raw there, something tired and tender and too honest. Then she flicked the lighter again, holding the flame toward Kate.

Kate leaned forward, lips brushing the filter. Yelena steadied it for her, fingers brushing Kate’s cheekbone when she pushed her hair back, just a little, instinct more than intention.

Kate inhaled.

It burned immediately.

She hacked out a cough so violent she folded forward.

Yelena’s hand flew to her back, steadying her. “Боже мой- Kate-” [in Russian: My god]

“I’m fine,” Kate wheezed, eyes watering. “This is a very sexy moment, don’t ruin it.”

Yelena snorted. Actually snorted.

“That was not sexy, Kate Bishop. Not at all.”

Kate coughed again. “Let me have this.”

Yelena shook her head, but she was smiling now - really smiling, not the tight sarcastic version she wore around people. The real one, the one that always hit Kate dead center.

They sat in silence, smoke drifting upward, mixing with the city air.

Kate watched Yelena’s profile.

The way her shoulders had loosened, and jaw wasn’t clenched.

“You came here,” Kate said quietly. “You came to see me.”

Yelena’s eyes flicked toward her, soft but steady. “I did.”

“Why?”

Yelena took a slow inhale from her cigarette, exhale floating like a ghost between them. She didn’t look away this time.

“Because,” she said, voice low, “I could not stop thinking about you.”

Kate’s heart thudded.

Yelena looked down at her hands. “I tried. To be normal. To not… feel those things.” Her brow knit as she searched for the word. “I failed.”

Kate swallowed hard, her free hand reaching for Yelena’s knee.

“Well- Damn- I guess I wouldn’t consider it a failure. You’re here - which is pretty much a win for me.”

The archer didn’t hesitate. She slid down one step so she sat right beside her, thigh against thigh, arm against Yelena’s shoulder.

“It’s actually kinda sweet you came.” Kate whispered.

Yelena’s breath hitched - so quiet Kate only felt it, not heard it. Then she leaned her head against Kate’s shoulder.

Kate froze for half a second, then let herself relax, leaning her cheek against Yelena’s hair. The fresh-spicy-ambery scent she’d been torturing herself about for two days was suddenly right there again - warm, settled against her skin.

The assassin stayed like that - cheek lightly pressed against Kate’s hoodie - while the city hummed below them. It felt unreal. Yelena Belova didn’t lean on people. She didn’t melt into their space or breathe against their collarbone like it was safe there or let her guard down enough to look this… pure.

It seemed as if the universe was determined to make her fall harder than she already had. Which was ridiculous and completely unfair.

Because she already thought Yelena was stupidly attractive. That wasn’t news. She’d been painfully aware of that from day one - when Yelena had fought her and Clint on that rooftop and threw her onto the ground like it was nothing. Kate had spent a humiliating amount of time pretending she wasn’t checking her out during that whole “stop trying to kill my mentor” phase.

But now?

After that night on her couch? Or all those tiny touches that became ever so frequent?

After Yelena’s hands had roamed every part of her waist and hips and stomach like she was trying to memorize the shape of her?

After Yelena had kissed her neck with more hunger than most people had ever kissed Kate’s mouth?

It was over for her. Completely over.

To Kate, Yelena Belova was hot in a way that should be illegal.

And worse - she was hot in motion, in silence, in the smallest shift of her weight against Kate’s side, hot in the way her fingers tapped once against Kate’s thigh as she adjusted herself, in the way her jaw flexed ever so slightly as she breathed in the night air.

That subtle shift was enough for Kate to feel her adjust her balance, thigh pressing a little firmer against hers. The assassin’s hand rested loosely on Kate’s thigh now, fingers brushing like she wasn’t fully aware she was doing it.

Yelena took another slow drag from her cigarette, and put it out against the metal railing, then let her head drop back onto Kate’s shoulder, her breath warm through the cotton. Kate’s heart did a ridiculous little stumble.

When Kate looked down, she saw her own cigarette still untouched between her fingers, ember dying.

Yelena noticed too.

“You are going to burn your hand,” she muttered.

Kate blinked. “Nah, I’ve got it, Lena-”

“No,” Yelena said simply.

She plucked the cigarette from Kate’s fingers with a small shake of her head, like this was one of many disasters she’d been forced to manage. Kate let her take it, not fighting, mostly because Yelena’s fingers brushed hers and that alone sent a stupid shiver up her spine.

Yelena held Kate’s cigarette, tapping the ash off it neatly. Then she lifted it to her lips and took a smooth drag, eyes flicking sideways when she exhaled.

“So you don’t have to,” she murmured.

Kate blinked again, heat rising under her skin.

“Are you… are you just smoking mine for me?”

“You cough like a dying bird,” Yelena said, adjusting her position so her shoulder nudged Kate’s. “Figured you need a break.”

“Oh,” Kate managed, voice cracking embarrassingly. “Thanks. I guess.”

Yelena tilted her head fractionally. “You are welcome.”

Kate watched her inhale again - steady, the end of the cigarette glowing faintly in the shadow. She didn’t know how on earth someone could look that good doing something so objectively terrible for you. Yelena looked like she stepped out of a noir film. A dangerous, weirdly gorgeous one.

Kate had to drag her eyes away before she stared too obviously.

Yelena clearly noticed anyway.

“Do you want one, Kate?” she asked lightly, her voice warm and edged with something that felt dangerously close to teasing. “Or should I keep doing all the work?”

Kate blinked at the phrasing.

Doing all the work.

Oh.

Her brain short-circuited. “I- yeah. Sure. Um. One puff.”

Yelena smirked, but it was gentler than her usual sharp snark - more like she was letting herself enjoy this, enjoy Kate, in a way she wouldn’t have dared weeks ago. Slowly she turned the cigarette toward Kate, holding it in her fingers but bringing it close enough that Kate didn’t have to lean too far.

Kate still leaned. Yelena’s hand hovered near her jaw, steadying the cigarette but also - maybe - steadying her. Kate’s breath hitched the second her lips brushed the filter. The proximity was ridiculous. Close enough for her to count the specs of gold in Yelena’s irises in the low light, or to feel Yelena’s breath when she exhaled.

This time Kate inhaled carefully, slow, controlled, trying to mimic the way Yelena did it. It burned less, still hot, still sharp, but manageable. She let the smoke out slowly, hoping she looked at least half as cool as Yelena.

She for sure didn’t.

“See?” Kate murmured, clearing her throat softly. “Not dying now.”

“You are learning,” Yelena said, amused, tapping the ash away. “This is called progress.”

Kate’s smile cracked wide. “There’s been a lot of that lately.”

“You are right, Kate Bishop.” Yelena shifted so she was turned more toward her, knee bumping Kate’s. “You have been… less reckless.”

Kate barked a laugh. “Wow. The bar is so high it’s underground.”

Yelena shrugged as if that wasn’t far from the truth. “But also…” Her fingers brushed Kate’s thigh again - light, but intentional this time. “You get me more now.”

Kate rolled her eyes, but her heart was doing full gymnastics. “That’s debatable.”

“It is not,” Yelena said, a soft grin tugging at her mouth. “You annoy me less.”

“That’s just code for you like me now.”

Yelena didn’t deny it.

She didn’t deflect, didn’t glare, didn’t scoff.

She just looked at Kate - longer than she needed to - her expression softening in that way that made Kate want to forget how to breathe on purpose.

“Kind of…” Yelena murmured.

The words hit harder than they should have. Which was fair, because that coming from Yelena Belova was basically a poem.

Kate leaned her head back against the railing, heart thudding. “God, you’re such a menace.”

“And you are dramatic,” Yelena countered, moving the cigarette away and finally putting it out fully. “We balance.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“It is not,” Yelena said, nudging her leg. “You just forget the nice ones because you panic.”

Kate sputtered. “I do not panic!”

Yelena stared.

Kate glared.

Yelena raised an eyebrow.

Kate gave up. “Okay. Maybe. A little panic.”

Yelena hummed like she’d won. “I know.”

The breeze shifted then, cool air brushing lightly against their faces. Yelena’s short hair swept across Kate’s cheek again, and the assassin didn’t pull away. Instead she adjusted, leaning a little more into Kate’s side, like it was natural now - not something she had to think about or fight herself over.

And Kate felt it - all the weeks behind them.

The stupid bickering in the field.

The tension at the bar.

The way Yelena had started touching her more - brief brushes at her leg, hand searching for hers without a thought or that time she let Kate trace her back to sleep.

The first real crack in the walls when she’d took a nap half on top of Kate during a movie.

The way she showed up at Kate’s apartment.

It all settled into the air between them now, something warm and lived-in, not brand new but something that had been slowly building, quietly, stubbornly, over every day they’d gotten back in touch.

Yelena leaned in slightly, her voice dropping into that low, lazy register that always made Kate’s stomach flip.

“You taste the smoke?”

Kate nodded. “A little.”

Yelena hummed, satisfied. “Good. That means you did it right.”

Kate opened her mouth before her brain could catch up.

“Well… honestly?” she said, heat pulling at the back of her neck. “I mostly taste you.”

Yelena froze, like-someone-hit-pause froze.

Her eyes flicked to Kate’s mouth so fast it should’ve been unnoticeable. Though Kate saw it and immediately wanted to throw herself off the fire escape. Or kiss her.

Probably both.

“That-” Yelena started, blinking once like she genuinely didn’t know what to do with that information. “-is not how cigarettes work, Kate Bishop.”

Kate shrugged, trying extremely hard not to combust. “Maybe not normally. But like, maybe it’s just… a you thing- I guess.”

Yelena stared at her. Flat. Unblinking.

Though Kate could swear the Russian’s cheeks were turning pink. “You are saying stupid things again,” she finally muttered, voice lower than it should’ve been.

“I’m being honest!” Kate whispered back, like that made it better. “You’re very… taste-able.”

Yelena choked on absolutely nothing. “Kate Bishop!”

“What?” Kate whispered dramatically. “It’s a compliment.”

God, who would’ve thought miss avoidant, aka Kate would become such a hopeless lover girl.

“That is not a normal compliment.”

“Yeah, well, neither of us is normal.”

Yelena’s jaw flexed. She looked away toward the street like the traffic might offer her emotional support, then dragged a hand through her hair in a helpless little gesture that made Kate want to grab her face and kiss the shit out of her.

Instead, Yelena said, quiet and tight: “You are going to kill me.”

Kate grinned. “I mean… is it really my fault you’re hot?”

Yelena pressed a hand to her forehead like she was in physical pain.

“Stop talking.”

“I can’t,” Kate said. “You make my brain malfunction.”

“Kate-”

“And my mouth just keeps going-”

“Kate-”

“And like, have you SEEN yourself at all? Because I have, and the situation is dire.”

Yelena dropped her head onto Kate’s shoulder again - not soft this time, more like she was using Kate as a wall to hide behind while she tried not to burst into flames.

“You are unbelievable,” she muttered into Kate’s hoodie.

“Yup. You’re weirdly into it.”

Yelena didn’t say anything.

Which was basically the same as yes.

They stayed like that, pressed together on the cold metal steps, with Yelena half-melting into her and Kate pretending she wasn’t holding her breath every time Yelena’s thumb brushed her thigh.

Eventually the night got colder. The sounds of the city dimmed a little. Yelena shifted, just enough to look up at her, eyes still half-lidded, cheeks touched with wind and something softer.

“Should we go inside?” she asked quietly.

Kate nodded, but didn’t move yet, her hand sliding down Yelena’s arm until their fingers hooked again - a stupid little gravity they both pretended not to notice.

“Yeah,” Kate said softly. “C’mon.”

Kate stood first, offering her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Yelena took it without hesitation - without any of the old stiffness, no flinch, no pause. Just her hand fitting into Kate’s like she’d already made peace with wanting it.

Kate helped her step up onto the landing. Their bodies brushed - hip to hip, shoulder grazing shoulder - and Kate felt heat race up her spine at the contact.

Inside, warm air washed over them. The fire escape clanged shut behind them as Kate pulled the window down.

Yelena took one slow step toward her - nothing bold, nothing dramatic, just closing that familiar distance until they were toe-to-toe, breathing the same space again.

Kate swallowed, heart battering her ribs.

She wanted to touch her.

She really wanted to touch her.

But she waited - gentle, like always - letting Yelena choose.

And Yelena did.

Her fingers brushed down Kate’s wrist, a feather-light question.

Kate answered by lacing their fingers together with a quiet, steady certainty that made Yelena inhale like she’d been caught off guard. Yelena’s fingers stayed threaded with hers for a moment,then she let go just long enough to shrug off her jacket.

The bomber slid down her arms. And Kate’s brain immediately blue-screened.

Because underneath it, Yelena seemed to be wearing a black sports bra. And nothing else.

There was nothing but toned shoulders, defined arms, the sharp line of her collarbones, and way, way too much bare skin for Kate’s nervous system to handle.

Kate made a sound that couldn’t be classified as normal. Something between a gasp, a choke, and the noise a cartoon character would make when injured.

Yelena blinked at her, completely unfazed. “What?”

Kate’s mouth dropped open. Closed, then opened again. There were no thoughts, only static.

“Wh-why- Lena- huh-” she stammered, pointing vaguely at her torso. “You-???”

Yelena looked down at herself like she’d forgotten what she was wearing.

Then she shrugged.

“I was hot after my training.” she said simply.

HOT??? Kate was about to pass away.

“You walked. In public. In New York. Wearing- THAT?” she squeaked.

Yelena frowned. “What is wrong, Kate Bishop? It is normal.”

NORMAL. Kate wanted to fling herself into a wall.

“It’s- God, Lena, you’re just- shirtless!”

“Sports bra doesn’t require a shirt,” Yelena said, confused, like Kate was the unhinged one.

“No it’s- That’s like-” Kate gestured helplessly at her midsection. “Like… illegal on you.”

Yelena’s brow creased. “Ha. Why illegal?”

“Because you look-” Kate’s voice cracked like a fourteen-year-old boy. “- like that.”

“That,” Yelena repeated, still very lost.

Kate made another noise she wished she could bury six feet underground. And Yelena? She just stared. Blank. Clueless as hell.

Pretty much their entire relationship dynamic in a single moment.

Kate inhaled sharply through her nose. Her face was on fire.

“Okay, look,” she said, trying to gather a single functioning brain cell. “You can’t just casually- exist in my apartment- dressed like a… like a medieval temptress.”

Yelena blinked then burst out laughing. “Kate, you are hilarious! Medieval temptress? I do not know what that even means,”

“Yeah, well- exactly!!” Kate cried, throwing her hands up.

“Kate Bishop,” Yelena said slowly, “you are so strange.”

Kate laughed in disbelief. “I’m strange? You are the one who’s basically a walking Slavic Calvin Klein ad.”

That actually drew a smirk from Yelena, then she stepped a little closer, head tilting.

“You are flustered.” she said, as if she’d just solved a math problem.

“No I’m- I’m perfectly normal,” Kate lied, backing up a step until she was almost standing against the wall.

Yelena followed, calm as ever, stopping just close enough that Kate could feel her warmth.

“Ah,” Yelena murmured, utterly oblivious. “You are overheating. Is the cigarette making you sick?”

Kate stared at her. She wanted to scream and melt into the ground. “No, Lena,” she whispered. “I don’t- It’s not… the cigarette.”

Yelena blinked. “Then what?”

Kate’s voice came out embarrassingly small. “It’s uh- you?”

Yelena stared. Still confused, but softer now.

Kate swallowed, heart slamming against her ribs.

“Can I-” she started, then stopped. Her throat tightened. She tried again. “Shit- Can I… touch you?”

Yelena didn’t react at first, like the request took a second to register.

When it did, she tilted her head slightly, brows furrowed. Not quite offended. Not so guarded anymore, either. Just… curious.

“Touch what?” she asked genuinely.

Kate made a quiet wounded noise.

“Not- not like…weird touch,” she rushed out, face blazing. “Just- your arm. Or your shoulder. Or- I don’t know- you’re- there’s a lot of muscle happening and I am, um, dying a little.”

Yelena processed this like someone reading a confusing manual.

Then she nodded once, very matter-of-factly. “Yes,” she said. “You can touch, Kate.”

Kate’s breath hitched so hard she almost inhaled her own tongue. “Are you- like… sure?”

Yelena extended her arm slightly, offering it out like it was no big deal. As if completely unaware she was handing Kate a one-way ticket to emotional cardiac arrest.

“I said yes,” she repeated. “Kate Bishop, you touch me all the time.”

Kate could swear almost fainted. “I mean- HA- Well- Not like this,” she whispered.

Yelena frowned, not understanding at all, but waiting patiently.

Kate lifted a trembling hand, slowly - giving Yelena every chance to pull away - and set her fingers lightly on the warm, bare curve of Yelena’s upper arm.

The assassin inhaled sharply - just a one shaky breath. Her eyes flicked to Kate’s, wide for a split second before she masked it again.

The archer swallowed. Her thumb brushed upward just a little, tracing the line of muscle, feeling the way Yelena tensed, then relaxed under her touch.

Kate’s thumb brushed higher along the curve of Yelena’s arm, over the familiar raised line of a scar. Her chest tightened - not with pity, but that same stupid spark she always got. Same as at Barton’s house, when she’d pretended she wasn’t tracing the map of Yelena’s skin like it was a secret coded just for her.

She swallowed and kept going, slow, careful, because she didn’t want to mess this up. Didn’t want to creep her out. Didn’t want to seem like the absolute feral disaster she currently was.

Her fingers slid from the bicep up across Yelena’s shoulder, then along her collarbone. Warm skin. Strong curve. Little shifts of muscle under her touch.

She felt Yelena inhale - not sharply, but enough that Kate noticed.

Her brain immediately began screaming ‘Be normal. Be normal. BE NORMAL!’.

Kate’s hand drifted down before she could second-guess it, skimming lightly across the top of Yelena’s chest, right where the sports bra met bare skin. She wasn’t grabing, she wasn’t being bold. Just… following the line, feeling the heat.

Her fingers brushed the faint dip between collarbone and cleavage. And the entire body betrayed her - heat punched through her midsection like a traitor, stomach tightened, thighs pressed together without permission.

She pretended nothing was happening.

She pretended so hard.

“Your skin is- uh- nice,” she said, and immediately hated herself.

Yelena tilted her head, watching her with a slight squint, “It is skin” she said simply.

“I know, yeah-” Kate said, voice cracking like a broken violin. “I’m just- observing.”

Yelena hummed - slow, low… knowing. “And what do you observe?”

Her tone was casual, but her eyes? Oh she was amused.

Kate’s cheeks flamed.

“That you’re- uh- symmetrical?”

Yelena’s brow rose. “Symmetrical.”

“Yeah,” Kate squeaked. “Like uh- a… sculpture.”

Yelena blinked once. “I am no sculpture, Kate Bishop.”

“You kinda are,” Kate muttered, hand drifting downward - god help her - toward Yelena’s ribs, tracing the contour gently, thumb brushing the edge.

Yelena’s abs tensed under her fingers, which Kate felt like a physical shock.

Oh god.

Her knees went weak. Actually, physically weak.

She tried to swallow down the warmth spiraling through her - hot, embarrassing - but it wasn’t going anywhere. Her pulse thudded between her thighs, and she could feel herself getting-

‘Nope. No. Don’t even think about that word.’

‘Be normal. Just be-’

“You are very red,” Yelena observed softly, snapping Kate out of her messy thoughts.

She basically nearly exploded. “It’s just warm in here.”

“It is not that warm, Kate.”

“It’s- it’s extremely warm, actually.”

Yelena’s lips twitched. “You are sweating.”

Kate wiped her forehead aggressively. “I’m- FINE.”

But her hand kept moving, helpless and drawn, skimming along Yelena’s waist, feeling the soft dip before the muscles tightened again.

She remembered touching her there before. How her fingers had lingered and how Yelena hadn’t pulled away.

She didn’t pull away now either.

In fact… she leaned just slightly closer.

Her breath caught. Yelena looked down at Kate’s hand on her waist, then back at her face, eyes narrowing in that terrifyingly gentle way of hers.

“You are… very concerned…” she murmured.

“I’m being respectful,” Kate said too quickly.

“That is not the word,” Yelena said.

Kate choked on air. “Okay then what- yeah- what word would you use?”

Yelena gave the smallest shrug, but her voice went soft, velvety, taunting in a way that should be illegal as she spoke “Hungry.”

Kate could swear she left her mortal body and floated above the room watching her soul implode.

“I- I’m NOT- hungry- I’m… appreciating your- anatomy. Scientifically- for science-”

Yelena actually smiled - slow, lazy smile like she was enjoying this. Enjoying Kate being undone, watching her try to stay composed and fail spectacularly.

“Kate Bishop,” she said gently, “you are squeezing my side.”

Kate looked down.

Her hand was gripping Yelena’s waist like her life depended on it.

“Oh my god-” Kate yanked her hand back like she’d touched a stove. “I didn’t- That wasn’t- It just-”

Yelena caught her wrist lightly with unbelievable ease, like it was nothing . “Is okay” she murmured. “I said you can touch.”

Kate froze as her brain shut down. Her thighs pressed together again, as subtle as possible - except Yelena’s eyes flicked down, noticing the shift. She wasn’t judging with a smug manner, no, she was… quietly delighted.

“Relax, Kate Bishop” Yelena said softly, thumb brushing Kate’s wrist. “You are not going to break me.”

Kate swallowed hard, her heart thudded in her throat as she tried to talk. “I’m- trying to be decent.”

“Oh, you are” Yelena said. “But you are also very terrible at hiding things.”

Kate made a strangled noise. “I hate this.”

“Ha? No,” Yelena said, amusement warm in her voice. “You do not.”

Kate exhaled shakily. Her face was burning, as her hand was still trapped in Yelena’s careful grip.

Yelena leaned in closer - close enough Kate felt her breath again.

“Continue,” she whispered. “If you want.”

Kate did.

Her fingers slid back to Yelena’s waist - but this time, Yelena’s own hand rested lightly over hers, guiding, steady. Making it very clear she was letting Kate touch her, not by accident, but on purpose.

Kate’s heartbeat went wild. Every nerve ending was buzzing. She tried to breathe, tried to act casual. She failed completely. She cleared her throat. “So you’re- um... apparently- more than okay- with this.”

Yelena’s eyes flicked down to their hands, then back up. “If I was not, you would know.”

Kate nodded too fast. “Right, right, yep, of course, I totally know that, I’m- I’m calm, chill you know?”

“You are not calm,” Yelena said.

“Pfft- I am the definition of calm” She scoffed with pretend annoyance.

“You are sweating again, Kate.”

Kate wiped her forehead. “It’s the- humidity. In the room. There’s- humidity.”

“Bullshit” Yelena deadpanned, and somehow that made Kate squeeze her waist again before she caught herself.

“Oh my god- sorry- I didn’t mean to uh-”

Yelena tightened her fingers just a fraction around Kate’s wrist. “Stop apologizing like an idiot. You are not hurting me.”

Kate inhaled sharply. Consent, limits, boundaries - to Kate all that mattered more than anything Yelena could say now. She knew how the Russian had been handled before - roughly, carelessly, like a weapon, never like a person - and the last thing Kate wanted was to echo even a shade of that.

So she nodded once, deeply. “Okay. Just… tell me if I do.”

“I will” Yelena said immediately, with confidence and certainty.

“I won’t be the first to cross the line, Lena ” Kate whispered, yet that wasn’t a confession - that was a fact.

Yelena’s expression shifted - not soft, but something like recognition.

Kate exhaled shakily and, steadying herself, slid her hand slightly higher along Yelena’s ribs.

Yelena’s breath caught again - small, controlled, but real.

And Kate? Clearly couldn’t handle it.

Her thighs pressed together again - involuntary, hopeless, embarrassing - but she kept her movements gentle, respectful.

She was two seconds away from passing out, but she wasn’t going to make this weird for Yelena.

Unfortunately though, her body had other plans. She stepped one inch back before her heel caught on absolutely nothing - maybe the air, maybe her other foot - and she stumbled.

“Блядь, Kate- !” [in Russian: Fuck]

Yelena grabbed her instinctively - one hand on her arm, the other around her waist - but momentum was momentum.

They both went down.

Except at the last second Yelena twisted, flipped her body under Kate’s with absurd assassin efficiency, and they hit the floor with her on the bottom, Kate landing on her with a surprised “Oof!”.

Kate blinked down at her.

Yelena blinked up at her.

They were… very close.

“Are you good?” Yelena asked, all exhale and warm breath.

“Yeah, yeah- I’m- I’m fine- WHY ARE YOU UNDER ME?”

“Because I stopped you from hitting your head.”

Kate stared at her, then burst out laughing - a short, breathless, disbelieving sound.

“Damn- you flipped us,” she said. “You just- full Black Widow flipped us.”

“Yes,” Yelena said plainly. “You fall very stupidly, Kate Bishop.”

Kate put a hand on her chest like she’d been wounded. “Hey. Hey. I have incredible balance-”

“You do not. You almost died tripping on air.”

Kate let out a helpless laugh, face heating again. “Shut up, I’m trying to be smooth here.”

“You are failing.”

“I KNOW.”

They were still tangled together, Yelena’s hands braced around her waist, Kate’s knees sliding on either side of Yelena’s hips.

Kate became extremely aware of every inch of contact.

“Oh god-” she whispered. “I’m crushing you.”

“You are not,” Yelena said, and there was a tone in her voice - low, almost amused - that made Kate’s stomach drop.

Kate swallowed. “I should- um- get up.”

Yelena didn’t move, didn’t look away nor released Kate’s waist. Instead she said slowly, carefully “Wait.”

Kate just went rigid.

Yelena’s fingers brushed lightly at the hem of her hoodie - not tugging, not demanding - testing.

And her voice dropped just a little more. “Can I…” she said, her fingers ghosting the fabric again “…see you? Less covered?”

Kate’s brain stopped working so hard she forgot how English worked for a moment.

“Me?” she squeaked.

“No,” Yelena said dryly, “the other Kate Bishop in the room.”

Kate groaned into her own shoulder. “Why are you like this-”

Yelena’s expression softened, but not in a mushy way - more like she was interested, invested. Like she’d been thinking about this too.

“You are warm. Your face is bright. Maybe you’ll be more comfortable without the hoodie ?”

She said it casually, but they both knew exactly what she meant.

Kate swallowed, heart pounding like a drumline. “I- I can take it off,” she said, voice embarrassingly small. “Yeah- yeah, sure- I totally can take it off.”

Yelena held her gaze, steady then nodded once.

Kate pushed up onto her knees, pulling the hoodie over her head - careful, slow, making sure she wasn’t overwhelming Yelena - and the second it came off, Yelena’s eyes widened.

Because the little white tank top she had underneath? Was basically nothing.

Soft, thin, borderline see-through from heat, hugging every line of her subtlety toned upper body.

Yelema just openly stared, like she’d been allowed to want for the first time in her life and didn’t quite know how to hide the surprise.

“You…” Yelena began, blinking once. “You are…”

She stopped, recalibrated, then tried again.

“…very good looking, Kate Bishop.”

Kate made a noise so high-pitched it could’ve shattered glass.

“I- WHAT- you- HUH?!”

Yelena’s lips twitched. “I asked to see you. Not to listen to you scream.”

Kate flung her hoodie at her face. “ohmygod-”

Yelena caught it one-handed without looking, just like she did with that sriracha bottle, in this very apartment last December.

And she was still staring at Kate.

She was still absolutely in control of her boundaries.

But now, undeniably… drawn in.

“Kate Bishop,” she said quietly, eyes sweeping her again before flicking up, “come closer.”

Kate did.

Not because she was particularly submissive - actually the opposite - but because she would do anything for that smoke show assassin who sat right in front of her.

She lowered herself back down, hovering above Yelena for a second like gravity had suddenly become negotiable.

Then Yelena’s hands slid from her waist to her hips - slow, steady, fingers firm enough to guide her the last few inches down onto Yelena’s lap.

Kate’s breath left her in a tiny, disgraceful squeak.

“Relax, Kate Bishop” Yelena murmured, as if she wasn’t the one touching her like that.

Kate tried to reply, but only half-succeeded.

“So uh- hi.”

Yelena blinked up at her slowly. “You are sitting on me, Kate. Why are you saying ‘hi’?”

“I…. I don’t know, okay?!”

Yelena’s lips twitched - that small, traitorous almost-smile that meant Kate was absolutely killing her in the best way.

Kate realized Yelena’s hands were still on her hips.

She also realized: Yelena wasn’t moving them away.

She was… holding her there, which made Kate’s stomach flip so hard she almost lost balance all over again.

“Shouldn’t I uh- move-” Kate stammered, suddenly hyperaware of everything, every bit of contact, the heat, the stupid thin tank top sticking to her.

“No,” Yelena said immediately, in a firm manner. “Stay.”

Kate’s entire nervous system screamed.

Yelena studied her face for a moment, then - carefully, with the precision of someone doing something new but not afraid of it - she lifted one hand from Kate’s hip and touched her waist, fingers brushing lightly over the ribbed fabric of the tank top.

Kate shivered. A full-body my-soul-is-leaving-my-body shiver.

“You are cold?” Yelena asked.

“No,” Kate rasped. “God, no.”

Yelena’s thumb brushed higher along her side - curious, slow, following the outline of the light muscles underneath the thin shirt.

Kate’s thighs tensed instinctively.

Yelena’s eyes flicked down noticing, which looked like she was genuinely interested.“This shirt is very small” Yelena observed quietly.

Kate squeaked. “It’s.. for layering!”

“It is transparent.” Yelena hummed like she wasn’t convinced. Her fingers drifted up the side seam, feeling the heat of Kate’s skin under the fabric.

“You look…” she paused - not exactly searching for flattery, but for accuracy “…good.”

Kate nearly died, dropping her forehead to Yelena’s shoulder with a groan. “You’re enjoying this.”

“A little,” Yelena admitted, voice low.

Kate pulled back just enough to look at her. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Yelena asked, genuinely curious.

“You’re teasing me.”

“I am not.”

“Yeah you are.”

Yelena tilted her head, eyes sweeping Kate again - shoulders, chest, flush, the way Kate was trying so hard not to rock forward even once.

“I mean,” she said softly. “You make it easy.”

Kate let out a strangled noise.

“Lena,” she whispered, “that’s not-”

Yelena’s hand slid up Kate’s side again - this time under the fabric, fingers brushing warm skin, careful but intentional.

Kate gasped - sharp, involuntary, breath catching in her throat.

Yelena stilled instantly. “Too much?”

Kate shook her head, breathless. “No- no. It’s- it’s perfect. I swear.”

Yelena nodded once. She let her hand roam gently over Kate’s bare waist, thumb brushing just under the edge of the tank top. The contact was light but steady, the kind of touch that wasn’t sexual by accident - it was intimate because she chose it to be.

Kate couldn’t keep her hips still anymore - they shifted, just slightly, needing some kind of grounding.

Yelena noticed, per usual - but she didn’t say anything - she just held Kate’s waist a little firmer - bracing her, steadying the trembling she thought she hid.

“You are shaky…” Yelena murmured.

“I’m- it’s just- adrenaline!” Kate lied terribly.

“It is not.”

Kate dropped her head into her hands. “I hate my body.”

“I clearly do not,” Yelena said softly.

Kate froze.

Not because it was a romantic confession, but because it was simple, plain honesty.

“You…” Kate whispered, looking at her. “Like… this?”

Yelena nodded once, thumb brushing a slow, grounding circle on Kate’s waist.

And Kate’s entire body answered that small motion way too fast.

Her breath hitched, thighs tightening instinctively where she straddled Yelena’s. She couldn’t help it - there was heat pooling low in her stomach, dampness in between her legs, sharp and warm and impossible to hide when she was literally sitting on top of her.

She tried to steady herself, to breathe, to not grind down on instinct.

She barely succeeded.

Yelena didn’t seem to notice how Kate had some female equivalent of blue balls - or she knew and just chose to say nothing about it. She just kept looking at the archer like she was trying to decipher her brain cell by cell.

The problem was: Kate didn’t have any functioning brain cells left.

None.

Her hand slid slowly from Yelena’s upper arm down to her forearm - scarred, strong and certainly familiar - and her breath stuttered the moment Kate’s thumb ghosted over one of the longer scars.

Yelena’s fingers tightened at Kate’s waist.

Just slightly, but it was still enough for Kate to make a tiny noise in her throat.

She didn’t even know what it was. A gasp? A whine?

Whatever it was, it made Yelena’s eyes flick up sharply, pupils blown wide.

“Does that… hurt?” Kate whispered.

“No, Kate.” Yelena said immediately, almost too fast. “It’s… good.”

Good.

Kate’s pulse jumped so hard she swore Yelena herself could feel it.

She lowered her head, slowly, giving Yelena time - time to pull away, time to rethink, time to breathe - but Yelena didn’t move, she completely allowed Kate to do what she was going to.

Kate’s lips touched her neck - low, where the skin was soft and warm.

She kissed lightly, letting her mouth linger.

Yelena inhaled sharply - it was quiet, but Kate felt the whole sound vibrate against her mouth.

Kate kissed again, a little higher this time, brushing the line of Yelena’s jaw without actually reaching her lips.

She felt Yelena’s hand slide instinctively from her waist to her lower back, fingers curling into the thin fabric of Kate’s shirt like she needed something to hold onto.

Kate’s thighs squeezed again, her breath shaking. She was so turned on she could barely think straight.

But she stayed careful, soft and slow because that was what Yelena deserved.

Yelena’s head tilted back a little, exposing more of her throat, apparently not realizing what she was doing.

“Kate…” Yelena breathed. It was with so much need that the sound went straight through Kate’s spine, down her stomach and between her legs.

She swallowed a gasp, pressing her forehead to Yelena’s temple for a second just to keep herself steady.

Her hand slid around Yelena’s ribs - slow, cautious - until her fingers brushed the bottom edge of the sports bra.

Yelena didn’t flinch.

She just breathed shakily, hand gripping Kate’s back a little harder.

Kate’s fingertips traced upward finding new skin, the curve of her side just under the bra.

Yelena’s whole body reacted - her breath broke, chest rising sharply, thighs tensing beneath Kate.

Kate quietly whimpered.

She didn’t even mean to. It just slipped out.

Yelena’s eyes flew open, searching Kate’s face like she needed to understand every layer of that sound.

“Is this… too much?” she whispered, voice rough, unsteady.

Kate shook her head instantly.

“No,” she breathed. “God, never Lena.”

Her hand smoothed over Yelena’s side, up to her ribcage and thumb traced the line of muscle just beneath the swell of Yelena’s chest.

Yelena wasn’t moving anymore. She was letting Kate explore, letting Kate touch, letting Kate kiss down her neck like she was made of something delicate.

Kate’s heart felt like it was going to explode.

“Is this okay?” she whispered, hand trembling but steadying against Yelena’s ribs.

Yelena swallowed, a tiny sound escaping her - as if almost a moan.

“Yes,” she managed. “It is- you are-”

Kate exhaled against her neck and felt Yelena shiver.

She pressed another kiss - slow, needy - to the base of Yelena’s throat, and Yelena’s hand gripped her back like she was drowning and Kate was the only thing keeping her above the water.

Kate’s other hand slid higher - just a little - just enough to brush the lower curve of Yelena’s chest through the sports bra-

Yelena’s breath broke completely.

Her hand clutched Kate’s waist with sudden force - not pushing her away, not pulling her closer either. “Kate,” she whispered, the sound strangled. “If you keep- I will- Я не могу- ” [in Russian: I can’t]

Kate froze in clarity, ignoring the Russian words she didn’t understand at all.

She lifted her head just enough to see Yelena’s face.

And she was met by raw, overwhelming want.

The widow’s pupils were blown wide, cheeks flushed, lips parted, chest rising too fast. Her hand trembled against Kate’s waist.

Kate softened instantly, sliding her hand back down to safer skin, resting her forehead against Yelena’s.

“It’s fine- I-” she whispered. “It’s okay, Lena. We can stop.”

Yelena exhaled shakily.

“I do not want to stop,” she admitted, voice barely there. “But if I do not…uh- leave, I will not- you know, Kate Bishop.”

The words hit Kate like heat.

She swallowed, breathing in Yelena’s air.

“Then- I guess- you can go,” she whispered gently. “Only because we both wanna do this right.”

Yelena nodded once - tiny, reluctant, like it hurt.

She slid her hand slowly off Kate’s back, then helped guide Kate off her body with careful hands, steady even while trembling.

Once Kate was kneeling beside her, Yelena sat up, bracing herself for a moment as she caught her breath.

She didn’t stand immediately. She just looked at Kate - with something tender and undone and unmistakably wanting.

“I will come back, don’t doubt me now.” she murmured.

Kate’s chest tightened. “Oh- you will huh?”

Yelena’s hand came up, brushing Kate’s jaw with the softest touch Kate had ever felt.

“Yes.”

And when she finally stood, she looked back at Kate on the floor like she wanted to come right back down.

But to Kate’s absolute torture - she didn’t.

She slipped on her jacket, still breathing unevenly, and walked to the door.

Before she left, she looked at Kate again - this time with something sharp and real and impossibly soft.

“I’ll see you, Kate Bishop.”

Kate swallowed, still shaking. “I- yeah- Goodnight, Lena.”

The door clicked shut, but for a while Kate stayed on the floor - legs weak, heart racing, skin damp where Yelena’s breath had been.

Chapter Text

-

The recoil thudded up her arm, steady, familiar, grounding.

Yelena lowered her Glock 19 only long enough to breathe in the cold, chemical-stained air of the shooting range.

Cement and gunpowder. It should’ve cleared her head, but this time it didn’t.

She reloaded.

Click.

Slide.

Quick exhale.

Fire.

The paper silhouette jerked violently, center mass torn apart by precise, too-quick shots.

She didn’t have to look to know she’d reduced the target to garbage in record time.

Bucky had been right once again - she didn’t like that - but the paper dangled in ripped, useless strips as the result of… what, five magazines? Six? Enough that she should probably be embarrassed.

“Сука…” she muttered to herself.

Her hands were steady, but pulse was not.

It had been around… two weeks since the bar with Bucky, where he watched her freeze like a teenager the moment Kate touched her under the table.

And since then-

Every other day, somehow, somewhere.

Kate’s apartment.

The fire escape.

A bench in a park.

Once in the stairwell when Kate was rambling so fast she forgot to look where she was going and they ended up chest to chest without meaning to.

Every other day, something happened. It wasn’t sex. Not even a real kiss on the mouth - not one they finished, anyway.

But it was closeness and softness - things Yelena had never categorized before.

Kate’s warm hands all over her skin like she was something gentle, something good.

Then stopping, always stopping.

Yelena knew Kate didn’t stop because she was scared, she did because Yelena was.

She fired again. A tighter shot this time. Controlled rage, or maybe controlled fear.

“You’re gonna make the poor paper guy ask for workers’ comp,” a voice announced lazily from behind her.

Yelena did not turn - she didn’t need to.

Bucky strolled into her peripheral vision like he owned the place, hair slicked back, jacket half-zipped, smelling faintly of gasoline and sarcasm.

“You really think you are funny…” she said flatly.

“And you’re avoiding me,” Bucky replied, leaning on the divider between lanes. “Which is shocking, considering I’m… delightful.”

Yelena kept shooting.

“You were with me yesterday,” she said.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, “but that was sparring. You tried to break my wrist.”

“You were mocking my footwork.”

“So sensitive aren’t you?”

“You are lucky your wrist wasn’t.”

He grinned, completely unbothered. “See? Now that’s why we’re friends.”

Yelena fired again, but her arms were getting too tense. Her shoulders edged upward - barely noticeable, unless someone knew her.

Bucky knew her.

He waited exactly three beats before speaking again. “So,” he said lightly, “how’s the girlfriend?”

Yelena’s gun jammed.

She stared at it, stunned, then at him.

“We are not-”

“Yelena,” Bucky cut in gently, “I literally met her. She’s cute. She looked at you like you hung the moon, and you looked like you were trying not to pass out. It was fun.”

“It was embarrassing,” she muttered.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

She scowled. “Заткнись.” [in Russian: Shut up.]

Bucky ignored that completely, stepping closer, peeking at the target with a whistle.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think all this aggression is about something you’re refusing to talk about.”

“It is not aggression,” she shot back.

“That’s endearing,” he said. “Say it again.”

She glared at him, but his smile just grew wider.

This, unfortunately, was their friendship.

Bucky folded his arms, glancing sideways at her. “So. What’s happening between you two?

Yelena cleared her throat too quickly. “Nothing is… happening.”

Bucky’s laugh was unfairly loud. “Oh please. Don’t make me replay the scene where she looked like she’s gonna sit on top of you in that bar booth and you forgot how to swallow your Coke.”

Yelena groaned under her breath.

“And,” Bucky continued smugly, “don’t forget the look she gave you when you got into that taxi with her. Jesus, I thought I was gonna have to give you two privacy on the sidewalk.”

“It’s not like that.” Yelena defended.

“Sure it’s not.”

“She is chaos.”

“That’s kinda why you like her.” Bucky said as he kept smiling.

Yelena set her gun down, rubbing her face with both hands. Her fingers shook - not visibly, but enough for Bucky to notice and move closer. “Hey,” he said, tone dropping into something softer. “You alright?”

“No,” she said honestly before she could stop herself. “Yes.”

Bucky waited.

Yelena exhaled hard, leaning back against the soundproof barrier. “She is…” her chest squeezed painfully “…too close.”

“Is that bad?” Bucky asked quietly.

“Yes,” Yelena said. Then, softer: “No.”

Bucky nodded like that made perfect sense.

“And these… moments,” she continued, voice tight, “these… things - they keep happening. And I do not know what she wants. Or what I want. Or what happens next. Or what is expected of me.”

“And that scares you.” Bucky finished for her.

Yelena didn’t answer because it did. Because someone wanting her - really wanting her, not just her body - was foreign, intoxicating and dangerous.

And wanting someone back? That was even worse.

“It is too much,” she whispered. “And uh- not enough. Both?”

Bucky nodded, now leaning against the barrier beside her.

“That,” he said softly, “is… something I know a thing or two about. When you’re falling-"

Yelena felt the words hit her like a bullet to the ribs. “I am not falling-”

“Yelena.”

She shut her mouth.

Bucky nudged her shoulder with his metal arm - gently.

“You don’t have to say it. I’m just telling you…” He tilted his head, looking at her with something like brotherly concern “…you’re not insane for just wanting. Not weak, either.”

Yelena stared down at her hands - scarred, shaking, capable of killing twenty men in a minute, incapable of handling one girl’s affection without losing her mind.

“I- It feels weak,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, “I know.”

Then he added, quieter: “And hey - if you ever want help figuring out what the hell to do with Kate… I’m available. I already like her, you know.”

Yelena snapped her head toward him. “Do not like her.”

“Oh absolutely not,” Bucky said mockingly. “No liking Kate. She’s awful. A nightmare.”

Yelena tried - badly - not to smile.

“And,” Bucky added, “she likes you.”

Her heart stopped, because he said it so casually like it was obvious.

Yelena’s voice was barely a whisper: “Did she tell u- Or how do you know?”

Bucky shrugged. “Because I’ve seen girls look at me. And she looks at you worse.”

Yelena’s pulse thudded so loud she could hear it in her teeth.

“…is that supposed to be comforting?” she asked.

“Shockingly, yes.”

Yelena turned back to the lane, lifted her gun, took a breath.

Her hands were steadier now, not because she was calm, but because she finally understood why she wasn’t.

Yelena looked back at the target and spoke, keeping eyes ahead. “Barnes?”

“Yeah?”

“…What…. do I do?”

Bucky smiled in that stupid big-brother way he pretended he didn’t have.

“You start,” he said softly, “by talking to her. Y’know, instead of making out the second you two breathe the same air.”

Yelena snorted. “We do not-”

“You do,” he said, shrugging. “It’s fine. A little weird. But fine.”

She opened her mouth to argue, realized she had no good argument, and shut it fast. Because even though they weren’t kissing on the mouth, ‘making out’ was the best way to put it anyway.

Her chest still felt tight in vulnerability, which she hated.

She holstered her gun and marched past Bucky toward the exit hallway.

“That’s it?” Bucky called after her. “No witty comeback?”

“No.”

He blinked. “Oh. Wow. Okay. Maybe you do need a break.”

She pushed through the door without responding.

He followed a few seconds later - slower, quieter. Which meant he was thinking.

Yelena didn’t like when he thought.

Outside the range, the fluorescent lights flickered, buzzing faintly. Yelena stopped, leaned a shoulder against the wall, exhaling through her nose like the air itself annoyed her.

Bucky approached cautiously. “You okay?” he asked.

“Нет.” [in Russian: No]

“Well,” he said awkwardly, “at least you’re honest.”

Yelena stared at the pavement, jaw tight.

“It is ridiculous,” she muttered. “I have been through far worse things than this. Than her.”

“That’s kind of why it hits harder,” Bucky replied gently.

“No,” Yelena snapped - too fast. “Hard was detox. Hard was… shutting everything off.”

Bucky’s entire expression changed at the word. He went still and cold. Not angry, but his eyes went sharp in a way she rarely saw.

“You…” he said slowly, carefully, as if tasting the word for the first time, “…detoxed?”

Yelena tensed. She hadn’t meant to say that part. Not out loud. Definitely not to her deceased sister’s ex.

“Yelena,” Bucky repeated, voice lower and controlled now. “When?”

She swallowed. Her pulse throbbed in her ears.

“After Nat-” she forced out, barely audible. “After everything. I started working for Val and ah…”

Bucky didn’t speak or move. His face didn’t break or twist or soften - it just emptied. Like someone pulled the plug on every emotion at once.

To anyone else, it would look like he didn’t care.

Yelena knew better.

This was James Barnes scared out of his mind.

He looked away, eyes narrowing at nothing, jaw tightening until the muscle twitched. His shoulders went stiff - that clipped posture he used only when something hit too deep, too suddenly.

He blinked once, too slow. “I-” he stopped, swallowing. “You never said anything.”

“You were not there,” she said, voice flat but not unkind. “We did not see each other.”

“That doesn’t mean-” His voice cracked. He shut his mouth hard.

After a beat he exhaled through his teeth, sharp and unsteady, looking straight at his feet.

“I should’ve been,” he said.

“No,” she replied immediately. “Do not say that. I survived it alone. That is what I do.”

Bucky’s expression flickered - pain, anger at the world, at Natalia for leaving both of them and saving their lives at the same time, fear, all buried under a thin sheet of calm.

“That’s not something you should’ve…survived alone,” he said, voice low.

She kicked lightly at the wall. “It is done.”

“Still,” he muttered.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, stepping back a little, like he needed distance to think.

Not from her - from the thought of her doing that by herself.

Yelena watched him, arms crossed, shoulders stiff.

“You act cold when you are scared,” she said bluntly.

Bucky’s head snapped up. “I don’t-”

“You do.”

He stared at her and she just stared back.

Finally, he huffed out a breath and looked away. “Okay,” he admitted softly. “Yeah- Maybe.”

Then he cleared his throat, straightened his jacket, and nodded like he was resetting himself.

“…We need to get out of here,” Bucky said quietly. “Come on.”

Yelena frowned. “Why?”

“Because if we stay here, I’m gonna start asking questions you won't wanna hear and you’re gonna shoot me with your cute little Glock.”

She considered it. “Yeah. Probably.”

He jerked his head toward his car, the same one Yelena stole once to get Kate Bishop from Iowa. “Let’s go.”

Yelena followed without speaking. No questions asked.

-

The drive felt short

Old songs hummed low on the radio, headlights slicing through patches of fog along the road. Pines gave way to marshland, cattails rising in tall silhouettes. Wooden signs appeared along the roadside.

GREAT SWAMP WILDLIFE OBSERVATION CENTER–> 0.5 MILES

Bucky turned off onto a small, winding path just wide enough for the car. The gravel softened into dirt, then wooden planks as the boardwalk began.

He parked at the quiet trailhead without a word.

Yelena stepped out. The air was colder here despite it being late spring already, heavier with water and the smell of mud and reeds. A chorus of frogs croaked somewhere in the distance, low and rhythmic. Fireflies flickered between the tall grasses despite the season-slow, soft glimmers in the dark.

Fireflies.

And suddenly Yelena was six again, playing with Natka in Ohio.

It hit her without warning - like stepping on a loose floorboard she didn’t know was there.

The marsh faded for a moment.

In its place:

A meadow surrounded by a forest, they’d bike to.

The slow, sticky warmth of a Midwestern summer.

Natalia’s laugh - higher, smaller, real - echoing between trees that no longer existed.

Two jars stolen from their pretend-mother’s kitchen.

Chasing glowing dots through long grass with her sister, tripping every five seconds because Yelena’s legs were too short and she never watched where she was going.

“Natka, wait for me!”

“Come on, Lenochka! They’re everywhere - look!”

She remembered the way fireflies looked up close, pressed against the glass - like tiny floating stars.

She remembered how Nat always released hers first.

“We are not keeping them,” ten-year-old Nat had scolded, brushing her freshly dyed blue hair from her face. “They’re actually alive. Give them back.”

Yelena had pouted, holding her jar tight. “They are pretty.”

“So are you,” Nat had said, ruffling her hair. “But I don’t keep you in a jar, right?”

Yelena had snorted. “Hm. Maybe you should.”

Nat rolled her eyes. “Would you really wanna be kept by your ‘annoying’ big sister though?”

The marsh snapped back into focus.

Yelena blinked hard, grounding herself in the present.

Bucky stood a few feet away on the boardwalk, hands in his pockets, looking out over the water. His profile was dim in the fading light.

He didn’t look at her, didn’t ask anything, didn’t interrupt the memory she didn’t mean to fall into.

He just stayed still, in that quiet but present manner.

Yelena swallowed, breath catching once before she forced it steady.

“She liked them,” Yelena said before she even knew she’d spoken.

Bucky turned, eyebrows lifting slightly. “Nat?” he asked, gentle.

Yelena nodded.

“Fireflies. She-” her voice snagged on something sharp “she used to say they looked like little stars.”

Bucky’s expression softened - only a little, the way he always tried to hide it.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I could imagine it.”

Yelena stepped forward onto the boardwalk, eyes following the faint, wandering trails of light rising from the marsh.

“Ohio was nothing like this,” she muttered. “But… I remember them.”

Bucky stepped beside her - not too close.

“You don’t talk about it much,” he said, obviously referring to their time in Ohio.

“There isn’t much to be talked about.” Yelena replied.

Then added, softer:

“Except her.”

They stood there for a moment, surrounded by the hum of insects and the glow of fireflies drifting like slow embers in the dark.

After a moment they started walking down the boardwalk, wood creaking softly under their boots. The air tasted like cold water and wet earth, fireflies drifting in slow, uncertain arcs around them. For a while neither spoke.

Yelena didn’t mind the silence now.

It felt less like avoidance, more like… rest.

She kicked a pebble off the path and watched it disappear into the reeds.

After a few steps, she asked - not gently, but not sharp either:

“How is Sam?”

Bucky blinked, surprised by the direction. “Sam?”

“Yes, Sam.” Yelena kept walking. “Your… uh- bird-new Captain America-friend.”

Bucky huffed. “He’s not a bird.”

“He flies.”

“Not naturally.”

Yelena shrugged. “Still counts.”

Bucky looked away, but not before she caught the faint pull at the corner of his mouth. A half-smile he didn’t want her to see.

“He’s good,” he said eventually. “Too good almost.”

“He checks on you a lot?” Yelena said without looking at Bucky.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “And I tell him to stop. And then he doesn’t stop.”

After that the marsh quieted around them, the hum of night settling into something steady, almost patient. Yelena watched another firefly drift up, blink once, twice, then disappear into the cattails.

She didn’t know why she spoke next. Maybe because the air here made honesty feel lighter.

Or because she could feel Bucky circling something in his own head, the same way she always did.

“Was he…” she said slowly, “the first thing, after Natalia?”

Bucky’s hands on the railing went still. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then he exhaled, long and low - an old kind of breath, pulled from somewhere deep.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “The only thing like that aside from her.”

Yelena nodded, not looking at him. It was easier this way.

He continued, voice softer than she’d ever heard it:

“I wasn’t- I didn’t think I could… feel anything. And then - I did, for her. But after… you know- I didn’t think I'd have that again. Not anything that mattered.”

Yelena knew who ‘her’ meant.

Nat’s name hung between them without being spoken, like it always did.

Bucky shifted, metal fingers tapping once against the wooden rail.

“I mean it’s so different- And… it didn’t happen all at once,” he said. “Nothing dramatic. No… moment. Just… him being there. Being stubborn.” A breathy laugh. “Being Sam.”

Yelena tilted her head. “You did not know you could like men?”

Bucky made a vague, irritated noise. “I didn’t know I could experience this with people again, Yelena. Any of them. Man, woman- I’m old.. I never had words for any of that, anyway.”

She hummed thoughtfully.

It made sense.

Everything about him - the way he loved, the way he feared, the way he carried grief - felt carved from another century.

She could relate to it because even though she wasn’t 100 years old - she was held in complete isolation, while mind-controlled for most of her life.

“And Sam does not… scare you?” she asked.

Bucky blinked, startled by the question.

“…He does,” he admitted after a moment. “But not in the way losing her did. He scares me because I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I am, especially after her. I don’t know what the hell I’m allowed to want.”

Yelena considered that.

She knew the feeling too well - the confusion that came with wanting someone for the first time, not knowing the rules or the language of it.

Not knowing what was allowed.

“I do not know either,” she said. “With Kate.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to her - soft, understanding.

“I don’t know what I want from her,” Yelena continued, her voice barely above the marsh sounds. “Only that I want… something. And I do not know… how.”

Bucky’s gaze softened further. He just nodded once.

“And with Sam?” she pressed.

Bucky shifted his weight, scraping his boot lightly on the wooden floorboards.

“It’s not a label thing for me,” he said. “I just… like him. More than I expected. More than I wanted to.” His throat bobbed. “And I feel like I’m breaking some rule I didn’t know existed.”

Yelena frowned. “Whose rule?”

Bucky gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know. Mine. Society’s?”

Yelena shook her head. “That sounds stupid.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “It is.”

“And what will you do with Sam?” she asked.

He stared out over the water again, thinking in that stubborn, heavy way he always did.

“Maybe… keep showing up. Let him keep showing up. See what happens…” he said.

Yelena nodded slowly. “That sounds like something.”

“Mhm.” Bucky smiled faintly. “Maybe.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder again, silent, watching fireflies drift like slow-moving sparks across the marsh.

After a minute, Bucky spoke again:

“You know,” he murmured, “you and I might be the worst two people to talk about those things.”

“Yes,” Yelena said. “Absolutely.”

“But,” Bucky added, “we’re trying.”

Yelena exhaled. “I hate trying.”

“I know.”

She glanced sideways at him.

“…but you are doing it anyway.”

Bucky met her eyes with something tired and warm.

“So are you.”

The quiet settled again - deep, steady, the kind that made the air feel thicker. Yelena watched a firefly land briefly on the railing, flicker once, and lift off.

She wasn’t sure why her mouth moved next.

Maybe because Bucky had already said things he didn’t usually say, or because the marsh felt… suspended, like a place outside time.

Or ‘cause thinking about wanting someone made her feel like she was missing instructions everyone else was born with.

“Barnes,” she said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably, “how was it… with her?”

Bucky’s reaction was immediate - a small jolt in his shoulders, like she’d brushed a bruise.

He didn’t speak, though.

Yelena kept staring at the marsh, pretending she didn’t notice.

“I mean… with ah- intimate stuff.” she clarified stiffly. “You and her.”

Bucky was quiet for a long moment.

“That’s… a weird question,” he said finally.

“I know.”

Another beat.

“But I guess… fair.” He said.

Bucky rubbed his jaw, searching for words. He was never good with talking, but when he actually tried, the air around him changed.

“With Nat,” he spoke slowly, “things weren’t easy.”

He breathed out through his nose. “She wasn’t afraid of closeness. But she wasn’t used to trusting people.”

Yelena let that settle.

It didn’t answer the question she really meant.

She hesitated, then pushed:

“Were you scared?”

Bucky laughed quietly, the sound dry. “Terrified.”

That… made sense.

Yelena opened her mouth to ask more - somehow - but her mind pulled sideways, abruptly and without permission.

Not to one of her old missions.

Not to the Red Room.

But to a night she’d forgotten she remembered.

A garage in Budapest.

The one they wind down at after being chased by Antonya through the city.

Old string lights buzzing overhead.

Two half-warm beers stolen from an abandoned-looking bar.

Nat sitting on a plastic chair on the other side of the table from her, her hair was in a messy French braid and her face soft in a way Yelena had missed so much for all those years.

“You ever think about that stuff?” Nat had asked looking at a couple walking across the street, before taking a long sip from her bottle. “You know. Romance.”

Yelena snorted loudly. “No.”

Nat raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“No,” Yelena repeated. “I do not like men. They are filthy. And stupid. And they smell.”

Nat choked on her drink. “Not all of them, Yelena.”

“Enough of them.”

“And women?” Nat had asked casually, too casually - testing, never judging.

Yelena took a long drink just to avoid answering.

“I don’t know,” she muttered. “If I am… made for it.”

Nat softened then, green eyes gleaming warmer. “You’re made for whatever you want to be made for, you know that.”

“I do not want to be made for feelings,” Yelena grumbled. “Feelings are messy. Complicated.”

Nat just pushed further. “You can think that. Just don’t assume you’re broken if you feel something anyway.”

Yelena had rolled her eyes. “I will not.”

Nat smiled knowingly. “Oh but you will.”

The memory faded as fast as it hit, slipping back into whatever dark corner it crawled out of.

Yelena blinked hard, grounding herself on the boardwalk again.

“…Are you okay?” Bucky asked quietly.

“What were you thinking about?” he continued .

Yelena shook her head. “Yeah- A conversation. One I had with her.”

“I bet she could give you good advice,” Bucky murmured.

Yelena huffed. “Yep.”

They fell quiet again.

Then Yelena said, barely above the marsh hum:

“…I told her I didn’t know if I was built for feelings.”

“And now?” Bucky asked.

She swallowed. “I think- maybe. A little.”

“Because of Kate.”

Yelena didn’t answer, because both of them knew it was true.

Bucky just stood there, looking out at the dark water below the boardwalk, jaw shifting once like he was trying to bite down a thousand questions at once.

“…yeah,” he said finally. “Kate’ll do that.”

Yelena let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

It fogged the air in front of her even though it wasn’t cold enough for that.

“What does that even mean?” she asked, more defensive than she intended.

Bucky shrugged, metal shoulder glinting faintly in the dim light.

“It means she’s the kind of person who can easily make other people feel things. Even when they’re convinced they can’t.”

Yelena frowned. “That sounds annoying.”

“It is,” Bucky said. “Extremely.”

Yelena huffed a small breath through her nose - almost a laugh. But not quite.

Bucky pushed his hands deeper into his pockets.

“You know,” he said quietly, “when Natalia talked about you… she always said you’d feel everything ten times stronger once you finally let yourself.”

Yelena’s throat closed for a second.

“She said that?” she whispered.

“Yeah… She said you were built for more than the Red Room let you think.”

Yelena’s chest tightened painfully.

Her fingers curled around the railing like she needed to hold onto something solid before she drifted away.

“I hate that,” she muttered.

Bucky nodded. “I know.”

“I do not want to be… like this.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want someone to matter to me again.”

His voice softened, almost a whisper:

“That one,” he said, “I really know, yup.”

They stood there. Yelena wished the fireflies would stop flickering - they made everything feel too gentle, too unguarded.

After a moment, Bucky spoke again, looking straight ahead:

“So… what scares you the most about it?”

Yelena took in a shaky breath, then forced it steady.

“…that she’ll see it,” she said.

“See what?”

“That I don’t know how any of this works. That I have never… felt anything like this before.”

Her jaw clenched.

“That I am inexperienced. Wrong in some way.”

Bucky turned enough to look at her - not fully, but enough.

“Yelena,” he said softly, “Kate already knows you’ve never felt all this.”

Yelena whipped her head toward him. “What- how?”

“Because she’s not stupid,” Bucky said simply. “And because she looks at you like she’d wait as long as you needed.”

Yelena’s stomach dropped.

Heat crept up the back of her neck - annoying, unwelcome.

“She should not wait,” Yelena snapped. “I mean- Look, I do not know what am I even doing.”

“Neither did Nat,” Bucky said. “Neither did I. Neither does anyone, really.”

“That is a lie.”

“It’s the truth.”

Yelena pressed her lips together.

Bucky let the silence fall again - let the it stretch long enough for the air to stop shaking around her thoughts.

Then he added, almost as an afterthought:

“And for what it’s worth… Kate doesn’t look scared of you.”

“But- What if I hurt her?” she asked, barely audible.

Bucky turned his head a fraction.

Yelena forced the words out, one by one.

“Kate Bishop may not be scared but… she is… soft. Physically. She is strong but I am- I don’t always know my strength. I still move like I am… fighting even when I’m not. I…” She swallowed hard. “I could make one mistake and-”

Her breath caught.

She hated that. Hated the way it betrayed her.

“…and she could get hurt. Really hurt.”

Bucky didn’t answer right away.

When he did, his voice was different - rough, and quiet in a way she’d barely ever heard from him.

“Yelena,” he said, “I shot Natalia.”

The world seemed to freeze.

Even the fireflies felt still.

She turned her head sharply, stunned.

He wasn’t looking at her.

He was staring straight ahead, jaw tight, eyes somewhere far away.

Yelena immediately knew which scar on Nat’s body was once that shot wound. Her head was almost exploding from the amount of thoughts occurring at once because not only had Bucky hurt her sister like that, but Nat also lied about who did it to her when Yelena asked.

Before her mind could spiral even further, she registered Bucky started talking again.

“By a cliff, in Odessa, 2009.” Bucky continued. “She wasn’t even my target- I didn’t know anything, but… I still shot her. My fucking bullet went straight through the body.”

Yelena’s heart stuttered.

His voice cracked - just barely. “Yelena, she- she didn’t hate me for it.”

She stared at him, breath unsteady.

“Nat understood,” Bucky said. “She forgave what wasn’t mine to control. And she stayed. Even after all the things I’d done without remembering any of them.”

He finally looked at her. His eyes weren’t pitying though - they were steady, anchored.

“You’re scared you’ll hurt Kate because you know your strength,” Bucky said. “But it’s also because you care. Because you pay attention.”

Yelena looked away, jaw clenching.

Bucky stepped a little closer - not touching her, just near enough that she felt the weight of his presence.

“Nat trusted me,” he said. “Even after everything. She trusted herself around me. She knew I’d sooner die than hurt her on purpose.”

He held Yelena’s gaze. “And Kate knows that same thing about you.”

Yelena’s throat tightened, heat gathering behind her eyes.

She blinked hard, refusing to let anything fall.

“That is not… the same,” she rasped.

“It is, actually.” Bucky said gently. “You think being dangerous makes you unfit for closeness. But Nat never believed that about you. And Kate doesn’t either.”

Yelena let out a shaky exhale.

She wasn’t used to her fear being seen, let alone - understood.

“Kate isn’t fragile,” Bucky added. “She’s a lot tougher than you think.”

Yelena laughed once - a breath, really. “Still softer than me.”

“Everyone’s softer than you.”

Yelena elbowed him lightly. “Shut up.”

Bucky grinned, rubbing his side. “See? You’re already controlling your strength.”

Yelena rolled her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders eased - just a little.

They sank into silence again, the marsh humming around them, fireflies lifting in slow spirals of gold.

After a long moment, Yelena murmured, almost to the water:

“…I do not want to be scared like this.”

Bucky nodded. “Then tell her.”

Yelena’s pulse fluttered.

“And if she gets scared of me?” she whispered.

Bucky’s voice was soft and certain.

“She won’t. You’re not fucked up,” he said quietly. “You’re just new in all this.”

Yelena stared down at her hands. Small scars on her wrists caught the light like little pale lines.

New.

She hadn’t been new at anything in years.

It felt… terrifying.

And maybe good.

She swallowed hard.

“What if I do fuck it up?” she asked.

Bucky breathed out, steady and calm.

“Then you’ll fix it,” he said. “Because you care now.”

Yelena’s eyes flickered up - just enough to meet his.

“And what if she messes up?” she asked.

Bucky gave a tiny grin. “Then you’ll forgive her. Because - guess what - you care now.”

Yelena hated how true that felt in her bones.

She turned back toward the trees.

“…Barnes?”

“Yeah?”

“I do not like this.”

“I know,” he said. “But you like her.”

Yelena tensed.

“…a little.”

“A little,” Bucky echoed, smiling softly at the water. “Sure.”

Yelena stared out at the marsh - dark, alive, shifting gently in the night breeze.

She wanted to believe in herself just like James did and Nat would.

She really, really did.